Scarcely had the countess left the room when Mikhail began to cry again. The child begged Irina to take him to his father, but she didn’t even hear him.
Konstantin had decided to help his friend and disobey his grandmother, so he managed to convince Samuel to hide in the stables until midday in the hope that his grandmother would be able to do something for old Isaac.
“Meanwhile, we will organize Irina’s escape plan. I’m going to hire a coach. It will have to be one that doesn’t draw any attention to itself. One of my servants, one I can trust, will be the coachman.”
“But where will she go?” Joshua asked on Irina’s behalf. She herself was silent, gazing into the distance.
“To Sweden and from there to France or England. With a bit of money Irina will be able to make her own way,” Konstantin replied.
“But wouldn’t it be better to go to Odessa, and then to take a boat to England?”
“Sweden is closer. It’s the natural escape route,” Konstantin insisted.
“Have you forgotten about Mikhail?” Joshua asked.
“He will go with her in the hope that Yuri . . . Although it is Irina’s decision whether to take Mikhail with her or to look for some relative of Yuri’s, or maybe he will have to go into an institution . . .”
“No!” Irina shouted. “I will not abandon the child! Yuri made me swear that if anything happened to him I would look after Mikhail. But I am going to stay here; if something has to happen to me, even if I have to die, I would prefer it to be here.”
“Don’t insist on your date with death. No one can avoid it, but there’s no sense in provoking it either. And if you are going to take responsibility for Mikhail, that’s all the more reason for you to go. If you stay you will be arrested and the child will be taken to an orphanage, and we all know that Yuri will not come back . . .” Joshua’s words were like hammer blows to their spirits.
Time seemed to stand still. Konstantin brought them some food and drink and insisted that they keep quiet. Ivan, the chief groom, was an elderly man who professed great affection for Konstantin. Some time previously he had been Konstantin’s riding master, and after he had been left lame following a fall, Konstantin had insisted that his grandmother give Ivan a roof over his head and some way of earning a living. Ivan repaid this trust with absolute loyalty, and that morning he stopped anyone from coming into the stables.
A little before one o’clock, Konstantin came back.
“I’m sorry . . . I don’t have any good news. The husband of my grandmother’s friend was immoveable: it is foolhardy to try to help the tsar’s enemies. He told her there were to be more arrests in the next few days, and—news travels fast!—he already knew that the Okhrana had been in our house. He reminded her, in a friendly way, that my late grandfather was Jewish and that this was not the first time that Jews had participated in plots against the tsar, so he warned us to be careful. They said goodbye in not a very friendly way, it was obvious they felt uncomfortable. Ah, and they also said that the Okhrana is very well informed about all the revolutionary groups, and that in all these groups there is always someone who is the eyes and ears of the police . . . So you are sure to be arrested. They have taken your father in full knowledge that he is innocent, it is their way of starting to torture you. You must escape, leave with Irina and never come back.”
“No, I cannot do that. I will go and turn myself in at once. They will release my father, they have to, he’s innocent.”
Konstantin could not convince Samuel to flee, nor could he convince Joshua not to go with him.
They said goodbye and Konstantin assured his friends that he would arrange Irina’s escape, and would make sure that she left as soon as possible.
Samuel and Joshua walked in silence, both of them lost in their fearful thoughts. They were two blocks away from the Okhrana’s headquarters when they ran into Andrei. Samuel went up to him and grasped him violently by the arm.
“You are a traitor! Where is my father?” He shouted without caring about the astonished gazes of the passersby.
“Shut up, you fool, shut up! Do you want them to arrest us all? Let me go!” Andrei pushed Samuel away and Joshua had to get between them to stop them from coming to blows in the middle of the street.
“You’re both mad! You should try not to draw attention to yourself, and you, Andrei, need to explain yourself, and if you are a traitor . . . then sooner or later you’ll pay for it,” Joshua said.
“I was coming to look for you to explain. You need to escape now and . . . what’s done is done,” Andrei said.
Joshua kept a hold on his arm and made him start walking, while Samuel followed them, trying to contain his rage.
They walked until they reached a nearby park. No one was around, as it had started to snow again. They took shelter under a tree and, shivering with cold, Joshua made Andrei explain himself.
“So, you’re a traitor,” Joshua said brusquely.
Andrei lowered his head in shame and then looked at both Samuel and Joshua defiantly.
“I have never been a revolutionary. But the Okhrana thought I might be one, because I worked with Sokolov the librarian. They took me to their headquarters one day. You can imagine that I had given myself up for dead. They took me to a cell lined with evidence of human suffering, the bare stone walls were permeated with urine. There was nowhere I could sit, even. I was there for several hours, listening to the screams of other men begging for death because they could not bear even a second more of pain. I knew that I should prepare myself to be tortured, to be one more of those poor wretches, but I was scared, I knew that I would be unable to resist even a single one of their blows. Above all I was sorry that they were going to torture me without my even being a revolutionary. A few hours later they came and took me to a room where a man was waiting for me. He said that one of his university informants had heard that Sokolov was an important figure among the young, and he asked me if I participated in meetings where people conspired against the tsar. I told him the truth, that Sokolov’s group was largely made up of Jews, and that I was not Jewish. They said that I should gain Sokolov’s confidence, become a member of his group and inform on them. The man did not lay a hand on me, but his steely eyes were enough to frighten me. ‘Your father is a good blacksmith and your mother is a good woman. Do you think that they’d like to be here? They would confess, of course, they would confess to anything we asked them to confess to, desperate for my men to leave them alone. But what are a blacksmith and a woman worth? So once they confessed, why waste rubles keeping them in a prison cell? We would throw their corpses to the dogs. Do you want to prevent this from happening?’ I couldn’t resist. I swore that I would help them. The man listened to me without emotion and suddenly came so close to me that I could smell his breath. Then he said that I had chosen well, that I had made a good choice between life and death, both my own and those of my parents. I left the office, and was met by two men who took me to another room. They opened the door and there was my mother, standing up, crying, pressing herself against the wall. Three officers were laughing at her. They had made her get undressed and she was trying to hide her dry breasts with her arms. My father was there as well. His hands and his feet were tied . . . I don’t know if my mother saw me, but I couldn’t stand my father’s gaze, a gaze filled with shame. They took me back to the chief’s office. I cried, and begged for him to release my parents, I said I would do anything. They had not arrested anyone from the Sokolov group yet, but they wanted to teach them a lesson, to show that no one was safe. They knew about you, Samuel, I gave them your name. Last night, when they came to arrest you, you weren’t at home. They got extremely annoyed and when they searched the house they found your papers and your father swore that they were his, that you were innocent, that it was he who fought against the regime. They took both of us away. Your father begged me in a whisper to denounce him in order to free you, and,�
�� here Andrei could not suppress a sob, “and he told me that he would only forgive me if you were saved. And he threatened me, he said he would come back from the dead for revenge if you were not absolved of any crime. They took him away and made me stay behind. They were furious that they hadn’t managed to arrest you. Then they went for Irina, but they didn’t find her either. They tortured your father with even more cruelty because he swore that you were the innocent one and that he was the only guilty party. Then I . . . Well, I could not undo all the damage that had been done, but I told them that although I had given them your name you did not have an important role in the organization, it was in fact your father who had planted the revolutionary ideas in your head . . . The policeman said to me: ‘The old Jew died swearing the same thing, but he was lying, and now you are as well. Do you want to end up like him?’”
Samuel’s howl of pain rang out against the branches that covered them. Joshua scarcely had time to control his friend, who had thrown himself against Andrei and was gripping his neck with both hands. There was only hatred in Samuel’s eyes, a profound hatred suffused with tears.
“Let him go! Let him go! Do you want to be like him? For God’s sake, let him go!” Joshua managed to get Samuel off Andrei’s neck; Andrei’s face was twisted and he could barely breathe. Then he hugged his friend tight and tried to comfort him as he dried his tears. “Your father gave his life to save yours. Don’t make his sacrifice meaningless . . . ,” Joshua tried to console him.
Andrei looked at them in fright, but continued his story.
“The policeman said that your father was mad, that he never stopped repeating the phrase, ‘Son, next year in Jerusalem,’ and that these were his last words before his head was plunged into the bucket of water for the last time and his heart gave way. Next year in Jerusalem. That means something to you Jews, doesn’t it?”
But Samuel did not reply, he didn’t know how to release the words, he did not even know if he was breathing. Joshua held him against his chest, stopping him from moving, trying to make him feel loved and protected.
“You are a wretched specimen, you should be dead,” Samuel said, shaking himself free of Joshua’s embrace.
“Yes, I know. I am a coward, a wretch. I betrayed you, not simply to stop my parents from suffering, but for myself: I was scared, the shouts of the victims rang round my brain.”
“So you work for the Okhrana,” Joshua said, affirming what was already evident.
“I belong to them.”
“Do you think you’re safe? No, you are not, and soon everyone will know that you’ve betrayed your friends, and everyone will turn his back on you, and what do you think they’ll do with you? You won’t be any use to them like that.” Joshua’s words made Andrei seem to shrink even more.
“I am alive today, and so are my parents. Tomorrow . . . who knows.”
“What happened to Sokolov the librarian and to Yuri . . . to all our friends?” Samuel asked, overcoming the repugnance he felt in order to address Andrei directly.
“They have all been arrested. They will never see daylight again. Some have not been able to bear the torture. Yuri’s heart broke . . .”
Samuel threw himself at Andrei’s neck once again, but this time Andrei dodged out of the way, and Joshua had time to hold down his friend.
“Don’t get your hands dirty,” Joshua said.
“You condemn me, but are you sure that you wouldn’t have done the same as me? Go, Samuel, leave Russia if you can and never return, if you stay then they will destroy you. Oh, and your friend Konstantin, even though he’s an aristocrat and rich, he should take care, they know he’s friends with you, and he’s half Jewish, who knows what might happen to him.” Andrei left them this warning as he walked away. “Now I’m going to see my parents, I need to know if they are alright.”
They let him go. Samuel cried for a long time, and Joshua did nothing to stop him. He knew that his friend needed to release the grief that was burning within him, and that all that was left was to wait until he felt strong enough to keep walking.
“We’ll go to Konstantin’s house. You will leave with Irina, that’s the best course of action,” Joshua said.
“I have to say goodbye to the widow Korlov, I need to pay for all the destruction that’s taken place in her house. My father kept his furs in the attic of the house where he rented a room. I’ll take what I can to sell.”
“I’ll give you what I can, although mine is a modest family, as you well know.”
“You have already given me a treasure, your friendship.”
Joshua insisted on accompanying them to the house. Raisa Korlov was still dozing, but Samuel woke her to tell her what had happened, and to warn her that Andrei was a traitor.
“He will have to leave, I can’t bear the thought of having him here,” Raisa said, unable to contain her tears.
She gave him the key to her attic, which she kept on a thin chain around her neck.
“Your father kept all his furs in a chest, I suppose you know that there’s a little box at the bottom of it where he kept his earnings. He told me when you were still a child, in case anything happened to him. You see how much he trusted me. Look for it, it’s yours, and leave as soon as possible, the Okhrana will not be happy with only your father’s life, they’ll come for yours as well.”
With Joshua’s help, Samuel took a few furs and decided to divide the remainder between the widow Korlov and his friend. He could not carry them all, and he wanted to show his gratitude.
In the little box was all the money his father had saved, enough for him to live well enough for two or three years and to take the journeys he made every year to Paris to see Marie. Now the money would be used for Samuel to begin a new life, although he wondered where this would be possible for him.
“Samuel, your father has shown you the way: next year in Jerusalem. It’s what he wanted, the last words he left for you,” Joshua reminded him.
“Jerusalem . . . Jerusalem . . . I never asked to be a Jew . . . ,” Samuel lamented.
“You cannot stop being what you are, Samuel. You are a Jew, whether you want to be or not, whether you believe or not. You are a Jew, and whether or not you try to escape it, you will always be one. Next year in Jerusalem, my friend, let’s hope that we meet each other there one day.”
When they reached the Goldanskis’ mansion, Konstantin had already prepared everything for Irina’s escape. Samuel and Joshua told their friend what had happened, including Andrei’s warning.
“Andrei is a traitor? What a wretch!” Konstantin exclaimed.
“You should go away for a while as well,” Joshua said to Konstantin.
“Me? I should leave? They don’t have anything on me, yes I am Samuel’s friend, but that’s not reason enough for me to flee; anyway, I’m not going to abandon my grandmother or my sister Katia.”
“Let your grandmother decide. You should tell her what Andrei told us.”
Konstantin promised Joshua that he would do this. Then he explained the escape plan to his friends. Ivan, whom he had sent to rent a carriage, would be the coachman who would take them to Sweden by the least traveled routes. From there they could take a boat to England.
But Samuel did not want to get his friend into even more trouble, and insisted on driving the carriage.
“But you’ve never driven a carriage in your life!” Konstantin protested.
“If I’ve been able to train as a chemist, I’m sure that driving a carriage will hold no problems for me. Irina and Mikhail will go inside, safe from prying eyes. If anyone stops us I will say that we’re a family of merchants, going to sell furs in England.”
“No one will believe that a merchant is traveling in mid-winter, with his whole family, headed to Sweden. You’ll have to find another cover story . . . I don’t know, say that you are on the way to visit a family member who is about to d
ie . . . ,” Joshua suggested.
The three friends hugged each other, all of them were crying, they did not know when they would see each other again. Irina joined the embrace.
It was snowing without pause and daylight was fading when they finally got on the road. Samuel was exhausted, but he had decided to drive through the night in order to get as far away as possible from Saint Petersburg. When fatigue finally got the better of him, they would drive off the road and sleep a while in the carriage. He didn’t want to stop at any inn, he didn’t want anyone to see them so as not to call any attention to themselves, and for all that the journey would be hard for Irina and, above all, for the child. Samuel did not know when they would tell the boy that he would never see his father again.
While they drove on, leaving Saint Petersburg behind them, he wondered if the Okhrana were following them. It was dawn when, exhausted, he decided to pause. The horses needed to rest as well. They hid themselves in a copse, by a little stream, not far from the road.
“The horses need to eat and drink,” he told Irina.
She got down from the carriage, leaving Mikhail wrapped up in a fur blanket, and helped unhitch the horses and give them water. It wasn’t easy, neither had done this before, but Samuel remembered the instructions that Ivan, Konstantin’s coachman, had given them. It took them a long time to finish the job.
“You have to eat something. Konstantin gave me a couple of baskets with food for a few days,” Irina said.
They ate on foot, standing next to the carriage, looking after the horses. Then she sent him off to get some sleep.
“I will look after the horses and be on the watch for strange noises.”
“But you can’t stay out here in the cold,” Samuel protested.
“I’ll cover myself as best I can. You have to rest, everything will be easier if we share the burden. Don’t think of me as a poor woman, I am strong, I promise you I can deal with the snow falling on my head.”
Shoot Me, I'm Already Dead Page 13
