Puppet (10 page)

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 23, 1882 —
SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 19, 1882

I had used up all of the white thread in Ma's workbox and there were still four more of the prison guards' shirts to darn before the sun set. It was Saturday, so the Jew store near the prison was closed. I had to go to Kohlmayer's in the Old Village, even though the trip would use up precious hours of freedom. I had no choice.

As I hurried along, I recalled that Esther's last errand was also to Kohlmayer's. Esther must have walked the same route I was taking. What sad thoughts had filled her head as she followed the dirt road? My thoughts were interrupted by a carriage passing so close to me I thought it would run me over. I flattened myself against the building beside me. The carriage's wheels deflected a stone that hit my leg. Then the vehicle came to a halt.

I shook my fist at the driver.

“What do you think you're …”

I fell silent when I recognized Warden Henter in the front seat. Next to him was another figure. The passenger's wide-brimmed hat shaded his face. It wasn't until he glanced at me that I saw that it was Morris, but a very different Morris from the one I remembered. Gone were his long forelocks. His dark skull cap, black trousers, and white shirt with fringes had been replaced by the wide pantaloons, sturdy boots, vest, and hat with a tall crown worn by Hungarian boys.

Morris stared at me blankly with eyes like black pebbles. Only the muscle that began to twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed that he had recognized me.

I turned my head away from his empty eyes. Warden Henter didn't even look at me.

He pulled on Morris's arm. “What's the matter, boy?” he asked. “Haven't you ever been to the county archives?” He pointed at the building behind us.

“No, sir, I haven't,” mumbled Morris.

The warden patted him on the back.

“Come, my boy let me prove to you that you will be amply rewarded for describing the killing of Esther Solymosi,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

He pulled Morris's arm through his own and the two of them entered the building. Morris shot a frightened look in my direction before the door slammed shut behind them.

I waited a second before I followed them into the building. Nobody paid attention to me as I followed their voices up the staircase to a large room divided by a wooden counter with cabinets behind it. I hung back but I could clearly see Morris standing in front of the counter, still as a statue. Warden Henter was leaning over the counter and whispering into the ear of one of the clerks behind it. The man chuckled.

I noticed a bucket of water and some rags in a corner of the room. I got down on my hands and knees and began to wash the marble floor, careful at the same time to keep my face away from Warden Henter.

“I can do that!” the man said. He tapped the side of his nose and then turned to a young clerk behind a desk at the side of the room.

“Hey, Fritzi! Bring me document 523D.”

“You want a document from the D file? But those are dea -”

“Never mind what they are … just give me the document!” interrupted his colleague.

The youth shrugged his shoulders.

“Suit yourself,” he mumbled as he ambled over to one of the cabinets. The drawer was full of papers. The man pulled out a sheet from the center of a file and handed it to his colleague, who held it out to Warden Henter.

“Here is the letter from the Minister of the Interior you requested, Warden,” the older clerk said solemnly. His lip was trembling as if he was trying to suppress laughter.

Warden Henter took the letter from him and read it carefully. “I was right, Morris,” the warden said. “The minister has stated in an official letter that if you help us convict the Jews of Tisza-Eszlar of Esther Solymosi's murder, the government will pay for your apprenticeship in any profession of your choosing after the trial is over. I would advise you to do your training away from your hometown.” He cleared his throat. “I hope you realize you can't go back to your family, not after what you testified.”

“I know, sir, I know.” He held out his hand. “May I see the minister's letter, please?”

“Absolutely not!” cried the warden. He handed the letter back to the older clerk. “This is an official document, forbidden to civilians! Surely you do not doubt my veracity?”

“Of course not, sir,” said Morris.

“Well, our business is done here. It's time to go.” The warden nodded at the clerk.

“Glad to be of service, sir,” said the clerk.

While they continued talking, I flew down the stairs and hid behind a pillar.

“You are very fortunate, Morris, that I am a generous man,” Warden Henter was saying as they came out of the building. “I'll make sure that the minister honors his promise to educate you,” he added, his back to me. Morris was blinking in the sunlight and he gave a start when he saw me. I shook my head.

Morris started back into the building.

“Where do you think you're going?” the warden cried.

“I forgot my water jug upstairs in the office,” Morris said. “I'll go and get it.”

“Stay where you are!” the warden barked. “I'll go!” He bounded up the stairs. Morris turned to me. “Go!” he said. “Get out of here!” “What are you going to do if you can't go home?” “Henter will be back in a moment. Go!” “But what will happen to you? I want to talk to you.” “Not now! Come to Henter's house tomorrow, an hour after church. That's the only time I'm left alone. Go to the back gate. It's set into the fence. I'll let you in. Nobody will see you. The yard is next to a meadow. Now leave,” he said, “while you still can!”

It was unseasonably warm. The trees in their red raiment looked like torches in the sunlight. Father Gabor's sermon had lasted forever and Sunday was Teresa's day off, so I had to return to the prison after church to heat up the midday meal she had prepared for the prisoners. By the time I delivered it to the guards for distribution, there was no time left to eat if I wanted to get to the warden's on time. My stomach was complaining.

Nobody was in sight when I arrived at the large, gracious building. I turned down the lane running beside the stone fence and followed it to the very end. If Morris hadn't told me about it, I would have missed the gate, for it was
overgrown with ivy. I lifted my hand to rap on the door when I heard voices.

“Remember, my son, that without Christ, there is no salvation. You must believe in Christ in order to be saved. Unbelievers will burn in hell for all eternity Do you understand me?” I didn't recognize the voice, but it sounded clear and sure.

“Yes, Father, I do.” Morris's response was firm.

“I will go now,” the man said, “but I want you to reflect upon what you heard in church today and what I told you. I will be back later to continue our catechism lesson.”

There was the sound of feet crunching on the dead grass followed by silence. I waited a few moments before knocking on the gate. It swung open immediately. Morris grabbed my arm and pulled me into the garden.

“I was waiting for you!” he said. “I didn't know if you'd come.”

“I was afraid the priest would come back.”

“Oh, you don't have to worry about Father Paul. He is a nice old man. Bary and Henter want me to become a Catholic. They asked Father Paul to teach me. The old man always takes a nap after lunch. He won't be back for a while.” He sighed. “It's the only time I'm left by myself.”

He led me to a table and two chairs that had been set up on the grass. In addition to a Bible, a pile of documents, and a bottle of ink, there was a plate of cookies and a pitcher of milk on the tabletop.

“Sit down,” he said. “Here. Eat something.” He pushed the plate toward me.

I lowered myself gingerly to the edge of one of the chairs and reached for a vanilla crescent.

“How can you be so calm, Morris? They'll see from the house that I'm here and then we'll be in trouble!”

“Those block the view,” he said, pointing to a row of tall chestnut trees between the house and the table.

I reached for another cookie. Morris poured me a glass of milk.

“If nobody watches you, what stops you from going home? Your family would forgive you.”

“No, they wouldn't. I can't go home. Everybody knows what I did. You understand that I had to do it, don't you?” He had said this to me and to himself so often that the words had almost lost their meaning.

I couldn't give him the reassurance he was seeking because I truly didn't understand.

“Why don't you tell your papa what happened? A lot of people have been hurt by what you did.”

“I can't talk to him, Julie. Papa is still in jail. I guess you know that.” He sounded close to tears. “They broke their promise and didn't let him go. I haven't seen him for months. I miss him so much, and Sam too.”

“You're in Henter's good books now. Why don't you ask him if he'd let you visit your father?”

“I have, but Papa doesn't want to see me. Henter asked him over and over again to let me visit, but Papa says I am
no longer his son.” He closed his eyes to the sun. “The Jews must have poisoned him against me. They're evil, you know.”

“How can you say that? How can you be so sure that Warden Henter is telling you the truth? Has it occurred to you that perhaps he didn't even ask your father if he wanted you to come?”

Morris's face was so fierce I drew away from him.

“Don't say bad things about the warden! Maybe he's got a bad temper, but he treats me like a son. He'd never lie to me.”

“He insulted your mother!”

Morris's voice was cold. “He didn't know her. He didn't know that she was different from them.”

“Them?”

“Never mind.” He ran his finger across the rim of his glass over and over again. “Let's not fight, Julie. You're my only friend besides Henter. Promise me that you'll come and see me again?”

All through that warm late fall I met Morris every Sunday after church. He was lonely, I knew, and there were always good things to eat. Besides, I was curious. The weather turned cold in mid-November. Morris was waiting for me in the garden despite the icy wind. He was sitting bundled up at the wrought-iron garden table, trying to keep the newspaper in his hand from blowing away.

“We'll have to find somewhere else to meet. It's too cold outside,” he said, blowing on his fingers.

“What are you doing?”

“My homework. The warden gives me this newspaper and then we discuss what I read.”

He shook his head.

“It's full of horrible news. Look at this headline.”

He handed me the paper, but I gave it right back.

“You know I can't read. Tell me what it says.”

He read aloud:

“‘Jews Kill Christian Girl.’”

I dropped the newspaper as if it had burned my fingers. The wind riffled the pages, but Morris grabbed it.

“It's called The Independence,” he said. “The warden says that it's the best newspaper in the country because it's not afraid to tell the truth. It says that the Jews killed Esther and put her clothes on another dead girl's body.”

He waved the pages at me.

“You have to be smart to write for a newspaper. Bary and Henter believe every word that's written in The Independence.”

“Morris! You know that your pa and his friends are innocent. You told me that you confessed because they beat you and you wanted to save your pa!”

“They could have killed her without my knowing.”

“How can you say that? You know better than anybody that your pa and his friends did nothing wrong. The body I saw was Esther. How can you believe these lies you are told?”

I grabbed The Independence out of his hand and tore it in half.

“I don't know what to believe anymore. Can everybody be wrong?”

“They must be because I know they didn't kill Esther.”

I struggled to find the right words. “Don't listen to Bary and Henter, Morris,” I said. A heavy hand grabbed my shoulder. I jumped. Morris stood up, knocking his chair over. The pages of the newspaper scattered on the ground. Warden Henter dragged me to my feet. His dog began to bark.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, furious.

Felix clamped his jaws on the edge of my skirt. I could hear it rip.

“Whoa, boy! Whoa! Let go!” the warden said.

The dog stepped back, slobbering.

“Why are you here?” the warden said.

Morris tried to answer for me.

“It's not Julie's fault, sir. I invited her.”

“I'll deal with you later!” he said to Morris. He clenched my chin in his great paw of a hand.

“Aren't you the wench who works in the kitchen at the jail?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Get out! If I ever see you here again, you can bid your job good-bye!”

I ran to the garden gate. My heart was still pounding when I found Teresa warming her hands at the kitchen's brick hearth.

The next Sunday, after church, I went back to the garden. The trees were bare and the sky was a grim pewter. I rattled the iron gate, but it remained closed. I tried again the next week. The week after that it snowed during the night. I knew there was no point in going to the garden anymore.