Puppet (7 page)

Angry red splotches appeared on Morris's bruised face.

“Yes,” he muttered, “it's that beggar.”

“Louder, boy!” Bary said.

Morris nodded his head in the beggar's direction.

“It's him!” he said loudly.

“I wasn't even in your bloody town the day that servant girl disappeared!” cried the beggar. He took a step toward Morris. Two gendarmes grabbed his arms and pulled him away.

“What's your name?”

The man didn't answer. The gendarmes' hold tightened and Recsky raised his whip.

The beggar cringed. “Don't hit me! I'm Herman Vollner, but I swear with the All Mighty as my witness that I am innocent!”

“Kill the Jews! Kill the Jews!” The villagers were relentless in their hatred. I hadn't seen them this bloodthirsty since
the traveling puppet show, urging on Leslie the Brave to put an end to the Devil.

Bary turned to Morris with a self-satisfied smile.

“Did you tell your father you witnessed the murder of Esther Solymosi by looking through the keyhole?” he asked.

Morris remained mute.

“Talk, boy talk if you know what's good for you!” yelled Recsky.

“Yes, I tell mein Papa what I see.”

“What did your father tell you to do?” Bary asked.

Morris did not answer.

“Remember what I told you, boy” Peczely said softly. “Remember what I told you.”

Morris clasped his hands over his mouth and began to rock on his heels.

“Papa say not tell anybody what I see. He say murder a secret.” The words came out of him painfully, as if they had jagged edges.

“Point out your father to us!” Bary ordered.

Morris hesitated. Then he pointed at his father. Joseph Scharf closed his eyes.

Bary clapped Morris on the back. The boy winced.

“You did well, boy. Really well,” Bary said.

Morris's face was blank. He looked like a stranger to me.

“Kill the Jews! Kill the Jews!” The villagers chanting was louder, frenzied.

Bary turned to the chief of the gendarmes.

“Mr. Recsky! Please order your men to escort the culprits back to jail. Tomorrow morning they will be transferred to the prison in Nyiregyhaza where they'll stand trial. We finally know who killed poor Esther Solymosi.”

The gendarmes marched the prisoners away. Someone had freed Mr. Scharf from his gag. “Morris, my son, what are you doing? Have you taken leave of your senses?” His words were an anguished cry.

As soon as the gendarmes and the prisoners were gone, the rest of the Jews surrounded Morris.

“Liar!” A man charged at the boy.

“Traitor!” A tiny, bent woman tried to claw his face.

Bary laughed.

“Recsky, you'd better transfer the boy to the jail in Nyiregyhaza with the others,” he said. “He won't last too long if we leave him alone with his brethren, and we need him hale and hearty as a witness. We'll find a safe cell for him.”

After Morris was led away, I gathered up my pail to go back inside the prison. A couple blocked my way. It took me a moment to realize it was Pa and the yellow-haired woman. She was holding his arm possessively, Ma's shawl draped around her shoulders in spite of the warm May morning.

I couldn't let the chance go by. “Pa, have you heard anything from Aunt Irma? Is Clara well?”

He scowled as if he couldn't remember who Clara was. “What do you want from me?”

“Nothing, Pa! I don't want anything. I just want to know about Clara.”

“Get away from me!” He moved to push past me.

The woman plucked at his sleeve.

“Peter, don't — it's your daughter, for God's sake!”

“Mind your own business!”

He shook off her arm and strode away. She shot me a sympathetic glance and followed him. I ran after them.

“Pa,” I called. “Has there been word about Clara?”

He vanished into the crowd. A cold dread gripped me. Was something wrong with Clara? Was she dead? Is that why he wouldn't talk to me? I swore that I would somehow earn the money I needed to go to Csonkafuzes to see my sister. But soon I would have no job and no place to live. If I was ever to see Clara again, I had to think and think fast.

Gendarme Bako was leading the shackled Jewish prisoners to the horse-drawn cart waiting in front of the prison. Here was my chance!

“Please, sir,” I begged him. “Take me with you.”

“Why do you want to go to Nyiregyhaza?”

“I'm not needed here any longer. Sergeant Toth's housekeeper will be back in a few days. I need a job and I can get one in Nyiregyhaza.”

He shrugged.

“Talk to Sergeant Toth. If he agrees, you can come.”

THURSDAY, JUNE 1, 1882 —
SATURDAY, JUNE 17, 1882

I knocked on the door of the office, my heart in my throat. I had slept under the stars for the past week. If I didn't get the job, I didn't know what I would do.

“Enter!” called a gruff voice.

I smoothed down my skirt, took a deep breath, and went into the room. Antal Henter, the warden of the Nyiregyhaza prison, was sitting at his desk. A gigantic white Komondor dog was lying on the floor by his feet.

“Come closer!” Warden Henter said, beckoning to me.

As soon as I took a step toward him, the dog lumbered to its feet and bared its fangs. It growled at me menacingly. I jumped backward.

“Steady, Felix! Steady, boy!” Henter said, scratching the dog behind its ear.

The dog shook its corded coat and sunk down to the floor.

“Gendarme Bako tells me that you worked in the jail-house in Tisza-Eszlar,” Henter said. “What were your duties?”

“I was Sergeant Toth's housekeeper.”

Warden Henter was tall and handsome, and I was soon to learn that he was known for his good humor. He would slap his thigh whenever he told one of his many jokes. He stood up and circled me, looking me over with calculating eyes as if I were a horse he planned to buy. I wanted to disappear, to have the earth swallow me up.

“Well, you seem strong enough,” he said. “How old are you?”

“Fourteen, sir.”

“Teresa, the cook at the prison, needs a scullery maid to help her. You'll be paid the same as the girl before — and your room and board. You can sleep in one of the empty cells.”

“Thank you, sir.”

This was the best news. If I was careful, I could save enough for a train ticket to see Clara.

“Listen carefully!” Warden Henter continued. “We keep the Jewish prisoners who were brought to us from Tisza-Eszlar separate from the rest of the inmates. You are not to go near them under any circumstances. If you help Teresa distribute their meals, you will give their food to their guards, who will pass it on to them. If you have any questions, you may ask Gendarme Bako, who was transferred
here. If you disobey my orders, you will be dismissed. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You may deliver the boy Morris Scharf, his meals, but you are never to speak to him. Understood?”

I nodded.

“You may go now,” he said, his handsome head already bent over some papers on his desk.

As I went, his dog's angry bark followed me.

Teresa was kneading dough to bake bread when I got to the kitchen.

“You're late!” she snapped.

“I'm a growing girl. I need my sleep,” I said cheekily.

I knew that it was safe to joke with her. Over the last few weeks I had discovered that her bark was much worse than her bite.

She dusted off her hands before answering me.

“We're having visitors tomorrow. I heard that the Jews' lawyer is coming all the way from Budapest.” She slapped the dough cheerfully.

“Yes, one of the guards told me about him.”

“He'll be talking with his clients and with Morris too.”

“I wonder what Morris will say to him. Do you think he was telling the truth?”

“Well, did they beat him?”

“They almost killed him.”

“There's your answer. Mind you, you can't trust them Jews. Now take those two large pails of gruel to the prisoners.” She gave the dough a half-turn and pounded it with her fist. “And remember, you're not to go into their cells.”

The Nyiregyhaza prison was overcrowded and the inmates were very different from sad old Mr. Meszaros sleeping off a night of drinking in the jail back home. The inhabitants of the Nyiregyhaza prison ranged from petty thieves to murderers. Most of them were filthy, violent, and vulgar. On my first day, I had delivered the inmates' breakfasts right into their common cell. It took all of my wits and a skillful use of my knees and elbows to evade their groping hands and worse. Now I knew better. I always handed the pails to the guards in front of the cell and asked them to give the prisoners their meals. I wasn't about to make the same mistake twice.

“After you finish, sit down for a bite for yourself,” Teresa said with a toothless smile.

I picked up the pails and I walked down the long narrow hallway leading to the cells. A guard met me at the end of the corridor and took the pails from me.

Back in the kitchen I filled a small tin container with Morris's meal. I waited until Teresa's back was turned and I slipped two biscuits from the batch cooling on a plate into the pocket of my apron.

I heard voices coming from Morris's cell. “Remember what I told you.” It took me a moment to recognize that it was Mr. Bary speaking.

“It's not by chance, boy, that everybody hates Jews,” he said. “The whole race is nothing but liars and thieves. But you, Morris, are different from the rest of your brethren. You are doing the right thing and you won't go unrewarded. If you help us, we'll set you up in a trade when all this is over.”

“But I …”

“No, no,” said Bary “Don't say a word. Reflect on what I told you.”

I heard the clanging of a key in the lock.

“Watch him, Bako,” Henter's voice said to the gendarme standing guard in front of the cell. Both Bary and Henter walked by me, but I had learned that servant girls have the singular advantage of being invisible.

They'd be furious if they knew that I always talk to Morris when I deliver his meals.

I could see the melancholy expression on Morris's face through the bars of his cell. He brightened when he saw me. Bako opened the cell door. I went in and he locked it after me.

“I have to go take a piss,” he announced. “I'll be back in ten minutes.”

“I wondered when you were coming,” Morris said. “Did you see my papa?”

This was the question he greeted me with every time I brought his meals.

“You know they won't let me see him. I can't even go into that part of the prison.”

I took out a biscuit from my pocket to wipe the disappointment off his face.

“Thank you!” He tore it into pieces, then stuffed them into his mouth.

“The biscuits are fresh. Teresa just baked them. You'll never guess who they are for!”

He laughed.

“Tell me!”

“You're having a visitor tomorrow. He is coming all the way from Budapest.”

His eyes widened. Besides his jailers, I was the only person he ever saw. He wasn't even allowed to visit his family. Bary said that he was kept under lock and key for his own protection and to keep him away from “harmful influences.”

“Do you know who is coming?” Morris asked.

“I do, but first, have your breakfast. I'll tell you after.”

He made a face at the sight of the gruel but transferred it to his own bowl and began to eat greedily. I sat down on the floor and leaned against the bars of the cell.

“How are you doing?” I asked.

He shrugged his shoulders.

“I'm all right … Recsky and Peczely went back to Tisza-Eszlar. Bary still comes to see me from time to time.”

“What's Warden Henter like to you?”

“The same as the others, but at least there is only one of him and not three.”

“I just noticed, your Hungarian is getting better.”

“That's all I speak now, to the guards and to Henter and to Bary. Tell me, who is coming to see me tomorrow?”

“First, I have to tell you some good news and some bad news. Which do you want to hear first?”

“The bad news — let's be done with it.”

“Sophie Solymosi wrote me a letter. Teresa read it to me. Sophie says that Bary and Recsky arrested more Jews in Tisza-Eszlar and then let them go after a few days.”

An expression I couldn't identify flitted across Morris's face. “Julie, I hope you understand that I had to testify against Solomon Schwarcz and his friends and even Papa, in order to keep him safe. You know I had no choice. You understand that, don't you?” He worried a piece of thread on his sleeve. “They kept saying they would beat Papa and keep him in jail forever if I didn't confess.”

He looked at me expectantly, but I didn't know how to answer. I occupied myself with gathering up the container in which I brought his food to him. I had to return it to the kitchen.

“Bary is insane,” Morris said.

“He isn't the only one. Sophie wrote that there are people in parliament who are claiming the Jews are responsible for Esther's death.”

“Has the world gone mad?” Morris's voice was full of desperation. He buried his face in his hands. “What have I done? What have I done?” He put down his bowl on his bunk and stood up. Then he began to pace the length of his
cell. “Why do people hate us so?” he asked. “Why do they accuse us of such terrible crimes? Sometimes I wonder.”

“Wonder what?”

He scuffed the toe of his boots along the clay floor of the cell and spoke without looking at me.

“Warden Henter keeps on telling me that all Jews are thieves and liars. That's what Mr. Bary and Chief Recsky say too. Can they all be wrong? I can't help wondering sometimes if we deserve their hatred?”

“My ma said there are good and bad people among the Jews, same as everybody else. I think she was right. When I sold eggs to the Jewish women, some of them were miserable to me and some were nice. Did you forget that your pa is a good man? What about the Rosenbergs? Look how kind they've been to Sophie! Dr. Weltner? He tried to cure my ma and gave her medicines to help her even though we had no money to pay him. I don't understand why so many people hate the Jews. I guess there are some people who need somebody to hate.”

“Why?”

“I don't know why. Ask your visitor. He is supposed to be a smart man.”

“You have to tell me who's coming.”

“Here's the good news I promised you. His name is Karl Eotvos. He's the lawyer who's going to defend the Jews from Tisza-Eszlar. Mr. Heumann, their old lawyer, says that the trial is too difficult for him to handle alone. He'll be still helping with the case, but Mr. Eotvos will be in charge.”

“Eotvos … It's not a Jewish name.”

“He is a Christian. In fact, he's a nobleman.”

“Then I don't understand why …”

I put my hand out. “Wait and hear what he has to say.”

I took the second biscuit out of my pocket and slipped it into his palm, careful not to touch his hand.

“Eat this before somebody comes!”

“Delicious!” he said, gobbling it down. “You're a good friend to me, Julie. I wish I could give you a hug.”

“Me too.”

We grinned at each other shyly. Morris grew serious again. “I need your help, Julie,” he said. “Tomorrow is my mama's yarzheit, the anniversary of her death. I want to pray for her soul and light a candle in her memory. Could you bring me a candle and matches?”

“My ma is also in heaven. You're lucky to have another mother.”

His face darkened.

“I hate my … I forget how you say … not real mother.”

“You mean, stepmother.”

“Yes, that's what I mean. I hate her! She doesn't care about me. She only cares for Sam. I can't imagine what she thinks of me now.”

“Don't say bad things about your stepmother. She is also your mother!”

“No, she isn't!” he said angrily. He sighed. “I wish my real mama was here. She would understand that I had to do what I did.”

I know in my heart that my dear mother is watching over me from heaven. Don't be scared. “I'm sure that your mother is watching over you too. She won't let you come to harm.”

Morris didn't reply. I stood up and smoothed my apron.

“I'll try to get some matches and a candle for you. If I can't find them anywhere else, I know that Warden Henter keeps both in his office.”

“Be careful, Julie. I don't want you to get in trouble on my account.”