Enemy of the Tzar

by Lester S. Taube

  “Hershel!” she called urgently in a soft voice.

  He was ten or twenty meters away, but he heard. He pulled up his horse at once, and his hand went to the butt of his revolver. Then he saw her standing by the side of the road. Kicking the horse into a fast walk, he rode up.

  “Hanna, what are you doing here?”

  “There are men watching the house. I thought you should know.”

  He stiffened on the horse. “Where are they?”

  “They are hiding by the sides of the houses across the street. Are they after you?”

  “I’ll tell you about it later. Get back to the house as fast as you can. Don’t tell anyone you’ve seen me. Do you understand?”

  Suddenly, a shout rang out from near the bend! “There he is! After him!”

  Figures erupted from a coppice directly off the road. Others were seen coming from the direction of the river.

  At once, Hershel whirled his horse and sent it running over the field Hanna had just crossed. A shot sounded, and then a fusillade. Hanna, terrified, began racing down the road towards her house. Directly ahead, a line of dim figures appeared in the moonlight. She came to an alley and fled to the right, her breath coming short and hard. She heard a yell from behind. “Someone just turned up that alley!”

  On legs of rubber, she forced herself through the alleys, turning one way and then the other. All at once, she found herself in the center of the village, a small square surrounded by two and three story buildings. At the same time, Hershel rode into the same opening. He looked around desperately for a way down to the river. Suddenly, a man ran into view, brandishing a pistol.

  “Stop!” he shouted. “Stop, or I will shoot!”

  Reining in his horse, Hershel snatched out his revolver. He fired! It was a long shot, but it struck the man in the chest. He grunted in shock as he fell. Another man ran up. He came to a stop and emptied his pistol at Hershel. Hershel drove in his heels and raced his horse directly at the attacker. As he closed in, he fired. The bullet caught the man in the throat, sending him flying to the ground.

  Hanna shrank back against a building, the clothing falling to the ground, her heart turned to stone. She straightened up at the sound of a clatter of hooves. Into the square rode the burly general, followed by his two Cossacks.

  “Get that man!” he shouted, drawing his pistol.

  Hershel whirled his horse about and started crossing the square diagonally to an alley.

  “Cut him off!” shouted one of the Cossacks to his comrade, lowering his lance to attack position. The second Cossack raced down a parallel street.

  Hershel must have heard people in the alley, for he turned his horse towards Hanna to seek another avenue of escape. But the Cossack was a much superior rider. He spun around and cut off his movement. In seconds he had caught up to the fleeing man. Hanna gasped in horror as she saw the twelve inch steel point of the lance disappear into Hershel’s back.

  With a scream of pain, Hershel fell from his horse, pulling himself free from the lance. He thudded against the ground, and then began crawling towards the alley near Hanna. Shouting with victory, the Cossack leveled his lance to finish off the wounded man. As he spurred forward, Hershel propped himself back against a wall. Blood pouring from his wound, he raised his revolver and fired. The bullet hit the Cossack squarely in the center of the forehead. His high karakul hat flew off at the impact, and he fell, carrying down his horse in a tangle of bodies.

  Hanna could see nothing but the anguish on the face of Hershel. Stunned to her very depths, she ran the few steps towards him. She knelt and raised his head.

  “Hershel,” she cried, trying in vain to stem the flow of blood from his back with her hand.

  A clatter of hooves sounded behind her! The second Cossack rode up. He took in the situation at a glance.

  “Bitch!” he shouted with rage. He spurred his horse forward furiously, sending it crashing into her. She was catapulted against the stone building with a force that crushed out her breath. Shock spread throughout, and in a daze she heard a shout. She looked up. The Cossack, saber in hand for close quarter fighting, had it raised high to slash down at her. The cry sounded again, and the Cossack turned to look at a figure rushing desperately at him. He whirled his horse to face this threat. Too late! Almost disbelieving, Hanna saw the tall, ungainly Jakob leap up and grasp the Cossack by the arm. With a mighty tug, he pulled the rider from his horse. They fell to the ground in a tangle, Jakob holding tightly to the sword arm and punching with the other. The general, storming with fury, was riding up, trying to get off a shot in the moonlight.

  With a loud grunt, the Cossack abruptly pulled free. He rolled swiftly to his feet, and in one smooth motion, he lunged forward with his saber.

  Hanna screamed as the blade sank deep into Jakob’s chest. It drove the Hasid to the ground. The Cossack tugged loose the blade. “Bastard!” he shouted, raising the sword for the kill. Jakob rose to a knee, one hand held out in a pathetic bid to parry the blow.

  Hanna saw at her feet the revolver of Hershel. She grasped it up and thrust it towards the Cossack. She fired!

  The shot startled the Cossack. He turned his head. Hanna fired again.

  Hate and a frenzy of madness filled the Cossack’s face. “Dirty bitch!” he roared. He spun away from Jakob and took a few quick steps towards her. Petrified with fear, Hanna closed her eyes and pulled the trigger.

  A yell of surprise mingled with shock filled her ears. She opened her eyes.

  The bullet had caught the Cossack directly in the pit of his stomach. His saber fell from his hand, and he staggered into her, pushing her back against the wall.

  A shot sounded, and then another! Bullets struck about her! She looked up, still terrorized. The general was riding her down, his eyes blazing. His horse, totally excited, was prancing and snorting, throwing off his aim. Storming with anger, the general swung off his mount to finish her off. As he raised his pistol, he heard a sound behind him. His last sight was that of Jakob, bleeding profusely from the chest and mouth, holding high in both hands the saber of the dying Cossack. Then it came flashing down between shoulder and neck, almost decapitating the Russian officer.

  Hanna shook herself. She was trembling, her legs without feeling. Then instinct surged through her veins. She crawled to Hershel. His eyes were glazed. Feebly, he motioned her closer. She put down her ear to his lips.

  “Fergl. Stuttgart,” he whispered.

  “I heard, Hershel,” she replied.

  “Love–.” His head abruptly fell back.

  “He’s dead,” she heard from above. Jakob was standing there, the saber still in his hand. He began choking, and he leaned against a building until it subsided. They could hear shouts coming from all directions. She climbed laboriously to her feet. “You must get out of here,” said Jakob urgently. “Go, before it’s too late.”

  She placed a hand on his arm. “Come, we will go together.”

  He shook his head. “I cannot make it. Go. Hurry.” The saber dropped from his hand, and he sank to the ground.

  Hanna leaned forward and grasped an arm. “Jakob, get up. I will not go without you. Please help.”

  A new well of blood bubbled from his lips. He spit it out. “I cannot,” he gasped.

  She began dragging him towards an alley. Her knees felt like jelly, and her throat was tight with fear, but she kept pulling. Men with lanterns and torches had entered the square.

  “Please, Jakob,” she pleaded. “You must help.”

  He shook his head again. “Leave me. I cannot walk. Save yourself. I beg you.”

  A man raced out of the alley behind them. She raised the revolver.

  “Hanna,” the man cried, desperately. “It’s me, Stephen.”

  The revolver fell from her hand, and she sank to the ground. “Oh, Stephen. My God!”

  He looked about quickly at the bodies in the square, and the men coming towards them, shouting at each other. “What happened here?”

&nb
sp; “They killed Hershel. Then they stabbed Jakob while he was saving me.”

  “Saving you? Are you mixed up in this?”

  “I shot one of the Cossacks.”

  Immediately, he leaned down and lifted her in his arms. Hanna pulled at his jacket. “You must help Jakob. He is injured.”

  Still holding her closely, he knelt by Jakob and looked at the wound. “He’s too badly hurt.”

  She twisted out of his arms. “I will not go without him.” She grasped the nearly unconscious man’s hand and began pulling him towards the alley.

  She felt herself being pushed aside. Stephen caught up Jakob in his arms. “This way,” he called to her, and sped down the alley. Halfway along, he cut between two houses and into the yards. When he reached the next street, he hugged the wall of a shed until some men ran past, then quickly crossed into a yard on that side. Hanna could barely keep up with him. Soon, she saw he was heading for the river and the point where he kept his boat.

  She was panting heavily, and her body felt stabs of pain when they reached some woods near the igloo mound. Stephen lowered Jakob. He was also breathing heavily. “Wait here. I’ll get the boat.”

  “All right, Stephen.”

  His eyes widened as he looked at her. “Are you wounded?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “No, I am all right.”

  “But look at yourself. You’re covered with blood.”

  She looked down. The front of her skirt was saturated, and she felt blood running down her leg. For a moment or two she stared at herself in surprise, and then understanding came. She abruptly sat down. “Oh, Stephen,” she whispered. “I have miscarried.”

  She glanced up at him. Through the sweat covering his face, she saw a great sorrow. She took a deep breath. “Get the boat, Stephen. Everything else can wait.”

  He took a grip on himself and nodded, then disappeared into the night.

  Hanna crawled over to Jakob. His face was white as a sheet and his eyes were closed. She opened his coat. Blood was still ebbing from the wound, soaking the front of his shirt. She pulled the shirttails from his pants, and then pressed the wad against the wound.

  It was only now that the implication of what had happened struck home.

  “Oh, my God,” she said through clenched lips, her mind spinning with the facts. Hershel was dead. Wonderful, joyful Hershel, who had in such a short time become so dear to her. Dead in the time it took to ignite kindling. And here was Jakob, on the point of death himself, sacrificing his own life for hers. A gentle man of God who had unleashed a fury that she never suspected was in him, tearing a hardened fighting man from his horse at the very instant of her being slain, and then, severely wounded, saving her a second time with a blow that shattered every vestige of rank. It was totally unrealistic–a Hasid destroying a general of the Tzar.

  A sudden faintness brought her to the truth that she had hoped would be false.

  The symbol of her love and Stephen’s now mingled with the blood of Hershel and Jakob, drenching the front of her dress. Their child, as dead as Hershel. She would not hold it in her arms. A life begun in their young passion, innocent of all the evil around them, was gone. It was too much to bear.

  She began to weep at the loss, her heart bursting with sorrow. Shouts from searchers at the far end of the woods brought her back to reality, and her breath caught in her throat. She had also killed! Her hand began trembling. She was as doomed as Jakob. Never in her life had she given thought to her own death, but now she realized that she would not last hours when she was captured.

  Then a more terrifying consideration came thundering home. What will happen to the children? To Gitel and Reba and Zelek? Who would feed and clothe and love them? Dear, dear God, she whispered with near frozen lips. And Stephen? He has become implicated. He could suffer the fate of Jakob and herself if they learned he had helped. She nearly screamed aloud at the notion. She must keep Stephen from jeopardizing himself.

  She climbed to her feet to drag Jakob away, but her legs trembled, so she sat down. She must not give way, no matter that Jakob was dying, and Lord knows what was happening inside herself. Everything depended on her - the children, Jakob, keeping Stephen from becoming more involved. She got to her feet and leaned against a tree to regain her strength.

  Then she heard a sound, and Stephen was at her side. “I have the boat just beyond the trees,” he whispered.

  She grasped at his arm to steady herself. “You must go away, darling,” she whispered back. “If they learn you are helping us, they will kill you.”

  He did not reply, but leaned down and scooped up Jakob in his arms. “This way,” he said, and he started off.

  “Stephen,” she said desperately. “Go! Please!”

  He stopped and turned towards her. His face in the moonlight was streaked with sweat. “Enough,” he said in a low, flat voice. As quietly as he spoke, she could recognize the ring of command. “Don’t argue. I won’t go. Now, come along.” Then he was moving among the trees. Hanna steeled herself and started after him, her legs finding the strength to keep up. In minutes, they were at the river’s edge. Stephen’s boat was waiting there. Quickly he lowered Jakob inside, and then helped Hanna to climb aboard. At once, he took position at the oars and propelled it rapidly out into the current.

  Hanna knelt by Jakob. His face was even whiter, but he was breathing.

  “How is he?” asked Stephen.

  She looked up at him, working strongly at the oars. “I don’t know. He looks very bad. I will have to get him to a doctor.”

  Stephen shook his head. “A doctor would turn him in to the police at once.” He reflected for a few moments. “Do you know any Jewish doctors?”

  “There is Doctor Lepke in Slabodka.” She was trying desperately to keep from fainting. “But Stephen, you must get away. You will get into terrible trouble.”

  “Stop it, Hanna,” he said gruffly. “I’m part of it.” Then his voice grew tender again. “How are you, my dearest?”

  “I’ll manage,” she replied, not as confident as she pretended to be.

  “I’d better get a doctor for you.”

  Hanna peered about. They were already far out in the river. “Where are you going?”

  “Over to the other side, and then down river until we get some distance between us and the police.”

  A thought struck her. “They may not know who we are.”

  Stephen shook his head. “That Cossack, the one shot in the stomach, he talked before he died.”

  Hanna’s hand rose to her throat in dismay. “Where did you hear that?”

  “On the way to get my boat. The whole village is in the streets. He gave your description. I heard some of the people speak your name–and that of Jakob.”

  “Oh, Lord.” She began weeping softly.

  “Don’t worry, Hanna. We’ll think of something to do.”

  “Do what?” she moaned. “I have ruined all our lives.”

  He was still rowing with great strokes, sending the boat skimming over the water. “One of the people said that Hershel was wanted by the police. What do you know about it?”

  “I saw some men watching the house and warned him. Others began chasing him, and we ended up in the square.”

  “Were you with him?”

  “No. I was trying to get home. But two of them caught up with him there.

  He shot them both. Then the Cossacks and the general rode up.”

  “He was at the reception earlier. Then what happened?”

  “One of the Cossacks stabbed Hershel with his lance. As he was dying, he shot the Cossack. The second one came up at that time. He must have thought I was helping Hershel, so he rode me down, and then raised his sword to kill me.”

  “Oh, no,” said Stephen, aghast.

  “Jakob ran up at the last minute and pulled him from his horse. They fought for a while, and then the Cossack stabbed him.” She fell silent.

  “Is that when you shot him?”

  She
nodded.

  Stephen rowed for a few more strokes. “And the general?”

  “He started firing at me, and then got off his horse to kill me. Jakob struck him with the Cossack’s sword.”

  “With that wound in him?”

  “Yes.”

  They were close to the far shore. He turned west and continued rowing strongly down river. The breeze from the water was drying the sweat, streaking his face. He was glad to be working so hard, since it helped to calm his mind enough to focus on the situation. He was quite aware of the seriousness of the offense committed by Hanna and Jakob, and himself for that matter. Killing police officers was bad enough, but the murder of a general would let loose a storm which would engulf the district. He had not hesitated an instant in helping Hanna, regardless of the circumstances, but he had assisted with Jakob simply because he knew that Hanna would not go without him. That preyed on his mind, helping a Jew against his own countrymen. In his heart, he did not approve of the Hasid. He was, well, different from the other Jews in a way that stiffened his back. Jakob had saved Hanna, so that warranted some form of repayment, but whether he lived or died was not the issue here. Getting Hanna clear was the prime task, and his intelligent mind cut through all allied issues to focus on the basic fact that clearly meant out of the country. Both Hanna and Jakob would be hunted like savage animals, and his job was to keep her one step ahead of the hunters. Jakob was a burden, but another look at the wounded man in the bright moonlight assured him that it would not be for long. When he died, Stephen reasoned, he would row ashore and bury the body. Two details must be concealed from the hunters. The first, that Stephen was helping them, and the second, that a boat was being used. He must retain his freedom of action if he was to be of use to his beloved. Therefore, dumping Jakob’s body in the river would lead the police to conclude that the escape was by river. Next, a doctor for Hanna must be contacted at all costs. He must learn whether her miscarriage would imperil her life.