Enemy of the Tzar

by Lester S. Taube

  “What about a doctor for Jakob?” she asked again.

  “It’s out of the question. The only way I could get back here was by pretending I was leaving early for the university. I took the train this morning, got off at the first stop, hitched a ride back on the north side of the river, and rented a boat to row over. I had a devil of a time avoiding the patrols.”

  “You must be exhausted. Lie down and rest.”

  He rummaged through the roll. “I have something for you.” He took out an orange and an apple. Hanna’s eyes grew soft as he handed them over. Oranges were a delicacy. “There’s no time to rest. We must move on tonight.”

  “We cannot do that. Jakob will die.”

  Stephen snorted with exasperation. “If I had any sense, I’d drape you over my shoulder and take you away by yourself. But I know you won’t go without him. Look, Hanna, like I’ve said, he must take his chances. We don’t have a choice.”

  “Where will we go?”

  He had evidently given much consideration to the plan. “We will have to take to the woods going north, and then turn west towards the Baltic. We must try for Prussia.”

  “Prussia! That is hundreds of kilometers away.”

  “Not that far. Perhaps a hundred or so.”

  “But how will we take Jakob? Do you have a wagon?”

  He shook his head. “I will carry him.”

  “You cannot do that, Stephen.”

  He looked her levelly in the eyes. “I have to. There is no other way.”

  Hanna let her hands drop into her lap. Her whole world had crumbled, and it was continuing to worsen with the idea of heading for a country she knew nothing about. But Stephen was right. None of them stood a chance on any piece of land owned by the Tzar of Russia.

  A moan from Jakob sent her over to him with the candle in her hand. His eyes were open, but filmed by pain.

  “Jakob, can you hear me?”

  He nodded his head and croaked out the word, “Yes.”

  “Stephen is here. He brought supplies for us.” She turned towards Stephen. “Can I give him some water?”

  “Yes. All he wants. Has the bleeding stopped?”

  “Yes. He has not bled all day.”

  Stephen came over to the side of the stricken man. He tugged gently at the rolled up shirt plugging the wound. It was crusted to the hole. “We’d better leave that alone.” He slowly lifted Jakob’s head and let a few drops of water pass into his mouth. Jakob sucked at them eagerly. Stephen gave him more, and then lowered him back to the floor.

  “More, please,” croaked Jakob.

  “In a few minutes,” said Stephen. “We have all the water you want. I will give you more shortly. Try to understand.”

  “I understand.”

  Stephen went to his bed roll and took out a bottle filled with a light colored liquid. Back at Jakob’s side, he measured out a portion into a teaspoon and poured it between his lips.

  “What is it?” asked Hanna.

  “Laudanum,” said Stephen, recorking the bottle. “It is opium mixed with alcohol. It should relieve some of his pain.”

  “I know about it. I used to give it to Mama.”

  The drug acted with unexpected speed, for by the time Stephen had the bottle put away, Jakob’s discomfort had eased enough for him to fall into what seemed to be a restful sleep. Stephen motioned for Hanna to step outside. A breeze was blowing, welcome after the dank odor of the shack, and the stars were distant and hazy in the bright moonlight.

  She went directly into his arms. He held her gently, his lips caressing her hair and cheek. “Are you sure you are well, my dearest?” he asked.

  She knew what he meant. “I’m all right now. There was some pain in my groin earlier, but it has passed away.”

  He stood back to look into her face. “We will have to move on soon. Every hour here increases the danger.”

  She nodded her head. “I know.” She tried to smile, but it was a wan effort. “I was thinking back to yesterday when our only concern was my being pregnant. Now it seems like such a small concern.”

  “Yes, that’s true. I feel like the ground has been swept out from under my feet, too.” He kissed her forehead. “But today is today, and we have things to do.”

  She finally smiled. “Papa would have loved you.”

  He grinned down at her. “Why me?”

  “You are his kind of man. You do not give up.”

  “Neither do you.” He stepped back. “We should go now.”

  “So soon?”

  “I saw hundreds of soldiers crossing from Kaunas this morning. I think they will concentrate on searching for you towards the East, perhaps in Slabodka and Jonava. But it won’t be long before they send searchers in this direction. They may already have done so.”

  Hanna was quiet for a few seconds. “Why such a massive search?”

  “I’ve tried to explain to you that everyone thinks you are part of a major spy ring. Perhaps Hershel did belong to an important one. Anyhow, the general Jakob killed was a rather important fellow. He commanded a division on the south bank. His soldiers are looking for revenge.” He was immediately sorry he had mentioned the subject, for Hanna began trembling. He kissed her lips lightly. “Don’t worry, darling. We’ll manage. Let’s go now.”

  Once Stephen had packed everything in the sleeping bag, he searched all corners of the shack to erase all evidence that someone had used the shelter. He slung the roll over his shoulder.

  “I’ll carry that,” said Hanna.

  “Later,” he replied. He lifted Jakob gently, keeping his arms apart to put as little stress as possible on the wound, and they started up a loading incline into the woods facing north. Silently they walked through the ravaged forest, Stephen occasionally turning sideways to pass between trees or bushes that might disturb the injured man.

  After an hour of steady marching, Stephen stopped in a clearing and lowered Jakob to the earth. He leaned against a tree, sweat pouring down his face, his mouth open to gulp in air. He tried to grin as Hanna came up. Without a word, she slipped the bag off his back.

  “I will carry it now,” she said with determination. “I promise to let you know when I get tired.” He nodded. “Did you have a chance to speak with Mr. Wilson?” she went on, heavily winded herself.

  “No. But the children will be safe with him. The villagers were pretty much on your side, you know. Your family has built up a lot of respect over the years.”

  “What you mean is that they are anti-Russian.”

  He shrugged his shoulders, his breathing coming under control. “I guess so. But be fair, Hanna. We’ve tried and tried to make life comfortable for the people. They are pretty stiff-necked.”

  “Like us Jews?” laughed Hanna.

  He grinned back. “I don’t think any group could be that stiff-necked. It’s a new century. Russia has come a long way in the past one hundred years.

  “I could argue that all night,” observed Hanna.

  “I know.” He reached down for her hand. “Up you come, darling. We must keep moving.”

  At dawn, all were fatigued, so Stephen led the way into a heavy clump of bushes. Once he laid out the bedroll, he placed Jakob atop it. Hanna dropped to the side of the injured man with a sigh of relief. She was at the end of her endurance. Stephen placed a blanket over the two, and then lay down next to Hanna. Holding her hand, he was asleep at once. Hanna joined him shortly after. Jakob lay awake suffering for another hour, hard pressed to figure out just what was happening. He had recited the Shema, his death prayer, more than once when he felt the cloud of coma pressing down on him, and here he was, still alive. He thanked the Lord for having brought them all safely to this point, and for having kept Hanna well. And as his eyes closed, he asked blessings upon them all, even Stephen, the enemy of the Jews.

  CHAPTER 19

  For two days, they struggled through the woods and over the fields. Stephen never ceased to be surprised that Jakob was still alive, albeit in a coma
most of the time. They took great pains to avoid farms and roads. At one point, they froze in terror as forms suddenly loomed up in front of them, and then sat down in great relief when they recognized them to be cattle.

  At one stop, Hanna was surprised to see that Jakob’s eyes were open. They seemed to clear somewhat when she murmured his name. She lowered her head to his lips.

  “May I have some water, please?” he asked, so weakly that she could barely hear.

  “Stephen,” she called out. “Jakob has asked for water.”

  At once, he crawled to her side and lifted Jakob’s head to drink from the canteen. After two or three swallows, Jakob motioned to stop and lay back. Stephen opened his jacket and inspected the bloody shirt crusted to the wound.

  “We’ll have to get that loose,” he said to Jakob. The wounded man nodded. Stephen gave him a spoonful of laudanum, then built a small fire and put on a pot of water to heat. When the drug had eased Jakob’s pain, Stephen soaked a cloth in the warm water and began to dab at the stuck shirt.

  “I’ll do that,” said Hanna.

  Without a word, he handed over the cloth and sat back while she went to work. Jakob’s face grew grim as she gently soaked his shirt. She was not really touching him, they all knew. It was only the cloth, but it was close enough. In time, the garment came free.

  Stephen leaned forward and examined the wound, and then he sniffed at it. He looked at Jakob in surprise. “It’s quite clean,” he said.

  Jakob felt a sudden glow of hope. “Do you mean that I may live?” he asked in a stronger voice.

  “You’ve gotten through a great deal,” replied Stephen. “If it doesn’t start bleeding again, your chances look good.”

  “I will make soup,” said Hanna. “It will be good for you both.” Into the pot went water, pieces of chicken, and cut up vegetables. “What I would not give for an onion,” she said idly.

  When Stephen sat down, she saw how terribly fatigued he was. Carrying a man in his arms hour after hour had drained the great strength he possessed.

  When the soup was prepared, she filled cups that Stephen had brought along, handed one to him with a thick slab of bread, then took a cupful to Jakob’s side and began serving him.

  After a couple of spoonfuls, Jakob motioned that he had enough. “Take more,” insisted Hanna.

  “Don’t force him,” cautioned Stephen. He lay back on the canvas bed roll. “We should get all the rest we can before nightfall. That’s the only safe time to travel.” He turned to his side, and after two or three sighs, his deep, even breathing signaled that he was asleep.

  Hanna smiled down on the slumbering man, with whom she had already shared experiences that few people meet in a lifetime.

  “You like him, don’t you?” she heard in a whisper.

  She turned to see Jakob watching her closely. For a moment she was taken aback, and then she smiled. “Yes, I do. He has been a great friend.”

  For a second or two, Jakob was tempted to say that Stephen apparently felt a deeper affection. Instead, he said, “I consider you to be my friend also.”

  She reached down and picked up his limp, white hand. He jumped as if his wound had caught fire. “I will have to touch you, Jakob, to help. I have already done so, while you were worse.” With an effort, he forced himself to relax, to leave his hand in hers. She rubbed it gently. “You will always be my dear friend.” She was silent for a few seconds. “What do you call a man who has saved your life and who has suffered greatly for it?”

  Jakob gave his characteristic shrug. “An acquaintance, perhaps?”

  She smiled. “No, Jakob, there has to be a better word to describe it. Even the dearest of friends does not seem adequate.”

  “A brother, maybe?”

  She continued stroking his hand. “That will have to do because I do not know what else to say. Now to sleep, Jakob. You must build up all the strength you can.”

  At dark, they started off again. It was just before dawn when they came to a shallow river. They had run upon a number of creeks and streams during their march, where they had rested, filled canteens, and eaten cold snacks, but this was a much larger flow of water.

  “We must be at the Dubysa,” said Stephen in surprise. “If so, we are only another night from reaching Prussia. I think we should follow it back towards the Neman.”

  “Won’t that be dangerous?”

  “Somewhat. But if we keep heading west, we’ll run into border patrols. Our people watch this side carefully. I think we should cross to the south bank of the Neman and slip into Prussia from there.”

  Without stopping to rest, Stephen led the way southward along the winding river. Full dawn came while they were still moving, so Stephen found a concealed space in the bushes. They were all bone- weary. Taking a few sips of water, they lay down and were soon asleep.

  They were awakened a couple of hours later by the sounds of men talking.

  Stephen crawled out of the bushes and snaked his way into the woods. In ten or fifteen minutes, he was back to the frightened ones waiting.

  “We’re camped only a hundred meters or so from a dirt road. Those fellows were a couple of farmers, probably on their way to their fields. I’ll have to take the sleeping roll. I thought I would walk about and get some information. With the roll, I can tell whomever I meet that I am camping and fishing.”

  At mid afternoon, Stephen returned. He dropped a burlap bag onto the ground. “There are a couple of fine fish there and some vegetables.” He grinned. “Even some onions.” He sat down heavily, his face lined with weariness.

  “Shall I make you something to eat?” asked Hanna.

  “No, thanks. I ate in a small restaurant a couple of hours ago. We’re only seven or eight versts from Jurbarkas. Lucky we found this place. It’s the only real shelter between here and the Neman.” He stretched with a wide yawn. “There’s a notice in the public square about you and Jakob. They want you badly. And there are military patrols all over.” Hanna’s hand rose to her throat and her face paled. “I told a fellow I was here for the fishing, and he sent me to a house where the Dubysa and Neman meet. The fellow at the house is Russian. He has some rowboats to rent for vacationers. We got along great. I rented a boat for an hour or so, caught these fish, then told him I would be back tomorrow morning at sunup to do more fishing.” He yawned again. “How are you feeling, Jakob?”

  “Much better,” said Jakob. It was a lie, for both Hanna and Stephen could see on his face that he was close to collapse.

  “Do you think we could stay here one night?” asked Hanna. “All of us could use a good rest.”

  Stephen shook his head. “We’re safe only when we move. I don’t know whether the soldiers in town are here to search the area, or as a cordon to cut off escape. Apparently, we’ve stayed ahead of them so far. But that poster in town was pretty clear, and anyone who sees a flash of us hiding will certainly report us at once. We’ve got to go on.” He opened the sleeping roll, helped move Jakob onto it, and lay down heavily. In seconds, he was fast asleep.

  It was raining when they prepared to leave. Stephen placed the canvas over Jakob’s fevered form. Even an extra large dose of the drug had not helped the twitching man calm down. But Hanna did not dispute Stephen’s decision to leave in such bad weather, for he had explained that the rain was actually a godsend, since it would cloak their movement and keep people indoors.

  After a couple of hours, Stephen stopped and looked about. “We are on the edge of town,” he said. “We will skirt it to the fisherman’s house.”

  He led the way to a knoll overlooking the Nemunas. Puffing from his labors, Stephen lowered Jakob. “The boat is a hundred meters or so along the water’s edge. Wait here. I’ll be back shortly.”

  In what seemed only minutes, he was at the base of the hill, towing a rowboat. He loaded them aboard and started rowing offshore. Now Hanna could see the wisdom of Stephen’s insistence on traveling during the rain, for it shadowed the usual bright moonlight and cu
t visibility to just a few meters away.

  A thin film of gray was rising when they reached the far bank. “Stay in the boat,” said Stephen, tying it to a tree and moving off into the night. He quickly returned.

  “There’s a hay shed not far from here,” he said happily. He pulled the boat ashore and concealed it among a clump of bushes, then led the way through a field of waving rye to a small, battered hut. Hanna had seen many of these, in which the farmers stored hay from the fields. Inside were a few rakefuls left from the previous year, and gratefully, they spread the sleeping roll.

  “Get out of your wet clothes,” said Stephen, peeling off his jacket and sweater. Hanna, still in the long skirt, shirt waist, and sweater she had put on four days ago, stripped to her shift and bloomers. Stephen placed a blanket around her shoulders, and when they joined Jakob on the sleeping roll, he drew the canvas over the three of them.

  The following night, Stephen led them three or four versts south to get away from the river, and then due west. They heard and sighted patrols now and then , and only Stephen’s caution and cunning saved them from being discovered. He moved at a snail’s pace, locating a new point of concealment before venturing out of cover.

  Just as they waded a narrow stream, they heard the sounds of men approaching! Hearts pounding, they sank to the ground and held their breath. Minutes later, along came a patrol of four men in uniform, the leader carrying a hurricane lamp to light the way. They moved directly in front of them, and then passed out of sight.

  Stephen sat up cautiously. “Did you see them!” he whispered excitedly to Hanna. “Their uniforms! They’re certainly not Russian.”

  Hanna sighed in relief. “Are we over?” she said, still unable to quiet her fears.

  “I think so.”

  “Then we are free?”

  Stephen shook his head. “Not yet.”