Enemy of the Tzar

by Lester S. Taube

  A tall, smooth faced man, dressed in an ornate, forest green suit with badges of office hanging from his neck and a matching green hat on his head, rose from behind the desk.

  “The Herr Bürgermeister,” said the chief clerk with a proper show of deference.

  Hanna and Stephen just nodded, too awed to speak.

  The mayor motioned up two witnesses seated on a bench at the rear of the room, and then started through a brief, but completely binding ceremony, asking their names, which the chief clerk recorded on a form, ages, nationalities, names of their parents, and other information. When he requested place of baptism, Hanna flushed, and then said in a level voice that she was a Jew. The mayor had not been told this, and for a few moments he and the chief clerk whispered back and forth about how to answer this question. The chief clerk filled in the term ‘Jude’, and the ceremony continued.

  Once they repeated their vows, Stephen’s face turned a dark red when it came time to put on the ring. In their rush, they had forgotten to buy one. He slipped off a wide gold ring his father had given him at his entry to the university, and placed it on Hanna’s right ring finger. She had to keep her hand upright to prevent it from falling off.

  At the conclusion, the Bürgermeister, smiling, motioned for them to kiss, then he stepped around the desk to shake their hands and wish them good health and fortune.

  Still somewhat dazed, the two signed the marriage register, the Bürgermeister affixed his seal to the certificate, which was attested to by the chief clerk and the two witnesses, and then they were led by the chief clerk to a registry window for the final stamp, a large official gold leafed seal.

  “Five marks,” said the registry clerk.

  As Stephen was digging into his pocket, the chief clerk leaned his head towards the registry clerk and whispered a few words. The registry clerk looked at him in surprise, and then turned back to the newlyweds.

  “There is no charge. I have been told to present to you the compliments and best wishes of Herr Eric.”

  Hanna and Stephen stared at each other, and then they smiled. At last, they were officially man and wife.

  The chief clerk escorted them to the door, and he shook their hands goodbye.

  They walked out into the street, hand in hand, their eyes shining with joy, their hearts pounding with happiness, suddenly shy, able to steal only peeks at each other. Then, in the middle of the block, Stephen pulled her to a stop, engulfed her in his arms, and kissed her hungrily on the lips. The passers-by smiled at the two locked in their embrace. It was not an unusual sight near the Rathaus.

  Two blocks away was a quartet of goldsmith’s shops, opened in that location for such a reason. A ring in the second window caught their attention, a little wider than usual. They waited patiently the few minutes it took to size it to her finger, and then they were out on the street again.

  She stopped him at the next intersection and turned to face him. “I will never take it off, Stephen,” she said, with a trace of tears in her eyes. “It will be buried with me.”

  “And I will honor the ring,” he said softly. “For the rest of my life.”

  He kissed her tenderly, a seal upon their promise.

  Filled with joy, Stephen said the first thing on his mind. “I’m hungry.”

  Chuckling, Hanna linked her arm through his. “There is a very nice restaurant two or three blocks from here. I am going to buy our lunch.”

  “That’s my job,” said Stephen, falling into the game.

  “Not now. When you are an engineer, you can pay for our first anniversary.”

  Three days later, after hours of sightseeing, walking in the woods at the end of the streetcar lines, enchanted by the animals in the zoo, listening dreamily to concerts in the parks, making love full of adoration and bliss, they packed their bags and took the train to Garmisch. It was only a short walk to her pension, where she introduced Stephen to the owners, explained that she was now Frau Timoshinkov, and stored their luggage in her room. Then they walked to the sanitarium.

  Jakob was seated in his wheel chair in the reading room, completely engrossed in his book. It took him a second or two to notice them standing beside him.

  “Hello, Stephen,” he said, standing up and holding out his thin, pale-skinned hand.

  Stephen took it gingerly. “Hello, Jakob.” He grinned. “You look better than when we last parted.”

  “I feel better, thanks to you.” He looked at Hanna. There was no mistaking the meaning of her glowing face–she and Stephen had been together these past five days.

  “Jakob,” said Hanna, bursting at the seams with the news. She held out her hand. “Stephen and I were married.”

  His expression did not change noticeably, but at the sight of the ring, the Cossack’s saber was again thrust into his chest. His lips drew apart in what he desperately hoped was a smile. “God bless the two of you,” he said softly. He reached out and shook the hands of both. “May He forever keep you safe and cover you with His bounty, now and forever.”

  “Thank you, Jakob,” said Hanna. He looked so pale, she thought. Was he this pale when he stood up? “Sit down,” she told him. Gratefully, he sank back to his wheelchair, Stephen and Hanna taking seats on a bench across the table.

  “I am glad you were able to avoid trouble when you returned to Russia after helping us,” said Jakob to Stephen. “That was a brave act you did.”

  “There was also a great deal of luck,” he replied. “I got across the border with no trouble at all and caught the train at Kovno the next day at the moment it was taking off. Then, at university, everyone was so occupied running about buying books, trying out for soccer teams, and getting settled, that they never missed me. I could have arrived even later without its being a problem. About a month later, I had a visit from the police asking again if I knew you and Hanna. I told them I had met you both a few times, like you run upon everyone in a small village. They asked my ideas on where you might have gone to, and I said it was certain you two had fled to Poland. I suspect they thought I was a bit of an idiot, for they were convinced you were still hiding in some Jew’s cellar in Kovno, and they were not about to search hundreds of buildings, hoping to find the hiding place.”

  “What are your plans now?” asked Jakob.

  “I will be returning to Russia in three days. I have one more year left at university.”

  “But, Hanna…”

  “I cannot go back with him,” she said. “He will return when he completes his schooling.”

  Suddenly, Jakob’s face took on color, and he made an effort to conceal his surge of relief. The pressure of loss was abruptly lifted from his chest.

  Later, they helped Jakob into a carriage and were driven to Hanna’s pension. With pots and pans and dishes from her own room, she cooked a kosher meal of fish and vegetables in the kitchen, and served them in a corner of the small dining room. She opened a bottle of kosher wine, and they toasted their reunion.

  On Friday afternoon, Hanna waved her handkerchief at the departing train until it was out of sight. “Goodbye, my love, my heart,” she said through the tears blurring her vision. She stood yet another few minutes, as if by miracle the eight days Stephen had been in Germany could begin again, then she wiped her eyes and walked with stiff back to another quay, where she waited half an hour for her return train to Garmisch. It was dusk when she arrived. Quickly, she walked the few blocks to her pension, up to her room, and took out two candles. It was Friday sunset, the beginning of the Sabbath. Drawing a shawl over her head, she lit the candles, gave the ritual blessing, then prayed for the souls of her mother and her father, for the safety and

  health of her sisters and brother, for the Katzman’s, father and son, for Mr. Wilson, for Jakob, and then again through her tears, for her husband.

  CHAPTER 24

  Hanna looked up from darning one of Jakob’s stockings. They were seated on the wide lawn at the front of the sanitarium, and Jakob was absorbed in a book he was reading. She smile
d at his intense concentration, as if his very being depended on absorbing each detail. Sunday was generally a relaxing day. She would bring a picnic lunch, and they would sit quietly in the sun, or, if Jakob hit upon a subject which aroused his interest, he would throw it up in the air for Hanna to comment upon. He enjoyed hearing her speak. She grasped the idea of a subject quickly enough, and was not afraid to ask questions, which Jakob was delighted to answer, especially with an audience who was eager to learn.

  He felt her eyes on him and looked up, a warmth flooding his slowly strengthening body at having her close. The late summer sun was thinning, and the dusks now brought a chilling promise of coming fall. He had shuddered at the thought of cold air entering his weakened lungs, but the last two or three weeks had found quite a change taking place inside. From one day to the next his breathing and stamina had improved, and he could now walk about unaided.

  He looked past her, and his head rose in speculation. Two men had dismounted from a carriage at the street and were walking towards them. Their eyes were fixed on the two sitting off by themselves. Jakob started as he studied their clothing and their manner of walking. They were dressed too formally, in dark suits, dark caps, and they strode forward with a fixed purpose.

  “Hanna,” he said, urgently, getting to his feet. “Do not ask any questions. Let’s get back to the house at once.”

  She did not question him, but quickly rose and took his arm. Her eyes flashed back and saw the men. Jakob’s meaning took root immediately, and she led him off.

  They had taken scarcely a dozen steps when Jakob looked back. “Run!” he snapped tersely, breaking into a shambling trot. The men had changed direction to cut them off, and had lengthened their stride.

  Hanna began pulling Jakob, her face taut with fright. “Faster!” cried Jakob. He stumbled, and Hanna slowed to keep him upright.

  Jakob yanked his hand free. “Run, Hanna!” he panted, his lungs already past the point of usage. “Run to the house. Get help.”

  She knew Jakob was just trying to send her away, that he was offering himself to the approaching men. She grabbed his hand. “Try, Jakob. I will not go by myself.”

  The men came to a sudden stop. They drew pistols from pockets. Jakob shoved Hanna in front of him, shielding her with his body. “Run!” he shouted, at the end of endurance.

  Shots rang out. Jakob shuddered as a bullet struck home. The impact slammed him into Hanna, knocking them both to the ground. Hanna twisted round. Her eyes filled with horror as she looked at Jakob. The side of his head was torn open, and blood covered his face.

  “He is dead!” she screamed inwardly. “Jakob is dead!”

  More shots sounded. A bullet whistled by her.

  “Get the bitch!” shouted one of the men in Russian to his companion as he started closer.

  Terrified, Hanna scurried away on hands and knees, and then she leaped to her feet and started running frantically towards shrubs to one side.

  “Help!” she screamed at the top of her voice. “Help!”

  A number of the patients and nurses nearby began shouting at the men, and a male attendant pulled out a whistle and blew it stridently. It did not deter them. They sprinted off after her.

  She rushed into the shrubs, and then through them to a stand of trees, fear lending her a desperate burst of energy. The men were hot on her trail. At the edge of the woods was an open pasture. She raced over it, the only thought in her mind was of survival. The men broke clear also, and began firing once more.

  Suddenly, at the far end of the field, a figure on horseback came into view.

  Hanna’s heart leaped as she recognized the uniform of a policeman. “Help!” she screamed, barely able to keep on her feet. “Help!”

  The officer must have heard the shots, for he had already spurred his horse and was unslinging a rifle from his shoulder. He grasped at once what was happening, and at long range, he commenced firing at the pursuing men. They emptied their pistols at Hanna, hoping for a lucky hit, then turned and began running back towards the road and their carriage.

  Hanna fell to her knees as the policeman rode up. He took one sharp look at her gasping for breath, saw that she was uninjured, then spurred off after the men. Soon she heard more shooting, and in what seemed minutes other police rode up to her.

  She was trembling, still unable to catch her breath. Two of the officers dismounted and helped her back to the sanitarium, where knots of people were grouped, discussing the excitement. She stumbled towards Jakob. Three or four of the nurses were around him.

  “Frau Timoshinkov,” she heard a voice. She looked up. Sergeant Prosner of the local police came striding up. “We got one of them,” he said with satisfaction, pointing towards a body, lying near the road. “Who were they?” he asked gruffly, the bristles of his mustache standing up in anger.

  “Russians. They spoke in Russian.” She turned back towards Jakob. “He is dead, is he not?” she asked chokingly.

  Prosner was as distraught as Hanna. He wondered what those people in Berlin would say about this mess. They should have let him know that these fugitives were in danger. There was no doubt that they would surely blame him, although he was not the least bit responsible. At least his men had reacted quickly and killed one of the assassins. He should receive some recognition for that.

  “Golub?” he responded, almost as an afterthought. “He’s all right. A bullet creased his head.”

  Hanna let out a cry of hope and sprinted over to Jakob, pushing aside one of the nurses. It was as Prosner had said. They had wrapped a bandage around his head. His eyes were open and clear.

  His face filled with relief as she came into view. “Are you well, Hanna?” he asked breathlessly.

  “Yes, yes,” she answered at once, grasping his hand tightly.

  Almost on cue, two orderlies came trotting up with a stretcher. They took Jakob and Hanna to an ambulance and placed them inside, and then under heavy guard, they were taken to the police station and lodged in one of the rooms.

  Prosner phoned Captain Roth in Berlin. Being Sunday, it took some time to track him down. There was a moment of silence as Roth digested the news, then he gave a series of sharp orders. At once, one of the officers was sent off to the sanitarium to get Jakob’s few possessions and the sergeant’s wife was dispatched to Hanna’s pension to bring back her clothing and personal effects. Extra guards were posted about the station to deter any further attempt on their lives.

  Roth was there the following day. He shook their hands with evident relief. “I am so very sorry about your injury, Herr Golub, and the attack on your person, Frau Timoshinkov. We did not expect the Russians to go to these extremes.”

  Hanna sighed in resignation. “How did they find us?” she asked, her eyes still reflecting the fright.

  “Probably your husband,” said Roth carefully.

  Hanna’s face paled with worry. “Oh, no!” she whispered. “You mean…?” She was unable to say the words. “I must write at once.”

  “Very well, Frau Timoshinkov. But we will provide you with a return address to use. You must protect your location at all costs. Never give any indication where you are living. They may still be determined to attack you.”

  “They were Russian Okhrana, were they not?”

  “I suspect as much. The man we shot carried no identification. We are still seeking his accomplice.” He took a seat across from them. “Both of you must understand that you cannot remain here. Have you thought of moving to another country? Holland, England, the United States? We will take care of the expenses.”

  She shook her head. “I must remain close to Russia. There is my family and my husband. If I moved too far away, it would be like deserting them.”

  Roth knew her well enough by then to know that once her mind was made up, there was no changing it. “Very well,” he agreed. “But you must move to another town, change your identities.” He peered at Jakob carefully. “You must appear less like a Hasid. And just as important, you
both will have to keep away from other Jews.” He held up his hand to forestall their expected arguments. “If the Okhrana plan on carrying out their revenge, they will surely search among the Jewish population.”

  Hanna shook her head determinedly. “We cannot act like gentiles,” she replied softly. Jakob, nursing a furious headache, nodded in agreement.

  Roth expected as much. “I did not envision that you would go that far, but you must make some concessions. For example, Herr Golub, you must wear your hair in a more appropriate manner when in public, and–well–your clothes. In addition, we must establish a plan to convince anyone who seeks you that you have moved out of the country. Do you understand?” They nodded, but Hanna knew that Jakob was merely giving lip service to Roth’s advice. He would rather risk everything than change a hair on his head again. She would have to work out some solution.

  Roth lit up a cigar and leaned back thinking. “If I were searching for you, I would first look among the large Jewish populations. Therefore we shall avoid Berlin, Frankfurt, and the other major cities. And since you would surely stand out in small communities, I think we should consider one in between. Perhaps, Stuttgart. That would be a good choice. It is large enough to hide in and as far away from Russia as you can get and still be in Germany.”

  “When do you think we should leave?” asked Hanna.

  “Tomorrow,” replied Roth. He was saying it just for conversation, for he had already made up his mind to move them at nightfall.

  CHAPTER 25

  Hanna Charnoff, native of Palestine and subject of His Majesty, Abdul-Hamid, Sultan of the Ottoman Empire, so her identity card stated–at Roth’s suggestion to explain away her accent–trotted up the four flights of stairs to their rooms in Herr Rosenthal’s house in Stuttgart. She and Jakob had been here for a month, for, as the intelligence captain had decided, they had been spirited out of the Garmisch police station in the dead of night and taken by trusted agents to this city in the Kingdom of Württemberg in southwest Germany. Jakob had been issued identity papers under the name of Mordecai Gulman, also from Palestine, and was introduced as the brother of Hanna.