Emil and Karl

by Yankev Glatshteyn

  “I was really that sick?” Karl said, feeling important.

  “Oh, you looked like you were dying. Do you know what I did?” Emil said softly, feeling embarrassed. “I said a prayer that my father taught me. I said it a few times before I went to sleep.”

  Karl sat down on the chair where the signalman had been sitting. Then he jumped up again, as if he had suddenly been bitten by something.

  “I sat down on those stupid penknives. The blades almost cut me.”

  “We’ll get rid of them tomorrow. He’ll have to take them back,” said Emil. “If not, we’ll bury them in the ground.”

  “It’s late. Let’s go to sleep. Don’t forget our plan,” Karl said quietly, and he looked to see if Hans was still asleep.

  “Of course I remember. I’ll remind myself three times, and then I’ll get up. I’m a little bit afraid, so don’t get angry if I pull on your hair too hard. That’ll be a signal that I’m scared.”

  “But not too hard, because I’ll wake up and scream and that’ll ruin everything. Hans will find out that we’re watching him.”

  They both got into the bed that Emil slept in while Karl had been sick.

  “I wish there was someone to tell me a story now, or to sing me a nice little song. My mother knew a lot of lullabies,” said Karl, and he began to hum a melody:

  “Oy, yo, te, ti-di-di, daylom, daylom.”

  And Emil began singing along, “Ti-di-di, daylom, daylom.”

  “That’s the Zeyde’s tune,” Emil said, happily. “Go on, sing it. I forgot all about it.”

  “Not me. I remember Zeyde’s song really well,” Karl said, humming the melody. “I’m never going to forget it.”

  chapter eighteen

  In the morning when Emil opened his eyes, he felt embarrassed, because he had slept through the night.

  “It’s the first time that’s ever happened to me,” he told Karl. “Usually if I decide to get up in the middle of the night, I do it.”

  Karl laughed, but he reassured his friend.

  “You probably tired yourself out playing ball.”

  Emil rested all day. When Hans invited him to play ball, he refused. But it didn’t help; for a second night he slept soundly.

  “I forgot how to do it,” Emil complained. “This time I was sure I would do it. I shut my eyes tight, and I repeated to myself three times that I have to wake up in the middle of the night.”

  Karl thought it was funny that Emil’s plan had failed twice.

  “So why didn’t you get up and wake me?” Emil protested to his friend.

  Karl wanted to answer him, but just then the door opened and in walked Matilda.

  Both boys shouted so loudly that Matilda was overcome.

  They leaped out of bed and clung to her, making it impossible for her to move.

  “Do you love me so much?” she asked, beaming with joy.

  “Even more,” answered Emil.

  “We really missed you,” Karl said.

  Matilda was overwhelmed by their greeting. She looked taller than usual. Wisps of gray hair stuck out from under her hat. Her large, dark eyes sparkled with laughter, and she smiled broadly. Karl thought that Matilda was just as beautiful as his mother, even though she had a small scar under her left eye.

  Just then Emil noticed that Hans was missing. He started to look around the house, but he was nowhere to be seen.

  “Where’s Hans?” Emil asked, concerned.

  Karl ran from one room to the next and returned, surprised.

  “Hans disappeared. Where did he go?” he asked, frightened.

  “Don’t be scared. He’ll be back later, in the evening,” Matilda said, taking off her wet raincoat.

  It was raining heavily outside. Matilda shut the windows to keep out the cold air. Suddenly it became dark, as if it were already dusk. She lit the lamp, and the room was filled with shadows.

  “It isn’t often that it’s so dark during the day. It’s only ten o’clock in the morning,” Matilda said, as she gave each of the boys a glass of milk.

  “And don’t think that I forgot about you.”

  Matilda took out two penknives. She opened up both of them to show that they had four blades each. Not only that—each knife also had a little scissors.

  Karl’s eyes filled with tears. All at once he began to tell Matilda about the two penknives that Friedrich wanted to give them. Karl admitted that he was ready to accept the old man’s gift, but Emil didn’t want to. So they buried the knives near the house, with a piece of paper on which they had written, “Here lie two rotten knives.”

  “I’m so proud of you, boys. You cannot know how proud I am,” Matilda said, drawing them close to her.

  “And those penknives had only three blades,” Emil said happily. “And they didn’t have scissors, either.”

  Matilda gave the boys something to eat. When they finished, and after they tried out their knives on pieces of paper, she explained that she wanted to tell them something—something extremely important.

  “I’ve decided to tell you about a very serious matter,” Matilda began. “I’ve thought a great deal about whether or not I should tell you, but your story about the penknives convinced me that I can, because you are such thoughtful boys.

  “Vienna has become a completely different city,” Matilda said.

  “That’s just what my mother told me,” Karl said excitedly, as if he were hearing these words from his mother.

  “Yes, your mother was right. This city is no longer recognizable. Don’t think that there are only two children like you in Vienna. There are hundreds of Emils and Karls. In all of Austria there are many thousands.”

  Matilda sighed and then continued to speak.

  “You’re a little better off than the other Emils and Karls who don’t even have a roof over their heads. They wander around, living from hand to mouth—hungry, naked, and barefoot.

  “Our country is full of prisons now, tens of thousands of people have been locked up. They are suffering only because they dared to tell the truth. Many people have been murdered. And the Emils and Karls are being persecuted, too. The Emils are suffering twice as much, because they are Jews. You saw how they were being treated that Sunday in the park.”

  “I was also treated like a Jew,” Karl said proudly. “I had to wash the pavement with soap that burned my hands.”

  “Poor Karl, poor Emil, I don’t know what to say to you. You already know everything. But I must tell you that this won’t last forever. Thank God, we have Hans, and not just one Hans, but hundreds of Hanses.”

  “Hans?” Both boys cried out, shocked. “Do you mean our Hans?”

  “Yes, our Hans,” Matilda answered.

  “I knew that something was going on,” said Karl. “What did I tell you, Emil?”

  “Hans was once a famous vaudeville actor. He entertained tens of thousands of people,” Matilda explained. “But when Vienna began to change, he decided that the time for merrymaking had passed. He let his beard and his hair grow, so that no one would recognize him. It’s all a disguise.”

  “You mean,” Emil said, “that he’s not—he’s not—”

  “No, he’s not crazy. It’s about time that you boys knew. You have no idea how it has tormented Hans that he has also had to deceive you. He’ll be so happy when he returns tonight and finds out that he doesn’t have to pretend in front of you any more.”

  Emil and Karl sat there, overwhelmed by what Matilda had told them.

  All day long they asked her more questions. Matilda explained to them what Hans and his comrades were doing, how they risked their lives to distribute pamphlets and books, and how cleverly they went about this—how they printed pamphlets on cigarette paper, then wrapped them up and distributed them from house to house, how they made recordings of patriotic songs that ended with speeches denouncing the crimes of the current regime.

  “And you, Aunt Matilda, what do you do?” Emil asked cautiously.

  “I also help out. I
do my share, too,” Matilda said, shyly, like a little girl.

  “But in order to organize the work against this brutal regime, we have to have underground meetings. As you can imagine, these meetings are very dangerous—deadly dangerous, but Hans and his comrades are strong and brave.

  “In fact, tonight they’re holding a meeting here in our house, in the room that we always keep dark,” Matilda said. “Several dozen people will be coming. They’ll get here late, just before midnight.”

  “I’d like to come, too,” said Emil.

  “Me too,” Karl asked.

  “If you’re not tired, we’ll let you come to the meeting.”

  Karl felt happy. It intrigued him that Matilda had called it an “underground” meeting. He remembered stories he’d once heard about underground caves and the sacks of gold and diamonds that lay hidden there.

  “I wish it was already just before midnight,” said Karl. “I can hardly wait.”

  Just then Hans appeared at the door. He stood there for a while and looked at Matilda.

  “I’ve already told them all about it. It’s better that way. Emil and Karl are our children. They’ve been through enough, and they ought to know about everything.”

  And as Matilda said these words, Hans went over to the boys and embraced them.

  “My little friends, my little friends,” Hans said, his voice trembling.

  It was too much for Emil. He began to cry.

  chapter nineteen

  Just before midnight, Matilda put out all the lamps. Emil and Karl sat with bated breath and waited. Hans was already sitting in the windowless side room that was always dark.

  The stillness upset Emil, and he moved close to where Karl was sitting. Matilda drew the drapes across all the windows. The only light in the house came from a firefly that had flown in by chance and flickered on and off.

  Emil and Karl couldn’t see Matilda, but they heard her breathing heavily. They could tell that she was waiting anxiously.

  Karl found it very exciting to wait in the dark. He felt a tickling sensation in his throat. It had been quiet for such a long time that he wondered if anyone would come.

  Suddenly the whole house began to shake. A train rushed by. They heard its whistle blow, then fade away. Long after the train, with its small, yellow windows, had passed by, they could still hear the whistle echoing from the little hill beside the tracks.

  “That was the twelve-ten,” said Hans from the dark room.

  His voice came from out of the darkness unexpectedly. Emil and Karl trembled.

  Aunt Matilda went over to the door and opened it. It grew a little lighter inside. Emil and Karl watched the door, full of anticipation. Matilda sat down between them, and all three kept their eyes fastened on the door, not saying a word.

  Then the shadow of a man appeared and, without saying a word, he slipped into the dark room. A minute or two went by and another man came in, then another. One by one they came and vanished into the dark room. The last to arrive were two women. When Matilda saw them, she greeted them quietly and then closed the door.

  “Perhaps you boys would like to go to sleep,” Matilda said quietly.

  “No,” Karl replied. He felt as though his face was burning. He trembled all over with excitement.

  “Not me,” answered Emil, even more quietly and firmly.

  Now Matilda, too, entered the dark room, and the boys approached as well. From inside the room they could hear Hans’s powerful voice. He spoke quietly, but distinctly.

  He explained that great discontent now reigned in Vienna. Mistrust was growing among the people. Many who had once looked forward to the new government with great hopes were now very disappointed. Hans revealed that their underground movement already had allies among the highest officials.

  “How long will this last?” someone asked in a sad, dry voice.

  Everyone remained silent. For a long time Hans did not reply.

  “It depends entirely on us,” said Matilda. “We must work harder and with more commitment. The day will come when we will dance for joy in the streets of Vienna and Berlin. Many of us will not live to see it. We will fall in battle, but it will have been worthwhile. This is an enormous struggle.”

  Emil and Karl drank in every word. To Emil it seemed as if the darkness had begun to glow all by itself. His eyes gleamed, like a cat that could see into every dark corner with glowing eyes. His heart pounded so loudly that he was afraid the others could hear it.

  Karl was also caught up in the excitement of each word. It all seemed like an adventure story to him: the darkness, the people, their speeches. He was so proud of Hans. It reminded him of the night he had seen Hans reading a book. He was also very glad that everyone listened so carefully to Matilda. She spoke calmly and so clearly that he understood each word. He couldn’t see her face, but he knew exactly where she was sitting and followed the flow of her warm voice.

  Next someone gave a report about a concentration camp. He described how people were tortured to death there. He had a list of the names of their comrades who had died there, people he had helped to bury. Many of them had dropped like flies from drinking the water, which was polluted. In the middle of the yard at the concentration camp there was also a pump with clean water, but it was for the guards only.

  He told them more and more in a steady voice, until he broke down.

  “Forgive me, friends,” he sighed. “I’ll be myself again soon. It’s all still so fresh in my memory.”

  Karl thought about his mother. He was sure she was in a camp like that and was being tortured, just as the man had described.

  “Soon you’ll be free, Mama,” he said quietly. “Hans and Matilda will take you away from there.”

  The commandant of the concentration camp offered one consolation to all the prisoners, the man continued to explain.

  If you became tired and wanted to make an end to it all, there was a live wire in the prison courtyard. You touched the wire, and you died very easily.

  That was what the commandant used to say to every new group of prisoners as they arrived at the camp by the hundreds. And many of them did choose this easy way out. But others decided that they had to live—to live.

  The man finished his report, and everyone repeated the words: “Live! Live! Live!”

  Emil and Karl could hear Matilda repeat the words in her gentle voice and Hans in his deep chest voice.

  It was long past the end of the underground meeting. Emil and Karl lay in their bed and stared wide-eyed into the darkness.

  They were silent. Emil wanted to ask Karl something, but he didn’t dare. They heard the hoarse whistling of a train far away. In the darkness the boys felt Matilda pull the covers over them.

  “Are you asleep, boys?”

  Emil and Karl didn’t answer. They didn’t want to say anything that would disrupt the silence.

  “Matilda,” said Hans, “perhaps it’s too much for them to hear such things. They stayed up so late.”

  “There’s no harm in it,” Matilda answered. “They’ll remember it when they’re older. It will stay with them.”

  Emil was silent. It was too bad, he thought, that he wasn’t older already.

  Once more a train passed by. This time it made such a din that it seemed it might drag everything in the room along after it—the beds, the table, the bookshelves too.

  Karl heard how the wheels of the train pounded out those three words, with which the meeting had ended:

  Tra-ta-ta—Live!

  Tra-ta-ta—Live!

  Tra-ta-ta—Live!

  chapter twenty

  Karl woke up laughing. He’d had a happy dream and started to laugh while he was still asleep. He dreamed that his mother was tickling the soles of his feet the way she often used to when she woke him up to go to school.

  His laughter also awakened Emil, who rubbed his eyes, wondering what was happening.

  From the other room they heard Hans’s voice. He was singing softly, as if tryin
g not to wake them up.

  Karl began to imitate Hans’s deep voice. He sang so loudly that Hans, with his mop of hair and unkempt beard, appeared in the doorway.

  “Lazybones!” Hans shouted. “Time to get out of bed and eat breakfast. Did my singing wake you up?” he asked, concerned.

  “No,” Karl answered, still singing. “Good morning, Uncle Hans! Good morning, Aunt Matilda!” Karl sang out.

  “Aunt Matilda’s not here. She won’t be back until late tonight, so you have to eat whatever I give you.”

  “Aunt Matilda’s no good,” said Emil, still lying in bed. “She’s always going away.”

  “Aunt Matilda has important work to do, very important work,” Hans said, emphatically.

  Emil suddenly remembered the meeting of the night before, and he no longer felt upset about Matilda. He was glad she was out at work. He was sure that whatever she was doing was necessary.

  Emil and Karl dressed and ate quickly. The sun beckoned to them through the open door. They wanted to go outside and play ball as soon as possible.

  “Today I’m a free man and can play with you,” said Hans. “We can play for at least an hour, and afterward we’ll take a walk in the woods nearby. I’ll make each of you a walking stick, and then we’ll hike and hike until we build up an appetite.”

  “Great!” Emil danced for joy. “It’s been such a long time since we went for a walk. We’ll have a good time today.”

  “You lazybones!” Hans shouted, pretending to be angry. “Don’t you miss going to school?”

  “I forgot all about school,” Karl admitted.

  “I haven’t thought about it, either,” said Emil.

  “But that’s just why Aunt Matilda and I have not forgotten about it. We’ve decided that tomorrow you’re going to get back to your studies. We’ll make a real school, right here. We’ll do it on a daily basis—one day I’ll be your teacher, and the next day Matilda will teach you. Aunt Matilda knows a lot of nice songs, and I’ll be in charge of giving out punishments. But for now, we’ll forget about school.”

  Hans took them by the hand and led them outside. He took a ball from his pocket, and soon it was flying back and forth among them.