The Upside of Hunger

by Roxi Harms

  The sun had almost finished setting when he came to the next farm. After quenching his thirst in the horse trough, he climbed into the loft of the barn and settled down in the soft straw, out of sight of anyone who might come out to check the animals before bed. He'd walked far enough for one day, he thought, as the first star of the night appeared in the patch of sky visible through the opening at the end of the loft.

  For days, Adam walked and hitched the occasional ride, slept in barns, and raided gardens. When he couldn't stand any more raw vegetables, he knocked on doors and offered to do chores in exchange for a meal. People were quick to take pity on him when they heard that his dad had died, leaving him and his mom and baby sisters to fend for themselves and that his uncle had promised them wheat for the winter if he helped with the harvest. He mumbled when he told his story, keeping his eyes downcast.

  Finally, he reached the mountains.

  Adam gazed around at the little village where his last ride had dropped him off. It was nestled on a plateau with tall mountains soaring skyward to the west. To the east, back the way he'd just come, the land fell away to the plains he could see in the distance.

  His mouth watered as the smell of frying onions reached him. The sun was directly overhead, the early morning hint of autumn long since burned off. He hadn't had anything since a slice of bread and jam just after sunrise. He looked around. The smell must be coming from the tavern across the street. Adam walked over and stood in front of it, hesitating a moment, then pushed open the door and walked into the dim interior. He'd never been inside a tavern before. He could smell stale beer and wine mingled with the smell of food cooking.

  "What do you want, kid?" Adam jumped and squinted towards where a voice barked out from behind the counter.

  "Um. . . I was wondering if maybe I could do some work around here, in exchange for a meal?" Adam could see the man now, his belly protruding under a dirty apron.

  "Where do you come from?" the man asked.

  Adam thought for a second.

  "Outside of Budapest. My parents are dead. I'm looking for a job."

  The tavern keeper was quiet.

  "Okay," he said a minute later. "You sweep and mop the floors and you can have lunch before the place gets busy."

  Adam grinned. "Yes, sir!"

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Western Hungary, Autumn 1941

  As Adam sat savouring the last few bites of his pork cutlet and fried potatoes, watching the people walking by on the street outside the window, a pair of perfectly matched, fawn-coloured horses strutted into sight pulling a carriage. Their harnesses were brightly polished and their blond manes and tails were combed out and flowing. As they drew up in front of the tavern, Adam's eyes shifted to the driver climbing down from the front seat of the carriage and watched in awe as he came into the empty tavern, ducking his head to allow the feather adorning his hat to fit through.

  "Good day," the man greeted the tavern keeper with a big smile as he settled onto one of the rough wooden stools at the bar, casually flicking his long red coat out behind him so as to not crush the gold embroidery. With his other hand, he removed his hat and set it on another stool, where it sat like a peacock perched next to him.

  The two began to chat, but Adam couldn't make out their words. The tavern keeper poured a mug of beer from the tap on the bar as the man glanced around. Seeing Adam, the man motioned over his shoulder and directed a question at the bartender. Adam saw the barman say something and shrug his shoulders. The man took a long drink from the mug and then stood up and walked towards Adam's table, mug in one hand, hat in the other.

  "May I join you?" he enquired with a small bow.

  "Sure, I guess so," replied Adam, eyes wide.

  "The bartender tells me you are here on your own. What's your name?"

  "Adam."

  "Where are you from, Adam?"

  "Just a little village. Close to Budapest."

  "Well, you are very brave to be travelling alone. Where are you headed?" The man took a long drink of his beer, watching Adam over the top of the mug.

  "I'm just looking for work."

  "Where are your mother and father?"

  "They died."

  "Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Have you ever been to this part of Hungary before?"

  "No sir. I was headed towards the mountains."

  "Well, that's a good choice. The mountains are beautiful. I've got a house a bit further up, and a forest where I love to hunt. Are you a hunter?"

  "I've never hunted before."

  "What's the name of the village you're from?"

  Adam hesitated. Maybe the guy was going to try to send him home. "I don't remember."

  "You don't remember?" The man drained his beer and set his mug down on the table, then stood up and settled his hat onto his head. "Well, perhaps you'd like to come home with me for a few days and have some good food and some new clothes. We need a strong young man like you around the stable. What do you think?"

  "Okay," said Adam, with a big smile.

  "Let's go then."

  Jumping to his feet, Adam followed the man towards the door.

  "Good day, Count," the tavern keeper called out as they left.

  Count! Holy cow! thought Adam. I'm going to work for a nobleman.

  As they rode through town, and then along a winding road up into the foothills, Adam sat tall beside the Count. This was much nicer than what any of the rich farmers in Elek drove! Wiggling a bit on the soft padded seat, Adam inspected the details of the carriage. The dark wood of the frame gleamed, and the seats were covered with a beautiful forest green fabric, thickly padded. It felt like he was sitting on a feather pillow! Trimmed with polished brass, the carriage looked like something a king would ride in, Adam thought. His glance fell on the Count's boots. They were the most beautiful leather Adam had ever seen, stretching right up to the Count's knees. He tucked his dirty feet as far as he could under the seat. The Count kept up a steady stream of conversation, telling Adam about his family, his farm, even his horses' names. Adam found himself laughing and talking easily with his new friend as they wound their way up into the forest.

  Rounding a corner, the Count slowed the carriage and steered the horses left onto a cobblestone drive and through a large wooden gate decorated with carved animals. A minute later, they emerged from the trees into a vast, manicured yard. Adam scanned left and right, taking in the Count's estate. The house looked like a picture in one of his school books, all white with fancy dark trim criss-crossing the front, and not a pebble or a blade of grass out of place anywhere in the yard. As Adam stared, they continued past the house and stopped in front of a matching building, with a horse fence attached to the side of it.

  "Here's the stable, Adam," said the Count as he hung the reins in the holder in front of the seat and began to climb down. Just then a man came out of the building, nicely dressed in matching shirt and trousers. "Hello, Yoska," said the Count. "This is Adam. I met him in the village. Adam is an orphan. He's going to stay with us for a few days, and he can help you with the horses."

  "Of course, Sir," said Yoska.

  "Adam, why don't you climb down and help Yoska unhitch the horses and give them a rub-down and then a good brushing?"

  "Yes, Sir," said Adam, scrambling off the carriage.

  The shadows had lengthened when the Count returned with an armload of clothes, and a pair of shoes.

  "Yoska," he called from outside the stable. Adam and Yoska were inside stabling the horses after their brushing. "Would you please light a fire and heat some water so that Adam can have a bath? I'll come back in an hour and get him. He's going to have supper with us tonight." He smiled warmly at Adam. "Once you're cleaned up, see if these fit you."

  Sitting on a bale of hay after his bath, waiting for the Count to return, Adam chewed on a piece of hay and admired the beautiful horses he'd brushed earlier. Then he admired his clothes some more. They were similar to what Yoska was wearing, nice and new, and store
-bought from head to toe!

  "Yooohooo," a young female voice called out. "I am here to help a boy called Adam set up his bed and come in for supper."

  As Adam jumped up, a pretty young woman stuck her head into the barn. "Oh, there you are. My name is Kata. Count says you can sleep in the manger at the far end. That'll be comfortable, he says. This turns into a bed," she said, holding up the end of what looked like a huge cloth bag. "See the gap here? You shove the whole thing full of straw and then you can move it wherever you want if you want to sleep somewhere different. But Count says you are to sleep right down here by this end of the manger," Kata repeated. After placing the bed thing and a blanket in the hay, she turned around and headed back towards the door. "Okay, follow me. Count says you're eating with the family, on account that you're so young."

  Adam followed Kata across the cobblestones to the house.

  "Come on in," she said, lifting the heavy iron latch and pushing open the tall door. Stepping across the threshold behind Kata, Adam breathed in the rich smell of roast meat. A wood fire crackled somewhere down the hall. Walking a few steps down the hall, the maid entered a room and stood formally off to the side until Adam walked in cautiously, looking around with wide eyes. Colourful draperies adorned one wall. Opposite, a rich guy on a throne gazed down from a huge painting framed in gold. A stag's head hung on the end wall. The Count was seated at the head of a thick wooden table that filled the room. A handsome woman sat at the other end, and between them was a little girl, looking at Adam through her lashes.

  The Count rose when he saw Adam. "Adam, you look good! May I present my wife, and our daughter Irene."

  "Hello, Adam. Welcome," the Count's wife said warmly, rising and taking both of Adam's hands in hers for a moment. "I'm so glad those clothes fit you. We had them for a young stable hand that worked here a while back. Say hello to Adam, Irene."

  All eyes in the room turned expectantly to the little girl. She looked about seven or eight, close to George's age. Dwarfed in a heavy wooden chair decorated with brightly painted hearts and flowers carved into the high back, Irene smiled shyly and said hello.

  "Sit here, Adam," said the Count, dragging a similar chair out from the table for Adam.

  Four steaming silver pots lined the centre of the lacy tablecloth. Near the Count's plate was a roast of something. Adam's mouth watered as he gazed at the meat.

  "That will be all, Kata," said the Count's wife, turning to address the maid who had been busily lighting candles and pulling the heavy draperies shut. "See you after supper."

  "Yes, M'Lady," said the maid, and quietly left the room.

  "Now, Adam, let me fill your plate while you tell me all about yourself," the Count's wife continued, scooping piles of mashed potatoes, shiny looking carrots, and green beans onto his plate, and then waiting while the Count sliced the meat and added some to Adam's plate before she poured gravy over top of it all.

  "Yes, M'Lady," Adam mimicked the maid. "Except there's not much to tell. My parents are dead. I was looking for work in the area because I want to live close to the mountains."

  "Is that a German accent?" she enquired casually.

  "Ye-es," Adam replied hesitantly. Everyone he knew spoke German at home, but it had never occurred to him that he spoke Hungarian with a German accent.

  "Where did you say you were from?"

  "A small village outside of Budapest. My parents spoke German, but they died a long time ago. I ran away from the orphanage because they were beating me."

  He'd been thinking. If they thought he was an orphan, they might try to make him live in one of those homes for orphans. Best to make them think that wasn't a good idea. As they all ate their fill, the Count and his wife chatted casually with Adam, alternating between telling him about the area, and asking him questions. Adam worried that his lies weren't all lining up, but he couldn't tell them the truth. They would send him straight home.

  "You're a happy boy," Yoska commented the next morning as Adam shovelled out the horse stalls, whistling a lively tune.

  "The Count and his family seem like very nice people. It's good to have steady work," Adam smiled at Yoska and continued shovelling.

  With a full belly and a warm bed, he'd slept soundly, and after a hot breakfast in the dining room, the Count had confirmed he could stay for a while.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  "Adam, come on out here," the Count called from outside the stable. Adam was busy cleaning the horse tackle, washing the sweat and grime off and then greasing the leather parts and shining the silver buckles with some special stuff that Yoska showed him. The Count had been out touring his property and meeting with his tenants several times in the week since Adam had arrived. Each time, he'd invited Adam to come along. The Count's property was huge! When they visited a tenant, they went into the house for tea and then walked through the barns and out to the fields to check the crops. The Count knew his farms well and quizzed the farmers on the yield they were getting, and how the various livestock were doing.

  Adam hung the harness on the hook where it belonged and headed out the door of the stable.

  "Hello, Sir," he greeted the Count.

  "I don't think there's anything urgent happening out on the farms today. Let's go hunting!" the Count said, grinning from ear to ear.

  "Okay!" replied Adam.

  "We'll be going on some of the rough roads through the forest so we'll take the old wagon, and the black team is best for hunting. They are accustomed to gunfire and the smell of blood. Yoska can show you how to hook them up. Bring them around to the house when they're ready."

  As Adam drove the wagon across the yard a few minutes later, wheels clattering on the cobblestones, the front door opened and the Count appeared. Drawing the horses to a standstill, Adam slid across to the passenger seat. The Count placed his shiny rifle into the back of the wagon before climbing up into the driver's seat. Wow! thought Adam. Special hunting boots with fresh black polish, and hunting clothes. No fancy gold stitching, just beautiful dark green pants and a matching jacket.

  "We'll start in the field and see if we can scare up some pheasants," said the Count, flicking the reins lightly on the horses' backs. "Let's go, boys!"

  "Here it is!" Adam yelled out gleefully from the field. Grabbing the dead bird by a leg and holding it up as high as he could for the Count to see, he jogged back to the edge of the field where the Count stood with the rifle over his shoulder and added the pheasant to the pile. Four! The Count was a good shot.

  "Throw those into the wagon and we'll head up the road a bit. Kata would be happy with us if we brought back a hare for the stew pot," the Count said as he strode back to the wagon and stowed his gun.

  "Does your dad like hunting?" the Count asked casually as Adam climbed onto the wagon, pheasants safely loaded on the back.

  "I don't think anybody in . . . ," Adam stopped abruptly and looked at the Count, who was studying him closely. "I don't think there was much hunting around there. I don't remember him hunting before he died."

  "Oh, that's too bad. It's a good sport," the Count said lightly, looking forward at the horses, and clicking his tongue. "Okay, fellas, let's go."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  The days grew shorter and cooler, and Adam settled into a happy routine, brushing the beautiful horses until they gleamed, and keeping the stables clean and tidy the way the Count liked them. He could tell that Yoska appreciated his help, and there was always something new and interesting to do on the estate. Like climbing up the ladder to the pigeon cages in the loft above the cattle barn to look for baby pigeons for the soup that Kata sometimes made for supper. She needed at least four to make enough soup for the four of them and explained how to tell if the babies were the right size. Not yet flying but almost ready to learn. She called them squabs. The Count kept his partridges in another building closer to the house. They were just for show.

  Most afternoons, after Adam had done some work in the stables or mucked out the cattle
barn or pigsty, the Count came looking for him. Soon Adam knew the tenants by name and understood which ones the Count trusted to produce efficiently and which ones needed to be watched more closely and checked on more often. He learned how to sneak up on a flock of pheasants hiding in the tall grass and flush them out at just the right time when the Count had the rifle aimed above them so he could get in the most shots. And he developed a good sense for how to circle a deer and get it to turn its head without bolting so that the Count could get a clear shot. Once a week they went into the village, where Adam sat proudly in the carriage, watching the horses while the Count completed his business at the bank, the post office, and whatever other stops he needed to make.

  One morning, Adam was greeted by a skiff of snow as he came out of the stable. A sudden wave of homesickness washed over him. Less than a month until Christmas, he thought to himself as he slowly headed towards the house for breakfast. What did his mom think had happened to him when he'd disappeared? Guiltily, he wondered how George and Theresa were coping with the chores.

  After breakfast, Adam harnessed the fawn-coloured team to the fancy carriage. It was Sunday. The Count and his family would spend the morning at church, and the rest of the day visiting friends. He couldn't get his mom off his mind. In a couple of weeks, she would make cookies to hang on the Christmas bough. And by now she would have made presents for each of them. Last year she'd sewn him two new shirts from some coloured fabric she got at the Jewish store. She wouldn't need to make him a present this year. Tears welled up in Adam's eyes.