Two Princes and a Queen

by Shmuel David

  “I never imagined they’d punish him so harshly,” said Efraim once we were outside.

  “Yesterday, my father told me he’d approached him a few days ago as a representative of the committee and asked him to contribute some money to the common fund, just like everyone else does, but he refused,” he just added fuel to the fire.

  “But who would hurt him like that. One of our own people? Maybe he was robbed by gypsies?” said Efraim.

  “Do you remember what they did to Milos?” I asked. “Inge told me it was terrible.”

  “Yes, I remember,” said Efraim. “But you can’t compare the two cases. Milos was just beaten up a little. No one’s ever died from some pushing and shoving.”

  “It was because of the walnuts from his uncle in Belgrade.”

  “Right. Everyone asked him for some, because that’s what a friend should do. But he acted like a spoiled little brat,” Efraim said scornfully.

  “Yes. And that wasn’t the first time. Remember when he got the parcel of halva? He ate it right in front of everyone, out of spite.”

  “Are you coming to Penelope with me?” he asked. “The schiffsreview17 are going to perform after dinner.”

  “I’d love to. I heard there were a lot of funny gags last time, and a lot of dirty language. They made fun of Mr. Globerman. Wasn’t he insulted?”

  “At least all the weird people around here give us something to laugh about. I laughed until I cried, and the songs… That guy whose wife had a baby, Fredl, played on three instruments simultaneously. I’ve never seen anything like it in my life,” Efraim was excited.

  “I hope my parents will go tonight. They could do with a good laugh.”

  “So tell them to come to Penelope at eight. Everyone’s coming.”

  “Now that I think of it, I don’t know if there’s even going to be a show tonight,” I answered him. “Not after this incident. They’ve almost killed one of our own,” I told him.

  “I don’t think they’d cancel,” answered Efraim, a hint of condescension in his voice.

  ***

  I couldn’t fall asleep that night either. The sight of Gaetzer’s torn lips and swollen eye preyed on my mind. I must have fallen asleep eventually, because I dreamed of Inge, dressed in white like a bride, a wreath of flowers on her head. No one accompanied her, as Mother had held Klarie’s arm to lead her to the wedding canopy. But where was the groom? I was in the audience and wanted to tell her I was willing to be her groom, but couldn’t utter the words. I wanted to hug her and whisper it in her pink, almost transparent ear, which was now very close to me. I could also feel the gentle scent of her skin, the smell of good soap, not the cheap one we use here. I wanted to tell her something when she suddenly began to walk toward me, taking off her white dress. She wasn’t wearing anything under her wedding dress. Not even underwear. Nothing but a soft, white body. I saw her breasts, and she held out her hands in invitation. I embraced her and whispered that I’d never leave her. I could feel her nipples against my skin. I cupped her breasts with my hands…and woke up with a warm wetness spreading from my loins.

  ***

  It’s been a couple of weeks since we’d moved in with Mikhailo and Militza. All that time, Mother continued to work in the storage room. She was now managing it and in charge of the distribution of all food products and clothing. Everyone loved the pleasant way she did her work and treated her with respect. Father, on the other hand, was dwindling from day to day. His face was drawn, as if his entire world had crumbled. When Inge told me he scowled when he saw her, I explained that it wasn’t just her, but the entire world. He’d lost his authority and was hurting, which was why he’d been hurting others, including Mother and occasionally me too.

  One morning, when I returned home from Mr. Dvoriansky’s lesson, I went by the storage room adjacent to the kitchen to greet Mother. I went in quietly, walking on tiptoes to surprise her, when suddenly I saw her standing between two shelves, taking down a roll of sausage, tearing it in half, hastily wrapping it in newspaper, and shoving it into the large pocket of her coat. I was shocked to see her do something like that. I retraced my steps silently, not wanting her to see me and realize I’d caught her in the act.

  Come to think of it, our breakfasts and dinners had been richer lately. We ate sausage, cheese, and even halva for breakfast. I didn’t think much about it; I thought everyone was finally getting better rations from the storage room. When I asked Efraim, he said he hadn’t noticed any change. The same unsavory food, tasteless porridge for breakfast and dry bread for dinner. Sometimes the cook would make meat patties for lunch, but only when there was meat.

  “What about sausage?”

  “Rarely. It’s been days since I’ve eaten sausage,” said Efraim.

  When we were eating dinner, Father asked, “Where are all these delicacies coming from, Louisa?”

  He pointed at a plate with slices of sausage on it, very much like the one we used to have back home, as if he’d just discovered something was wrong. Pauli said he didn’t even like sausage, and as far as he was concerned, we could just go on eating corn bread every day. I don’t really like sausage either, but didn’t want to say so at the table after Mother had taken such a personal risk for our sakes. Just so we wouldn’t become “all skin and bones,” as I’d heard her say to Father more than once, begging him to do something so we’d have something to eat.

  “Uncle Nissimov sent us a package from Belgrade,” she said. “He sent it with the Federation of Jewish Communities straight to the storage room. Maybe that’s why I hadn’t told you?”

  I saw Father’s face fill with surprise and realized it was very difficult for Mother to hide the truth from him.

  “I’d no idea. How come you didn’t say anything?” he asked in surprise. “Don’t you think we should write and thank him?”

  “I’ll write him a letter, Emil. Don’t worry about it. I just haven’t had the chance yet…” Mother said, shifting uncomfortably in her chair.

  “But he’s my uncle, nonetheless. It’s important that I be the one to write him. Leave it to me.”

  “Perhaps you don’t need to. I saw a lot of people getting packages from families in Vienna or Belgrade. It’s not…” Mother continued to wriggle in her chair.

  “I don’t understand why you’d object to a simple demonstration of gratitude. This isn’t like you at all.”

  “Yes, yes, you’re probably right. I’ll sit down and write him,” answered Mother. “And I don’t think I deserve such treatment after making sure there’s always food on the table. When was the last time you went to the market?” She banged her hand on the table. “You’re always busy with those letters of yours. The devil knows what good they’ll do us.”

  “My letters? I’m trying to arrange papers for all of us,” he responded angrily. “You think I enjoy humiliating myself before the authorities? Do you have any idea what they’re asking now?”

  “No,” she answered. “You never share anything with me.”

  I felt Mother relaxing because the subject of the package from our uncle was finally dropped and she didn’t need to lie anymore. I was afraid Father would find out about Mother stealing food from everyone just so Pauli and I could eat better. I didn’t want to think about what Father would do if he ever found out.

  ***

  Today, Inge came with me to fish for trout in the stream. Last time, I brought Mother two trout, and she prepared them for dinner. Everyone enjoyed it and Father complimented me.

  “Next time, you should sell some fish at the Kladovo market,” he said with a smile.

  We sat on the small bridge, our feet dangling above the water, and looked at the flowing stream. Suddenly, I felt Inge’s leg rubbing against mine, and the next moment, she even crossed them together and raised them both. I was surprised but let her do what she wanted. Then she turned her body toward me, and I f
elt the heat of her face close to mine. She brought her cheek closer and pulled me to her. I hadn’t kissed a girl yet, but thought this time it was going to happen. I’d once seen Mother and Father kissing when they returned from the opera and were in their room. I’d been waiting for this moment ever since I’d met Inge, but I was still surprised. Only when I felt her head close to mine did I feel certain the time was right. Holding her head, I turned it toward me and drew her closer. For a moment, I looked into her blue eyes and saw them shining, then I pressed my lips to hers. They were smooth and pleasant, intoxicating. I pressed her lips to mine, and she yielded to the touch. I’d never felt such a pleasant sensation and wanted it to go on forever, but Inge quickly drew her lips away with a hesitant laugh.

  “That was your first kiss, wasn’t it?” she asked.

  “Yes,” I answered shamefully. “Could you tell?”

  “But it was wonderful. You kiss like an experienced man. You’re in love with me, Hanne, aren’t you?”

  I remained speechless.

  “I could tell from the very beginning,” she said, lightly patting her skirt, as if trying to smooth wrinkles that weren’t there. Then she asked, with blazing eyes, “Do you think I’m too forward?”

  For a girl from the Mizrahi group, I thought she was a little forward, but I didn’t want her to think I was a child. I wanted her to continue to be forward, and mumbled, “No… Not really…” And to try and correct the impression, I said, “It’s just that you surprised me a little.”

  She looked at me with her blazing eyes and said, “I had someone serious once. A fiancé. We almost got married…”

  I looked at her with surprise, and she said, “I loved him very much.”

  “Why didn’t you get married, then?” I asked naively.

  “It’s hard for me to explain. Something terrible happened. Something that still bothers me.”

  “What happened?”

  “I think about him a lot, but I know there wasn’t any other choice. He was no longer himself.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Alfred was his name. Freddie. We were very close, you know…serious. We spoke of marriage. I was deliberating whether I should go and study before getting married, and Freddie said he didn’t mind, that he’d even help me. He told me he loved me and that we should get married. I was still very young, and he was already well-off. He was working for his father in a large clothing store in Berlin.”

  Inge slowly swung her feet back over the stream. She spoke quickly, almost breathlessly, finally telling the story she’d withheld from me all the months of our friendship.

  “One day, we’d scheduled to meet next to the fountain in Alexanderplatz, and he didn’t show up. I continued to wait, an hour, then another. I tried to think of good reasons for him to be late. He was always very punctual. There were already rumors back then about Dachau, but I didn’t even want to think about it. Only when I got back home did my mother tell me. ‘Haven’t you heard? They came early this morning and took a lot of people to Dachau.’

  “Freddie wasn’t very politically aware. He was also an optimist. He never thought about stirring up any political unrest. He and his father weren’t taken because of a political issue. They took them away just because they hadn’t registered as Jews. Would you believe it?” her voice began to choke with tears. “And so I waited for him, for weeks and months, a year, but he never came back. Letters came, but they were difficult to read. They worked in an ammunitions factory, hard manual labor. His father was sickly, unused to that type of work. Whoever didn’t meet his daily quota was beaten. At night, when they returned exhausted to the barracks, they took them to do maintenance work around the camp, although they suffered from sub-zero temperatures and malnutrition. He didn’t write me all that, of course, because their letters were censored. He told me all that later. I’ve asked myself so many times, how is it possible? How could people be taken away from their homes and families and sent to a living hell? It was in every way a living hell.”

  Now she could no longer control her tears. She cried, her entire body shaking with sobs. I gently wrapped her in my arms.

  “We’ll be together forever, always. No one will ever separate us,” I whispered to her.

  “I’ll never forget the day he returned. July 22, 1938. I didn’t even recognize him. He was emaciated. His cheeks were sunken, his head shaved. He’d always had a plump, smiling face. His eyes were dull, and he kept looking down. He came back alone, after three years. Like many others, his father died there from cold and starvation. And he…he…”

  Unable to finish the sentence, she placed her head on my chest and wept.

  “He didn’t even recognize me when he came back. He wasn’t the same Freddie. His mother later told me that he couldn’t sleep nights and hardly ate. They had to amputate one of his feet because of frostbite from walking in the snow without proper shoes. Two months after he’d returned, when his nightmares became unbearable, she was forced to commit him to a mental institution.”

  I pressed her trembling body to mine. I held her for long moments, and she silently cried with her face in my neck. It was hard not to cry as well. I felt my throat tighten, but forced myself not to get carried away. I wasn’t sure what excited me more, the first kiss I’d just experienced, its sweet taste still in my mouth, or Inge’s sad story, mixed with my happiness.

  When I got home that evening, I was surprised to find Dr. Bezalel there. He’d come to examine Mother, who’d complained of a stomachache. In the morning, she’d told Father the pain was bearable. But it had grown worse since then.

  When I saw the doctor’s serious expression, so unlike his usual cheerful manner, with his jokes about Mother getting better in time to dance at our wedding, I immediately realized something was seriously wrong. There weren’t any jokes this time. He and Father looked very concerned. They spoke in hushed voices in the kitchen. I could hear the words “hospital,” “appendicitis,” and “urgent.” Father asked how dangerous it was, and the doctor answered that every moment was crucial.

  “The infection might cause a rupture and lead to a general infection of the intestinal membranes. It’s dangerous. Very dangerous.”

  I listened, my heart beating fast. Mother once told me every person has a star to keep him safe. Where was her star? I found myself asking.

  Late at night, Pauli and I stood with Father on the pier. Mother lay on a stretcher beside us. The doctor had given her some pills to relieve the pain, and we were waiting for the boat to come and take her to Prahovo.

  Father simply wouldn’t hear of Mother going by herself for the operation. From Prahovo, they’d take the train to Belgrade. Father, who’d recently been busy writing letters to various offices to speed up the process of arranging our immigration papers, was hoping he’d have time to go to the Ministry of the Interior and take care of our paperwork. As we saw the lights of the approaching boat, Inge came running to say goodbye to Mother.

  “I’d have gone with you. It would have been good for someone from the medical staff to come with you to the hospital, but Dr. Bezalel needs me here,” she said and gave her a tight hug. “Feel better and come back quickly. I don’t want to sail to Israel without you,” she said, handing her a box of pills. “Here, for relieving pain. But only if it gets really bad,” she continued. “Because it also subdues the symptoms.”

  Mother promised everything would be just fine and hugged her back.

  Meanwhile, the boat to Prahovo had arrived and docked next to us. Father held Mother’s hand and they boarded the boat. Pauli and I went inside too, so we could say goodbye. I hugged Mother as hard as I could and tried to tell her I’d find her star and we’d keep her safe together, but I wasn’t able to say a word and felt tears coming.

  “Take care of Hanne. See that he doesn’t do anything foolish while we’re not here,” I managed to hear Father whispering in Pauli’s ear.


  We stood on the pier until the lights of the boat had disappeared into the night.

  ***

  As the days passed, my concern for Mother grew. I would get up every morning and wonder what was happening to her. Was she out of danger? Had she had the operation? Father had promised to update us, but we hadn’t received any letters. Mrs. Mayer, Stella’s mother, invited Pauli and me to eat dinner with them a couple of times. She asked a lot of questions about Mother, but we had nothing to tell her. It was only on the fourth day that we received a brief postcard.

  Dear Pauli and Hanne,

  Mother had the operation on Sunday. Right after we arrived with Dr. Bezalel’s letter, she was examined and immediately admitted to the operating theater. The operation was successful, and she now needs to rest for a few days.

  We will be back on Monday.

  Kisses and love,

  Mother and Father

  P.S.

  Belgrade hasn’t changed since we left. Everything is still beautiful. I went past your school and saw happy boys playing soccer during recess. My heart ached when I thought about how you’ve had to leave everything behind and are now stuck in an idle routine of waiting that could drive even the sanest of men crazy. I hope that one day we’ll be able to settle in Haifa or Tel Aviv and lead a good, normal life together.

  I read the postcard to Mrs. Mayer and saw that her eyes were tearful.

  “Good. I’m so happy she’s all right. I was so worried about her.”

  ***

  One day, during the first week of June, I’d just come back from a walk along the stream with Inge. We saw Teddy, head of the Mizrahi group, gathering all the group members next to the infirmary and explaining something to them about setting sail soon. We joined them and listened.

  “For the benefit of the couple who’ve just joined us,” he said. “I’ll repeat the main points. A week from now, we should receive instructions to set sail at very short notice.” He looked around to check that everyone was present and said, “Efraim, you’re in charge of updating everyone who isn’t here.”