~~/*\~~ Oskar ~~/*\~~
Matheo’s words seemed prescient after only a few days. There were no debates about the Truth. No arguments about scripture. There was only more work. The day started early with yelling, and a swift boot to anyone who wasn’t up fast enough. There was hard labor for hours and hours, under the watchful eye of men with guns. Then there was a rest period where they were fed sparingly. Sometimes their rations were literal garbage. Then there was more labor until the sun went down.
Oskar wondered if he was getting used to it. The tools he used were so rough against his hands. His palms were raw and bloody from the workload. He’d worked in a bank. He had no callouses to protect him yet, and he couldn’t build them up slowly. There were splinters from the trees in his arms and wrists, but the blisters were swollen enough that he couldn’t find them, or remove them. The sweat glued his clothing to his body during the day, and started to chill him during the night.
The barracks they slept in were a cattle car. Dozens, hundreds of people, packed in so tight that they had to climb over each other to get to a free spot on the sleeping pallets.
The air within was filthy and foul from dozens of people packed in tightly, unable to wash after hours of hard work. The stink of them was strong enough to force its way into his senses.
Holding on mentally was easier after the first week. Once they’d gotten used to imprisonment. Once they’d gotten used to the conditions. The guards didn’t argue with them, or challenge their faith. They just made sure the rules were followed.
But the labor was exhausting. As the country began contributing to the rest of their new ‘empire’, prison labor became more widely used. After all, there was no need to pay them.
Even in the Labor Camp, like sought like. It was clear that people were put in here for the same few reasons. As soon as they arrived, Matheo had assembled all the Brothers in one place. To one side of the brothers were the Political Dissidents. To the right were the Jews. There were more of them than made sense, though officially, there were there for a hundred different reasons. Petty crimes. Made up charges. Just like some of the Witnesses. There were other groups, but almost all of them stuck to their own.
As new prisoners were rotated in to replace those that had died, or been transferred to other prisons, word was getting around that the war was spreading across most of the world. The Pacific Powers were staying out of it, but everyone knew that couldn’t last forever.
Days turned into weeks. The guards gave them almost no food or medical care. Only hard labor. There was never enough food to make sleep comfortable. The barracks weren’t heated, and the cold would be even worse than the heat, if they stayed in this place for another few months.
~~/*\~~
“Plenty of the heroes of our faith have spent time hiding in caves, or sleeping in the wilderness.” Matheo reminded them. “Whatever we’re going through, we at least have each other. As ‘Iron Sharpens Iron’, our main job is to help each other keep the faith.”
The Spiritual routine they had wasn’t complicated. Witnesses would meet and talk about scriptures, about their hope for the future, about their experiences and lives as servants of Jehovah God.
It was harder for prisoners of other religions, separated from their rituals and holy places. A lot of them had given up on God saving them by now.
“The Jewish prisoners want to honor passover. It’s a culture that has debating the scriptures as part of their education. It’s fitting that we should be able to keep our faith alive in each other, given what we have in common right now.” Matheo commented. “The feeling I got was that a lot of his people feel like God has abandoned them.” He looked sideways at Oskar. “Whereas Witnesses are here because we refuse to give in. If God had abandoned us, we all would have given up and signed by now.”
“Gotta be honest, Matheo. Most days I don’t feel it. That ‘Protection’? Just doesn’t seem to be there. I’m scared all the time.”
“And yet, you still say ‘no’ every time they put that piece of paper in front of you.” Matheo pointed out. “You’ve had the compassion to sneak food to your brothers when they are at their weakest, rather than hoarding for yourself. You have the strength to keep working, no matter how much they work you. You have the faith to hold on, rather than do as you’re told.” He gestured back at the Barracks. “At least once a week, someone doesn’t wake up. It hasn’t happened to any of our people.”
Not yet. Oskar thought, but didn’t say aloud.
~~/*\~~
Matheo and Oskar were the only ones from their own congregation. Others came from other towns, even one from Germany. All told, there were twelve of them, including Oskar. The labor camp was all men. The women were somewhere else.
A fact that was weighing heavily on all of them.
~~/*\~~
“Each of you have come to me with the same question at some point.” Matheo said quietly that night, holding a gathering in the space between their ‘bunks’, where all the Brothers gathered, mostly by leaning out over the edge of their ‘shelf’. “You all want to know about your families.”
“My son is a grown man now.” Lenz said gamely from a top bunk. “It would make sense that if they had him, wouldn’t they send him here?”
“No it doesn’t.” Oskar put in. “I had people sentenced just ahead of me, and just after me that aren’t here. They aren’t filling up the camps alphabetically or anything.”
“Oskar is correct.” Matheo put in. “I don’t claim to know their thinking, but from what I hear, and more importantly, what I’m seeing here in this camp, they’re making a deliberate effort to split up families, specifically so that we remain uncertain and afraid.” He looked around at all of them. “Remember, the battlefield we’re on is right here.” He tapped his forehead with one hand, and his heart with the other.
Everyone nodded a little, but they weren’t feeling better about it.
“Brothers, if there was something I could say that would make you confident about your loved ones, your children-” He said with a glance at Oskar. “-I swear I would say it, over and over. All I can say is that our lives aren’t in our own hands right now. And in a lot of ways, they never have been.” He spread his hands wide. “All we can do is pray that the people we love have taken their own stand, and made the same choice that we all have.”
Silence.
“Can we do that now?” Lenz asked finally.
Matheo smiled. “We absolutely can.” Everyone bowed their heads and Matheo led them in prayer. “Father, we know that Your attention is on us now more than ever. We know that we stay in this cage at your sufferance, and that every day that passes is one day closer to the day we walk out of here. One day closer to the day when this system ends, and our real life in Paradise begins. We beg you to keep this fire of hope alive in us, and in the people we love. Give them all the love and all the strength and all the hope that we long to offer them ourselves. Keep them safe in Your arms, since we can’t hold them ourselves… until the day we can again. In Jesus name, we beg this of you… Amen.”
“Amen.” Everyone chorused. The prayer did make them feel a little better.
“Prayer is all well and good, but if it won’t open the gates, we need to do more.” A voice called from the next row over.
Everyone turned to look. In the Camp, and so everyone kept to themselves, spoke in lowered voices, trying to give each other some personal space. Over at the wall, looking over everyone like a General inspecting his troops, was Johan.
“If we want out of here, we have to do it ourselves.” Johan said seriously. His voice was firm and commanding, as if summoning people to listen. “Power is either taken, or it’s given. For whatever reason, it’s now been given to evil men, and now we have to take it back.” He looked at them all. “If you’re in here right now, it means your side has been chosen for you. Welcome to the Resistance. Because I promise you one thing: We’re not getting out of here by meeting them halfway.”
And all the Witnesses swivelled their eyes to look at Matheo. He took a breath, getting ready to argue the point, when the door suddenly opened, and the Guards came swarming in. “Everyone out!” They called. “Line up! Everyone out, now!”
~~/*\~~
It was a regular bed-check, making sure that everyone was still in the camp, and there had been no escapes. Oskar wondered if they had called the snap inspection coincidentally, or to break up the meeting.
“You there!” It was Konstantin. The same guard that had given him a few lumps on his first day in the labor camp. “Stand up straight!”
The guard had singled out one of the old men. One of the Jewish prisoners. He had a hunch in his back. He wasn’t capable of standing any straighter. When he saw the glint in Konstantin’s eye, Oskar realized that he knew that already.
Oskar felt his lip curl in disgust as Konstantin started beating the old man with the end of his rifle. “If they’re not all demon-possessed, it’s because they’re demons already.” He murmured.
Matheo nudged him subtly. “Not all of them.”
Oskar followed the Elder’s gaze towards other guards, and he had to admit, one or two of them looked sick at the brutality, but they weren’t saying anything.
Oskar’s eyes flicked back to Konstantin. “Well. That one enjoys it. Inflicting suffering is fun for him.”
“Yes.” Matheo agreed. “He’s one to watch out for. But remember, most of these guards were regular police, or military before the country was just… swallowed up by an entirely different authority. I think that’s why the guards keep changing on us. The Commander has to transfer the ones that won’t do what they’re told. Some of the guards are paying just enough service to the way things are because they don’t want to be transferred to the Front. They’re as much prisoners of these things as we are.”
“Sure, except for the hot meals, lack of hard labor, warm clothing, and the fact that they’re treated like people, they’re exactly like us.” Oskar bit out with grim sarcasm.
“Granted, but my point is: They aren’t all evil. The kind of people who run these camps? They have to be a particular breed of sociopath. Not always easy to find, especially since there are always more prisoners than guards across the Reich. So we have room to work.”
Oskar blinked. “Work on what?”
“What do you think? We’re still Jehovah’s Witnesses. Of all the Witnesses in the country, we don’t even have to hide our faith anymore.”
“You want to preach to the guards?” Oskar couldn’t believe it.
“The guards, the prisoners, each other…” Matheo grinned. “We have a captive audience.”
Konstantin had apparently had enough ‘fun’. “Alright, everyone back inside!”
They barely took the time to count us. Oskar thought. The guard was just bored and decided to savage someone just for something to do.
As they trooped back into the barracks, Oskar spoke softly to Matheo. “You said the Jewish Prisoners want to observe Passover. Doesn’t that mean we have our own Memorial coming up?”
“It does.” Matheo agreed. “Keep track of the guard who didn’t like the show.”
~~/*\~~
Smuggling things into camp was difficult for the prisoners, at least at first. The guards had to be convinced to help, which was problematic enough. The Gestapo were a far greater threat to the guards than the prisoners.
Even so, some of the prisoners had ‘tamed’ a guard or two. The Commander was watching his own people more closely than the prisoners, making sure all of them were being kept in line. As a result, the guards cycled in and out. The ones that had trouble with their duties were assigned elsewhere. The ones that were fine with starving and beating people stayed longer.
There was almost no privacy in the camp, so having a guard smuggle in luxury was impossible. Smuggling in food was dangerous. Sneaking messages in and out happened rarely.
Oskar had no idea which of them had done it, or how, but with one day to go before the Memorial, Matheo had been presented with a small slice of flatbread, and a single cup of red wine, smuggled in via a bottle of mouthwash.
~~/*\~~
The camp was lit up brightly by a huge new moon. A clear reminder of the time of month. The Guards were actually pretty relaxed. If the Prisoners were going to attempt an escape, or a theft, they’d try it at the darkest time of night. With the moon lighting up the whole compound so brightly, they barely needed their own lights.
“I’ve been thinking about what it must have been like for Jesus.” Matheo said quietly as he led the memorial. “I find I empathize with him far more than I ever thought possible. He knew what was going to happen to him, and when. He had a day left. A single day to finish everything that he had to do while on Earth.” He looked around. “We don’t talk about much, but in this place, we’ve come face to face with mortality, malice, and injustice. All the things that Jesus had to face in his last hours.”
There was a murmur at that. People who gave up died quickly in the camp, their bodies simply losing the will to hold on once their spirit had surrendered.
“How did Jesus respond knowing it was his last day on Earth? He was resolved to go through with it, but that didn’t mean he was looking forward to what was ahead. So what did he do with his last few hours?” Matheo grinned. “He washed the feet of his disciples, including Judas.”
Despite himself, Oskar chuckled. It seemed ridiculous, but it was true. He’d read the gospel account himself.
“All Jesus had to do was put himself and his own life first, and that would have undone prophecy. All he had to do was hide. He could have rationalized it, saying that he could do more if he lived for another few months, or another few years. But everything, including the circumstances of his death, were written in scripture. Jesus’ last act was service. Service to the people who followed him, and to God. Whenever a guard reminds me that I can sign my name and be let out immediately, I think of Jesus. He said to Peter that if he wanted to, he could have fought back. He could have had an army of angels defend him.” Matheo looked around. “Well, we aren’t Jesus. But the principle holds. There’s a reason why Witnesses are allowed to leave, if they sign.” Matheo reminded them. “Satan wants us to put ourselves first. To rationalize away our reason for being in here in the first place. Satan wants everyone to suffer enough that God ceases to matter to us. But he knows that we work for someone who can conquer death. All he can do is make us give up. And if we don’t, he can do nothing at all.”
Amen. Oskar thought, not for the first time.
~~/*\~~
They passed the bread and wine for the observance, and wrapped up the meeting, Oskar settled into his bunk. Josef, laying in the next row, conserving his energy, reached out and nudged Oskar’s side. “Only some of your people drank.” He said quietly. “I was watching. I thought communion was for everyone.”
“It wasn’t communion. That’s a catholic thing.” Oskar said.
“Then what was it? Some of your people passed the wine around, some of them sipped. Is there a difference?”
“It’s a very important difference.” Oskar agreed. “But it takes a bit of context to understand. If you like, I can tell you about it.”
Josef blinked owlishly, clearly thinking about it. “Not tonight.” He said. “If you guys are done, we might finally be able to get some sleep.”
~~/*\~~
Being able to hold a memorial, right in the grip of the ‘lion-like’ enemy was very heartening. Being able to talk about it with the other prisoners did wonders for morale too.
The next day, the trucks took them to the edge of town, and the guards had them digging ditches. The guards kept a perimeter, to make sure they didn’t try to escape. Konstantin roamed up and down the lines of workers personally, making sure nobody paused. Working slowly was a fact of starvation. Actually pausing was worth a swift kick.
Oskar set as steady a pace as he could, conserving energy. They wouldn’t be finished until sunset, even if there was no more work to do. He kept the pace by humming a song he knew.
“All your talk about neutrality, they got you anyway.” Josef said under his breath, digging beside Oskar.
“What do you mean?”
“Look at where we’re digging. A main road, outside a town? We’re not just digging holes. These are fortifications. We’re building a checkpoint for them. One way or another, they’ve got us supporting their war effort.”
“I think everything’s a military asset these days.” Oskar murmured. “I think I’ve made it as clear as possible that I’m not cooperating. If a mugger needs a knife to collect your wallet, it’s not consensual.”
“Seems a fine line.” Josef coughed. “You could sign the paper, and do this for money. Get a hot meal.”
And then a fresh bread roll hit Oskar in the back of the head.
Both Oskar and Josef turned, just in time to see a small boy in threadbare clothes walking away from them, heading into the bushes. The bread he had thrown was there at their feet. Josef went buggy-eyed, and stopped himself from diving on it.
Oskar casually glanced over. Konstantin had apparently chosen his victim for the day, and was making him do some pushups, pushing him down into the dirt with one boot.
Risking it, Oskar bent down and grabbed the bread, shoving it into his tunic. While it was hidden, he tore a chunk out of it and slipped it to Josef. The other man nearly wept, slipping it into his mouth. Oskar took another chunk, and bent over his shovel, hiding the motion as he took a bite himself. The bread was fresh, and soft, and apparently had fruits baked into it. He could almost feel the nourishment flowing into his limbs.
“Who was that kid?” Josef whispered.
“No idea. Must be a local.” Oskar whispered back. “They do see us out here you know. Even if they can’t do anything about it.”
“Most of them deal with it by pretending we’re not here. Or worse, that we must deserve it.” Josef scorned quietly. “Whoever that boy was, he’s better than the rest of them combined. I don’t know how he snuck past the perimeter, but I hope he makes it out safely.”
“I have to try and share this with the rest of my people.” Oskar whispered. “Can you cover for me, if I move down the line?”
“One loaf, a dozen people. A mouthful won’t help any of us much. We split it between just us…” Josef sighed. Oskar was already moving.
~~/*\~~
They dug trenches, piled up the dirt as fortified lines, cleared bushes and cut trees down to make a clear field of view. Once Josef pointed it out, Oskar could see the military layout clearly. He tried not to think about it, wondering if this was really a compromise too. Somehow, he felt like he was suffering too much to consider it a real surrender.
Even so, he prayed about it. The bread was gone, passed on quickly to Matheo. But one of the fruit chunks had stayed nestled between two teeth, and he’d been able to keep the flavor alive all afternoon. It was almost indecently delicious.
“Alright, back to the trucks.” Konstantin barked as the sun began to set.
~~/*\~~
Oskar was half asleep when the trucks arrived back at the barracks. He’d noticed the last of the bread being handed around, with them in close quarters. They knew it was their last chance to go unobserved before being back in the Camp.
Everyone fell in for a final count, making sure everyone was still there at the start of curfew. The count was done, and everyone was sent back into the barracks.
“Except you, prisoner.” Konstantin called after them. He was pointing at Matheo. “You come with me.”
Oskar froze, looking at Matheo, wondering what was going on. A swift kick from one of the guards got him moving again.
~~/*\~~
It was a different guard that came to get them for morning Roll Call. Konstantin was still there, over at the Commander’s office, breaking in their new prisoners.
The other guard wasn’t as ‘entertained’, by the sight of them, and Oskar tried to remember what Matheo had told him about how not all the soldiers approved of the situation. “What happened to Matheo?” He whispered. “Can you tell me that much?”
The younger guard, (Oskar would later learn his name was Rolf,) glanced around. “I can’t tell you anything.”
“He’s my friend.” Oskar whispered as the line formed. “More than a friend. He’s family.”
Rolf looked quietly sick for a moment. “He was… paroled.”
“Didn’t think anyone made it out of here, unless it was in a box.” Oskar drawled.
Now that the conversation had started, Rolf was more willing to tell him. “The Commander noticed he was in charge here. There’s leaders in every pack, and they decided to… send him back out into the world.”
Oskar translated in his head. They want him to lead them to other Witnesses, while cutting off our leadership in here. The Memorial must have given us away more than I thought.
~~/*\~~
Sure enough, the brothers were looking around, trying to decide what to do now. The Guards would keep them busy, but Matheo had taken care of their spiritual needs, which was the same thing as keeping them going, keeping their morale up… keeping anyone from cracking up. Imprisonment wasn’t a natural state, let alone this kind of direct oppression.
And by the first night without him, Oskar suddenly realized he had seniority. There weren’t many brothers in the camp, and he had been baptized longer than any of them. Which meant the other brothers were looking to him for guidance now.
The only one I’ve ever been responsible for, spiritually, was my daughter. He thought. How do I do this?
Praying with his eyes wide open, he sat on the edge of his bunk, in the middle of them all. “S-so.” He stammered out. “Let’s get started. Who would like to share their favorite verse?”
Lenz spoke up. “My favorite verse is Hebrews 11:1. ‘Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen’.”
Oskar winced. “I’ve actually been thinking about that verse a lot lately. I keep reliving my first meeting with the Commander, when he first offered me the chance to sign. He asked me if I really believed what the Bible said about ‘a talking snake’ and all that.” He shook his head at himself. “I froze up. I had no idea what to say.” He hesitated. “I wondered if maybe that meant I wasn’t really a believer. But let’s be honest: if I came up with the right words, it wouldn’t have made a difference.”
The others chuckled.
Oskar continued. “That verse says ‘evidence of things not seen’. By definition, how can you get proof of things that are invisible?”
“Well, if Matheo was right about how ‘signing’ our faith away is proof that Satan’s behind all this, then that’s evidence.” Lenz offered. “Amazingly enough, proof of the Devil is also proof of God.”
“Mm.” Oskar nodded. “Doubt doesn’t mean you don’t have faith. This world is designed to make you give up on hope. Especially in here. Sometimes it’s harder to see something invisible, compared to what’s actively hurting you.”
“It’s natural enough to want to accept what you see over what you don’t, but if we’re hesitating because of that, then we’re in good company.” Lenz offered. “Israel forgot God’s instructions only weeks after the tenth Plague. Thomas refused to believe Jesus had risen, only days after watching him perform Miracles.”
“These thoughts don’t come from nothing. They come from the world around us. Through sheer force of volume, it’s gonna get through to us sometimes.” Oskar grinned. “I remember Matheo once made a comment about Jesus’ parable about ‘scattering seed’. He said that Demons do the same thing, tossing out their lies. Sometimes, it takes root, sometimes it starts to grow and then fades out when something exposes its weak structure… Sometimes it can’t take root at all.”
Everyone smiled at that.
Oskar kept going, feeling more confident now. “The world throws its ideas at us. Beats them into us, really. The question is: What will you put there, without the world demanding it?”
~~/*\~~
They’d gotten through the nightly study. Deep down, Oskar felt like he was the only one not feeling upbuilt by the discussion. Already pulverised from the day’s labor, suddenly leading the group had not been relaxing. Jehovah God, he prayed once he was by himself, stretched out in his cot. I’m not equal to the task. I can’t be the leader of these people. I can’t protect them from… all of this. Please, Jehovah God, help us! We need Your leadership, and I don’t know how to…
He was asleep before he got anywhere near ‘amen’.
~~/*\~~
The truck rolled in the next morning, and another half dozen Prisoners were added. The guards always had it timed so that they saw the dead bodies being piled up for disposal.
“Anyone we know?” Lenz asked, stepping up beside him at the fence.
It was the unspoken truth of being a Witness in captivity. They were already a religious minority. The Gestapo had taken a particular interest in them, so it was only a matter of time before another from their congregation got tossed into prison.
“Speaking as a father, the only thing worse than not knowing where my daughter is now would be having her be here with me.” Oskar admitted. “But if-”
He stopped as one of the new Prisoners turned. It was Ignaz, one of their congregation’s servants.
“Oh, now I feel guilty.” Oskar remarked when they saw each other, waving across the fenceline.
“Guilty? Why?” Lenz asked, also waving back.
“I’ve never taken on any kind of leadership role in the Congregation before.” Oskar confessed. “When everyone was looking to me last night, I panicked a bit. When I prayed for God to help me, I never expected to have someone senior to me getting tossed in with us.”
Lenz smirked. “Somehow, I don’t think that’s what got him put in here.” He grinned. “But just in case, I’ll let you tell him.”
~~/*\~~
“So, that’s the situation.” Oskar summed up. “There aren’t that many of us here. The majority of the prisoners are political dissidents, and a few other minorities. I get the sense that they’re being shipped here because they expect these people to ‘get the message’ after a short time. To say nothing of making room in their regular prison system.”
Ignaz let out a breath between his teeth. “Alright.” He said, nodding to the brothers he recognized, and shaking hands with the ones he’d never met before. “I guess I’m the closest thing to an Elder that we have in the camp right now. I’ll admit, I haven’t been appointed yet, but there was some discussion about my taking the post when everything went sideways on us.”
“A distinction that makes no difference in here.” Lenz assured him.
“Before he was paroled, Matheo told us our mandate hasn’t changed.” Oskar added. “To stay faithful, build each other up, and to preach wherever we could.”
“You all agree with that?” Ignaz said with a smile, everyone in the group nodding. Oskar could tell that some of the other prisoners were glancing in their direction, listening to their meeting.
“Also, remember to be peaceful.” Ignaz lowered his voice. “Some of the people in here are violent offenders. The guards know that. Not everyone in a uniform is sold on the idea of Nazism, but they’ll get their knuckles dirty if there’s violence in here.” He saw their reactions. “I know. We’re only in here because of our neutrality. It’s not like we’re going to become insurgents now.”
“Why shouldn’t you?” A voice put in.
Everyone turned. Personal space and privacy was one of the most valued commodities in the camp. Listening in to conversations was unseemly enough, but interrupting was rude. But the man who spoke was defiant, speaking clearly.
Unbroken.
“Our country has been taken from us.” Johan declared. “Ten minute trials. Forced Labor for innocent citizens. Constant shows of forced patriotism, under threat? One day we woke up and found out we were slaves!” He let that sink in. “But I promise you, my friends: They aren’t nearly as strong as they act. They’re weak. They constantly need to reinforce the idea that they’re unstoppable. Why does real strength need constant reassurance? Make no mistake, they made the first strike. Self-defence? Defence of your country? It’s always justified.” He left them with that thought, and went off to rejoin his usual group.
~~/*\~~ Leahe ~~/*\~~
It came on gradually enough that nobody could say for sure the first time they heard about it. Everyone seemed to know someone who was talking about it. Nobody could give a name, but everyone knew someone who had been invited to hear one of the Chieftains speak.
Leahe was grinding the morning Manna for cooking, when Sha'al wandered in. The boy was several years older than Emet, but still too young to be considered anything but a child. “My mother told me to come bother you.”
Leahe snorted and set aside the prepared Manna. “I’m sure she did.” She gestured with her severed arm. “Take this for me, would you?” Sha'al came over and collected the gathering bowl, so Leahe had her arm free to pick up the baby. “Has your mother taught you how to cook, yet?”
“Why would she?” Sha'al laughed. “That’s her job.”
Leahe raised an eyebrow. “Kid, you’re going to learn one day that a woman appreciates a man who can cook.”
“Why?” Sha'al shrugged. “Manna’s easy. What difference does it make?”
Leahe twitched hard. “I know it may be getting hard to remember, but there is food in the world that isn’t Manna.” She said finally. “And one day, you’ll be able to eat some of it.”
“And how am I going to learn to cook that stuff out here?” Sha'al said reasonably.
Leahe suddenly realized this was true. They’d never get anything but Manna. She looked at Emet, playing outside. By the time her son entered the Promised Land, there’d be a whole generation who didn't know how to prepare a meal, as they’d never know anything else as food. Nor would they know how to repair clothing, since the clothes and sandals never wore out or became threadbare…
And I can’t teach him, because I’ll never have anything but Manna ever again either. I have nothing to teach him with, and I’ll never see the Promised Land. I’ll die out here. I’ll choke on the Manna. I’ll smell like Manna for a week after I die…
She shook the chilling thoughts out of her head. “Well, since there’s nothing for us to teach you, where is your mother right now?”
“I dunno, she has a group of friends she hangs out with before meetings.” Sha'al said, peering at the baby, curious. “I heard them talking about inviting you to join, actually.”
Leahe frowned at that. “Really?”
~~/*\~~
“Holding onto our faith in Egypt was difficult, because faith has to be fed. Like any living thing, it needs nourishment, nurturing, and time to grow. In Egypt, we had to find the will to keep doing this while being beaten down, broken by hard labor. Whatever else has happened, the distractions have been taken away. We can never say we’re too worn out, physically. Emotionally? Just never having the energy to care about such things? That’s what these gatherings are for, to refresh the spirit.”
Leahe felt eyes on her. It was a basic survival skill everyone learned in Egypt. She glanced over casually, trying to figure out who was looking, but she couldn’t find anyone paying her special attention… Her husband squeezed her hand and she turned back to listen, bowing her head as the prayer began.
“Amen.” The group finished the meeting, and broke up to make conversation with each other. Leahe saw Odeda, the wife of Tivon heading towards her like she’d been waiting all morning for the chance. “Leahe!” She said brightly. “I’m glad I ran into you. I was wondering: Are you busy this afternoon?”
This was a loaded question. With all of them waiting out their sentence, a person could be as busy, or available as they wanted. There was always a way to waste time, but there were rarely priorities. Leahe felt useless since losing her arm. Almost the only thing that gave her purpose was Emet. Now the entire nation seemed to be feeling the same way.
“Busy?” She said finally. “Nothing important. Why do you ask?”
~~/*\~~
Leahe was told to bring Emet along, and she carried him with her good arm as she followed Odeda towards a gathering of a dozen or so women, sitting in a big circle. Most people drifted together for projects or discussion, as a way to pass the time.
Leahe looked over and saw each of the women had a large water jug beside them. Some of the younger men, looking to be helpful, were carrying woven baskets towards the group, and overturning them. Leahe saw a big pile of dirt growing with each basket-load. As they got closer, she saw some women working the water and dirt together carefully.
“A pottery group? And you’ve decided on inviting the one-armed woman?” Leahe said, raising an eyebrow. “Either I’m a lot more pitiable than I thought, or you’re actually inviting me here for something else?”
Odeda just gave her a smile, and invited her to sit down.
~~/*\~~
After they were done working the dirt and water into clay of the right consistency, the women began forming the clay into shapes. Plates, cooking pots, water jugs… They were lopsided, a little misshapen. There were others that had been premade, drying out in the sun. Some men had worked mud-bricks into a makeshift kiln, to fire the pottery.
“Some of the early ones shattered completely. The dirt is completely different here than it was back home..” Odeda said lightly. “There weren’t a lot of experienced potters in Goshen. Those that came with us… They’re desperate to do anything else.”
“There’s a lot of that going around.” Leahe admitted. “One thing we have plenty of time for now is education. We just don’t have a lot of resources to learn with.” She gestured to her baby with her chin. “Takarut was a Scribe, by profession. Once he learned to read and write in Hebrew, he could teach. One thing the Egyptians never encouraged was for us to educate the children.”
“How much does a slave need to know?” Odeda said, a little sullen at the bad memories.
“Well, Takarut is desperate to be as useful as possible. A lot of people have never let him forget that he wasn’t born a slave. Back in Goshen, only the old men taught, when they couldn’t work anymore. Now we all have time. So my husband has made it his mission to become a teacher.”
“A teacher of what?”
“Of anything that might be useful. They say Moses is writing a history of our people, going all the way back to Eden. If Takarut and others can teach, then by the end of the forty years, there may not be a single person in Israel who cannot read and write, recite the pronouncements of God, or navigate by the stars. We have nothing but time.” Leahe sighed. “Problem is, there’s little to read and write with. It’s a wasteland. We can’t make papyrus scrolls here, like we could in Egypt. Sheepskin and vellum is limited by our supply of animals. There’s not enough stylus’ and ink in the camp for everyone to have a journal of their own thoughts.”
“Mm.” Odeda agreed. “That’s why I took up pottery. It’s hard to get enough fuel to fire them long enough and hot, but the sun is hot enough, if you can find a way to let it bake. Other than that, the only material we need is dirt.” She almost smiled. “Dirt and hot sun. The two resources we actually have plenty of.”
Leahe grinned, and went to work. Emet, wriggling in her arms, was curious; his little hands grabbing for the clay.
“Anyway, they’re not very good. Not yet.” Odeda nodded at their earlier works. “The nice thing about clay is that if it doesn’t work, we can grind it up back into powder and use it again. But it’s better now than it was when we started. You make something a thousand times, and by sheer repetition you get good at it. Even the master potters back in Egypt had other things to do.”
“What do you plan to do with them, once you get ‘good’?” Leahe asked practically. “I understand wanting to keep busy, but it’s not like we have things to store and preserve. Manna lasts for one day only, and we don’t really need a lot of crockery for it.”
“Well, there’s replacements to make. We’re wandering over some rough terrain. Things get broken.” Odeda offered. “Apparently, pots aren’t like clothing and sandals. Our plates and bowls can chip and wear out.”
(Author’s Note: There is surprisingly little information on what the Israelites did to pass the time during these forty years. The fact that they were in the wilderness, a place unsuitable for habitation without divine support, limited their options dramatically. Also, there’s nothing concrete on the state of crockery in the scripture, like there was with regards to clothing and sandals. This whole section is my own invention, to set up storylines that are also my own invention.)
Leahe considered this answer, but she noticed the other women giving each other quick, sly looks. There was more to it than that. “Forty years worth? Come on. What’s the real reason?”
Odeda licked her lips. “Alright. The truth.” She began slowly. “We accept Jehovah’s ruling that we will not leave the wilderness for…” Her voice dropped painfully. “...many years. But there’s leaving, and then there’s visiting elsewhere.”
Leahe wasn’t sure where this was going. “Okay.”
“Some of our people were at the Trading markets. When an Egyptian made a trade somewhere outside of Egypt, they took some workers along. A very select group of our people know exactly where the trade routes were. Some of them run fairly close to… well, places that we always considered ‘wilderness’. If this Camp is going to stay mobile, it’s only a matter of time until we get close enough to meet one of them.”
“You think any honest trader is going to come out far enough to try trading with us?”
“I think they might, if perhaps a few of us went to them.” Odeda licked her lips. “And your husband is the logical choice. I’ve had this conversation with a few people, but nobody’s quite sure what the rules are. Takarut is Egyptian Born, and the rules might not be so strict.”
Part of Leahe wanted to slap her at the implication, but instead she found that she almost smiled. “Well. You guys have certainly come the long way around.” She heard herself say. “There was a time when I feared I would be in poor odor with the other women forever, marrying an Egyptian.”
“Well, that’s less of an issue now that it was when this whole thing began, sister.” Odeda grinned mirthlessly. “We’re all in bad odor now. For a few reasons.”
Leahe scoffed without humor. “Oh, mercy. Of all the things I miss, having a chance to wash clean in the Nile has to be right at the top.”
They both trailed off for a moment, having a hard, longing moment of memory, before shaking it off, as they always had to do. Leahe sighed and got there first. “You want my husband to leave the camp. To go where? The Manna won’t go with him. And every time we’ve come that close to someone’s territory, they’ve considered it an invasion and attacked us.” Leahe gestured off into the distance. It was featureless and forbidding, but it went in every direction, further than they could see. “The Wilderness doesn’t just keep us trapped, Odeda. It also keeps others away from us.”
Odeda blew right past that. “If not civilization, then at least we could reach a trade route. You remember those Caravans that went in and out of Egypt. None of them minded doing business outside the City, where nobody could see. A lot of deals happened in secret.”
Leahe set her jaw. “What does Moses say?”
“We didn’t ask. This isn’t about the Camp, just a small expedition. Our Chieftains agreed to it. They figure the trade would be good for everyone.”
Then why didn’t you ask Moses? Leahe thought. Because you knew he’d say ‘no’? Or because you don’t care? “I don’t know. It doesn’t feel right.”
“We’ve been out here for years now, Leahe. Nothing feels right.” Odeda scoffed.
Leahe’s eyes narrowed. “Which Chieftains did you ask? Because it’s either ‘good for everyone’, or it’s ‘not about the camp’. It can’t be both.”
“They gave their blessing.” Odeda insisted. “We aren’t doing anything wrong. It’s not like a small trading caravan is going to try and take possession of anything.”
“You make this sound as reasonable as you like.” Leahe retorted. “It doesn’t change the fact that you came to me because you want my husband to test the limits for you. You’re looking for loopholes in instructions that come directly from God.”
“From Moses.” She countered.
“It’s the same thing.” Leahe said reflexively.
“Is it?” Odeda said, equally reflexive. Neither of them had meant to put in those side comments, but neither of them could pretend it hadn’t been said. There was a hard silence between them, waiting to see who would back down first. Finally, Odeda broke the moment. “Look, I understand why you’re worried. You’ve lost more to our ‘corrections’ from Moses than most people have.” She said gently. “But seriously, think of your son. Emet will be getting close to forty years old when he enters the Promised Land, and he won’t know what food is, except for Manna. Is any son of Israel ever going to eat anything else, ever again, until the end of time?”
Leahe felt a spike of horror go through her at that thought, despite herself. “I… I hope so.”
“So do I. Wouldn’t it be nice to know? Our people are descended from nomads. Trading is not a sin. There was nothing in the Law about it.” She gestured at the pottery. “And this is the only resource we have that we can make for ourselves. We can’t farm out here. We can’t go into the cities to find work. We can’t build… But we can make things like this. And if we make them well, then we can trade.”
“But you don’t know if you can leave.” Leahe finished. “So you invited me here, because you want to send my husband. Because you’re not sure if lightning will strike you when you try to walk past the edge of camp.” And you’re not asking Moses because you’re worried he’ll say no.
“Would Takarut say ‘no’?” Odeda challenged. “I imagine he’s as sick of Manna as we are.”
~~/*\~~
“Tavi, I am seriously going to lose my mind!” Tivon raged. “At this point, I would kill for a single bulb of garlic.”
Tavi was fed up. “You’ve been ranting about this for months. If it’s not the food, it’s the view. If it’s not the wasteland, it’s the weather. If it’s not that, then it’s the food again. You’re going to lose it over a daily miracle like Manna? I’m gonna lose it because you won’t shut up!”
Tivon reined himself in a bit. “Manna is a miracle. But it’s bread and water until we die of old age. Even the Egyptians didn’t do that.”
“What else would you like to eat? The Wilderness doesn’t have a whole lot to offer. If we could get variety in our food sitting in our tents right here, then we wouldn’t need the Promised Land at all.” Tavi fired back. “And we weren’t meant to be on ‘bread and water’ this long. We were meant to be in a Land of our own by now. Refusing to enter its borders was your wish, as I recall.”
Tivon’s face hardened. It felt like all arguments came back to this, sooner or later. “When are you going to stop saying ‘I told you so’? For every person saying ‘go’, there were ten saying ‘no’. When do we get to hear the end of that?! It was a mistake. It was years ago. How spiteful does God have to be?”
“Bite your tongue.”
“Well it’s either Jehovah, or Moses.”
“It’s neither of them.” Tavi raged back. “They both said to go into the Promised Land. We’re living with the consequences of our actions, don’t pretend it’s because of someone else’s choice.”
“They told us to go. We say ‘no’, because we’re scared. So they tell us to sit here and wait to die of old age?! Because one day we did the wrong thing?”
“What do you want me to do about it?” Tavi snapped, fed up with the same argument, going in the same circle, yet again.
“I want someone to do something!” Tivon raged. “Something other than just sitting around taking this!”
~~/*\~~ Oskar ~~/*\~~
Johan didn’t make any more ‘public’ statements, but that didn’t stop him from talking to people individually. Ignaz heard reports from a few brothers that Johan was trying to organize the prisoners into some kind of demonstration.
“Maybe even a breakout.” Lenz told them that night. There were so few witnesses that they could almost whisper in a circle around one bed. In fact, they often did that, making their meetings seem like a long prayer. Prayer was a common thing in the Camp, even for the atheists. “He’s trying to rally support from people, one by one.”
“Some of the others in his group are talking to the minorities.” Oskar added. “Word’s gotten back to Josef and the other Jewish Prisoners that they’re never getting out of here, unless it’s to go somewhere worse. The ones who have any strength left have decided it’s better to be shot than to starve.”
“He’s doing this all wrong.” Lenz put in. “We’ve gotten what we needed through a few ‘tame’ guards. But that works both ways. They’ve got informants in the camp too. If he’s not careful, Johan’s going to be caught before he can get anything going.”
“Either way, it’s not our concern.” Ignaz said seriously. “Neutrality goes both ways. For now, we wait until ‘someone’ changes the circumstances to save our people. Sooner or later, ‘someone’ always does.” He looked at each of his brothers in turn. “We don’t get involved in uprisings, or opposition to anyone’s army, or government.”
“Johan is making good points, Ignaz.” Someone offered. “I want to get out of here too, and it’s pretty clear it’s not going to happen by being obedient to them.”
“It’s not going to happen by fighting them, either.” Ignaz reminded him. “This isn’t a gang. It’s an army. Maybe Johan gets out, maybe not. Maybe he does it by killing people. Maybe he goes home and finds more soldiers waiting for him. Maybe they start arresting family members and torturing information out of them. Maybe he never goes home and spends the rest of the war on the run.”
The others said nothing.
“It’s not about the fight, brothers.” Ignaz said, tapping a finger against his forehead, and then over his heart. “We’re no part of the War, just because both sides say we should be on their team.”
Long silence.
“If you’ll forgive me for saying it, Ignaz?” Lenz commented lightly. “Even if I can’t take their side, I hope they succeed. I wouldn’t want anyone to stay in here a second longer than needed.”
Ignaz said nothing to that, and they returned to their scriptural discussion.
~~/*\~~ Leahe ~~/*\~~
“I’m really starting to worry about Yaldborth.” Leahe said quietly.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, everyone’s looking for ways to handle the routine without going crazy. Most of the women are swapping tasks, just for variety.” She held up her arm. “The trick to being one handed? You find things you can still do, and you do them very well. So while other people move on with their day, I generally stay in the same place and do one job for a lot longer than most. I’ve… noticed a pattern.”
Takarut paused, looking at her oddly. “Tell me.”
“Yaldborth is meeting with people. Always someone from his own Tribe. Usually, he acts like he’s just running into them, as if it’s random, but after I saw him ‘happen’ into the same area a third time, I started watching. The people he was talking to? He was searching the crowd. He’s looking for people to just ‘run into’.”
“And when he finds them? What does he do?” Takarut didn’t even question it. Something that Leahe always appreciated was that her husband took her opinions seriously.
“Usually, he mentions having them come over for a meal, with his extended family.” Leahe licked her lips. “If I hadn’t been tending to the animals so long, longer than everyone else put together… I wouldn’t have noticed. He’s invited at least four families over for dinner on the same two nights.”
Takarut hesitated. “To what end? It’s not like the Manna is any different with more people eating in one place…”
Leahe nodded. “He picks people that others want to avoid. You know why? Because they never stop complaining.”
“That’s a long list, my love.” Takarut almost wanted to laugh. “I can count on one hand the number of people who don’t…” He trailed off, suddenly getting it. “He’s inviting the… ‘malcontents’ to eat with him?”
“With his family.” Leahe nodded. “As you correctly pointed out, meals last about five minutes now. What else are they doing with their time?”
“You think Yaldborth is recruiting?”
“I don’t know. But I think someone is.” Leahe nodded. “I asked Odeda. She’s the wife of one of the men Yaldborth invited. She said that Yaldborth’s brother-in-law led the meal. They were talking about… well, the situation, and what we might do about it.”
“ Yaldborth’s brother-in-law?” Takarut thought for a minute. “Who is that?”
“On, the son of Peleth.” Leahe reported.
“They’re from the Tribe of Reuben, aren’t they?” Takarut said slowly.
Her head tilted. “How’d you know that?”
“Because I’ve heard similar stories about a man named Abiran. Also from the Tribe of Reuben.” Takarut said flatly.
Leahe was silent for a long moment. “My father was one of the Elders back in Egypt. When Moses arrived and started telling our people who he was, and who had sent him? My father knew he couldn’t just call assemblies of households, because the guards were always watching for signs of rebellion being organized. So my father would find reasons to talk to the men who would pass the word. Acceptable reasons. Things that wouldn’t be noticed.”
“That’s how you build rebellions.” It wasn’t a question.
Leahe said nothing, but she shivered hard.
Takarut licked his lips. “Okay. If we know about this, we can assume Moses does.”
“Who would tell him?” Leahe asked practically.
Takarut raised an eyebrow and pointed a finger straight up at the sky.
“Not what I mean.” Leahe shook her head. “Moses is beloved. But the situation isn’t. People know they don’t have any future here, except to get old and die. Including us, husband.” Leahe cupped his face with her fingers, pulling him close enough to rest their foreheads together. “Nobody has anything to lose anymore. We’ll be dead before we see the Promised Land. Our son will spend forty years living like this. Even if it’s a crazy idea, something different is better than anything Jehovah is offering us.”
“Better?”
“Or at least, something other than just… waiting.”
“Moses once said that hard times and long waits can be a true revealer of character.” Takarut said quietly. “Satau told me once, that back in Egypt, the Prince asked the High Priests why the Hebrews shouldn’t be granted freedom. The High Priest said that ‘slaves aren’t like real people. They cannot govern themselves’.”
She gave him a sideways look. “You agree?”
“I spent enough time as a Scribe in the Court to know that Nobles can’t rule each other either.” He waved that off. “They just think they can because they have money.”
Leahe burst out laughing for a moment, but it quickly faded. “I remember how Moses reacted to the Golden Calf. If God agreed on that point, what about this? What’s going to happen now?”
~/*\~~/*\~~/*\~
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