~~/*\~~ Oskar ~~/*\~~
Oskar worked at the house for almost two weeks. He and Juliette kept the house running smoothly. Annegret had no job, and spent most of her day in the master bedroom. Juliette had told him in confidence that Reschke’s wife was ostracized by everyone in the community who wasn’t looking for promotion from her husband. Annegret dealt with this by staying in seclusion, even at home. She was filled with some kind of depression that left her bedridden most of the time.
Hans attended school during the day. When he was at home, Hans kept peeking on Oskar while he did chores in the garden. Reschke was almost always away, doing whatever business occupied his time. When he was home, Oskar kept the car clean too. The Gestapo Chauffeur had kept a close watch on him while he polished the car to a shine.
“It’s not an uncommon tactic for the resistance to approach someone like you.” The Driver had said to him darkly on one such day. “We’ve had reports of General’s getting their cars sabotaged, or rigged with explosives.”
“I would never do that.” Oskar assured him.
“So I’m told; though procedures require me to check the car myself.” The Driver scoffed. “Your people are too spineless to take a side in the largest armed conflict in human history.”
Oskar noticed Hans was watching him from an upstairs window, hearing every word of that.
~~/*\~~
“One thing you aren’t is spineless.” Juliette said when he related the story to her that night as she cooked dinner for the family. “I’ve seen spineless people. I’ve seen people straight up grovelling to the Nazi’s, begging for mercy. People are handing over their children to the Hitler Youth, no matter how much they hate the man. They’re building munitions, fundraising for the war, marching in the parades… Some are ‘true believers’, but most are just doing as they're told. And as long as nobody can tell which is which, he has the whole country in lock-step.”
“Hard to blame them.” Oskar murmured. “They’re being told what to do by men with guns.”
“So were you.” Juliette remarked, when she turned around and nearly dropped the pan she was stirring. Oskar followed her gaze and blanched.
Hans was there, fetching himself a snack from the kitchen. He didn’t look at them, collecting a slice of bread, and heading out again. It was like he hadn’t even been aware of their presence, but Oskar had no doubt the young man had heard every word of that conversation too.
“...ohgod…” Juliette rasped.
Oskar shook his head. “Relax.” He said seriously. “Hans seems to be aware of everything in the house. He could have had the chauffeur shot by now, if he was a gossip.” He glanced back at Juliette. “That’s the word, right? In French?”
Juliette said nothing for a long time, paralyzed by sudden fear. “Y-yes, that’s the word.”
~~/*\~~
As he went back out to the well, Oskar prayed silently. Father, nobody seems to talk much at all upstairs. It’s like the house is afraid to say a word. Annegret always taken to her bed. Hans is left to himself. Reschke is barely here. I can’t imagine he’ll speak to his father just to have Juliette taken away.
But inwardly, he was worried too. He’d been studying with Juliette here and there at night. Nothing more than sharing Bible stories, really. But there was only one Bible in the house, and it was on the bookshelves, all locked away in Reschke’s office. It was the one room forbidden to everyone, left permanently locked up.
~~/*\~~
Oskar was fixing a pailing in the backyard fence when he saw Hans coming over. Oskar had realized long before that there was nobody for the boy to talk to. Hans rarely had friends over. The local children had been warned about his father. The Gestapo was every bit as dangerous to the ‘honest’ population as a prisoner like him. Moreso, in some ways.
“Your name is Oskar, right?” Hans said quietly, peeking back at the house to make sure that his father wasn’t home.
Oskar jumped. “Yes, it is. Your father told you?” Even as he said it, it seemed unlikely.
“Flora told me.” Hans said quietly.
At his daughter’s name, Oskar’s head whipped around so fast he nearly fell over. “What? You know Flora?”
“I met her.” Hans nodded. “The other children at school don’t talk to me. Their parents are too scared of my father. Flora isn’t. She sought me out when she found out my father was ‘connected’. She wanted to find out where you were.” He looked down. “It took me a while to realize. You look a lot different than the photo she showed me.”
“Is she okay?” Oskar whispered.
“Last I heard. It was a while ago. She isn’t in school, at least not at mine. She wouldn’t tell me where she was staying, or who with.” Hans told him. “The feeling that I got from her was that others of your… your people have taken her in.”
Oskar froze. How much can I tell this kid? Jehovah God, help!
Hans lowered his voice. “I haven’t told my father. I haven’t told anyone. She’s the only person my age who isn’t afraid of me.” He looked at Oskar. “Are you afraid of me?”
“...no.” Oskar said finally. “And you? Are you afraid of me? Your father seems to think that I’m a threat to the Reich; because I refuse to salute Hitler’s photograph.”
“Your daughter made the same comment.” Hans said quietly. “My father… he’s not a bad man. He’s doing what they told him to do.”
Where is Flora?! He wanted to scream, but didn’t know how to ask the question without getting shot, so Oskar said nothing, returning to the fence. Hans kept talking, and Oskar could suddenly tell how desperately lonely the young man was, as his story came pouring out.
“My father was a soldier.” Hans said. “Mother and I had to follow him around to whatever base he was assigned to. He lied about his age and volunteered at the tail end of the last war, and he had to stay, because… well, he needed the job.”
“Hard to find work after the Great War ended. My father had the same problem.” Oskar nodded. Where is my daughter?! Tell me what you know!
“When Germany changed, he was a Major. He was thrilled. Hitler was rebuilding the military. Taking it seriously.” Hans suddenly looked sick. “Then one day, he went to work in his uniform, came home in a suit and tie. Hat, overcoat… Told us we were moving to his new post.”
“Here.” Oskar said flatly. Talk about Flora! Please, God: Make him say something about my daughter!
“I’m not an idiot. I know that the house belonged to someone before us. So does mother. She doesn’t know what happened to the people who lived here. Neither do I. I had to pack all their family pictures and personal effects away, because she couldn’t face it.” Hans glanced back at the house. “I asked my father where they went. He told me not to ask such questions, and we were here now.” He looked back at Oskar. “And I haven’t asked any questions since. It’s almost a house rule, not to ask any questions you don’t already know the answers to. Mother stopped asking long ago. She can barely get out of bed anymore.”
And Oskar sighed hard. He wasn’t going to say anything about Flora, because he was deliberately giving himself nothing to say. He felt a wave of pity for the boy. At least prisoners in the camp could be honest with each other. At least he had someone to talk to.
And at least I can talk to You. Oskar prayed. Aloud, he spoke to Hans. “Thank you, for telling me that Flora was alive. I had no word of her from the moment I was arrested. You’ve done a wonderful thing for me.”
Hans flushed bright red, and quickly looked over his shoulder, afraid that someone might have noticed an unauthorized act of kindness happening between them. He got up and went back to the house without glancing back at him.
Oskar went back to work on the fence, praying again. Jehovah God, thank you for getting word to me about Flora. I never expected to get such good news about my family in a Gestapo man’s backyard, while living in his home. I pray you’ll protect her while we’re apart.
~~/*\~~
While his family had no social life, Reschke hosted officials and military officers as his guests fairly often. Oskar and Juliette knew it was coming because the kitchen would get a delivery of expensive wine, or a larger cut of real meat. Oskar would serve the dishes, and then vanish for the rest of the night. If he overheard anything, he’d be shot for it.
Juliette had roasted a leg of lamb for their guests, who turned out to be high ranking soldiers. While they ate in the dining room, Oskar and Juliette took the stale bread from the day before and soaked it in the dripping of the pan. It was the most delicious thing Oskar had eaten in months.
“You aren’t tempted?” Juliette asked him quietly as they ate. “There are two Generals in the next room. People who #%&^$! led the invasion that took over our two countries. People who mastermind the war. People who gave the orders that kicked us all out of our homes. They’re here, getting drunk, and you’ve got a kitchen full of knives and meat cleavers…” She gestured at the pan. “I sometimes think the only reason I don’t feed them rat poison is because I’m living off their crumbs as it is.”
“All the savagery that those monsters have put me through is because of my beliefs.” Oskar said quietly as he chewed. “It’d be a cosmic joke if I acted in direct opposition to those beliefs now, after all I went through to hold onto them..”
“Chef!” Reschke called from the dining room. “More wine!”
Juliette picked up a wine bottle, keeping eye contact with Oskar as she popped the cork, and promptly spat into the bottle. With a grin, she turned to take it out to the dining room…
…and walked straight into Hans.
Juliette dropped the bottle in panic, and Hans caught it before it fell or spilled.
Everything. Stopped.
How much did he hear? Oskar wondered, knowing that Juliette was asking herself the same. The sheer terror on Juliette’s face kept them all spellbound for a moment, until Hans spat in the bottle himself, then handed it back with the tiniest twitch of a grin.
Almost trembling with relief, Juliette went into the Dining Room.
Oskar gestured at the crust in his hand. “If you aren’t going to get her in trouble, can I assume you’re not going to report me either?”
“Report what? Staff in the kitchen?” Hans came over and sat beside him at the counter. “Isn’t that we’re you’re meant to be?”
Juliette came back in and saw them together at the counter, looking like friends, and decided not to be scared. “Actually, aren’t you meant to be locked in your room until they leave?”
Hans nodded. “I went to use the outhouse. Couldn’t get back to my room without walking right past them.” He shuddered. “Those Generals are afraid of my father. But my father will be eager to show off what a ‘good example’ I am.” He sighed hard. “And my dinner is still waiting up in my room, uneaten.”
Oskar almost laughed at the piteous expression on his face, and he found himself missing Flora all over again. Juliette immediately served him a plate. “Bring the other plate back down when you can safely get back to your room. Don’t let it go to waste.”
Hans was about to ask something, but his eyes flicked to Oskar, and he left it unsaid. Cold leftovers for dinner wouldn’t be a hardship to either of them.
“Hans, can I ask you a question?” Oskar said finally. “Why’d you spit in the bottle? Your father’s drinking out of that.”
“No, he’s not.” Hans said simply. “My father doesn’t drink. He’s putting out the wine because his guests do, and his job is…” Hans waved a hand. “I broke the rules once. I listened in on one of his conferences.”
Juliette let out a low whistle, and quickly went to close the kitchen door. If Hans was going to be on ‘their side’, they definitely didn’t want anyone to hear him talk about it.
“It wasn’t an official meeting.” Hans confessed. They dragged a soldier in here, and…” He shivered, eyes flicking to Oskar. “You’re a prisoner, right? Were you in a place called Buchenwald?”
Oskar frowned. “Never heard of it.”
“Neither had I. But this guard… He’d been assigned there. Apparently, he was trying to help the prisoners somehow. He was reporting to my father about the conditions, and what some of the guards were doing there…” Hans broke off and shuddered hard. “The things he was talking about… My father was a good man, Oskar. I swear he was.”
“Was?” Juliette repeated.
“That guard was reporting on the… evil that he’s seen.” Hans said flatly, like his emotions were hiding from the conversation. “That soldier thought he was exposing something terrible. But my father already knew. He laughed.” Hans’s eyes finally changed. “He laughed! At someone who was trying to hold evil men accountable for-” He broke off, suddenly pushing his plate away. “Eat this, please. I’m not hungry anymore.”
Juliette took the fork and ate. “How does a guard with a conscience get assigned to a place like that?”
“There aren’t as many sociopaths out there as you think.” Oskar offered grimly, taking a bite himself. “I can’t help but wonder how many they have to call on, given how widespread the war is now.”
Hans looked scared. “He’s still my father. What am I supposed to do? Who could I even tell?”
“You can tell us.” Oskar said with a ring of certainty.
“Not me.” Juliette said immediately. “I don’t want to know a thing. Knowing stuff can get me shot.”
“That’s your choice, and I can’t blame you for it.” Oskar nodded, eyes still on Hans. “In a way, I’m trying to walk the same path you are, young man. My faith tells me to be neutral in all the world’s affairs, be respectful of authority, but never to compromise on my obedience to God. It’s a difficult line to balance on right now. One that’s gotten me ‘disreputable’ enough to be thrown into a labor camp; but trustworthy enough to work in your home.”
Juliette quietly slipped out of the room, returning to the basement. Oskar and Hans didn’t say a word until the basement door shut again, and Oskar looked to Hans. “What did he tell your father? About the Camp he was working at?”
Hans looked sick. “You sure you want to know?”
“No, I really don’t. But someone has to know.” Oskar said seriously. “And you definitely need someone you can talk to.”
The boy told him everything.
~~/*\~~
That night, while Juliette snored gently in the opposite cot, Oskar prayed desperately. Father, I wanted to give the boy someone to talk to, but now I know what he heard. It’s such a horror story that I want to believe it’s a lie, or a miscommunication… but somehow every word rings true. In which case, I have been lax, in thanking You for Your protection thus far. I could easily have been sent to a Death Camp, rather than a Labor Camp. Thousands, millions of people, being marched into incinerators? How much hate does a person have in them to conceive of that, let alone carry it out? How much evil is there in the world that You can still stand to look in Earth’s general direction?
(Author’s Note: Witnesses in Nazi Germany faced horrifying persecution, but I’ve taken steps to avoid the worst of it in my book. I’m not writing a horror story about the evils of the Holocaust. I’m writing a comparison between modern, and ancient times. I’m comparing the ability of people to hold onto faith when under a death sentence, and how they handled attacks from without and within, to say nothing of fear of man, versus faith in Jehovah.
As a result, you’ll notice I’m not being too specific. For example, our Protagonist is at an unnamed labor camp, rather than a Concentration Camp. This is done specifically so that I didn’t have to get too deeply into the worst of what our brothers went through. Given that all the people in this story are my own invention, it seemed more respectful to the people who actually went through the horrors of the time.)
Juliette’s snores hitched, and she let out a murmur of fear, even asleep. She was having a nightmare. He stretched an arm across the room and shook her awake. She came out of the dream, brushed his hand with hers, and went back to sleep.
Oskar didn't even pause in his prayers. Father, we know they were trying to work us to death. I never imagined that there would be such huge facilities where they don’t even pretend to be anything but what they are. My lord in heaven, how long can we go on like this? And I don’t mean Your servants, though they are surely in those camps too. How long can the world go on, when it’s been run by such demonic monsters…
Please, Father… I hate to sound so weak right now, but please, please convince me that Josef is wrong. He thinks You have abandoned us. What I heard from Hans would convince me he was right, if I wasn’t… If I didn’t… Please, God, please…
He fell into a restless, hollow sleep of his own, and let the nightmares come.
~~/*\~~
The next day seemed indecently beautiful. Sunshine and warm breezes, while Oskar tended a garden full of green grass and colorful flowers.
Juliette joined him in the garden. “For you.” She said quietly, and bent down beside him. To anyone watching, she was collecting a few flowers. Oskar had seen her put such things on a tray, to make breakfast look prettier when served, but Oskar noticed her putting a small bundle under the flowering bush. “From Hans.”
She got up and went back to the house without so much as glancing back at him. Oskar waited several minutes before he went over to the bush and collected the gift. He returned to work and waited longer before opening it. Inside were several fragile pages.
Bible pages.
His prayer from the night before flashed into his mind, and Oskar nearly burst out laughing. In truth, his fears had been repeated to God in prayer for much of the morning, and somehow, he’d gotten an answer delivered to him.
~~/*\~~ Leahe ~~/*\~~
As morning began at the Camp, the early Manna was being collected, as usual. But Leahe wasn’t collecting it. She was busy with another task.
With her bowl full, Ledah noticed her, and came over. Leahe looked up from her fire, and gazed at her for a long few moments, before her face changed. “Morning, Ledah.”
She didn’t recognize me? Ledah wondered. “Good morning, Leahe.” She noticed what Leahe was doing. “Is… is that a Moabite robe?”
“Not a robe. This is one of the dresses that their priestesses wear.” Leahe said, the cloth bundled in her hands.
“It looks nice.” Ledah remarked, gazing at the colorful cloth.
“It is. It’s lovely.” Leahe said flatly. And then she tore a strip of cloth off it, and fed it into the fire, slowly.
Ledah was taken aback. “Should I ask?”
“My son. He brought it back from the Moabite traders. As a gift.” Leahe said, listless. “I wore it for Takarut last night.”
Ledah smiled automatically at the thought, then remembered she was burning the thing. “It went… poorly?”
“It went perfectly.” Leahe wiped her eye, like she’d gotten a speck of dust in an awkward spot. It was a move that everyone made fairly often, and nobody commented on it. “He loved how it looked on me. I loved how I felt wearing it. I felt… beautiful.” She sniffed, and turned to her friend. “Back in Egypt, even after a long day of hard labor, the Princes and High Priests still noticed me for my looks.” She looked at her severed arm. “After the Plagues began, the King started making… examples.” She bowed her head, and fed a little more of the robe into the fire. “I haven’t felt beautiful in so long, Ledah.”
Ledah knew all this already. Most people knew everything about each other after this long. She came over and held Leahe by the shoulders, making her get to the point. “What. Happened?”
“I felt… young. For an hour, I was loving my life again.” Leahe said, wiping a stubborn tear that refused to go away. “And when I woke up this morning, I looked at this dress, and saw all the Icons of Ba’al sewn into it. I was in such a rush to put it on, I didn’t notice until this morning.”
Ledah’s head tilted. “And Takarut wanted you to keep it on anyway?”
“No.” Leahe confessed. “I did. I saw it for what it was, and I wanted it anyway, just because of how it made me feel when I was wearing it.” She tore another strip off and fed it into the fire. “I feel like my husband and I both spent the entire night cheating on ourselves.” She looked down at the sackcloth robe she was wearing. “The only other thing I had to put on was this.”
(Author’s Note: Deuteronomy 8:4, says: ‘The clothing you wore did not wear out, nor did your feet become swollen these 40 years.’
The 9/15 2004 WT gives commentary on this verse: “This was a miraculous provision, as was the regular supply of manna. The Israelites used the same garments and footwear they started out with, likely passing them on to others as children grew up and adults died. Since the two censuses taken at the beginning and at the end of the wilderness trek revealed that the number of Israelites did not increase, the original supply of these items would have been sufficient.”)
Ledah sighed and nodded. “I know what you mean. I remember, back when this march started, we used to swap clothing with the other women, just for some variety. Our clothes haven’t so much as frayed at the seams in forty years of wilderness living, but they’re certainly broken in.”
Emphasis on ‘broken’. Leahe thought. “I was holding my sackcloth in one hand, and this thing in the other, and just for a moment, I hated having to choose.” She threw the priestess robe away angrily. “It wasn’t lust, or indifference to God, or rebellion against Moses. I’m just so sick to death of all of this!” The tears came then, and Ledah stepped over to give her a hug. “This endless, infuriating, agonizing sameness that seems to fill every corner of the Camp? It’ll last until we’re all dead, and I don’t know what happens to my son after that, but if the Moabite women are any indication-”
“I can’t find my boys.” Ledah said over her suddenly.
Leahe’s mouth shut with an audible click. She had been about to declare the foreign women as irresistible temptresses. She hadn’t known that her friends were falling into the trap.
“I’m going.” Ledah said seriously. “I have to find my boys, before… Well, before.” She glanced back at Leahe. “You coming?”
“I can’t help you.” Leahe said sullenly.
“I’m not anticipating a sword-fight or anything, Leahe-”
“No, I mean I’m no help to a search.” Leahe sighed hard. “My… my eyesight isn’t what it used to be either. The last few weeks, it’s been getting worse and worse.” She almost laughed, truly bitter. “Half the reason I loved wearing something so unique is because it’s getting difficult to tell everyone apart. I’ve known you people my whole life, and I never see anyone else, and you’re all just… fading into sameness.”
Ledah watched Leahe look around, trying to imagine what she was seeing.
Leahe’s eyesight meant everything further than a few feet away was a blur now. The people around her were all blurs, nearly identical. The clothing they wore was vague, the miracle of their clothing not wearing out was nothing to her. Even if the colors had never faded from the cloth, there was a layer of wilderness dust on everything. To her, it was all just the same shapes and colors.
Watching her helpless gaze, Ledah licked her lips. “I… I’m going to round up a few people and try to find my boys. When I get back, we’ll talk. We’ll work something out, I promise. But right now, I have to go.”
One of her neighbors came running up. “Leahe! You have to come with me! It’s Takarut!”
Leahe felt her heart stop, then start to race. She and Ledah traded a desperate look, and took off running in opposite directions.
~~/*\~~
Even with her weakened eyes, Leahe could tell which one was her husband. He was sitting on the ground, head bowed between his knees. Some of the younger ones had him surrounded. They were mostly just standing around. There was nothing they could do to help but wait, or pray.
“What happened?!” Leahe demanded, hurrying to her husband’s side.
“I’m alright.” He insisted, breathing hard. “I just… overdid it.”
She knelt beside him, peering closely. “Talk to me. What happened?”
“I just… stood up too fast. Ran out of puff.”
Leahe looked past him to one of the older men. “What really happened?”
“He passed out.” The man confessed. “Just for a moment. He was helping to carry the… It’s my fault, Leahe. I shouldn't have asked. He’s not a young man.”
“I’m fine.” Takarut insisted.
“Hush, you. Save your breath.” Leahe insisted. “Bring some water!”
~~/*\~~
“It’s a little embarrassing.” Takarut said, walking slowly with his wife. “My father was a lot more… vital, at this age.”
“In a nice, comfortable job, with slaves to do the hard stuff, and the best doctors in the world around him.” Leahe said, calming down. Relief made her smile. “And you’re not exactly lacking in vitality. Last night proved that.”
“A point that did nothing to calm you down a few minutes ago, love.” Takarut retorted. “We both know what this is.”
Time. Leahe thought the word like a vile curse. “Thadine died yesterday.”
“I heard.” Takarut said faintly. “I didn’t think you knew him that well.”
“I didn’t. But he wasn’t that old. A little older than us, maybe but…” She trailed off. She knew what had killed Thadine. She knew it was going to claim them all soon enough. Forty years. Their countdown was coming close to an end.
“It’s good news, too.” Takarut offered, forcing optimism. “It means Emet will enter the Promised Land soon.”
She didn’t answer. Just then, one of the highly-ranked Chieftains called after them, and they both turned. “Have either of you seen Hilkiah? He’s your overseer, isn’t he?”
“He is, sir.” Leahe said. “But I haven’t seen him since the day before yesterday. Is something wrong?”
“Moses has an announcement to make, and we can’t find all our Chieftains.” The older man said absently, hurrying on to continue his search.
“Wonder what that’s about.” Takarut murmured.
“I have the worst feeling that I might know.” Leahe admitted. “Come on. Let’s get you home.”
~~/*\~~ Oskar ~~/*\~~
Reschke wasn’t home that night, staying out at work. His wife stayed in her bed. Hans ate in the kitchen, with nobody to tell him that he shouldn’t.
Juliette wasn’t as relaxed around the young man as Oskar was, but she stayed. Oskar prayed aloud over his meal, and they waited respectfully as he spoke.
“Father Jehovah, we thank you for food and safety. There are many others in the world who can’t count on such things reliably, even though the Earth which You gave us is rich enough to provide for all. Thank you for glimmers of hope and reassurance in the darkest times. In Jesus name, we pray. Amen.”
“Amen.” Hans repeated. Juliette said nothing.
“And thank you, Hans.” Oskar said quietly while they ate.
Hans smiled a bit, grateful.
Juliette excused herself as soon as she finished eating. Oskar cleaned the dishes in the sink, setting them up for the next day. Hans stayed with him. If anyone asked, he was lingering over seconds. Oskar took the opportunity to speak with him privately. “It was exactly what I needed, but if you took them from your father’s Bible, you’re going to get caught.”
“My father never even looks at the Bible. It’s been locked away for ages.” Hans assured him.
“Yeah, but if I ever get caught with them, there’s only a short list of places I could have gotten hold of a Bible.”
“It’s not from ours.” The teenager assured Oskar. “I liberated the pages from a … well a pile of books that were being tossed onto a bonfire. If anyone wants to check the book those pages came from, they can sift through the ashes.”
Oskar winced, but tried to hide it. Book burnings. Who does that? Well, the same people who burn crowds of human beings, I guess.
Hans glanced back at the closed door. “My father doesn’t usually keep the same servants here for long. Especially prisoners. Your turn is coming up soon. They’re going to send you back to… wherever he gets people from.”
Right. Wouldn’t want to keep the same servants around for long. Your family might start to think of us as people. Oskar thought to himself. He shuddered hard, thinking of the Camp. As strange and terrifying as it was, living in the Gestapo Man’s home, it was far more comfortable than the labor camp.
Hans nodded, knowing what he was thinking. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do more for you. I’m sorry for a lot of things.” He winced harder. “And I’m sorry you have to go somewhere worse.”
“It could be worse.” Oskar heard himself say. “I have people there. Back in the Camp they got me from.” He didn’t say the other part out loud. Assuming they don’t send me to one of the Death Camps instead.
“Good. That’s good. They’ll be glad to see you.” Hans said quietly, but he didn’t seem reassured. He wasn’t saying it either, but he had the same thought.
He’ll be alone here, in this house, with this terrible knowledge that a young one just shouldn’t have. Oskar regarded him. “We likely won’t speak again. Just so you know… what you’re feeling right now? Your mother probably does too. She could probably use your support. I’m betting she feels as alone as you did, when you overheard your father’s meeting.”
Hans lowered his voice in horror. “You think she overheard something too?”
“Could be.” Oskar nodded. “I haven’t been able to be there for my daughter. Speaking as a parent, she’d probably love to have your company.”
Hans nodded, and turned to go. He paused, and turned back. “Thank you. For listening.”
Oskar lowered his voice too. “Nobody’s evil by blood. You have to learn it. Even nurture it. You can deny it, too. Remember that.”
They’d pushed it too long. One of the guards poked his head into the kitchen. “Hans, your father left orders that you weren’t to bother the staff.”
“Of course.” Hans said, and left the room without looking back. Oskar headed for the basement door, his duties done for the night.
~~/*\~~
Juliette had overheard what Hans said about the ‘rotation’ of the house staff, and she was going to pieces. “Never trust them! Never trust anything!” She raged quietly. “God, I actually started to relax here! I actually started to think I wouldn’t have to suffer any more. How could I be so stupid?!”
“Juliette, the kid was talking about me, not you.”
“He said ‘staff’.”
“We aren’t staff. We’re prisoners.” Oskar reminded her. “Fairness and routine are whatever Reschke says they are. He may yet keep you on.”
Juliette was crying. Nearly blubbering. “Even worse! I never wanted to be here. Am I going to spend the whole war making that man feel at home? It’s the definition of ‘aid and comfort’ to the enemy.”
He reached out and held her tightly, mostly to keep her from spiralling further. She was working herself up enough that she was going to start bouncing off the walls. She broke down crying, head on his shoulder.
He rubbed her back automatically, the way he’d done with his late wife, when she’d been upset. It felt like a million years ago. He hadn’t held a woman in his arms since she died. The experience was entirely different now, both of them thin enough that their bones were hard and pointed against each other, but the warmth and effort to calm the other was as strong as ever, and Oskar felt his heart rate slow.
Juliette was feeling it too, and he wondered what her own romantic history was. For sure, she hadn’t been held gently since the war began.
Oh no. Oskar suddenly realized, when she moved her face from his shoulder to his neck. Her hands came up to rest flat against his torso. She didn’t say anything, but she was leaning a lot closer than she ever had before. The offer was clear on her face.
And just for a second, he was going to say yes. It was obvious she was waiting for him to show interest. He’d been hurting, aching, and dehumanised since the first time a bag had gone over his head. Why shouldn’t I have just one night? Haven’t I shown God my loyalty already? Even when I lived like a person, I’ve been alone for years…
She leaned a tiny bit closer, brushing her lips against the corner of his mouth. It felt… good. He’d almost forgotten how good it felt to hold a woman close…
There is nothing more human than this. The thought came to him from somewhere. Just being able to feel something would be a win against the ungodly inhuman men that put us through this… Nothing more alive. Nothing more-
But he hadn’t really kissed her back, and he saw the needful feeling in her eye dull.
The moment passed. He deliberately made his eyes soften as he shook his head a little. He saw disappointment, but she nodded a little, and stepped back. He wasn’t sure if she recognized his reasons. But she was still wiping the drying tears from her face against his shoulder, and they hugged again, for a long, heartfelt moment, before returning to their cots, on opposite sides of the storage space.
Wouldn’t that have been the final irony? Oskar said, shifting into an impromptu prayer. All the armies of Nazi Germany couldn’t convince me to compromise…
The thought came to him; so clear that it almost felt like his prayer was being answered directly. All sin is a corruption of something holy. Pride, lust, greed, gluttony. They all start out as something normal, and right. Everything meant for good can be used as bait for an illusion of the real thing.
Love and affection in particular. He told himself, and fell asleep.
~~/*\~~ Hilkiah ~~/*\~~
Hilkiah woke up to the sound of women singing. Some in the Camp sang songs of praise, now and then, but not during the Morning Manna… and whoever was singing this morning wasn’t doing so in Hebrew…
Then memory caught up, and he froze, unable to breathe.
The blankets and pillows he had slept in were soft and colorful and cozy. In fact, it was the most comfortable he could ever remember being. But his brain started spinning in sudden panic at every vivid memory of the night before.
The woman singing was Donatiya. She was outside somewhere. Hilkiah dressed quickly, hoping to be out of the tent, and back to Camp before anyone noticed he was gone…
The second he left the tent, he knew that was impossible. Everyone was up before dawn.
Donatiya saw him as soon as he came out of her tent, and waved for him to join her at the Shrine. The market tents were already open for business, the firepits were being tended, and the morning meal was being served. The Idol of Baal-Pelor was the centre of everything. Trade, food, and songs of praise were all going on already, with the morning worship being set up at the idol, thanking it for the dawn.
And from many tents came the Priestesses, wearing robes meant to accentuate their looks, even this early. The women were all smiling. Most of them had the smile of young women looking forward to what came next. One or two had looks of triumph.
The triumphant look chilled Hilkiah. He’d wondered if it had been a deliberate plan to turn the boys against Jehovah after all. Or vice versus.
The very next tent over had a particularly attractive woman come out, stark naked. She stepped out, saw the Chieftain, and grinned, blowing him a kiss as she walked past, heading right for the Baal Idol, unconcerned with who saw her. A moment later, the tent flap opened, and Giddel came out with a tired smile on his face. He saw Hilkiah and had the decency to look a little caught out. “The uh, the girls asked me to stick around. Until the morning rituals were finished. So we could… have a little more fun.”
“Did they?” Hilkiah murmured. “You know we really shouldn’t. Some of the things they… that they do during their worship to…” He trailed off. He couldn’t exactly claim any kind of moral high ground.
A second woman came out of Giddel’s tent, kissed the young man’s cheek, and also headed off towards the Statue. Donatiya’s song was becoming a ritual chant.
“Does it really make a difference at this point?” Giddel shrugged, eyes never leaving the woman, and he followed after her.
“It does.” Hilkiah whispered, mostly to himself. “It makes a difference. Jehovah God, I made a mistake last night, I know. And… and I liked it. But that’s not the same thing as… Does it make a difference if…”
“Nobody’s broken The First Commandment.”
Hilkiah spun, and found a small boy in threadbare robes. His features clearly identified him as a Hebrew child. “Where did you come from?”
“I’ve been in the Camp. Thought I’d follow along here. See what was happening.” The Boy said, and he didn’t look too pleased, but he didn’t look judgemental. “Jehovah gave laws for His followers to live by. If you’ve broken one, does it mean you don’t need to care about the others?”
“Of course not.” The Elder said automatically. “God’s Laws aren’t meant to be ‘minimums’. They’re the standard we’re meant to aim for.”
“God gave two of the Ten Commandments to this topic. Of false gods, and false idols.” The Boy said, gesturing at the Baal-Peor statue. “You haven’t broken either of those rules yet.”
“And I’m sure his people will see it that way.” Another voice chuckled.
Hilkiah turned and saw a Merchant in gold and purple, leading a camel loaded with goods, towards the trading stalls. He had paused to join the conversation. “I’m sure the complexities of tribal politics are a bit over your head, little boy.” The Merchant sneered at The Boy. “But this man is a Chieftain. Responsible for many men.”
“Yes, I am.” Hilkiah murmured, feeling sick.
“And because of that, it’s his choice.” The Merchant continued, gesturing at the tents, where at least a dozen familiar faces were coming out of tents to start the day, looking for the women that they’d spent the night with, remarking on the variety of foods available for breakfast. “You can go back to your Camp and beg forgiveness, or you can stay here, and celebrate your new start. You’re a highly ranked member of the Hierarchy in the Camp.” The Merchant said grandly, holding out a small golden Baal statue. “You have the power, the authority to change minds.”
“You can change the minds of these boys, but you can’t change God’s mind.” The Boy countered.
“God isn’t going to make a fuss with your wife. Only people do that. And only if they feel they should..” The Merchant retorted, never taking his eyes off Hilkiah. “The Moabites don’t want a war. They’ve been very welcoming, have they not?” He chuckled naughtily. “Very welcoming. You think Moses would be the same right now?”
“You won’t turn this man against Moses. That question has been answered with certainty.” The Boy countered.
“That’s true.” Hilkiah said, feeling like he was bouncing back and forth between them.
“But Moses is an old man, and you have to know by now he won’t live to see your Promised Land.” The Merchant said immediately. “One way or another, you have to make your own choices. If you make your own way, you can still have it all. Your reputation. Your position. Your pride. Even her. Or you can go back and rub ashes through your hair; trust your fate to the mercy of old men who haven’t enjoyed themselves in forty years.”
“Hilkiah!” A voice called.
Hilkiah turned to see Giddel running up to him, looking nervous. “The others are asking if we have to go back to Camp right away. The… our hosts, that is, they say we’re very welcome to stay for their morning rituals. They’ve brought food, as well.” He pulled his head in a bit. “Look, some of the younger ones are a bit stunned at how last night turned out. I don’t think they all realized just how far it would go. They’ve never really… well, had the chance. Nobody makes an offer like this back at the Camp. Now they’re kind of unsure. About what to do next.”
Hilkiah glanced back at his companions, only to find the Boy and the Merchant had both apparently moved on.
“Should we head back to camp?” Giddel asked, looking nervous. “W-what will happen to us back there?”
For sure, I’ll be stripped of my rank. Publically shamed. My family will never forgive me. I’ll be condemned, scorned… Maybe forgiven by Moses and God, but never trusted with leadership again…
Unless I don’t go back…
Which is insane. I have to go back.
But not right now, maybe?
“Hilkiah!” Donatiya called to him from beside the statue, arms open towards him. The other Priestesses were assembling for the rituals. “Come and join us!”
And Hilkiah found himself walking towards her. The ritual chants began around him, but he barely heard them, eyes focused on Donatiya. She was achingly beautiful in the morning dawn. He came closer, and she put her arms around him, drawing him into her warmth.
“This is where you belong now.” She crooned softly in his ear. “Praise be to Ba’al.”
~~/*\~~ Emet ~~/*\~~
Eventually, the Israelites returned to Camp. They found that things had happened while they were away. There had been swift judgement upon those that worshipped at the Shrines of Ba’al. The real tipping point had been when Zimri, himself a Chieftain, brought one of the women into the Camp, in full view of Moses and the rest of the Levites.
It had been a blatant act of defiance in the centre of the Camp, in full view of the leadership. Nobody was quite sure how she had talked him into it, or perhaps it had been the other way around. They would never know now, as Phineas, one of the Priests, had taken a spear and skewered them both on the spot.
But that had been the end of it. Jehovah had mentioned Phinehas and his actions by name when he assured Moses the matter was closed. The nation had broken contact with the Moabites entirely. Whatever was going to happen now, the nation was united again. Rumors were that there would be a counter-attack of some kind.
“Men and women of Israel!” A voice called, with the ring of authority. Everyone who heard came out to listen. The Chieftains in earshot paid close attention, as they would surely have to relay the news soon.
“We are hearing many rumors, most of which are far from the facts.” The man called. “Moses has heard the words of Jehovah, and here is what we know: The nation has faced a subtle attack. The Moabites sought to stop us entering the Promised Land. It was they that sent Balaam to us. He knew that an attack on this Camp would fail, as others have before. His inability to curse us is proof of that. Instead, Balaam conspired with the Priests and Leaders of Moab. He convinced them to try and lure our people into joining their worship of Baal.”
“This was a deliberate attack.” Emet said numbly. “And we fell for it.”
“You didn’t.” Sha'al reminded him.
“Those that fell into this trap were no doubt tricked into it.” The man declared. “It was a subtle attack. And it worked. God gave specific instructions about the worship of other gods. Our people may not have thought about it as a religious rite, focusing only on the women, but they still took part in the ritual worship of Baal.” He pointed to the pillar of smoke in the middle of the Camp. “But Jehovah is still with us. Swift action to cut off this line of attack before it spread meant that our losses were relatively light.”
“More than twenty thousand?” Emet hissed.
“Out of millions.” Sha'al returned.
“The numbers mean nothing.” The speaker continued, not hearing them, addressing the crowd. “Even one loss is a tragedy before Jehovah. For those who have lost loved ones to this judgment, there is little that can offer comfort.” He paused, taking in each one of them. Though the pause lasted only a few moments, Emet felt like the man was looking at him directly, sharing the burden of what he was feeling for a moment. “This is not the first misstep that has forced Jehovah’s hand. He does not hold back discipline from the nation He loves, nor does he hold back any comfort to those in pain.” He gestured around. “You’re all here, listening to this. None of us have failed any test put before us in our time across the Wilderness.”
There was a murmur, but it didn’t sound like agreement. Their people had taken on the scars of these judgements for years, even when they, individually, did nothing.
“Do not be shamed by imperfection. That is inevitable. God will be with each of you, as He has been with Moses. Subject to His Laws, everyone is free to decide what he wants to do with his life. Being free doesn’t mean anarchy. Doing right doesn’t mean doing nothing. Being obedient doesn’t mean being crushed under the yoke.”
Emet couldn’t help looking around at the Camp. Usually, messages were handed down through the Chieftains, to be reported to the nation in smaller, more manageable groups. But with their leadership in some disarray after the Moabite Encounter, some men were moving from Tribe to Tribe, making the report to all, more directly from Moses.
But even if the Speaker had given this message a dozen times already, his speech was dynamic. His shoulders were back, his tone clear. After decades of slow despair, and almost a week of crushing loss, here was someone who wasn’t hesitant. Wasn’t diminished. In fact, he seemed confident. He spoke like Aaron did, back in the day.
Unbroken.
“Who is that?” Emet asked, curious. “I’ve seen him with Moses often, when he isn’t working on the Historical Records.”
“I think his name is Joshua.” Sha'al told him. “He was one of the spies that went into Canaan.”
~/*\~~/*\~~/*\~
No comments:
Post a Comment