Puppet (5 page)

SATURDAY, MAY 20, 1882

The jail was empty except for old Mr. Meszaros, who got drunk every Friday slept in the jail overnight, and was taken home by his long-suffering wife on Saturday morning.

Life in the prison was much easier than life with Pa had been. As long as I swept up the cells and cooked his meals, Sergeant Toth left me alone. Nobody hit me. There was no one to fear.

Toth was a quiet man. Whole days would pass without the two of us exchanging a single word. He communicated with grunts and nods. A grunt and a glance at the floor meant that I had sweeping to do. Another grunt and a rubbing of his stomach signaled it was time for his dinner of potatoes and sausage. Anything left over, I was allowed to have. After a few days, I found myself having long, loud
conversations with Ma and Clara. My only thoughts were of my sister and how frightened she must be. I tried to think of a way to visit her at Csonkafuzes, but Toth did not pay me a salary and I was given no time off from my job. She might as well have been sent across the sea.

I rarely left the jail because the sergeant let me use one of the empty cells as my living quarters. He even gave me a straw-filled burlap bag to sleep on. I set up two wooden crates to serve as a table and chair and tied my spare vest to the steel bars over the window to keep out curious stares. I folded Ma's shawl carefully and draped it over her workbox. The shawl and the workbox were precious to me. They were the only belongings of Ma's I had.

On a beautiful, sunny May morning, Sergeant Toth shocked me by talking to me directly. I had just put his breakfast in front of him when he caught a corner of my apron.

“Go to Kohlmayer's,” he grunted, “and bring me back rope. Kohlmayer will know how much to give you,” he added, handing me a coin.

I was so startled by hearing a full sentence from him I didn't move for a moment. He waved his knife and fork at me.

“Go!” he said. “Go!”

I didn't need a second prompting.

I had hardly left the jail since I started to work for Sergeant Toth so I dawdled as much as I dared in the sunshine. I skipped along the dusty street, skirting a gaggle of geese
before knocking on the Rosenbergs' door. Sophie answered. She was neatly dressed in a black skirt and white blouse. Rosie Rosenberg was right behind her.

“Julie! Come in, come in,” Sophie said.

“My mama baked an apple strudel and we were just going to eat a slice. Come and share it with us,” said Rosie.

My mouth watered at her words, and before long we were sitting around the kitchen table with generous helpings of the flaky strudel in front of us.

I leaned back and sighed contentedly.

“I must go,” I said with regret. “Sergeant Toth will be impatient if I don't get back from my errand.”

“He won't even notice you're gone,” laughed Rosie. “His noggin is always in the clouds. I don't understand how he prevents the prisoners from escaping!”

“What prisoners? The jail is always empty except for old Meszaros.”

“Where are you heading?” Sophie asked.

“To Kohlmayer's. The warden asked me to buy rope.”

Sophie looked stricken. Esther's last trip had also been to Kohlmayer's.

She stood up from the table and walked over to the window, her back to us. When she finally turned around, her eyes were bright with unshed tears.

“They're still looking for Esther, but they'll never find her,” she said. “If Esther were alive she would have come home.”

“What do you mean? Who is searching for her?”

“The district court in Nyiregyhaza sent two men to Tisza-Eszlar to look into Esther's disappearance. They're going all over town asking questions about her,” said Rosie. “They came here yesterday. Sophie and I told them we met Esther on her way home from Kohlmayer's. She didn't stop long to talk to us because she didn't want to keep Mrs. Huri waiting.”

“I'll never forget how miserable she looked,” said Sophie. She dabbed her eyes. “She wouldn't tell us what was bothering her. I should have kept asking till she did!”

The kitchen door opened and Mrs. Rosenberg came into the room.

“Miss Kelemen has arrived, Rosie. She is waiting for you,” she said.

Rosie grimaced. “Please send her away, Mama. You know how much I hate the piano!”

“All well-brought-up young ladies play the piano,” said Mrs. Rosenberg in a tone that brooked no arguments.

Rosie followed her mother out of the room sullenly. I stood up.

“I have to go too.”

Sophie grabbed my hand and leaned so close her lips were almost touching my face.

“They killed Esther,” she whispered. “They killed my sister for her blood. They wanted her blood to make their Easter bread.”

I stared at her flushed cheeks, the feverish glint in her eyes.

“They? Who are they? What are you talking about?”

“The Jews of course. They killed my sister.”

“You don't know that for sure. My ma said the Jews shouldn't be blamed. I don't know what to think, but I do know that Rosie is a Jew and she didn't kill your sister. I'd bet my last forint, if I had one, that neither did her mother or father. They treat you like a daughter.”

“The Rosenbergs might not be responsible, but everybody knows the Jews killed my sister. I overheard my master tell my mistress that even some of the newspapers in Budapest are accusing the Jews of killing Esther for her blood,” she said stubbornly. “I went with Rosie to their Jew church once. They do strange things there. And they speak in gibberish. You can't understand a single word they're saying.”

“But that doesn't mean –” I stopped mid-sentence. I could see by the firmness of her expression that it was useless trying to continue the discussion, so I said a hasty good-bye and left.

The way to Kohlmayer's passed by the synagogue. As I approached, I saw a commotion around the building. The synagogue was surrounded by uniformed gendarmes equipped with spades and shovels. They were digging up the small garden between the synagogue wall and Mrs. Csordas's house no farther than eight steps away.

I crossed the road to get a closer look. The door of the synagogue was open. Inside, a tall man dressed in city
clothes was running his fingers along the walls. When he turned toward his companion, I saw his face. He was a youngish man with a neatly combed mustache and beard. His eyes bulged behind rimless spectacles, making him look like an evil toad.

“Nothing! There is nothing here!” He slapped his thigh in frustration. “We dredged the Tisza and found nothing. We dug up all new graves in the Jewish cemetery and found nothing!”

“We are missing something, Bary” said the other man. “The girl couldn't have disappeared into thin air. The Jews must have repainted the wall where her blood spattered. There should be an indentation on the floor where they buried her.”

“You would think so, wouldn't you, Peczely?” Bary said. “These cursed people are too cunning to leave any evidence behind!”

“What about those shovel marks outside?”

“The gendarmes aren't finding anything there either,” Bary said. “I'll have them dig up the courtyard next. If it takes me till eternity, I'll find the body of that poor girl -even if I have to have the Tisza dredged again. These murderers won't get the best of me!”

Bary's eyes burned in his face with such fanatic zeal that I stepped back to increase the distance between us. My elbow caught a shovel leaning against the synagogue door and it clattered loudly to the ground. The men turned toward me.

“Who are you?” said Bary. “What are you doing here? Be gone!”

I broke into a run and didn't stop till, breathless, I reached Kohlmayer's. I waited for my turn in an agony of impatience — Kohlmayer liked to chat with his customers.

The shadows were lengthening by the time I got back to the jail, which was no longer empty. The gendarmes had arrested Joseph Scharf, his wife, and Morris and Sam. They had also arrested Solomon Schwarcz, the new butcher. They had even arrested Abraham Buxbaum and Lipot Braun, the men who had applied unsuccessfully for the Jew butcher's job.

SATURDAY, MAY 20, 1882 —
SUNDAY MAY 21, 1882

I stood on the threshold of the kitchen of the Tisza-Eszlar jail and stared at the chaos around me. The room was filled with gendarmes in uniforms and the Jewish prisoners. The lamentations of the Jews were loud, but the jailors' curses were louder still.

“We're innocent! We've done nothing! Let us go!” Joseph Scharf's face was so distorted by anguish I barely recognized him.

Each of the men had long forelocks and were dressed in their Sabbath best with black hats atop their heads.

“It is the Sabbath! You must release us! We belong in the synagogue today” said a small man with a long black beard.

“Sei ruhig, Solomon!” said one of the men. “Can't you see that it's useless to plead with them? You're just making them angrier!”

Mrs. Scharf was cowering in a corner beside the stove. Her handsome head was covered by a dark kerchief. Her arms were wrapped around a weeping Sam. Morris stood beside her, his face pale. He was trembling.

“Stop that caterwauling!” cried the frog-eyed man I had seen at the synagogue. The prisoners fell silent. The only sounds were little Sam's sobs.

“Why is everybody in the kitchen?” I asked one of the gendarmes.

“It's the largest room in the prison. We needed the space for all these people.”

The man with the frog's eyes must have heard us.

“Who are you?” he asked. “I've seen you before …”

“She is my servant, Mr. Bary” said Sergeant Toth. He turned to me. “We're hungry, girl! Prepare us some food.”

I hurried to the stove, thanking the Blessed Virgin under my breath that I had remembered to peel a bucket of potatoes while I was preparing the sergeant's breakfast. There was also a slab of bacon I had not yet cooked. I would fry it up with the potatoes for the gentlemen from the city.

While I was slicing the potatoes, Sam's sobs gave way to the panicky hysteria of a terrified small child. I shot him an encouraging smile, but he ignored me. Morris was biting his fingers.

“Clear the room! Take the Jews to the cells!” Bary commanded. “I want to talk to the two boys alone!”

Mrs. Scharf pulled her young son even closer.

“Please, sir, I beg you. Please let my little boy stay with me!”

“The children's place is with us,” said her husband. “Leave my children alone!”

A gendarme tore Sam out of Mrs. Scharf's arms, and within minutes all of the Jews except the boys were shoved and kicked out of the kitchen.

The potatoes were hissing on the fire so loudly I had to strain to hear.

Bary took Sam by the hand and placed him on his knee. Sam hiccuped and tried to catch his breath.

“Now, Sam, tell me exactly what you told Miss Farkas,” Bary said. “Tell me about your father and Esther Solymosi, the servant girl who disappeared.”

I saw Morris step toward Mr. Bary with clenched fists. I caught hold of his arm and yanked it hard. I put my finger to my lips before he could open his mouth. Fortunately, Bary's attention was focused on Sam. Morris's face was flushed and he was breathing hard, but he lowered his hands and remained silent.

“Now listen to me, boy!” Bary said to Sam in an angry voice. “Did you tell Miss Farkas that your pa called Esther Solymosi into the synagogue where he tied her up with a rope? And did you tell her that your pa held her head
and your brother, Morris, held her hands while Solomon Schwarcz cut her leg? Did you also say they drained her blood into a pot? And after they finished with her they carried her toward a tall tree?”

I wanted to shout that I had heard Miss Farkas and Elizabeth Sos tell Sam that the butcher Schwarcz had cut Esther's leg. It wasn't Sam who had said it. All he had done was cry. However, after a quick glance at Bary's fierce face, I kept quiet. I bent over the sizzling potatoes once again.

Sam didn't answer Bary He closed his eyes, his cries fading to whimpers. Bary's fingers tightened on the boy's leg.

“Did you tell all of that to Miss Farkas?” he asked.

“Yes,” Sam whispered.

“Yes what?” Bary roared. “Your brother held Esther's hands, didn't he?”

“Yes,” replied Sam.

“No, Sam, no! No say lies!” cried Morris. “Was machst du?”

Bary pointed his finger at Morris. “Shut him up! Sergeant Toth, silence him!”

The sergeant clasped his hand over Morris's mouth and held his arm over the boy's throat in an iron grip. Morris struggled, but he was no match for the burly officer. The meanness of Toth's expression reminded me of Pa at his angriest.

“See what can happen to you if you're not a good boy?” Bary said to Sam.

A wet stain spread over the front of the little boy's britches. Bary pushed him off his lap roughly and jumped up.

“The boy pissed himself!” he cried, rubbing at a wet spot on his trouser leg.

His companion began to laugh. He stopped himself at Bary's dark glare.

Bary crouched down and pushed his face close to Sam's.

“Listen to me, boy and listen hard. After your father called the girl into the synagogue and tied her up, your brother held her hands and your father her head while Solomon Schwarcz killed her!” he growled. “Is that true?”

Sam's eyes were closed. If I didn't know better, I would have thought he had fallen asleep. At the same time, muffled, strangled sounds came from Morris's corner, but the sergeant was much too strong for him.

“Talk to me, boy. You better tell me what happened,” yelled Bary.

“I don't know!” Sam cried.

“Your father and brother held the girl and Solomon Schwarcz killed her,” Bary said, grabbing the front of Sam's shirt.

“Yes,” Sam moaned.

Bary let go of Sam's shirt and as the little boy fell back Bary straightened up and spat in his face. Sam stared at him in bewilderment as his hand crept up to his wet cheek.

“Take this vermin out of my sight!” Bary ordered.

One of the gendarmes carried the child out of the room.

“I knew he'd confess!” Bary gloated.

“You're wasting your time,” his companion said. “Who will believe the ranting of a five-year-old? We need an older witness!”

“You have a point, Peczely” Bary replied. He stomped back and forth the length of the room, deep in thought. “Luckily, we do have an older witness,” he finally said. He waved his hand at Morris, still in the sergeant's grasp.

“But the boy is accused of …”

Bary waved his hand dismissively “That's of no importance. Morris Scharf will be our witness. We don't need this pup. But first, let's eat. I'm hungry. Sergeant Bako!” he called to the gendarme at the door. “Fetch us some ale from the tavern we passed on our way here! Beer fit for our fine repast.” He rubbed his hands.

The sudden change in his manner made me remember the food before it burnt. I began to spoon it into serving bowls.

Sergeant Toth and Peczely tied Morris's hands and feet to a chair and stuffed a rag in his mouth. Before long, all of the men were sitting down at the wooden table in the center of the room, as if they had forgotten their captive.

“I needed that!” Bary rubbed his stomach.

He took a long swig from his tankard, set it down carefully, and wiped his mustache.

“Clear the table, girl,” said Sergeant Toth.

I gathered up the dirty dishes while the sergeant, almost as an afterthought, undid the ropes that tied Morris to his chair. Bary pulled the rag out of his mouth.

“So, boy” said Bary, “have you learned your lesson?”

Morris remained mute, his eyes fixed on the floor. He was trembling like a frightened animal.

“Do you admit that on the first day of April your father lured the Christian girl, Esther Solymosi, into the synagogue, where he held her head and you held her arms while the butcher Solomon Schwarcz cut her and collected her blood?”

Morris lifted up his head. His cheeks were flushed. He clasped his hands in front of his chest to steady them.

“Nein! Not true!” he said. “We did nothing! We not know girl who disappear!”

Bary ignored his reply and repeated his questions over and over again. Morris's answers didn't vary, but the life seemed to be draining from him.

Bary pulled a large watch out of his vest pocket.

“It's getting late,” he said. “We'll continue with this to morrow. A night in solitary will refresh the boy's memory!” He chuckled mirthlessly. “He'll talk tomorrow. I invited Chief Recsky to join us.”

My heart filled with horror at his mention of the chief of the gendarmes. Chief Recsky was known far and wide for his cruelty.

I tossed and turned on my straw mattress that night. Morris's tormented face appeared every time I closed my eyes. When the church bells struck midnight, I got up and tiptoed to the kitchen. I was afraid to light a candle so I had to feel my way. I took the loaf of bread I was saving for Sergeant Toth's breakfast out of the cupboard and filled a small tankard with water. I was careful not to spill it as I made my way to Morris's cell.

It was so dark I could barely see Morris lying on a cot in a corner.

“Get up. Don't make any noise. I brought you some food,” I whispered through the bars.

Morris sat up.

“Why you come? What you want?”

“I want to talk to you. I want to know the truth.”

I passed the tankard to him. He drank greedily before passing it back to me.

“Oh, I was thirsty!” he said.

I gave him the bread. He fell on it like a hungry animal. When he finished, he wiped the back of his mouth with his hand.

“Danke. Thank you. Why you give me food?”

“I don't know. Maybe because my ma would have done the same. You and I used to play together when we were little. I want to know the truth. Tell me, what happened to Esther?”

“I not know! I not know girl. Mein Papa not know girl.
No Juden know girl. I don't understand why they say we do terrible thing.”

He grabbed the bars tightly. I had to force myself not to flinch.

“They won't let me see mein Papa. Can you find out if he is treated good? Tell him Ich liebe ihn. I mean, my heart is full of feelings for him.”

“You mean to say that you love your papa?”

“Yes, I want to say that. Please tell him.”

I was about to say no, but then I wondered what Ma would have wanted me to do.

“I'll tell your pa,” I told him.

I knew I should get back to my cell before I was discovered.

The next night it was eerily quiet as I made my way to the section of the jail where the Jewish prisoners were being held. I had just turned the corner to the hallway leading to their cells when suddenly I felt a sharp object sticking into the middle of my back.

“Halt! Where do you think you are going?”

I froze. What should I say? I yawned and rubbed my eyes.

“Who are you? What are you doing in my bedroom?” I kept rubbing my eyes.

“Turn around!”

I found myself staring into a guard's rifle barrel.

“What do you mean why am I in your bedroom? Are you daft, girl?”

I looked around me, trying to appear confused.

“Where am I?”

“In the corridor leading to the Jews' cells,” the guard answered roughly.

I forced myself to cry. It wasn't hard — all I had to do was think of what would happen to me if Sergeant Toth found out I'd been stealing food to give to Morris and was about to carry a message to his father.

“Dear Mother of God,” I said, “I must have walked in my sleep again!” It wasn't hard for me to sound flustered and frightened.

“Get back to your room or you'll regret it!” the guard hollered.

Morris would be disappointed that I couldn't pass on his message, but I had to follow the guard's orders.