Hero (4 page)

“There should be fourteen,” Aunt Anna said.

Izaak counted. A little one came to the gate and Aunt Anna let it suck on her fingers. “This one was born yesterday,” she said. “They love sucking

my fingers, because they have to learn to drink from a bucket as soon as they're born. They miss suckling their mother. Here, climb up.” She pulled her hand free and helped him up to the top of the gate. “Now, you're the king of the farm.” Her laugh bubbled around him.

From behind the next door, Izaak heard voices and the clanging of metal.

“Come.” Aunt Anna reached for his hand and Izaak jumped down. “The men are cleaning out the manure and fixing up the straw underneath the cows.” She opened the door. A wave of warmth touched Izaak's face and a much stronger smell of manure engulfed him.

His mouth opened as he stood in the doorway. Black and white bodies lined both sides of the stable. A wide path covered with yellow straw ran down the middle. Uncle Piet and Albert were using pitchforks to straighten and fluff the straw underneath each cow. Gabe was scooping manure into a wheelbarrow that was filled almost to the top.

“Gabe!” Uncle Piet called. “Leave the manure for Albert. Take Jan to Hero. The sooner he gets to know him, the better.”

Gabe looked up. He left the wheelbarrow, wiped his hands on his coveralls and motioned for Izaak to follow.

Izaak held back, but a nod from Aunt Anna encouraged him.

Gabe was silent as Izaak walked behind him through a wooden door.

As soon as the door opened, Izaak heard the horses. Three enclosures housed gleaming, black animals. They were not at all like Bessie from the milk wagon. These horses' coats were a deep black. Long manes covered their eyes. The muscles in their bodies bulged.

One at the time, Gabe patted the horses' flanks.

Now that he had come close, Izaak noticed their strong bodies. All three turned their heads to watch him. While Gabe checked their feed in a long trough
made of metal bars that ran the full length of the wall, the horses watched Izaak from beneath their black manes. Their eyes shone dark and proud. The one closest to him was the tallest and most muscular.

Gabe moved his hand down the tall horse's back and, for the first time that day, looked at Izaak. Izaak shivered when he looked at Gabe's purple face. It reminded him of a picture of a two-headed monster he'd seen in a book a long time ago. The monster's heads had been swollen and purple too.

“Come,” Gabe reached for his hand. “Stroke his side so he knows you're here.”

Izaak touched the horse's coat. It felt warm and coarse and smooth all at the same time.

Strong arms lifted Izaak close to the animal's head.

“This is Hero,” Gabe said. Izaak heard pride in his voice. “He is a famous stallion. You and Hero have something in common, Jan. You are both wanted by the Germans.”

Izaak gasped.

“Don't worry. They are never going to get either of you. Trust me. That's why I want you to make friends with Hero.”

Izaak didn't understand.

“Move your hands through his mane.” Gabe still held him up and, with his hand covering Izaak's, they stroked the horse's mane and head.

A sudden calm came over Izaak. The feel of the warm body and Gabe's arm comforted him.

“Whenever the Germans come and search the farm, you have to climb into the trough without startling the horses. Always talk to them and stroke their bodies before you walk into the enclosure beside them. Climb into the trough, cover yourself with hay, and lie as still as possible.” Gabe set Izaak down. Now he stood beside the tall stallion. He looked at the legs that were
covered with long hair as well, as if Hero were wearing fur-covered boots.

“This is Marijke,” Gabe stroked the nose and ruffled the mane of the horse beside Hero.

“She's our best mare. In the spring she'll have a foal. Beside Marijke is Clasina, Hero's mother. Clasina is a little skittish, especially if she doesn't know you.”

Gabe seemed to know everything about the horses. Izaak wished he knew about horses too. He stood close to Hero's face and smelled the strong smell of the animal. Hero's nostrils trembled. He gazed calmly at Izaak. Izaak's heart skipped. Without thinking, he touched the smooth skin of Hero's face. Hero nuzzled his sleeve. Izaak smiled. His cheeks burned. He felt like he was in a magical dream.

“See,” Gabe murmured. “Hero wants to make friends already.”

For a moment Izaak had forgotten about the boy with the purple face.
Now he looked at him again; Gabe didn't look like a monster at all.

“Twice a day, before and after school, you will help take care of the horses.”

Izaak walked past Hero, remembering to stroke the horse while he walked beside him. A warm feeling filled his chest, the first good feeling he had had since he'd left Amsterdam.

“Jan, I'm not waiting!” Annie's voice sang out.

Izaak buttoned the green, rubber coat and pulled the hood over his head. He stuffed his feet into wooden clogs and followed Annie out the door. Together they ran down the lane to the house near the farm. Raindrops pelted them like small stones. As he skipped to avoid one puddle, he landed in another. The water splashed over his clogs, soaking his socks. He laughed, stretched his arms and held up the palms of his hands. The water
tickled his fingers. He licked the rain from his lips. He sprinted to catch up with Annie. Her hood had come off and her red curly hair bounced up and down in stretched ringlets.

Annie had been at the farm much longer than he had. She was Jewish just like him. The only difference was that Annie didn't look Jewish.

Annie's cries sang in the early November morning. He couldn't keep up with her. She headed for the small house at the end of the farm buildings. Albert, Nel and their six children filled the small but tidy dwelling.

From behind the bare wooden door appeared Harm, a tall boy, wearing a black cap and Elizabeth, his sister, with long, spindly legs. Next came Jaap, a boy Izaak's age, followed by the twins, Klaas and Durk, who were six. One older girl, Mien, worked in the village at the bakery.

For the last month, Izaak had joined this group of children as they walked
the one-and-a-half kilometer road to the village. They all attended the two-room school. Jaap and Izaak were in grade three, the twins and Annie in grade one. The headmaster, Mr. Abma, taught Elizabeth in grade five and Harm in grade six.

Izaak, Jaap, Annie and the twins had a teacher named Miss Afke.

While they tromped and splashed through puddles and mud, Izaak thought about school. Since the war began, he hadn't been allowed at school. Jews were forbidden to go anywhere. They couldn't walk in parks, go on buses and streetcars or in many stores. He was glad he could go to school here. Life on the farm kept him busy as well. Every morning before school, he fed Hero and made sure the stallion had enough fresh straw for the day while Gabe looked after the other two horses. Hero greeted Izaak as soon as he opened the door to the stable. Izaak's chest filled with warmth every-time
he stroked Hero's neck and ruffled the long thick mane.

On the first day of school, the children of the village had stared at him. A big boy with a mean smile had called him “a dirty Jew” and had pushed him during recess. Izaak froze, but Harm and Jaap had been right there, so the boy had sulked away. From that day on Izaak felt safe with Albert and Nel's children. They were rough and loud, especially the twins, but he liked them.

After school, they often came over to the farm. They played hide-andgo-seek. The farm was isolated. It was built on a man-made hill called a terp. A wide moat girded the farm buildings. Sometimes, Jaap and Izaak walked through the fields with Bijke. Jaap knew the names of all the meadow birds. They climbed the dike and walked along the top.

“Not the sea dike that protects the land from the sea,” Jaap explained, “but the one before that.”

Standing on top of the dike, Izaak could see the real dike in the distance. Farm buildings lay scattered between the two dikes. He stretched his arms as if he wanted to embrace the land and the sky. The land was so flat that he could see many villages and towns in the distance. To the southwest he saw steeples, factory chimneys and the windmill that used to grind the wheat for the town of Dokkum.

When he'd first arrived on the farm, he'd often thought about Mama, Papa and Sarah. When he closed his eyes tightly, he could see Mama's tired face and Sarah's big smile. He remembered Papa's voice, but lately he had trouble picturing his father's features. Being outside all day, Izaak was so exhausted that he fell asleep right away. The ball in his tummy had disappeared and he tried to eat as much as Gabe. Aunt Anna was pleased when he ate so much. She said Gabe had two hollow legs and that's why Izaak couldn't keep up with him yet.

“Hey, Jan!” Jaap waited for him. “How come you're falling behind?”

Izaak caught up with Jaap.

“I hope Miss Afke will read to us today.” Jaap's face was dripping with rain.

“I hope she will too.”

Every Saturday morning for the last half hour, Miss Afke read to her students. The book she was reading to them now was about a horse. A horse as black and strong as Hero, named Sytse. Her voice carried Izaak far away. He imagined he was the boy riding the horse, galloping along the shore of the North Sea, the wind in his hair, sand spraying every time hooves hit the beach. The story made Izaak forget about the war, about Mama, Papa, Sarah and the German soldiers. The story of the black stallion reminded Izaak of Hero. He shivered as he thought of the powerful animal with his strong, muscled body and deep, black color. One day soon he would ride Hero. Gabe had promised. Izaak couldn't wait.

Ahead of them, the twins tumbled over each other and landed in a big puddle.

“Hey! Break it up!” Harm grabbed the two rascals by their coat collars and pulled them apart.

Since Izaak had started attending the small village school, two more children had arrived. A girl with long, black braids and a shy smile had come two weeks after him. Last week, a skinny, pale-faced boy had started grade one. He cried often and the big children made fun of him.

They neared the village square where the church stood high and proud. Just past the church and the cemetery stood the small, brick school. At exactly eight o'clock, they all tumbled inside.

Despite the damp weather, their classroom was warm. One by one the children hung their wet clothes on a drying rack that stood around a black potbellied wood stove near the back of the classroom.

“Find your seats.” Over her ebonyrimmed glasses, Miss Afke made sure that everyone's coat had a chance to dry.

The children filed to their desks, according to their grade level. Izaak sat behind Jaap, five rows from the back of the room. One side of the classroom had large windows, but the windowsills were so high that the students could only look out when they were standing up.

“Grade threes, we'll start with math this morning. Look at the blackboard. All your questions are there.” Miss Afke watched as the noise level diminished and the students looked for their fountain pens.

“I have received some paper from the hospital.” Miss Afke handed out square pieces of yellow paper. “Please work neatly. Next week we'll have to work on slates again.”

Izaak smoothed the yellow paper and smelled its hospital scent. On
one side were black numbers. Perhaps between the numbers and the margins he could draw small animals.

Jaap turned around. “Wouldn't it be neat if we had x-rays on one side?”

The sharp voice of their teacher turned Jaap back to his work.

The class fell silent except for the scratching sounds of the fountain pens on the x-ray paper. Izaak didn't have trouble with math even though he had never attended school. Mama had taught him that subject as well as reading to fill the time in the attic. As soon as Miss Afke explained the math questions, he got excited. He worked fast. When he finished his assignment, he started drawing a black stallion with a long mane, a powerful body and a proud head. Izaak dreamed of riding Hero.

The loud scream of sirens startled everybody out of their desks. Air Raid!

Once in a while they heard the alarm at night, when the planes came close to the farm, the whole family stumbled
out of bed into a shelter in the hay barn. Allied planes flying east sometimes dropped their bombs before they reached Germany. Or a stray bomb could fall from a plane that had been attacked by anti-aircraft fire.

“Everyone underneath the window- sill.” Miss Afke scrambled with the students to the safety of the wall. Most grade ones cried, except for Klaas and Durk. Students climbed over each other in order to find a spot. Legs and arms got twisted, resulting in screams.

“We must stay calm.” Miss Afke shouted over the wailing alarm and the crying children.

Jaap squished between Izaak and a stocky boy named Wim. “I don't think we'd be safe if a bomb smacked into the school,” he said.