Jesses Star (6 page)

“Now,” Yossi whispered, “go wake everybody up and tell them to get ready. Tell them to gather their bags and meet on the other side of the village, away from the garden, by the road to Vladstok.”

“But Yossi,” Miriam said, “how will I make them do it? I can't tell them what you're planning. If they think this is your idea, they'll never follow me.”

She was right, Yossi realized. Clumsy Yossi. Bumbling Yossi. Of course the villagers wouldn't trust a plan
he
had hatched. He gazed into the darkness, almost fancying he heard footsteps already. “Tell them … tell them …” Think! “Tell them the soldiers are planning to burn down the village — that's true enough — and that we may have a chance to escape in the confusion.
A good chance — but only if everyone is ready.”

“Right.” Miriam nodded. “And if they ask how I know, I'll say … I'll say I overheard them talking during the raid the other night. And I'll tell Mama and Papa that you are helping the others get ready.”

“Good thinking, Miriam,” Yossi said. “Now, hurry!”

Miriam hugged her brother. Then she ran off into the darkness.

Yossi yanked the string mop off its handle. He stuck the mop on his head, letting the long stringy ropes hang over his face, then tied on the head scarf to hold it in place. He wrapped the black cloth round and round himself, letting it dangle over his feet. He fastened the knitting needles to the backs of his hands with string, so their points jutted out beyond his fingers. He overturned the clay lantern onto the broomstick. Finally, he hopped up onto his stilts and marched to the root cellar.

Behind him, Yossi heard drunken whispers and slow hoof beats. A baby cried and was hushed. A lantern flared, then was extinguished. Dark shapes moved in the shadows.

They had listened to Miriam, he thought with relief, willing them to hurry, hurry.

The moon began to set. It slanted low in the sky behind Yossi, casting his shadow on the ground before him. In the shadowy shape, Yossi saw a tall, skinny creature towering on long, bony legs. Her stringy hair hung down past her shoulders, her sharp fingernails pierced the night air, and a human skull sat atop her broomstick, moonlight glinting through its empty eye sockets.

The last glimmer of moonlight faded. Drunken whispers floated down the road from the soldiers' encampment.

Yossi moved behind a spreading birch tree. His heart pounding, he waited.

“Where're those potatoes? Let me at ‘em,” Boris said drunkenly.

“Hush, you fool!” That was Misha's voice. “We don't want the Jews to know we're here. We want it to be a surprise, remember?”

“Oh, I wish I could see their faces when they find the potatoes gone,” Andrei said.

“You'll be too busy stuffing your own
face,” Yuri said with a guffaw.

Yossi stayed behind the tree, waiting for the right moment. He couldn't let the soldiers get a good look at him. He had to take them completely by surprise.

“Where's that darn root cellar, anyway?” Yuri slurred. “You said you knew where it was, Misha.”

“Shut your mouth!” Misha rasped. “It must be around here somewhere. Where else could it be? Look for straw. Is that straw there …?”

There were stumbling footsteps for several moments, then the sound of a collision. “Watch where you're going!” Andrei said.

“You blundered into me, you oaf!” Boris returned.

“Shut up, both of you,” Misha snapped. “Now, get out of my way — ooofff!” There was a sprawling sound. Then, “Here it is! I've found the trap door.”

“Where? Where?” Yuri said.

“We'll soon have a feast, friends,” Boris said.

“I don't see anything,” Andrei said.

“Blasted door,” Misha said. “Help me, it's stuck.”

There was a scuffling sound as all four soldiers flopped to the ground.

“Where?”

“Is that the handle?”

“No, that's my foot, you fool!”

Now
, Yossi thought.

He stepped out from the shadows. Pitching his voice high, he screeched, “What's this, my lovely lads? Fattening yourselves up for me, are you?”

Four heads looked up. Four mouths fell open.

Baba Yaga stalked closer. She waved one long-nailed hand. “Ooohh, four tasty fellows. What luck! I'm simply ravenous!”

“Whaa —”

“Holy mother of God —”

“It can't be —”

“What a delicious meal you boys will make, roasted slow and crisp in my oven, turned on the spit to perfection. I can hardly
wait to taste the first bite. Who will I eat first, I wonder? Will it be you? Or you? Or you? Or you?” She pointed a razor-sharp finger at each soldier in turn.

The soldiers scrambled to their feet, knocking over one another in their haste.

“It's her —”

“The witch —”

“Baba Yaga!”

Baba Yaga cackled, tossing her stringy hair as she stalked closer. “Yes, it is I, come to snare you for my pot.” She hefted the skull on the end of her broomstick. “And your skulls, once I've picked them clean, will make handsome additions to my collection — just like this one.”

The soldiers began to back up, but Baba Yaga advanced just as quickly. Her long fingernails glittered. The skull rattled on the broomstick. Perched on her long bony legs, she towered over the cringing soldiers. “My belly is empty. My appetite is gnawing. My mouth is watering. I want to eat you — NOW!”

The soldiers hesitated no longer. Shrieking, they ran for their lives.

“Save me!”

“Help!”

“Yikes!”

“Whaaa —”

The soldiers disappeared down the road, back towards their encampment. Spooked, their horses had already disappeared.

Yossi waited until they were completely out of sight, until he could no longer hear footsteps. He threw back his head and laughed. Then, as quickly as he could, he hopped down from his stilts, tore off the mop and scarf and cloth, threw down the broomstick and lantern, scattered the knitting needles. Tucking his stilts under his arm, he ran in the opposite direction.

The villagers were crouching in the shadows cast by the ruins of the sukkah. Mama tore herself from the crowd. “Yossi! Oh, my Yossele, where were you? I was so scared —”

“I'm fine, Mama, don't worry.”

Everyone pressed close. “Did it work, Yossi?” Miriam said. “Are they gone?”

“Gone, Miriam! Running for their lives!”

“You chased the soldiers off, Yossi?” the Rebbe said, hardly daring to believe it.

“You?” Golda repeated.

“
You
?” Jonah echoed.

Yossi enjoyed their surprise. “Yes, I.”

Mama grabbed him, holding him close. “Yossi, what were you thinking? You could have been killed —”

The Rebbe interrupted, “Far away, Yossi? Did you chase them far?”

Yossi shook free of Mama. At the rate the soldiers were running, he didn't think they'd stop for a long time. He grinned. “Far, far away.”

“But how, Yossi?” Sadie said. “How did you do it?”

Yossi looked around. All the people were looking at him with wonderment. With awe. With respect. He had said he would do it, and he had. Finally, the people believed
him. This was the moment he had waited for. He smiled mischievously. “Oh … I just used my stilts.”

“His stilts!” Golda cried. “I always knew those stilts would come in handy. If I said it once, I said it a thousand times: ‘Yossi Mendelsohn, he's so clever with those stilts!' I knew it in my bones, friends.”

The Rebbe put up his hand. “Enough, Golda.” He turned to Yossi, pride and puzzlement mixed on his face. “My boy, I don't know how you did it — and I don't I think I want to know,” he added with a twinkle, “but I fear we have misjudged you. Somehow you, a mere lad, outwitted the soldiers. Like David, who slew Goliath, with cunning — and a little help from God — you have saved us, Yossele.”

Yossi felt a hand squeeze his shoulder. He looked up into Papa's smiling eyes. He looked around at all the faces. Some people's eyes were filled with tears. Others were smiling. All were looking at him as if he
were a hero. Even Jonah. Even those who had laughed at him and mocked him.

Yossi grinned, basking in the admiration. How sweet it was! No more clumsy Yossi. No more stupid Yossi.

“But this is no time for praise,” the Rebbe went on. “There's not a moment to lose. Now is our chance. Grab your bags, my friends, and let's be off — to freedom!”

The villagers of Braslav hurried down the road to Vladstok, led by a young boy with two long sticks tucked under his arm.

Weeks later, Yossi stood on the deck of an enormous ship. Wind whipped his face, and he had to hold onto his cloth cap with both hands to keep it from flying overboard.

Yossi scanned from side to side. Maybe today, the sailors had said. But all Yossi could see were waves, endless curls of gray-green waves, and now sooty-looking gulls with
long black beaks. Lord, he was weary of the endless water!

Still, it was better than the alternative. Better than remaining in Braslav.

It had been a long, hard journey to the sea. Hiding by day, tramping through woods by night, always fearful, always hungry, grateful for the shelter given by Jews in small villages along the way. Once they'd huddled in a coal cellar while soldiers' boots had thundered on the wooden planks overhead. Another time they'd hidden in a hayloft while soldiers had burned the village to the ground. Afterward, the survivors had joined their ranks. Week after week, through rain squalls and snowstorms, village by village, hiding place to hiding place, they'd made their way across Russia, through Austria, across Germany, by boat to England where, with the last of their money, they'd booked passage on a steam-ship bound for Canada.

Canada. Yossi turned the name over and over in his mind. It had enormous forests,
he'd heard, and great rushing rivers, and mountains so high that snow never melted from their summits. It sounded like a beautiful, abundant land. Best of all, it had no soldiers to force the people into misery and starvation. In Canada, he'd heard, you could be a Jew, and chant the prayers, and celebrate the holidays, and no one hated you for it, or wanted to harm you or kill you. That was the most wonderful thing of all.

Yossi scanned the horizon. Waves, nothing but waves. When would they ever — Wait. Was that …? That distant speck … That darker smudge where the water met the sky … Could it be …? Were his eyes fooling him, or was that really —

“Rebbe!” Yossi yelled. “I see land! I see Canada!”

All the villagers rushed up onto deck.

“Where?”

“There?”

“I don't see anything.”

“There! Look!”

“Trees!”

“Ships!”

“Canada!”

A joyful cry went up from the crowd, mingled with tears and laughter. Yossi felt a tightness in his throat.

Then he was surprised to feel a hand on his shoulder. He turned, to see a mysterious smile on the Rebbe's face. “Rebbe … what …?”

“Yossi, before we land, there is something I must say. Something I must do, for all the people of Braslav,” the Rebbe began.

Yossi looked around. All the villagers had gathered ‘round. Everyone's eyes were twinkling. Even Mama's and Papa's and Miriam's. What was going on?

“Yossi,” the Rebbe went on, “we left Braslav in such a hurry, we never properly thanked you. But we are more grateful than we can say. For your quick thinking. For your courage.”

“For your steady balance!” Daniel cried,
and everyone laughed, for all now knew the tale of how Yossi had scared the soldiers away.

The Rebbe laughed along. “That, too, Yossi. But most of all, for your faith that something could be done, when most of us had given up.”

Yossi felt his cheeks burning — but not with shame, for once. With pride.

The Rebbe reached into his pocket and pulled out a blue cloth bag. “On behalf of all the people of Braslav, Yossi, we want you to have this. A small token of our thanks.”