Puppet (8 page)

SUNDAY, JUNE 18, 1882

I dreamt of Clara again. She was crying for me. All the while that I was taking Morris his candle and matches and washing the dishes I could not shake the feeling I had to see her. How could I get to Csonkafuzes? I couldn't come up with a solution, but I did get a pounding headache. When I told Teresa I felt ill, she suggested I go for a short walk.

“I can spare you for a half-hour but not longer,” she said. “There won't be church for you today. I still have a lot to do before the visitors arrive. I'll need your help.”

I decided to walk down the lane running along the prison. The sun was shining outside and I started to feel better right away.

As I was passing under one of the barred windows set high up into the wall, I heard the sound of praying. I looked
down the street. Nobody was in sight. A greengrocer's wheelbarrow piled high with watermelons had been left under the window. Its owner must have been making a delivery to one of the neighboring shops. I looked around again. The street was still deserted. I grabbed the edge of the wheelbarrow and climbed up on top of the melons. The watermelons rolled under my feet, so I tried to move as little as possible in order not to lose my footing. I was high enough to grab hold of one of the bars and to peek into the cell. I saw Morris below me. He had lit the candle I had given him and had put it on top of his cot. He was swaying back and forth in front of the candle with his eyes closed, murmuring softly.

I was just about to call down to him when Warden Henter appeared at the entrance to Morris's cell. The warden could be jovial, but it was frightening how quickly his smiles disappeared when he was alone with the prisoners.

Morris's eyes were tightly shut. He was so absorbed in his prayers he didn't notice Warden Henter's entrance.

“What do you think you're doing?” Henter shouted.

Morris jumped.

“I'm praying for my mama,” he said. “Today is the anniversary of her death.”

“A good thing too,” Henter said. “One less Jewish bitch to cheat God-fearing Christian people!”

Morris lunged at him. The candle toppled over, spluttered, and went out.

“How dare you insult my mother's memory!” he cried. “Leave my mama alone!”

Warden Henter snickered like a schoolboy. He grabbed Morris's long forelocks and tugged on them with all his might. Morris was brought to his knees.

One of the guards appeared on the threshold of the cell.

“Warden Henter, you're wanted in your office immediately.” Henter released Morris. The boy collapsed onto his cot.

I felt the watermelons under my feet begin to roll and I was falling.

“What's that noise?” I heard Henter ask.

I picked up my skirts and ran down the street as fast as I could.

Mr. Eotvos arrived at the prison in a fine carriage. He was a tall, imposing man. He was clean-shaven and formally dressed in city clothes with a black bowler hat on his head. He was accompanied by a smaller man, dressed in a similar elegant suit.

The warden greeted the men on the front steps of the jail with smiles and handshakes. They entered the building and headed to Henter's office.

“Hurry up! The warden wants refreshments served right away,” said Teresa.

She bustled about the kitchen as she poured cool raspberry juice she had strained that morning into a pitcher. I
put glasses and plates on a tray and a plate of biscuits beside them. I balanced the tray carefully on my way to the office because I didn't want the juice to spill over.

The visitors were sitting in armchairs while the warden was behind his desk.

“Ah, refreshments!” said Warden Henter. “You must be tired and thirsty after your long journey.”

“Not at all,” replied Mr. Eotvos. “Thank you, m'dear,” he said when I put down the tray on a small pedestal table by his side.

I didn't know how to reply. No gentleman had ever thanked me before for my services. The door of the study was flung open. Gendarme Bako nudged Morris into the room.

“Our witness!” Warden Henter announced.

Morris was trembling. He gave a frightened look in my direction. I smiled back. I saw Mr. Eotvos looking at us.

“If you don't mind, Warden, I prefer to speak to the witness alone,” said Mr. Eotvos.

“Certainly,” Warden Henter said, a strained smile on his face. He stood up. “I have a busy day. Judge Korniss is waiting for me.”

Mr. Eotvos's eyebrows shot upward.

“Judge Korniss? Was he appointed as presiding judge at the trial?”

The warden's face paled. He realized he should not have spoken.

“Yes, he was,” he said lightly. “The judge and I have been playing whist together for many years — before all this nonsense started,” he added before turning on his heels and closing the door firmly behind him.

After he was gone, Mr. Eotvos glanced at Bako.

“My instructions are to stay,” said the gendarme.

Mr. Eotvos stared at him hard. Bako looked back, unblinking.

“If you must,” Mr. Eotvos finally said.

I knew I should leave, but instead I retreated to the back of the room and began to dust the contents of a bookshelf with a corner of my apron. Just as I hoped, the men forgot I was there.

Mr. Eotvos walked up to Morris and ruffled his hair.

“You don't have to be scared of me, boy” said the lawyer. “I won't hurt you. I'm only here to meet you.”

Morris raised his head, but he didn't look at him or answer him. He stared into the distance, as if he were in a kind of trance.

“What is your name, boy?” Mr. Eotvos asked.

Morris did not reply.

I finished dusting the bookshelf and began to polish a silver ashtray. I was afraid even to breathe as I didn't want to draw attention to myself.

“What are you called, boy?” the lawyer tried again.

Morris shot a frightened look at the gendarme at his side. Bako nodded his head grudgingly.

“I'm Morris Scharf,” he finally said.

“Well, Morris Scharf, I am glad to meet you,” said the lawyer, extending his hand. Morris didn't take it. Mr. Eotvos's arm dropped to his side, but his smile did not waver.

“My name is Karl Eotvos. At the trial, I'll be representing your papa and the other Jews from Tisza-Eszlar accused of this ridiculous crime. How old are you?”

Morris cracked his knuckles and wouldn't answer him.

“Tell me your age, Morris,” said Mr. Eotvos.

Morris looked again at the gendarme beside him.

“Answer him,” Bako grunted.

“Don't be scared. Mr. Eotvos won't hurt you,” said the lawyer's companion.

“I'm almost fourteen years old,” Morris answered.

“A big boy almost a man.” said Eotvos. “You're a good boy aren't you? You love your family, don't you?”

Morris was biting his lips but remained silent.

“You love your father, don't you?” said Eotvos. “You also love your stepmother and little brother too?”

Don't be a fool, Morris. Don't say anything about hating your stepmother, I wanted to say to him, but I knew I had to remain silent.

“Yes, I love my family,” Morris mumbled.

I let out such a loud sigh of relief I was afraid the men would hear me.

“That's all I wanted to know, boy,” Mr. Eotvos said heartily, “… just your name and age.”

He clapped Morris on the back. The boy winced. Mr. Eotvos looked thoughtful and lit a small cigar.

“Is there anything you want to tell me?” the lawyer asked.

Morris shook his head.

Mr. Eotvos sighed and tapped the cigar.

“Then I have no more questions.”

He turned to Bako. “Gendarme, you may take the boy back to his cell.”

After Morris was led away Mr. Eotvos turned to his companion.

“Poor boy” he said, “he is frightened out of his wits. I was afraid that he'd turn out to be a monster, but he is a terrified child, a victim as much as his father. Did you notice how he winced when I touched him? He is probably covered with bruises, but there is nothing I can do about it if he doesn't confide in me.”

“A waste of time coming here.” Mr. Eotvos's companion snapped closed his briefcase. “We accomplished absolutely nothing by meeting the boy.”

“I beg to disagree with you, Andras,” Mr. Eotvos said. “I have a good reading of the boy's character now. It'll prove to be invaluable in preparing our case.”

The men picked up their fine gloves and their hats. As he was closing the door, Mr. Eotvos looked directly into my face. He gave a little nod, his lips parted in a half-smile. I had a feeling he wasn't surprised to see me in the room.

SUNDAY, JUNE 18, 1882 —
MONDAY, JUNE 19, 1882

The banging was so loud it woke me from the deepest of a dreamless sleep. I sat up and listened. The noise seemed to be coming from outside, at the front of the prison. I lit a candle and pulled on my skirt and blouse as fast as I could. I padded down the dim halls with a flickering candle lighting my way. The stone floor was cold beneath my bare toes.

Warden Henter was unlocking the front entrance of the prison when I got there. A boy a little older than me was standing on the steps. He was dressed in traditional peasant garb. Sweat was running down his face and he was breathing hard.

“What do you want?” barked the warden.

The boy bent over, trying to catch his breath.

“Is Mr. Bary here?” he gasped.

“He isn't staying in the jail, you fool!” said the warden. “What happened? Why do you want Bary?”

“They found a corpse at Csonkafuzes,” said the boy.

“What corpse? Who found it? You're not making any sense!”

“A group of Jew rafters fished a corpse out of the Tisza River,” said the boy. “It stank so much they buried it on the bank of the Tisza. When Chief Recsky found out what they did, he had them dig it up. The doc says that it's the body of a girl. Chief Recsky sent me to fetch Mr. Bary.”

The warden grabbed the front of the boy's shirt and pulled him into the foyer.

“Did he say if it was the body of the missing servant girl from Tisza-Eszlar?” he asked.

The boy shrugged his shoulders.

“I don't know.”

“You can go now,” said the warden. “I'll send for Bary. He'll want to see the corpse in Csonkafuzes for himself.”

Csonkafuzes was where Clara lived. I caught up with the warden as he was closing the door. He did not seem surprised to see me in a corridor in the middle of the night.

“Sir,” I said, “could I please go with Mr. Bary to Csonkafuzes? My little sister lives there and I haven't seen her in a long time.”

The warden looked confused, as if he didn't know who I was.

“I won't be gone long, sir. I haven't had any time off since I started working for you,” I hastened to add.

He shook off my arm.

“You are from Tisza-Eszlar, aren't you? Did you know the missing girl?”

“Yes, sir. She was my friend.”

“Bary might need you to identify the body so you can go with him. Mind you,” he said, wagging his finger, “you better come back as fast as you can or I'll be sending you packing!”

The door slammed shut behind him with a bang, but I barely heard it. I was already planning what I would say to Bary to make sure he would take me with him.

The next afternoon, the driver of Bary's carriage stopped to let me off on the outskirts of Csonkafuzes. “Remember, girl, you're here for a reason! You are to come to the river-bank as soon as you can.” Bary's voice carried over the clopping of the horses' hooves as the carriage drove away.

A small boy was passing, herding a flock of geese, and I asked him if he knew my Aunt Irma. He laughed and said I was standing in front of Aunt Irma's house. It was tiny, no more than a room. The plaster was falling away in chunks and the stoop was muddy.

I knocked, but there was no sign of Aunt Irma. I picked my way through tall weeds to the yard behind the ramshackle building without anybody seeing me. Clara was in the henhouse. She was taller and thinner than when I had last seen her six weeks ago. Her face was caked with dirt
and her hair was matted. She was dressed in clothes Mama had made her, but now they were even smaller and more ragged. She looked just as she had in my dream.

She was collecting eggs from under the chickens and was so intent on her task she didn't notice me. The hens pecked at her stubby fingers, but she didn't seem to react to the pain.

“Clara!” I called. “Clara, it's me!”

She turned slowly with a frightened look on her face.

“It's me, Clara!” I repeated. “I've come to see you!”

The eggs dropped from her hands onto her bare feet. She ignored the gooey yellow mess and stared at me, her mouth open.

“It's me, Clara! Have you forgotten me?”

She flew into my arms. The frightened chickens began to squawk.

“I thought you'd never come!” she cried.

I hugged her as hard as I could and never wanted to let her go. We both began to cry.

“I want to go home! Take me home with you, Julie! Please, please, Julie, take me home! I want Ma!” she sobbed.

I sat down on the ground and pulled her into my lap, rubbing her back. Her bones felt delicate under my hands, like the bones of a little bird. She finally calmed down.

“What's wrong?”

“Aunt Irma, she is so mean to me,” she said with a hiccup. “I'm always hungry. She never gives me enough to eat. If I do anything wrong, she beats me.”

She held out her bare arms for my inspection. They were covered with black and blue bruises. I touched them gingerly my heart breaking. I kissed the bruises and wet them with my own tears.

“Oh, my love, I can't take you with me today. I just can't. I have nowhere to take you to. I don't live with Pa anymore. I work at the Nyiregyhaza prison. My room is an empty cell. It's no place for a little girl. And don't you remember? Ma doesn't live in Tisza-Eszlar anymore. She went to live with the angels.”

She nodded solemnly.

“I forgot,” she mumbled. “I miss Ma so much!”

“So do I.”

She burrowed her head into my chest and clung to me so tightly I was afraid she would squeeze all the breath out of me. Finally, I pried her fingers off my neck, lifted her off my lap, and stood up.

“I have to go now, but first I'll talk to Aunt Irma. She shouldn't be treating you so badly!”

“No!” She grabbed at my apron to hold me back. “If she finds out I told you she'll be mad!”

I patted her head.

“You're probably right. I won't say anything to Aunt Irma, but I swear to you I will come back for you as soon as I can and you and I will live together again.”

“Just you and me and not Aunt Irma?”

“Definitely not Aunt Irma!”

I spit on a corner of my apron and rubbed her face with it, succeeding in streaking it even more with dirt.

“I have to go now,” I repeated, “but I'll be back soon.” Her sobs wafted after me and she seemed so small standing in the center of the henhouse when I looked back. I vowed to return for her and to make a home for the two of us. I didn't know how I would do it, but do it I would, I swore to myself. That's what Ma would have wanted me to do.