Children of the Stars Page 7

  “Boys!” a soldier shouted in a thick German accent. They heard the voice but were unsure whether to turn around or keep walking. “You, boys, come here!” the voice repeated, this time with more authority.

  Jacob stopped, and Moses followed his lead. They turned until the freckled face of the German was in sight. The young soldier smiled. His perfect features reminded them of angels they had seen in pictures at school or in paintings in the Louvre when their parents had taken them.

  “You dropped this,” the German said, holding out a map. “Your backpack’s open.” The soldier stuffed the map in and zipped up Jacob’s pack.

  “Thank you, sir,” Jacob managed to splutter.

  “Where are you two headed all alone?”

  The boys looked at each other. They did not know how to answer, but Jacob thought it was probably best to tell the truth. “We’re going to Versailles. Our uncle is waiting for us, to take us to our parents.”

  The soldier smiled again, pulled a cigarette out of his combat jacket, and lit up. He looked around for a moment, then gestured for them to continue. The boys walked on without looking back. Once at the train, they got on the first car they came to. It seemed that the only people heading to Versailles right then were tourists, German soldiers, and government employees.

  The boys sat in the most out-of-the-way compartment they could find and, for the first time in what felt like forever, they did nothing more than sit and stare out the window. Little by little, the dense city streets gave way to forests and fields yellowed by the July heat. They could hear the snorting of the steam engine, the pistons that themselves seemed to whistle as the train chugged toward one of the most beautiful places on earth. Jacob and Moses had never been inside the great palace, but their parents had told them how Louis XIV had constructed—in order to avoid his own subjects—his own personal Eden, a magical combination of exquisite buildings and luxuriant gardens.

  “France is so big,” Moses said, agape at all that his eyes were seeing. Until very recently, his world had been comprised of the five streets around his aunt’s apartment and a few vague memories of downtown Paris.

  “Bigger than you can even imagine,” Jacob answered. He relaxed, his head propped against the wooden back of the seat, and his eyes glued to the bright colors of the Parisian outskirts.

  “The city where we’re going . . . Is it very far?” Moses asked.

  “Yes. It might take us days to get there.”

  “So what will we eat, and where will we sleep?” Moses’s stomach growled to accentuate his question. His hunger, never far from the surface, was growing uncomfortable.

  “Margot gave me some francs, and I took some money from Aunt Judith. When it runs out, we’ll just have to trust people to help us.”

  “Trust strangers?” Moses’s raised tone registered his perplexed surprise. All his life he had been taught not to talk with people he did not know, especially when away from home.

  “We’ve got to. Margot, her friend in Versailles . . . Many people don’t support what’s going on.”

  “Why do they want to take us away? What did we do?”

  Jacob did not know how to answer those questions. He had heard his parents and aunt talk about how the Nazis hated the Jews, but he had never been able to figure out why. “I don’t know. Some people say we killed Christ.” It was all he could think of to offer.

  “Who?” Moses asked, surprised.

  “The God of the Christians. He was crucified, and they blame us. Other people hate us because we always overcome or because we have a lot of money . . .” Jacob was stretching hard to come up with reasons.

  “But,” Moses interrupted, “we never did anything to that Christ guy, right? And we don’t have a lot of money or live in a fancy palace.”

  “No, but once people begin to hate, they stop asking questions. Stop using their brains. They just look down on other people,” Jacob answered.

  “What is hate? Like when you don’t like someone?” Moses’s face scrunched up in confusion.

  Jacob did not really understand what hate was either. But maybe it was what he had felt when he saw that gendarme beating his brother. “It’s like the opposite of love. When you love somebody, you put up with things that bother you about them. You get over things. When you hate them, you can’t stand anything they do, even if they’re trying to help you. The doorwoman hates us. She can’t stand the sight of us, and she doesn’t want us to be happy. When there are more people who hate than people who love, then there are wars, which make hate grow until it destroys everything.”

  They began to see the first roadways of Versailles. The wide-open boulevards were nothing like the streets in the neighborhood where the boys had lived with their aunt. They got off the train and walked toward the palace. Three huge avenues converged in an enormous plaza that seemed like it must be the center of the world. As they walked, neat brick walls and slate rooftops shot up in impressive beauty. Two buildings that looked like Roman temples flanked a set of golden gates, and behind them stood a monstrosity of a building with windows and roof trimmed in gold.

  Jacob and Moses stood looking with mouths agape. They were drawn toward the imposing central gate, where both Germans and French gendarmes were stationed. Jacob approached a policeman and, his voice trembling, said, “Excuse me, sir, we are looking for our uncle, Raoul Leduc, the art restorer?”

  The gendarme frowned at the boys, smoothed his blond mustache, then entered the sentry box and made a phone call. He returned a few minutes later.

  “Mr. Leduc is waiting for you in the workshops at the back. Go around the building to the left until you get to a black door. Ask for him there.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Jacob said, already on his way toward the workshop with Moses in tow.

  “This place is for one person to live in?” Moses asked, still awed by the building.

  “Back in the day, the kings of France used to live here, but nobody does anymore. The revolutionaries killed them all.”

  “Really? Why?”

  Jacob summarized what he could recall from his history classes: “All the common people were really poor, and the kings were really rich. One day the people got fed up, cut off the king’s head, and created the Republic.”

  Moses nodded as if it made all the sense in the world, though the details of economics and politics eluded him. When they reached the black door, they rapped with the gold knocker and then waited. A few minutes later, the large wooden door cracked open. From the dark entryway emerged a thin face with sunken cheeks and two days’ worth of stubble. The man wore squared glasses at the tip of his nose, and his thin blond hair was combed over to one side of his head.

  “The brothers. You’d better come in.”

  It was dark inside, and the boys’ eyes took time to adjust. They walked blinking and squinting toward a room lit with artificial lighting. The air was cool but heavy for being closed in. They could practically chew the odors of varnish, paint, and plaster.

  “Margot called me this morning,” he began. “All the arrangements will be ready soon, though I always say that these sorts of things take time. I’ve had to make an urgent call to the secretary to the bishop of the cathedral in Bourges for them to make a formal request for me to restore one of their works. He sent a telegram to the post office, and I had to go there. I’ve lost almost an entire day’s work. Come, I want to show you something.” He gestured for them to follow. His stained, white smock was too large for him, as if the man had shrunk since first using it. The boys could make out a brown shirt, bow tie, and vest under the smock. His shoes were dirty, and his pants sagged such that he was nearly walking on the cuffs.

  He led them to a small courtyard. The enormous windows of the walls around them reflected the dazzling July sun, and the boys’ eyes once again struggled to adapt. Leduc, on the other hand, seemed unfazed. He pointed. “That’s my van, the Citroën. It has a false floor in the back. It’s not very large and not at all comfortable, but you’ll h
ave to stay in there when we go through bigger towns and any checkpoints. I know where the checkpoints are. The soldiers and gendarmes have seen me come and go many times. This is how we’ve gotten several Allied pilots, dissidents, Jews, and Spaniard republicans to the unoccupied zone. I’ve never taken children. I won’t lie: I don’t like the idea. Childhood is a disease cured only by age, but while it lasts, everyone suffers.”

  The boys looked at each other, unsure how to respond but sure the man would not care to hear their response anyhow. “Thank you for helping us,” Jacob said.

  “Don’t thank me. Somebody’s got to do something. Just look around at Versailles. The place is falling to pieces. These Teutonic barbarians want to destroy our beautiful country. They hate us. Never mind that they may be right about a few things. We can’t let them plunder or humiliate us anymore. It’s madness.”

  Jacob looked toward Moses. Margot’s friend seemed a tad strange, but he was their only hope for getting across occupied France without being discovered.

  “Are you hungry? What an absurd question,” Leduc muttered to himself. “Children are always hungry. I was a child once, though not for long. Thank God my mother made me toe the line very young.”

  The boys nodded in silence.

  “There’s some bread and cheese on the table. Margot didn’t give me much time to gather food. I won’t be taking you into inns or restaurants. Everyone will ask what in the world an old fud like me is doing running around France with two boys at a time like this. You do know what’s going on in the world, yes?”

  Jacob presumed this was another rhetorical question, but Leduc scrunched up his brow and bent down to look right in Jacob’s face. “Do you?” he insisted. Then, gesturing to two old, round wooden chairs, he said, “Sit down and eat.”

  “No, Mr. Leduc, we don’t know,” Jacob answered, cutting a slice of bread and some cheese with his pocketknife. He passed them to Moses and looked back up at the art restorer.

  “The British have held the Germans at El-Alamein. If the Allies recover North Africa, it won’t be long ’til they skip up to France. The Americans have bombed several German cities, and the Nazis are stalled in Russia. Do you know what this means?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

  “That France will be free again soon?” Jacob ventured.

  “Not so soon, boy. What it means is that things are going to get even uglier. They’ll have to get worse before they can get better. The French must unite. At first, when your enemy’s boot is on your neck, before there’s much pressure, you don’t notice you’re getting destroyed. But when the pressure increases, the only option is to pull your neck back or bite the foot that’s crushing you. Our beloved country is currently governed by a bunch of lapdogs, accomplices the whole lot of them. Do you understand, boy?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Well, eat your bread. We’ll leave in an hour. I’ve got to finish something first. They’ll be by any minute to pick up this figurine, and it needs another touch,” Leduc said, pointing to a beautiful golden statue.

  “It’s beautiful,” Moses said with his mouth full.

  “The Sun King liked everything to be gold. He believed he was the brightest star that gave light to all. He was a foolish, selfish Bourbon, but at least he had good taste,” Leduc quipped, examining the piece.

  An hour later, the vehicle was ready. Leduc slid back a wooden panel and told them to get into the small compartment. “Don’t move, don’t talk, don’t make any noise. I’ll let you know when you can speak. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Mr. Leduc,” the brothers said in unison.

  They heard the motor rev to life, and the Citroën lurched forward. The cobblestone pavement forced the narrow wheels left and right in their stuttering attempt to go straight. Moses felt like he was suffocating in the enclosed heat. Jacob tried to fan him with the map from his backpack, but they had little room to move.

  They spent an hour that felt like many more closed up in the narrow, stifling compartment. When Leduc pulled back the panel and let them out on a country road somewhere between Orsay and Les Ulis, the boys’ faces had reached a new level of pallor.

  There was room enough for all three to sit up front, with little Moses in the middle. Jacob focused on the endless road ahead, lined with trees that had witnessed hundreds of years of passengers. Moses’s eyes followed the course of green trees. The bright, clear sunlight attempted to break through the dense forest, sparkling gold wherever it slipped between clumps of leaves.

  “We’ll stop at Artenay in about three hours and sleep at the church there. The priest has helped me out several times before,” Leduc said.

  Jacob and Moses just nodded in silence. The journey was wearisome, and their nerves were shot from the constant state of vigilance. Moses nodded off en route. When they arrived at the small town, Jacob was fascinated by the stark lines of a huge windmill juxtaposed against a church dome: rounded, then shooting up into a steeple, with an embedded clock. They parked a few blocks behind the church and walked through the dark streets to the rectory. Leduc rapped lightly at the door, and they were greeted first by the barking of a little dog and then by a red-haired, red-cheeked man in a black cassock with a napkin tied around his neck.

  “My dear Leduc, just in time for supper. You know we country folk turn in early for the night. And who have you brought me this time? Come in, come in, let’s speak indoors.”

  The priest glanced around before closing the door, then led them to the kitchen table. There was a plate with a half-eaten supper, a glass of red wine, and a fruit bowl filled with apples.

  “The priesthood is a lonesome trade. I can offer you some marinated beef and potatoes from a nearby farm, as well as some white bread, which is hard to come by these days. The village’s baker is a faithful Catholic. The Germans carry off most of the flour and bread, but our baker always manages to keep some back.”

  The boys sat down, but Leduc stopped them with, “Go wash up,” though he himself made no move to stand. The boys wandered off where the priest pointed, and the two men began to speak. “They’re brothers, and it’s best I don’t say any more about them. I don’t even know much myself. The less we know, the less they can get out of us if we’re apprehended.”

  “I understand,” the priest nodded. “They look so young. To my knowledge, you’ve not transported children before.”

  “Things are getting nasty in Paris. I’ve concluded that the Nazis are like rats. They nest and reproduce easily, they steal, they spread their diseases of intolerance and racism—and when the ship starts to sink, they get even more dangerous, more daring. They know they’ll have hell to pay, so they’re taking as many innocent lives down with them as they can,” Leduc said.

  “They’re the very spawn of the devil. They commit their outrages here too. As if robbing all the food weren’t enough, they rape the farmers’ daughters and then detain anyone who complains. You think the police do anything about it? They don’t lift a finger, Leduc. Just a bunch of lackeys.”

  The boys returned and sat down at the table. The priest blessed the food, and they ate in silence.

  “My children,” the priest said after a while, “God in his goodness has blessed me with a bit of leftover cake. It’s not much, but I wonder if you boys like chocolate?”

  Moses reached eagerly for the cake the priest held out, but Jacob gave him a severe look. “No, it’s all right, let him eat,” the priest said. “None of us knows when our time will come, especially these days. Who knows if we’ll even see tomorrow, and if we do, what there may be to eat. Let’s enjoy the moment while we can: Carpe diem, quam minimum credula postero,” he said as naturally as if Latin were his native tongue.

  Leduc translated for them: “Seize the day; put little trust in tomorrow.”

  The boys accepted a piece each. Their lips were smudged dark with the sweet, creamy stuff, and a kind of happiness stole through them. It was a marvelous elixir of life that restored their hope, even if only for a moment.


  The priest was pleased. “Sometimes we chase big dreams, but the most important things happen right where we are, today. The sound of the wind in the trees outside, the fragrance of meat being cooked, the perfume of the flowers swaying in the morning breeze, the bright sun, the clouds giving us their shade in the blue sky . . . Never forget that happiness takes the shape of the puzzle pieces of our lives. A piece might be missing, but we keep making the world we dream of. I once was a great lover of soccer. How I longed to be out playing in the field. I was one of the top players in seminary! I can’t play anymore, but I still relish the chance of seeing a game when I travel to Paris, and I help the village boys when they need a coach or a referee. The secret is in the small things . . .” His voice trailed off and he sighed deeply, folding his hands in his lap.

  “Ah, you religious types are all hedonists,” said Laduc. “Eat, sleep, enjoy. Real pleasure is contemplating the big absolute truths: beauty, love, friendship—”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” interrupted the priest, “but these boys need to sleep. The back room is empty. It’s nice and quiet and cool.”

  Laduc nodded to the boys. “We’ll head out at dawn.”

  The priest rose slowly. His youth had faded so gradually that he was still taken aback at times by the pains and afflictions of age.

  The boys went into the sparse, white-walled room. It held a simple chair and a bed with a metal frame and a white crocheted cover.

  “You’ll sleep in your clothes?” the priest asked.

  “It’s all we have,” Jacob answered.

  “Well, sleep the best you can. I’m sure that in the long life ahead you’ll find better lodgings elsewhere. God tempers the wind to the shorn lamb.” He set a lit candle on the chair and left the room.

  Jacob and Moses pulled off their shoes, folded up their pants, and dropped onto the mattress like deadweights. Jacob shifted to blow out the candle.

  “What odd people,” said Moses. “We’re complete strangers, but they’re helping us, risking their lives for us. And even though they hate us.”