When the Doves Disappeared Page 5
Taara Village, Estland General Region, Reichskommissariat Ostland
WE COULD HEAR the rush and crackle of the sleigh from far off. My cousin Edgar was returning with great fanfare from his excursion to town. As soon as the sleigh came to a stop at the cabin, the flood of German stories would start. I knew that, and shut my mouth tight. That morning I had suggested in passing that we go to Rosalie’s. I had been there to help with the hog butchering, and I knew there would be fricadelle soup, which Edgar was fond of, but Mother had obviously already told him who else would be there. Edgar turned the offer down and went his own way. And his attitude toward his wife wasn’t the only reason I was angry. He didn’t know a thing about horses, so I went out to meet him, knowing he would leave it to me to take off the harness. My gelding was tired, his nostrils steaming. It was obvious he’d been driven too hard. Edgar had forgotten the oats, as usual—there were a couple of liters left in the feed bag, but at least some of the field hay I’d put in the sleigh the night before had been eaten. I left his excited greeting unanswered. He halted his steps halfway, the snow squeaking uncertainly under his feet. I didn’t care, I just led the gelding to the stable to get the packed snow out of his hooves and give him a firm brushing on his flanks—the spot they call “the hunger pit,” his favorite spot for a rub. Edgar followed me, stomping his felt boots to get my attention. Clearly he had something he wanted to talk about. Whatever it was, it was hardly likely to have anything to do with the hay, so I didn’t care. The situation looked bad. Leonida had promised there would be enough hay for the winter, twenty bales’ worth, but already we were having to mix it with straw, although my gelding always poked around until he found the timothy hay. Things weren’t any better in the Armses’ stable. The Germans’ big horses had eaten everything, till the village animals were skin and bones, and I could hardly expect Edgar to fetch more feed on his trips unless I got Mother on my side. But she simply wouldn’t ask Edgar for anything. As soon as we’d reached our home province, I had seen how Edgar started pining for his auntie’s house. Mother’s smile had shone like a greased skillet when we arrived, and Edgar seemed relieved to find her in Rosalie’s good hands. He managed to get Leonida and Mother on his side about keeping his return a secret, too. They still hadn’t told their houseguests he was back—not even Edgar’s wife. Mother said Edgar could be arrested as a communist if he was seen in the village, which baffled me, since no communist would have suffered the kinds of misfortunes that we had at Simson Farm under the Soviets. I could understand why he’d wanted to hide his desertion when the Reds were still in charge, but what was the point now? Other men who’d left the Red Army were walking around the village, and those of us who’d been on Staffan Island had fought against the Bolsheviks. Mother, of course, didn’t want either of us to go to the front. She had weak nerves, and I couldn’t bring myself to contradict her when she was teary-eyed with fear. She was always so happy when Edgar came to look in on her. She would immediately fry up some salted meat for consommé or find some other delicacy to put on the table. Still, I knew Edgar must be up to something. He’d given himself a new name, Fürst, which was appropriately German, fine as a rayon shirt. I called him Wurst. I pressed him again about what he had to hide. Rosalie talked about sending a message to his wife, but Edgar forbade it, and Mother forbade it, and Leonida followed suit. The more time that passed, the harder it would be to tell Juudit he was back.
EDGAR WAS STILL stomping his feet behind me. I was in no hurry, patting my horse’s side, grown thick and shaggy with winter, in the dimness of the stable.
“Aren’t you going to ask the news?” he said, rustling some newspapers he had taken out of his bag. He couldn’t wait until we went into the house; he started reading them aloud in the stable, straining to see in the light of the hurricane lantern. Two hundred and six political prisoners had been freed in Tallinn, as a Christmas present from the Commissar General for Estonia to the innocent wives and children who had fallen into difficulties because their family providers were imprisoned. Edgar’s voice was full of portent, his pale eyes taking on color.
“Are you listening? How many men would treat the families of their enemies so mercifully? Or are you still thinking about your tobacco field?”
I grunted in agreement before remembering that I’d intended to avoid talking about it with Edgar, who, in spite of all his shuttling back and forth, didn’t seem to have done much to promote the family’s interests. We hadn’t heard from my father, and our fields were still in the wrong hands. I couldn’t plant any potatoes even though three years’ worth of clover had put plenty of nitrogen in the soil, which was good for potatoes. The Germans had banned the growing of tobacco and even Rosalie couldn’t get any seedlings, but the bunglers the Bolsheviks had put on the Armses’ farm had been evicted and the section of land the Reds had confiscated belonged to the Armses again. I’d gone over to spray their fruit trees with Estoleum, which I’d advised them to buy early, just in case. Aksel was thankful for the tip. I was like a son to him, not just a future son-in-law. I’d told him that Estoleum was better than Paris green, that he’d get apples good enough to sell at the market, but that was all I managed to do for my bride—for my own home at Simson Farm, I couldn’t manage even that. This bothered me. Edgar had never learned a thing about farmwork, though he did know that cream fresh from the morning milking was good for weak lungs.
He continued reading the paper as I did the stable work. The war hadn’t changed him a bit. “ ‘We all still remember how the Bolshevik propaganda painted the German National Socialists, and especially their Leader, as savages. They were hardly considered human.’ ” Edgar’s voice had risen, he wanted me to listen. “ ‘The aim of National Socialism is to unite all levels of society into one element, to strengthen the well-being of the people. The incitement of violent class resentment, this shocking bloodletting of one’s own people, is completely foreign to our movement. We strive to keep peace among the classes, and all are given the same right to life.… For our small nation, every individual is indeed as precious as every other.’ ” The gelding’s ears twitched.
“Stop it,” I said. “You’re frightening the horse.”
“Roland, don’t you see? The Commissar General has found just the words that the nation needs.”
I didn’t answer. Anger was hardening me into a pillar of salt. I could tell that my cousin had his own reasons for burnishing the Germans’ image. Maybe he wanted me in on some venture of his. But what did he need me for? I remembered how he had huddled in the cabin right after the Reds retreated, when the areas they had left were swarming with men from the destruction battalions, hiding out in fear for their lives, and Germans chasing them down. The special units had broken off from the Omakaitse—running like rabbits with everyone else, and the woods were filled with the smoke of gunpowder. Then I’d spotted two men nosing around our cabin. I recognized them. They had been with the Chekists who had surrounded the Green Captain’s troops. I remembered them because I was on watch at the time, had stared them straight in the face, would never forget them. They’d gotten away from me once, but they weren’t going to do it again. Edgar clapped a hand over his mouth when he saw the puddles spreading beneath their bodies in the yard. He looked exactly like he had as a boy the first time he saw the hogs slaughtered. He’d just come to live with us then. His mother, my mother’s sister Alviine, had sent him to our house in the countryside to toughen him up after his father died of diphtheria. She was worried about his anemia. He fainted. My father and I were sure that a sissy like that would never manage on a farm. But we were wrong. He managed very well, hanging on to my mother’s skirts. She had always wanted another child to keep her company, and the two of them took to each other. They were both supposedly sickly. We had another word for it: lazy.
When Edgar recovered from the sight of two dead bodies, he showed surprising initiative and said he would dispose of them. I doubted he could accomplish such a thing, but I helped him get the corps
es into the cart and he hauled them away somewhere. The next day he came back looking shifty, with a poorly hidden grin on his face. He wasn’t in any hurry anymore to get to town until the fighting in the woods died down. I could tell he had invented some story about the bodies so that we’d be left in peace. Sooner or later the Germans would have started to wonder what Finland-trained spies like us were doing lurking around in a cabin in the woods if he hadn’t made some kind of deal with them, convinced them that they had nothing to fear from us. Maybe now was the time to ask what was going on between him and the Germans, but I couldn’t bring myself to talk to him about it. He would be so pleased if I showed some interest in his affairs, and I didn’t want to see the flattered look on his face. I saw that there was a knot in the reins, untied it, and went into the house to look for an awl and some waxed thread to splice it together. I felt the Hungarian leather, thought I ought to grease the harnesses, and the thought made me homesick for the fields, and frustrated. If the Germans weren’t able to return the land that the Russians took or bring back the people, they were of no use to me, no matter what my cousin said. I thought again about the tobacco field that some Bolshevik bastard had dumped night soil on to grow who knows what, and a horse with a hunger pit so deep that I couldn’t see how it managed to pull the wagon. Edgar didn’t notice things like that. When we were standing by the spoiled field, all he did was wonder at the smell. That field had once been our land, the Simson land, and that horse had once been my horse, a horse who’d worn a blue ribbon next to his ear at the agricultural fair year after year. I would have recognized that horse anywhere, and he recognized me, but we had to let the field be and let the horse go on his way.
Edgar followed me to the cabin, lit a lamp after rubbing the soot off its hood a bit, and continued reading aloud where he’d left off. Did he want me to approve of what he was doing? He wanted something from me, but what?
“You’re not listening,” he said.
“What do you want?”
“I want us to start planning our lives, of course.”
“And what does the Commissar General have to do with it?”
“You have to get new identity papers, just like everybody else. They’ve given orders about it. I can help you.”
“I don’t need any advice from Mr. Wurst.”
“Auntie Anna wouldn’t like it if I didn’t look out for you.”
The idea made me laugh. Edgar was getting cheeky.
“You’re well suited for the police force,” he said. “You ought to apply now. They’re in serious need of new men.”
“That’s not for me.”
“Roland, all the Bolsheviks have been cleared out. The work is easy and you wouldn’t have to join the German army. Isn’t that why you’re still sitting here? What is it you’re hoping for?”
Finally I sensed what he was getting at. Now that the time for muscle and gunpowder had passed and the ranks of the police needed filling, he saw his opportunity. I looked at him and saw a glitter of greed in his eyes: the Baltic barons were gone, and so were the Bolsheviks and the leaders of the republic. Empty leadership positions, just waiting for him. That’s why he’d been acting so important, that’s what he’d been holding in. My cousin had always considered the German gentry superior, admired the bicycles imported from Berlin, gone crazy over their video-telephones. He even arranged his sentences sometimes in German word order. But I didn’t understand why he was telling me about his schemes. What did it have to do with me? He’d been sent to the gymnasium in Tartu and to the university, he had plenty of opportunities without me. I remembered how cocky he used to be, strutting around the yard during his vacations. He was always able to get some money from Mother when he wanted to order books about aviation from Berlin, pictures of airplanes and German flying aces, and while everyone else was making hay, Mother would lie around the house complaining of faintness and Edgar would sit by her bed and tell her stories about Ernst Udet’s aerial tricks, even though in the country that kind of behavior was considered very strange. They were so alike, Mother and Edgar. Neither one of them paid any attention to my advice, but I had to take care of the two of them anyway. I started hoping that Edgar would leave, start his own career, take care of himself.
“So go join the police. What do you need me for?”
“I want you with me. For the sake of all we’ve been through together. I want you to have a good situation, a new beginning.”
“Mr. Wurst is awfully concerned about my affairs, but why isn’t he with his wife? Or have you found yourself some lady friend to aid you in your maneuvers?”
“I thought I should get my life in order first. That way Juudit can jump right in. Into a life ready-made. She’s always been so demanding.”
I started to laugh. Edgar’s voice grew tense but he bit through his anger, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down until it finally settled. He turned his face away and said:
“I wish you would come with me. For friendship’s sake.”
“Have you talked to Mother about your plans?” I asked.
“Not until everything’s certain. I don’t want to get her hopes up unnecessarily.” He raised his voice again. “We can’t stay here in Leonida’s cabin forever. And I’ve already told them that I know of a well-trained man qualified for the police force. You. You’re needed. Estonia needs you!”
I decided to go back to the stable to water the horse. I hoped Edgar wouldn’t follow me. I didn’t lack for plans of my own, whatever my cousin might think. I had collected all my notes and arranged them, and I had gathered more information whenever I happened upon more of our men, not to mention the facts I’d deduced from Edgar’s stories. I already had plans to go work at the harbor at Tallinn or the railway in Tartu—I might even get enough pay to send some back home. Edgar hadn’t brought Mother a bean, and the Armses had been sharing their meat with his citified wife. I had to provide for them, and hunting and guarding the moonshine wasn’t enough. Leonida’s back was bent because Mother wasn’t any help and Aksel was missing a leg. The harbor was the more tempting option because Tallinn was closer to Rosalie and I could also avoid the German army. I had already falsified the birth date on my papers, in case they should ever get the men from the harbor into their files. But if Edgar had promised me to the police force, the Germans might already know too much about my past. I wouldn’t be allowed to work at the harbor for long unless Edgar made me new papers under a new name—but if he did, could I trust him not to tell the Germans about it?
Taara Village, Estland General Region, Reichskommissariat Ostland
WHEN JUUDIT ARRIVED in the countryside, no one said anything about her husband. Anna’s knitting needles clicked swiftly in her hands and a sock grew, a child’s sock, and somehow Juudit was certain that she wasn’t knitting it for Rosalie and Roland’s future little ones. Anna had always fussed over Edgar, but not over her own son. They said Roland was staying at Leonida’s cabin and came over now and then to help with the work. They didn’t mention it again, although Juudit kept waiting to hear more. But no, Rosalie just mentioned that Roland was staying in hiding, said it in passing, and her face didn’t shine with the happiness that Juudit expected. After all, her fiancé had come home in one piece. It felt strange that they didn’t talk about the homecomings like everyone else did. There was no shortage of talk on other subjects. First there was the lament over how the railway inspectors—they called them “the wolves”—confiscated passengers’ food supplies for their own use, and advice about how Juudit should behave if she had an inspection on her way home. They said it was a good thing her train hadn’t had to stop for any air raids. Later in the evening their talk focused on the village manor. It had been empty after Hitler invited the Baltic Germans into Germany, and now it was occupied by the Germans for use as the local headquarters, and they’d rigged a dove trap on the terrace above the main entrance. Apparently the Germans ate pigeons; this made the women laugh. The Germans had brought in bathtubs, too. They were very
clean people, and the officers were so easygoing. The gardeners who’d stayed on at the manor and the women at the washhouse said the Germans gave the children candy, and there was only one soldier on guard at a time. But whenever Juudit caught Anna’s or Leonida’s eye in the midst of this chatter, either woman would quickly freeze her mouth into a smile. Something wasn’t right. Juudit had expected Anna to be having one of her sick spells, what with her favorite boy on the road somewhere, his whereabouts unknown. She expected her to insist that Juudit stay with them in the countryside, but Anna didn’t seem worried about Juudit living in Tallinn alone, even smiled to herself, admiring the sock heel she’d just turned. The mere fact that Roland had survived couldn’t account for such cheerfulness. Was it because they had gotten the Bolsheviks’ tenants off their land? But the farm was still in such bad condition that they couldn’t manage the work without help. That was no cause for rejoicing.
Rosalie fell asleep before Juudit had a chance to talk with her alone, although they’d always used to talk after the lamp was extinguished. The next morning Juudit began to wonder if Rosalie had just been pretending to sleep. Her smile was tight as a sheet stretched on a laundry line, and she was in a great hurry. At the end of the day’s work, the blockade of Leningrad slipped out of Anna’s mouth, as if by accident:
“I heard that under the blockade you can only buy half a liter of water a day, for two rubles. Ten thousand people dying every day. They’ve eaten the horses. But could the men surrounding them be any better off?”
Leonida asked Juudit to help her break up the salt. Juudit picked up the mallet. There was a curl at the corner of Anna’s mouth, although the blockade shouldn’t give her any reason to smile. Maybe she was getting senile, or maybe she just didn’t know how to respond to Juudit’s dry eyes. Should Juudit have burst into tears at the thought that her husband might be in the blockaded city? Should she pretend to be sad and hopeful? Juudit’s mother had heard that someone had seen Edgar among the troops that were transferred to Leningrad, but who knew if any of those rumors were true? Anna didn’t mention it, in any case. The talk was starting to weigh on Juudit’s chest. She wanted to get away, go back to Tallinn. The watchful eyes of Anna and Leonida pecked at her face, and it stung. It was impossible to talk with Rosalie alone—Anna and Leonida kept buzzing around, poking their heads in the door just when Juudit thought they’d gone to the barn, jumping in behind her when she tried to go with Rosalie to give the chickens their mash. Rosalie didn’t seem to notice anything, constantly busying herself with something, fingering the worn spot on her barn jacket where her favorite cow always licked her, avoiding Juudit’s gaze. Then she grabbed a lantern to go out to the barn, and Juudit was left to deal with Anna’s jabs alone. It started off innocently enough. Anna expressed concern about whether Juudit would find any buyers for the lard in Tallinn. It was easy in the countryside. The Germans were going from house to house chanting “ein Eier, eine Butter, ein Eier, eine Butter.” They sounded so desperate, it made Anna feel sorry for them.