A Cobbler's Tale Read online

  “Gone? Gone where?”

  “We arranged a ride for him with one of our suppliers. They headed south to Putlitz. It’s a day’s ride from here. If you hurry, you probably can catch them. He makes a few stops along the way.”

  “That’s good,” he said, encouraged. “Tell me, what does this man deliver?”

  “He doesn’t deliver anything. He picks up.”

  “Picks up? What does he pick up?”

  “Carcasses. Animal carcasses. He sells rotten meat to the pig farmers,” the man said.

  “Pincus is riding on a wagon with rotting animal carcasses?”

  “He wasn’t too pleased with that idea either,” said the man, laughing.

  A few hours later Jakob saw a wagon with its horses tied up in front of a small inn called the Raven. The open wagon had a tarp covering its haul. A man came out carrying a wooden barrel. He flipped back the tarp and dumped some bloody chunks of meat and bones onto the pile. This caused the flies to scatter briefly before they returned to their bounty.

  Then he saw Pincus walking out of the Raven Inn and climb up onto the wagon seat.

  “Pincus, hey!” Jakob shouted, running toward the wagon.

  Pincus turned to see who was calling his name. At the sight of Jakob, he stood up and held his hands out in confusion. He jumped down from the wagon, just as Jakob approached him.

  “I’m happy to find you,” Jakob said.

  Pincus just stood there staring back at him. “What in the world happened to you? You left me back there. I had to ride in this thing.”

  “I’m sorry, but it wasn’t my fault. Let me explain what happened once we are on our way.” He took one step and stopped. “Wow, that’s some disgusting smell!”

  “Not funny,” Pincus said, scratching his nose.

  CHAPTER 54

  BETRAYAL

  The journey from the Raven Inn to a mile from the Galician border took an uneventful six days. Even the weather cooperated. The snow melted, and even though the roads became muddy, the horses seemed to have little trouble pulling the heavy load.

  They discussed what had happened that first evening in Hoort. Jakob confessed that his behavior in the inn that evening might have prompted the attack. Neither man had any idea who the attackers were.

  “I thought you’d left without me,” Pincus said.

  “Why would I do that?” Jakob asked.

  “What was I to think?” Pincus asked.

  “I wish I could have seen your face when you saw the wagon gone,” Jakob said with a smile.

  “I think you would have been more amused with my expression after getting a ride on that wagon with the rotting meat.”

  Jakob roared with laughter.

  “I don’t know what was worse, the smell or the flies,” Pincus said, shaking his head and laughing along with his friend.

  It started small—a military vehicle passed them. Then they saw a few dozen German troops milling about a fire. As they approached the border itself, there was a much more significant military presence.

  As far as they could see in either direction, walls made of sandbags formed a boundary. Armed men with long rifles relaxed against the bags as if they were pillows in an Arabian tent. Cannons pointed beyond the border into the Galician territory and seemed poised to fire at a moment’s notice.

  Jakob directed the horses to the heavily fortified border crossing. German soldiers walked back and forth, apparently with some tasks at hand. As they approached, a German soldier ordered them to stop.

  “Where do you two think you are going?” he asked.

  “We would like to cross over into Galicia,” answered Jakob.

  “Why would you want to do that?” the soldier asked.

  “That is none of your concern,” Jakob said. “We have royal papers giving us permission to pass. Signed by Prince Adalbert himself,” he added, offering the envelope of documents to the soldier.

  The soldier looked at Jakob and then over at Pincus with an expression of amazement.

  “Don’t move. I’ll be right back,” he ordered.

  Pincus leaned over to Jakob and whispered in his ear, “I think your tone was a little aggressive.”

  “Nonsense, that’s how to handle these gangsters.”

  “Gangsters, really?” Pincus shook his head.

  “Believe me, I know all about them. They’re no different than the scum I dealt with back in Warsaw. Watch now here he comes. We’ll be on our way in just a minute,” Jakob said.

  “Get down and come with me. My lieutenant wishes to speak with you,” the soldier said, brandishing his rifle.

  The lieutenant was examining their papers as Pincus and Jakob were escorted into his makeshift office. “Where did you get these?” he asked, looking at them over his reading glasses.

  “From the hands of Prince Adalbert,” Jakob said.

  “I see,” he paused. “These papers look in order. But I do need to see what it is you have in that crate,” the lieutenant said, standing up and summoning a soldier over. “Let’s go take a look, shall we?”

  Two soldiers quickly pried open the crate. Out tumbled coats and blankets. Jakob reached, in expecting to grab hold of one of the Remington shotguns. But as he dug deeper and deeper into the box, he felt nothing. He looked at the lieutenant and Pincus. “There’s nothing here. This is not possible.”

  “Unless they were stolen on the ship,” Pincus said.

  “No wonder the prince was helpful,” said Jakob.

  “Well gentlemen, I don’t suppose you still want to cross the border,” said the lieutenant.

  Pincus gave Jakob a serious look and a nod.

  “We still want to cross. I assume the papers allow us to do so?” asked Jakob.

  “Sure, by all means. You do know you are crossing into a war zone. Do you have any firearms?” asked the lieutenant.

  “We have an old shotgun,” Pincus said.

  “Well the least I can do is to offer you two rifles and some ammo,” said the lieutenant. “I am sure our prince would want no harm to come to either of you,” he said.

  “Yes, I’m sure our wellbeing is of great concern to the prince,” Jakob said sarcastically, raising an eyebrow.

  Pincus and Jakob thanked the lieutenant, closed up the empty crate, and slowly crossed the border from Germany to Galicia. Jakob patted Pincus on the back. “Our next stop, Pincus, is Krzywcza.”

  CHAPTER 55

  REUNION

  According to the lieutenant, they would have little trouble reaching Krakow. The heavy fighting between the Austro-Hungarian forces and the Russian army was taking place in Limanowa, about twenty-five miles southeast of Krakow.

  The journey proved as uneventful as the lieutenant had predicted, except for the cold. Pincus and Jakob wrapped blankets around their shoulders and legs, but they still shivered as their horses moved slowly on the snow-packed road. They arrived late in the afternoon in the city of Krakow.

  Jakob asked a man walking alongside the road for a place to spend the evening. He gave directions to a nearby place he knew of.

  “It’s a small inn called the Anna. They have a barn,” he said pointing to the horses.

  “That’s my daughter’s name,” Pincus said with a slight smile, and he anticipated his imminent first meeting with his little girl.

  A few minutes later, they found the inn. Pincus went inside to pay the manager while Jakob took care of the horses.

  After placing their belongings in their room, Pincus warmed himself by the large stone fireplace in the lounge as he waited for Jakob. A few people sat nearby in comfortable-looking chairs, smoking and drinking and talking about the war. One particular older man had the attention not only of his companion, but of the rest of the room as well.

  “The Russians,” he said with a hint of disdain, “are being pushed back by General Boroevic. He recaptured the mountain passes and stopped their plans to drive through Krakow.”

  Pincus observed the elation on the faces of those in
the room. This was indeed good news. “What about farther west? We need to travel to Krzywcza,” Pincus asked.

  “Right now, it looks good,” the old man said, taking a drag on his cigarette. “The Habsburgs have recaptured Limanowa and Lapanow. But Prezemysl remains under Russian control.”

  “Fortunately, we don’t need to go that far,” Pincus said with relief.

  A man leaning against the wall and smoking a cigar asked, “How do you know so much?”

  The older man turned his head to see who had questioned his credibility. “My son is an officer serving under the great General Boroevic. I just saw him this morning before he rejoined his platoon,” he said with pride.

  Pincus told Jakob what he had learned when he returned from tending to the horses and wagon.

  “That’s good news. We should leave first thing tomorrow. Things are changing quickly. Once we get to Krzywcza we can stay just long enough for Clara to gather a few things. Then we will need to travel back the way we came through Germany,” Jakob said quietly.

  “Hopefully our papers will allow us to cross back over the border. Crossing into a war zone with just the two of us is probably easier than crossing back with a woman and children,” Pincus added.

  Disjointed thoughts of reuniting with his family kept Pincus awake most of the night. He worried that his children wouldn’t remember him. Of course Anna couldn’t, as she hadn’t even been born when he left. But what about Hymie—what memories would he have? At least Jennie and Moshe were old enough not to have forgotten him.

  His most troubling ruminations concerned Clara. Pincus imagined several possible reactions from her upon their reunion, ranging from exclamations of joy to ones of anger at him for having abandoned her and his children.

  But then, none of these scenarios would even have a possibility of playing out if he and Jakob were captured by Russian soldiers and shot before they could reach their destination.

  When morning finally came, Pincus jumped out of bed to leave those thoughts behind. After a quick breakfast with Jakob, the two men left the Anna.

  An hour out on the road, they passed a few dozen Hungarian soldiers. Pincus and Jakob greeted them casually, hoping that they wouldn’t be stopped. The weary men, covered in frozen mud and snow, barley acknowledged them.

  As they traveled farther from Krakow, Pincus started to recognize the names of the cities and villages and realized they were getting closer to home. After a few days and nights of travel, they approached the city of Rzeszow. Pincus knew the city well. It was where he and his father used to shop for leather hides for the cobbler shop.

  The horses moved slowly across the snow-packed road leading into the city. The tall stone buildings he remembered were now mountainous piles of rubble. As they traversed the main road leading into the town center, they could make out a large garrison of the Austro-Hungarian army guarding a fortified crossing. Alongside the road and out into the darkness, Pincus could see dead Russian soldiers lying across the still-smoldering battlefield.

  Several soldiers nervously approached the wagon, their rifles aimed at Jakob and Pincus, and ordered them to climb down.

  They stood up slowly, holding out their rifles by the stock and placing them on the seat as they stepped off the wagon. The horses, agitated by the soldiers, suddenly jerked forward, causing Pincus to stumble and fall to the ground, landing hard on his shoulder. He grabbed it in pain.

  An officer approached the commotion and asked “What’s in the wagon?”

  Jakob looked over to Pincus in obvious distress, then back to the officer now waiting impatiently for a reply. “It’s an empty crate. That’s it.”

  “An empty crate?” he asked, sounding dubious. “Check it out,” he ordered his men. “Bring them to me, when you’re done,” he added, turning and walking away.

  After the soldiers confirmed that the crate was indeed empty except for some old blankets, they escorted the men to the captain’s quarters. Pincus walked along, clutching his shoulder.

  “What did you find?” the captain asked the soldier.

  “Nothing except some blankets.”

  “Do you two have any identification papers?” the captain asked.

  Jakob presented the royal documents.

  The captain looked up in surprise. “Prince Adalbert gave these to you? Why would the son of the Kaiser give you anything? Can you tell me?”

  Jakob told the captain their story, beginning in New York, and prayed that this Austro-Hungarian officer would at least be sympathetic to their intentions.

  The captain listened carefully, and when Jakob finished, he said, “Are you telling me the two of you traveled the entire length of Germany before you discovered that the crate that you thought was filled with five hundred Remington shotguns was empty, and that Prince Adalbert, without your knowledge, stole the guns that were meant for Jewish soldiers fighting the Russians?”

  “That’s exactly what we’re telling you,” said Jakob.

  The captain burst into laughter. “It’s been a while since something has been so amusing. This is too outrageous for you to make it up.”

  Pincus and Jakob looked at each other with relief.

  “You must stay the night, and you can go on your way to Krzywcza in the morning,” he said and then pointed to Pincus. “Take him to the surgeon and have him take a look at that shoulder.”

  A few hundred feet from the captain’s quarters sat the bombed-out ruins of a church. Pincus followed the soldier, maneuvering around piles of stone that just days earlier had made up the walls of this old church. They entered where the main doors used to be and walked down the center aisle, which had been converted into a field hospital. Injured soldiers were being treated on the wooden pews that acted as hospital beds. Torches lit the cavernous space, creating spaces of light and dark among the caregivers trying to comfort those dying of their wounds.

  Pincus had never seen so much suffering before. Many looked too young to fight. Yet here they were, crying out in pain, waiting for death to relieve their misery. He wasn’t sure if the throbbing of his injured shoulder was what was causing his nausea, or if it was the bloody sight of the lacerated soldiers.

  Clearly annoyed at being interrupted to treat such a minor injury, the surgeon told Pincus that his shoulder was only bruised, not fractured. He wrapped a sling around Pincus’s neck, and advised him to wear it for a while in order to immobilize his arm.

  The next morning, Jakob and Pincus awoke to sunlight shining through the large windows of someone’s abandoned apartment. Because of the intense fighting, the city was deserted, many residents having fled into the countryside as the Austro-Hungarian army took back the city from the Russians.

  Pincus’s shoulder, though sore, felt a little better. They found the captain, thanked him, wished him luck, and drove out of Rzeszow. A half-day’s ride and they would arrive in Krzywcza.

  CHAPTER 56

  PINCUS COMES HOME

  Clara’s concerns about feeding her family had grown steadily worse. She had carefully rationed her supplies, but as the war dragged on through the winter, the food had dwindled to perhaps a week’s worth of meals for her, her children, and the occasional visit by Shmuel.

  She felt obliged to take care of Shmuel as one of her own. He had done so much for her and her family, from working the cobbler shop to the crippling injury he had incurred in Lviv trying to protect Moshe.

  Clara was staring at the near-empty shelves in the cellar, trying to think of ways to stretch their supplies a few more days, when Jennie came running down the steps.

  “Mama, come quickly!” Jennie shouted.

  “What is it Jennie? What’s wrong?” asked Clara, following her up the narrow wooden staircase.

  As she stepped through the cellar door into the living room, still absently clutching a jar of pickles, she froze. The glass jar slipped from her hand and fell to the floor, cracking upon impact. She stared at the open doorway, her mouth agape, a puddle of pickle juice forming around h
er slippers. There, with his arm in a sling, stood Pincus, smiling.

  “Hello, Clara,” he said.

  “Pincus?”

  “Papa!” shouted Moshe, who ran over to his father and wrapped his arms around him.

  “Easy, Moshe.” Pincus backed off, wincing. “I have a small injury.”

  “Sorry, Papa,” Moshe said as he made room for Jennie and Hymie, who gently hugged their father.

  “That’s okay, Moshe. I am happy to see all of you. It’s been such a long time. And you must be Anna,” he said to his youngest daughter, who peeked out from behind her mother’s skirt.

  “Go on, Anna, say hello to your father,” Clara said.

  Pincus knelt down and gave his daughter an awkward hug, then stood up again and walked over to Clara, who was still standing in the puddle of pickle juice. He wrapped his good arm around her and kissed her. She looked at her husband and, with tears welling up, reached out and touched his cheek as if she thought she might be dreaming.

  “Pincus, it’s you. You’ve come back,” she said, burying her head in the crook of his neck and releasing the tears she had held back for so many years, waiting for this moment.

  “I’ve come home to take you and the children to America,” he announced.

  “Papa who is this man?” Jennie interrupted, pointing to Jakob, who stood in the doorway.

  “This is my friend, Jakob,” he said, walking over and placing his hand on Jakob’s shoulder. “We traveled together from America, and together we will get us all back.”

  Jakob walked over to Clara. “It is indeed an honor to meet you, Clara. Pincus has told me so much about you.”

  It took some time for Clara to settle down. She asked Jennie to prepare a meal while Moshe ran to tell the rabbi the news. Twenty minutes later he returned, breathless, and said, “The rabbi and Shmuel are coming. They are walking over now.”