Chapter 15

Chapter 15

A horseman arrived in the village in the evening before dark. He was wearing a military uniform and carrying a German machine gun and leather bag over his shoulder. A number of children ran with him beside his horse. He asked them to show him where Lazo lived. When he entered Lazo’s yard he asked the children to fetch him. He said: “Get Comrade Lazo and hurry!”

Lazovitsa opened the door carefully and looked at the horseman with curiosity. He was a young man and looked tired. The door creaked and opened and Lazovitsa came out.

“Who are you looking for?” she asked.

“Lazo, aunt, Lazo. Does he live here?” the horseman asked.

“Yes he does… he lives here…” Lazovitsa replied when she heard the horseman’s tame voice. She then went back inside and moments later both Lazo and Kuze appeared at the threshold of the door.

“I am Lazo. What’s the matter?” Lazo asked.

The horseman opened his leather bag and, from the pile of envelopes, separated one, handed it to him and said: “It is urgent, Comrade Lazo.”

Lazo, without opening the letter, looked at the horseman from head to toe. He thought he was very young, not much older than his own son. He thought for a moment, fixed the coat that was hanging over his shoulder and said: “Tie the horse over there and come in for a glass of water.”

“Thank you Comrade but I must go,” replied the horseman, turned his horse around and with a wave of his arm left. They could hear the horse hooves stepping on the cobblestone village road until the horseman went past the threshing fields.

Lazo and Kuze sat down near the fireplace and slowly, without any interest or curiosity, Lazo opened the white envelope, pulled out the

loose paper, raise it in front of the lit oil lamp and began to read. Kuze noticed Lazo’s hands shaking. Lazo looked at Kuze and then, with a strange, trembling and frightened voice, called his wife.

While gasping he said: “Lazovitsa, Lazovitsa... bring a cup full of water and put a spoon full of sugar in it.”

Kuze went closer to him and, unable to see what was written in the folded letter, quietly asked: “What is it, Lazo?”

Lazo waited until Lazovitsa brought him the sugar water, drank it, opened the letter and handed it to Kuze.

“Did you read it?” Lazo asked after placing his hands on his knees.

“Aha...” muttered Kuze.

“Well, now get up and go out there and call the women that need to go with the children. Tell them to come here right now. And don’t tell anyone, we don’t want the entire village to know, do you hear me?” said Lazo.

Lazo did not look good. He leaned his head on the wall and finally realized the gravity of the situation.

“I am here Lazovitsa,” Lazo heard Kostovitsa saying.

“Please come in!” said Lazovitsa.

Moments later the other two women, accompanied by Kuze, also arrived and sat down. Kuze sat down with them.

“Well, ladies,” began Lazo with a stretched out trembling voice, “about an hour ago a courier came here and brought me a letter in which it said that all children that were enroled on Thursday afternoon are to be delivered to Labanitsa. All the children from the surrounding villages are to be gathered there. Further on the letter said that children from the village Kostenariata will be passing through here on Tuesday or Wednesday and that we need to accommodate them... What else can I tell you? Ladies… the time

has come. Now go back to the houses and tell the people to prepare the children for the road... you know what you need to do. Tell the mothers to prepare food for two days… no, no, tell them for three days... Well, go now... And you, Kuze, you go and tell your wife to prepare your children. Good luck to you all… Go now!” ordered Lazo.

When everyone left and Lazo was alone with his wife he said: “What do you think Lazovitsa, should we hide Nase? Only for two or three days, a week at most, then we will bring him back. We will tell them that he ran away from home… What do you say, huh?”

Lazovitsa covered her face with his hands and began to weep.

“Why Lazo?” she cried. “We are going to send three and hide one? Did they not say that the children will be coming back soon? That’s what you and the others with whom you were speaking a few nights ago here were saying, right? When the worst is over the children will return... two or three weeks, maybe a month at most, and they will all come back... that’s what you all agreed, right? If that is how it’s going to be why hide Nase? And the others, don’t you care about them? Is it because they are female?”

Lazo paced back and forth in the room with his face hidden in his hands. Five steps ahead, five steps back, all quietly on the bare boards. He paced barely audibly wearing his thick woolen socks. Then suddenly he lowered his arms and in a painful tone of voice he began to speak.

He said: “Well, our children will go wherever the others go Lazovitsa. It would be difficult to separate them and shameful...” but before he finished saying what he was going to say he went outside. All night he walked away from the village. He went as far as Stenite and turned towards Galichnik and Virovite and then went toward Shekaritsa. There he leaned on a stone and waited for the arrival of dawn. Just as the sun was rising he ran his hand over the tender green grass, tilted it and watched the drops of dew sparkle as they dripped off his hand. He ran his hands over his face and then he rubbed his eyes. He looked up and saw a flock of birds fly high above. He watched them until they disappeared beyond a grove.

Beside him was a thicket of hazelnut trees. They were budding and the moist buds looked like golden beads. Further over was a blooming dogwood tree. Its flowers were open and the dew drops collected on them looked like shiny pearls in the morning sun. He got up, broke off a branch from the hazelnut tree next to him and walked downhill to Stara Livada. The weeping willows there had long and thin branches hanging down from them like bridal headpieces. He jumped up and grabbed a branch. He pulled on it until it broke. He removed his knife from the holster hanging on his belt and with its tip raised the bark. His finger became wet from the willow’s sap. He cut off a short piece about ten inches long. This reminded him of when he was a young boy looking after the cattle and when, during early spring, he would cut a straight young branch without knots on it. Then, with the flat side of the knife, he would gently tap the branch until the bark was freed from the wood. He would cut bark all around and remove a small chunk from the wood. He would then hold the bark with one hand and the bare wood with the other and carefully twist the tender bark until it came off the wood. He would place the bark back on the wood, cut a small notch on it, remove it, deepen the notch on the wood and put the bark back. And if it was cut properly, the piece of wood would turn into a great whistle. Lazo now, like in the old days, after making all the cuts, put the piece of wood to his lips and blew; first quietly, timidly as if testing it… then hard to test its maximum volume. This whistle worked exactly as expected… which made Lazo happy… but just for a moment. Lazo then partially covered the hole and by moving his finger he made a variety of tones come out. The tones seemed to sadden Lazo.

Suddenly he felt his legs give away at the knees, he was exhausted and could not seem to hold his own weight. He leaned on the trunk of the willow tree and slowly began to slide down to the ground. He half opened his eyes but all he could see was darkness. He tried to grab something but there was nothing to grab. His forehead felt cold. His feet felt numb and when he looked down, in the darkness, he felt the trees, the hills, the rocks on the hills and the wide meadow spin all around him. He again tried to grab something and again there was nothing to grab. He felt like he was falling, falling, falling into a dark abyss and the only sound he heard was his own voice screaming...

A shepherd passing by with his sheep, heading for Nova Cheshma, saw a man bent over lying under the weeping willow. It was Lazo.

Later, while Lazovitsa was sobbing and preparing the clothing for the children, Lazo lay motionless on the straw mattress looking at the ceiling. He was completely oblivious to Lazovitsa’s sobbing, crying and deep sighs. The only thing he felt were the warm tears of his children, crouched over him, weeping silent tears warming his wrinkled forehead and pale cheeks...