good word for you with God the next time I see Him.”
The two of us led the children forth into the crowd, which grudgingly parted, standing like a wall on either side of us. And as we marched into their midst, I finally spotted Sister Marushka waiting for us at the other end of the gauntlet.
Our enemies watched the children closely, as if they were counting heads of cattle. Suddenly a shout went up.
“Hey!”
“Hold on there—!”
One of the Judenschläger elbowed past the guards and laid his hand on a lump of fabric crawling along amid the cluster of children. He grabbed on with both hands and effortlessly hauled a grown man to his feet. Yankev ben Khayim popped into view looking pale and petrified, his knees barely holding him up.
“What the hell is this?”
“Please don’t—”
“See how they repay our kindness us with deception and trickery!” said a town official, who must have gotten it straight from one of those anti-Jewish pamphlets, because I couldn't believe that anybody really talks like that.
The Judenschläger descended on Yankev ben Khayim, others made for Rabbi Loew. We had no time to think. Acosta plunged into the crowd, trying to save Yankev. To their everlasting credit, the city guards closed in to protect the children and deliver them into the arms of Sister Marushka, while I waded into the sea of bodies, beating a path to Rabbi Loew.
A couple of Christian bulvans were setting a pair of dogs on him. I charged into the men, knocking them to the mud, then drew back and smacked one of the dogs as hard as I could with the club and sent him off with a swift kick in the rear. The other dog growled and leapt at me. I held out my left forearm for it to latch onto but all it got was a mouthful of gaberdine, and as the damned thing tried to sink its teeth into my flesh, I grabbed its front paw with my free hand and yanked up sharply until I heard a pop. The dog yelped and dropped to the ground. I shook my club at him, and he showed more sense than some people I know and limped away.
The two men came back at me. I lunged at them with the kleperl, jabbing one in the stomach with the sharp end of the stick and kneeing him in the face when he doubled over. As the other man closed in on me, I faked a jab at his face, and when he held up his arms to block me, I spun the shaft around and hooked him by the ankle and yanked him off his feet.
I threw my arm around Rabbi Loew and half-carried him through the small door to safety. Then something clubbed me from behind and I went down in the mud, pain shooting through my shoulder.
The mob tried to push through the small door, but Acosta’s crew fought them off.
I groped around in the mud until a hand reached down to help me. Waves of pain spiraled through my shoulder. I slowly raised my hand, my quivering fingers drawing upward at the promise of a friendly encounter, when that other hand inexplicably closed in mid-air, without my fingers in it, and my arm sank back into the mire. The face of the bystander with the close-cropped hair loomed over me.
“I’d be happy to help you tomorrow,” he said. “But never on Shabbes. On Shabbes, we need not seek protection, for Shabbes itself protects us.”
The face drifted away and silence filled its place.
I knew it wasn’t right, but I couldn’t help feeling that if by some miracle I managed to survive this day, I was going to remember precisely which members of the community had turned their backs on me when I needed them the most, or promised to help me but never did.
I twisted around and looked up the block for any sign of reinforcements, but the street was deserted, except for a couple of terrified observers peeking around the corner at Joachimstrasse. They looked like servants from the Rozanskys’ house, but I couldn’t really tell from where I was lying.
I sat up, rubbing my shoulder, and slowly got to my feet.
Outside the gate, the municipal authorities were leading Yankev away under heavy guard, which undoubtedly saved his life, or at least prolonged it by a day or two. And it looked like Sister Marushka was being allowed to guide the children to safety.