to an inner courtyard, and Genny heard the tires rolling over rough gravel before the vehicle halted. Here the driver exchanged a few words with another guard, who opened the door at Genny’s elbow.
She found herself surrounded by the medieval battlements of the prison. With little more than moonlight to illumine the structure, it was as intimidating as any prison should be, especially one with so many years of service. Genny hoped it hadn’t appeared so menacing by day, when the boys had arrived.
She exited the motorcar and waited for the Major. A soldier met them on the steps of an inner citadel. She watched Major von Bürkel move slowly, depending on a cane now rather than crutches. And it was then she noticed a difference: not one shoe but two, perfectly balanced, one at the end of each pant leg. How had she not noticed? When had this change occurred? In the dim light the only hint of his disability was in the careful steps he took. Genny paced herself to his gait.
Their footsteps echoed off empty halls. Soon she heard the noise of children talking—the first sound all evening that brought joyful tears to her eyes.
The room was large and dark, lit only by oil lamps set too high to reach without a wand, starkly devoid of furniture. In the center of a roughly tiled floor sat a circle of a dozen boys, all of similar size.
“Mother!”
Genny nearly tripped over the narrow hem of her gown to reach Jonah. For once he didn’t pull away from such a public embrace.
“You’re here!” he said into her ear. “Can I go home now? and my friends?”
Achieving a bit of calm for his sake, she shook her head. “Not yet, but soon. Very soon.”
“What’s all this about, Jonah?” the Major asked. “Why were you brought here?”
Jonah seemed to notice him for the first time. “Did you bring my mother here? Is that why she was allowed to see me?”
The Major said nothing, neither admitting nor denying the presumption. Instead, he said, “Answer the question now, Jonah. What’s all this about?”
Jonah stepped away, folded his hands behind his back, and before Genny’s eyes her son seemed to age a decade. He looked very much like Edward just now, taller and more mature, as if ready to accept whatever punishment was meted out.
“It was my idea,” he said, chin held high, gaze straight ahead rather than at his mother or the Major. “I incited a mutiny against Herr Oberland, the music teacher.”
Boys approached en masse, having stood the moment Jonah had but holding back until he’d spoken.
“No! It was my idea!”
“No! Mine!”
“It was a unanimous decision,” Jonah said over the rest, “but if there is to be special blame for the instigator, I’m ready to accept it.”
“Just what sort of mutiny did you incite, Jonah?” Major von Bürkel asked. “Was Herr Oberland harmed in some way?”
“No. We simply refused to enter his classroom.”
“And why is that?”
Jonah stiffened, still staring straight ahead as if he were already a soldier. “Because he taught us nothing but German songs. We believe the rest of the world has music to offer as well. Some even better than Germany’s.”
Genny nearly cried out to cover the words before the Major could take offense.
But then she heard laughter, deep and pure and so unexpected she could scarcely believe it came from the man beside her. Yet it was the Major himself, so clearly amused she felt her knees go weak with relief.
“Yes, Jonah, you have a point.” Then he became somber as he placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “But you must do one thing, and that is to promise your mother you will not speak if officers question you as a group. Do you understand what I’m saying? For your mother’s sake if not your own, you’ll not say a word.”
“But I—I’ve been elected spokesman.”
The Major shook his head. “Resign the post, boy, as it’s obvious everyone was in on the decision. Speak to a German officer only if questioned. Each of you. Do you understand?” He looked at the other boys, who still stood behind Jonah. “And for your own good, whoever answers will say the prank was aimed at this teacher because you don’t like the way he combs his hair or because he has foul breath. Keep it to that and you’ll be home by supper tomorrow. Do you understand? This is no time to make martyrs of yourselves, and that’s what they’ll do if