Children of the Stars - Mario Escobar Page 0,27

soon, boy. What it means is that things are going to get even uglier. They’ll have to get worse before they can get better. The French must unite. At first, when your enemy’s boot is on your neck, before there’s much pressure, you don’t notice you’re getting destroyed. But when the pressure increases, the only option is to pull your neck back or bite the foot that’s crushing you. Our beloved country is currently governed by a bunch of lapdogs, accomplices the whole lot of them. Do you understand, boy?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, eat your bread. We’ll leave in an hour. I’ve got to finish something first. They’ll be by any minute to pick up this figurine, and it needs another touch,” Leduc said, pointing to a beautiful golden statue.

“It’s beautiful,” Moses said with his mouth full.

“The Sun King liked everything to be gold. He believed he was the brightest star that gave light to all. He was a foolish, selfish Bourbon, but at least he had good taste,” Leduc quipped, examining the piece.

An hour later, the vehicle was ready. Leduc slid back a wooden panel and told them to get into the small compartment. “Don’t move, don’t talk, don’t make any noise. I’ll let you know when you can speak. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mr. Leduc,” the brothers said in unison.

They heard the motor rev to life, and the Citroën lurched forward. The cobblestone pavement forced the narrow wheels left and right in their stuttering attempt to go straight. Moses felt like he was suffocating in the enclosed heat. Jacob tried to fan him with the map from his backpack, but they had little room to move.

They spent an hour that felt like many more closed up in the narrow, stifling compartment. When Leduc pulled back the panel and let them out on a country road somewhere between Orsay and Les Ulis, the boys’ faces had reached a new level of pallor.

There was room enough for all three to sit up front, with little Moses in the middle. Jacob focused on the endless road ahead, lined with trees that had witnessed hundreds of years of passengers. Moses’s eyes followed the course of green trees. The bright, clear sunlight attempted to break through the dense forest, sparkling gold wherever it slipped between clumps of leaves.

“We’ll stop at Artenay in about three hours and sleep at the church there. The priest has helped me out several times before,” Leduc said.

Jacob and Moses just nodded in silence. The journey was wearisome, and their nerves were shot from the constant state of vigilance. Moses nodded off en route. When they arrived at the small town, Jacob was fascinated by the stark lines of a huge windmill juxtaposed against a church dome: rounded, then shooting up into a steeple, with an embedded clock. They parked a few blocks behind the church and walked through the dark streets to the rectory. Leduc rapped lightly at the door, and they were greeted first by the barking of a little dog and then by a red-haired, red-cheeked man in a black cassock with a napkin tied around his neck.

“My dear Leduc, just in time for supper. You know we country folk turn in early for the night. And who have you brought me this time? Come in, come in, let’s speak indoors.”

The priest glanced around before closing the door, then led them to the kitchen table. There was a plate with a half-eaten supper, a glass of red wine, and a fruit bowl filled with apples.

“The priesthood is a lonesome trade. I can offer you some marinated beef and potatoes from a nearby farm, as well as some white bread, which is hard to come by these days. The village’s baker is a faithful Catholic. The Germans carry off most of the flour and bread, but our baker always manages to keep some back.”

The boys sat down, but Leduc stopped them with, “Go wash up,” though he himself made no move to stand. The boys wandered off where the priest pointed, and the two men began to speak. “They’re brothers, and it’s best I don’t say any more about them. I don’t even know much myself. The less we know, the less they can get out of us if we’re apprehended.”

“I understand,” the priest nodded. “They look so young. To my knowledge, you’ve not transported children before.”

“Things are getting nasty in Paris. I’ve concluded that the Nazis are like rats. They nest and reproduce easily, they steal, they spread their

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