Puppet (18 page)

FRIDAY, AUGUST 3, 1883

I was on my hands and knees, scrubbing the slate floor of the kitchen, when two sturdy boots blocked my way. I looked up at their owner. A man in a peasant's pantaloons and embroidered vest towered over me. He drew a pouch out of his pocket, took a pinch of tobacco, and began to chew while I struggled to my feet. I wiped my hands on my apron.

“What do you want?”

He spat tobacco on my clean floor. I bit my lip to dam the angry words that were fighting to escape.

“I'm looking for Julie Vamosi,” he said.

“I'm Julie.”

“Mr. Eotvos asked me to fetch you. He said to tell you to come to the courthouse right away. The judges are about
to give the verdict.” With a quick nod, he was gone before I could tell him to clean up his gob of tobacco.

“I'm off, Teresa,” I called into the courtyard where she was shucking a pile of corn.

“Mind you remember every single detail for me.” She grinned in anticipation. I took off my apron and smoothed down my hair. Cleaning the floor would have to wait.

The street in front of the courthouse was swarming with people. It looked like market day, except the whole city was covered by leaflets that reminded me of white snow. Even the trees had leaflets attached to them. Almost every house was plastered with posters. A woman stood in front of one of them, reading it aloud to the little boy holding her hand: “It says that we're supposed to remain calm.” He laughed at the cartoon of a man with a hooked nose and long forelocks.

I wedged myself into the sweating crowd in the courtroom and tried to breathe despite the stench of unwashed bodies and cologne. Journalists, pads open and pencils poised, stood by the entrance. The door to the ladies' section was wide open and it was packed too. I elbowed my way to the pillar in front of the side door. At least, it afforded me protection on one side.

I could see the prisoners from where I stood. They looked terrified. Mr. Eotvos moved from one to the other.
I think he was trying to reassure them because as he passed, each of them looked at him gratefully. Solomon Schwarcz swayed in his seat, his eyes closed and his lips moving in prayer. Mr. Scharf was speaking to Lipot Braun, and for a moment the two men squeezed each other's hands. Only Morris, in his regular spot in the front row, was motionless. He seemed unaware of the clamor around him.

The clock on the wall chimed eleven times. The door of the judges' chamber swung open and Judge Korniss and his two colleagues entered. I tried to read their expressions. They did not look at the prisoners.

Judge Korniss began to read a long document that described all the charges that were laid and all the testimonies that were made during the trial. He concluded by stating that the testimony of the witness of the Crown, Morris Scharf, was questionable and therefore the charge of murder against Solomon Schwarcz, Lipot Braun, Abraham Buxbaum, and Herman Vollner was not proven beyond reasonable doubt, nor was the charge of complicity to murder against Joseph Scharf.

I waited for the judge to declare the defendants not guilty, but the declaration did not come. The journalists were scribbling furiously.

Mrs. Solymosi's cries that had underscored the whole trial rose once more. “Punish the Jews!”

Sophie wept by her mother's side and Janos shook his fist at the defendants. When I turned toward the doors, the journalists were all gone.

I expected celebration from the prisoners, but it didn't come. They looked relieved but exhausted too. There was a sadness about them I couldn't begin to understand. Mr. Eotvos, Mr. Heumann, and their colleagues shook hands with them all. When they got to Mr. Scharf, he pointed at his son. Mr. Eotvos said something to him and Scharf sat down.

Nobody wanted to leave the courtroom and they didn't want to let the prisoners go. I could hear cries of “Shame!” and “Hang them!”

I saw Recsky jump up and start shouting at the judges. Henter and Peczely were pulling on his arms, trying to get him to sit down. Bary was beside them, shaking his head in disbelief.

Armed gendarmes surrounded the prisoners to protect them. The man beside me had climbed up on his chair for a better view. He used my shoulder for balance as he got down.

“I don't understand. Were the defendants acquitted? Is the judge saying they are not guilty?” I asked him.

“The damn Jews won the case! It's a shame, but all of them will go free.”

In the midst of the confusion, noise, and heat, Morris sat bewildered. Everybody seemed to have forgotten about him. I started to make my way toward him, but a tide of people pushing toward the exit carried me away.

I was walking down the front steps of the courthouse when somebody tapped me on the shoulder. It was Mr. Heumann, smiling ear to ear.

“What a day!” he cried. “I have a message for you from Mr. Eotvos. He asked me to tell you to come to his chambers this afternoon. He is staying at the Hotel Central. Be there at four o'clock. I'll be waiting for you in the lobby.”

He dived back into the crowd before I could ask him any questions.

FRIDAY, AUGUST 3, 1883

At first, Teresa was worried. “What are we going to do when Henter gets back? He's going to blame you, you know, and you'll be out on the streets. What's more, I'll be without a scullery maid.”

“I'll ask Mr. Eotvos's advice. He wants to see me this afternoon.”

“In his hotel room?” Teresa gave me a lewd wink, but I ignored it. Instead, I gave her a moment-to-moment account of everything that had happened. She clucked at the verdict, but she had no time for Bary or Henter or the others and was happy they had lost. She had me describe their disappointed expressions over and over while I peeled four buckets of potatoes and cut up five dozen onions for the prisoners' dinner.

Then she had me wipe my hands on a metal pot to get the onion smell off and she helped me tie my hair back with a white ribbon. I changed into my Sunday blouse and set off for the Hotel Central.

The hotel was not far from the prison, but I made slow progress. I had never seen so many people in one place before. I flattened myself against a wall to make way for a band of angry men clutching clubs in their hands.

The Hotel Central was on the same street as the Nyiregyhaza synagogue. I wondered if the freed men had gone there. Suddenly the wooden door of the synagogue flew open, almost knocking me over. Two men in long black coats and black hats stepped out. They immediately ducked back into the building when a rock flew in their direction. That's when I noticed the arsenal of rocks across the street and the jeering young men ready to throw them. I ducked past them.

I was out of breath and my heart was thumping loudly as I ran up the hill to the Hotel Central. A man in a fancy uniform guarded the entrance.

“Where do you think you're going, wench?” He was not impressed by my blouse or my new white hair ribbon. “Take your hide to the servants' door at the back!”

“I'm sorry, sir, but I was told to meet somebody in the lobby.”

“What's the matter?” It was Mr. Heumann. “Is there a problem? I was waiting for this young woman to arrive.”

The guard's manner underwent a miraculous transformation.

“Of course, sir, of course. I was just about to take this young person to you.”

Mr. Heumann held out his hand to me. The lobby, with its paintings on the wall, its thick carpet, and its enormous velvet-covered chairs, dazzled me.

“Come … Mr. Eotvos is waiting for us,” he said.

I tore my eyes away from the gilded ceiling and followed him up the wide staircase. Mr. Heumann rapped on one of the doors that lined the long corridor.

“Come on in. It's open.”

“I'll leave you now,” said Mr. Heumann. “Mr. Eotvos wants to speak to you in private.”

Mr. Eotvos was in an armchair. Across from him sat Morris. Mr. Eotvos stood up when he saw me, but Morris just turned his face away.

“Thank you for coming, Julie,” said Mr. Eotvos.

“I'm glad to be here, sir, but I saw terrible things in the streets on my way here.”

“As soon as the verdict was announced, demonstrations against the Jews started.” He sighed. “Let's hope they'll blow over quickly”.

“You must be wondering why I wanted you to come here. First of all, I wanted to thank you for your help. It took a lot of courage on your part to testify. I was also hoping that my young friend here” — he looked at Morris —
“will talk to you. He won't speak to me or to anybody else. His parents will be arriving momentarily.”

I walked over to the boy. “Hello, Morris.”

He didn't look at me, nor did he respond.

“Morris, say hello to Julie,” Mr. Eotvos said.

“It's me, Julie. Talk to me!”

Morris was so still that for a moment I wondered whether he had heard me. I looked at the lawyer, who shrugged his shoulders.

I circled Morris's chair so that I was directly in front of him. His eyes were dull and empty I crouched down beside him and took his hand. He tried to pull it away, but I held it tight.

“You told me I was your only friend, Morris. You thanked me for remaining loyal to you despite my doubts. Do you remember?”

He nodded slowly, as if the movement hurt him. “I understand what happened. You have to figure out a way to keep going.” If I thought that his misery would bring Esther back or erase the way he'd made innocent people suffer, I would have been happy to let him suffer too. But I knew that nothing could be undone.

His face crumpled.

“Oh, Julie, what have I done? What have I done? I am so sorry! I was so wrong,” he sobbed, “but they kept on telling me that …” The stream of excuses was cut off by the sudden loud knocking on the door. Mr. Scharf stood on the threshold. Mrs. Scharf, holding Sam by the hand, was
behind him. Morris recoiled, but Mr. Scharf opened his arms wide.

“My son,” he said, “my son!”

Morris dropped to his knees in front of his father. Mr. Scharf tried to lift him up. Morris grabbed his father's hand and kissed it.

“Papa,” he said, “please, Papa, please … forgive me!”

SATURDAY, AUGUST, 4, 1883

“How much longer, sir? How much longer?” I asked Mr. Eotvos.

“We'll be there soon. A half-hour at the most.”

“How can I ever thank you, sir?”

He leaned back against the seat of the carriage, puffing on his ever-present cigar.

“No need to thank me. Just work hard.”

“I will, sir.”

How I wished that fancy words came more easily to me because I so much wanted to tell him that I would not disappoint him. I wanted to tell him that he would not be wasting his money by paying for my apprenticeship with a dressmaker in Budapest. That had been Ma's dream for me. He had even offered me the use of a small flat in his home
during my training. I would have room and board and I would help the housekeeper for pocket money.

The carriage drew to a stop in front of the dreary farmhouse. A child dressed in rags was scattering corn to a gaggle of geese in the yard. She looked up at the sound of the carriage. It was Clara.