Caravans in the dark, p.1
Caravans in the Dark, page 1
Copyright © 2023, B. K. Oldre
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Published 2023
Printed in the United States of America
Print ISBN: 978-1-64742-434-3
E-ISBN: 978-1-64742-435-0
Library of Congress Control Number: 2022919246
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All company and/or product names may be trade names, logos, trademarks, and/or registered trademarks and are the property of their respective owners.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
In Memory of Václav Ladislav Holý, 1886–1942
Václav Ladislav Holý is just one of the many little-known men and women who lost their lives fighting for freedom. He was a merchant, a Sokol worker, an army corporal in WWI, and a member of the anti-fascist resistance. He was executed by the Nazis in Pardubice, Czechoslovakia, on June 5, 1942.
I was inspired to dedicate this book to Václav Ladislav Holý because I like to think that he may have been a distant relative. Like him, my Holý ancestors came from Southern Bohemia.
CHAPTER 1
Jana tiptoed into the pond, trying to avoid stepping on sharp stones and branches. She shivered as goose bumps blossomed on her naked flesh. It was a hot day for the beginning of October, but cold nights had chilled the water. When she’d waded in, waist deep, the sand turned to mud that squished through her toes, and each footstep sank in ankle-deep, stirring up swirls of muck.
She took a deep breath, fell forward, and thrashed forward, then back. A dark tangle of hair enveloped her face every time she raised it for a breath. She took another gulp of air, then floated, facedown, and opened her eyes. The weeds disappeared into the shadowy depths beneath the shimmering, light-green water. She rolled over on her back, floated, and gazed up into the canopy of green and gold leaves that bent over the pond, sheltering it from the blazing autumn sun and clear blue sky.
What a relief to get out of those hot sticky clothes. Jana was fifteen years old, and she was considered a young woman, so she had to wear long skirts. Not long ago, whenever she could, she would run around with the rest of the children, without thinking about what she should wear. Now, she was expected to stay covered up no matter how hot it was.
She would be in trouble if her stepmother, Zofie, who thought she was collecting apples, found out she’d been wasting her time swimming, instead. She hoped her stupid little brother, Ion, age twelve, wouldn’t find her. She had practically raised him. But lately, he seemed to enjoy annoying her by following her everywhere she went and threatening to tell on her.
Today she’d outsmarted him by staying around camp and helping Zofie with the smaller children until he got bored and wandered off. When she was sure he had gone, she’d told Zofie she knew where she could find an apple tree in the woods, took a bag, and left. As soon as she was out of sight of the camp, she tucked her skirt up between her legs, and into her waistband, and ran.
They’d camped in this spot many times before, and she knew the paths through the woods that led to the pond. She’d often explored this area when she could slip away. The rest of the family seldom came here. The stream near their campsite provided water for cooking, washing, and drinking, and few of the others knew how to swim.
Jana sometimes liked to be alone, which wasn’t easy living in a large extended family. They thought it was odd, but they made allowances for the “poor orphan girl” who had helped raise her younger brother and sister after her mom had died giving birth to Lili. She didn’t want their pity. She was glad her dad had remarried, and now she was determined to enjoy what remained of her childhood.
She wasn’t in a hurry to get married. Most of the girls her age could talk of nothing else. It was this boy was so handsome. He could handle a horse so well. Or their wedding would be so big and elaborate. But Jana saw that married women had to stay close to camp, cook, clean, and tend babies, and she had done plenty of that already.
Jana pushed aside the painful memories of her mother’s last days, the fever, her father’s frantic efforts to get her to the doctor—all of it too late. That was followed by a dark time. Tiny little Lili crying weakly, Ion too young to understand why his mother was gone, her father gone too often, and too often drunk. The aunts and Grandma Berta helped when they could, but Jana had been the one who was always there.
Her father was happier since he’d remarried four years ago, and Jana hoped that would last. Her stepmother, Zofie, was young—more like an older sister than a mother—and still counted on Jana’s help. Now, he was becoming annoyed with her refusal to consider any of the matches he suggested, and it was becoming embarrassing for him. She hated to cause him any bother, but perhaps she could postpone the inevitable a while longer.
Jana considered all this as she floated on her back; strands of her dark hair that had escaped the long braid down her back fanned out around her head like an exotic water lily. She wondered how much longer she could stay here and still have time to gather the apples, and then get back to camp before she was missed. A snapping branch startled her out of her reverie. She stood up to see what was there, but streams of water and tangles of hair obscured her sight.
“Who’s there? Is that you, Ion? You idiot! I’ll give you a thrashing when I catch you! How dare you spy on me!”
She heard a deep laugh and caught sight of a glint of metal behind some bushes. Her heart beat faster as she realized it wasn’t Ion but a stranger. A Gadjo! She clamored toward her clothing piled on the shore and, while pulling on her clothes, swore and cursed, first in Romani then in Czech.
“Damn you and your mother! May you break out in boils, you devil! How dare you creep around in the bushes, you slimy worm!” she railed, replacing fear with anger.
He laughed again and then turned and strolled off. She noticed that he was wearing a gray uniform. The kind the German soldiers wore.
They’d seen a line of marching soldiers, just a few days ago. They’d slipped off the road and watched from a thicket of woods. It was never a good idea to be seen if you could avoid it. They’d also seen peasants, their belongings piled in horse-drawn carts or pickup trucks, heading away from the border. They looked tense and worried, and most of them spoke Czech. The soldiers followed the next day, striding along confidently and smiling.
Jana continued toward the apple tree, which was at the edge of a farmer’s field and seldom picked. She’d never seen anyone around, and there were always apples covering the ground under the tree at this time of the year. She tucked her skirts up and hopped over the fence. She kept an eye out for the farm dog that she’d seen at other times, a medium-sized, black and white dog, as she quickly filled her bag.
The scent of ripe apples filled her nostrils as she bent to pick out the best ones from those strewn beneath the tree. Most of them were wormy, bruised, or green—those she left behind. A few were edible, though misshapen; a few were perfectly ripe and unblemished apples, and she stopped to admire them before adding them to her bag.
When her bag was almost full, she was interrupted by the dog who streaked across the open field, his teeth bared. She turned to face him, knowing that running would only encourage him to chase her. He came to a halt, a few yards away from her, haunches down as he barked and growled at her. She said, softly, “Good boy, nice boy,” hoping he’d remember her voice from past times when she’d come with little treats for him in her pocket. Unfortunately, she didn’t have anything for him today. She backed toward the fence, felt for a post, and when she touched one, whirled around and leaped over the fence. The dog raced toward her and caught the hem of her skirt, tearing it as she jumped. She ran down the path, shaking and laughing, at her narrow escape.
When she got back to camp, a couple of hours later, Jana was relieved, but also a little disappointed, that no one had missed her. Everyone stood together at the end of camp closest to the road to town. Jana’s father, Josef, was in the center surrounded by the other men. The women, some carrying babies, formed the next circle, and the children ran in and out between the adults. Jana set the bag of apples on the table next to their wagon and joined the group.
“I don’t know what it means, except trouble,” Josef was saying. He looked worried. He was the oldest man of the family, and hence the leader of a group of twenty-three, which included his family, his mother, and his three brothers and their families. The role didn’t suit him. He was never sure that he was making the right decisions.
“Trouble for the Gadje—but what has it got to do with us?” said Uncle Emil. A frown on his plump and usually cheerful face turned down the corners of his big mustache. Uncle Emil didn’t like to stir things up. He always avoided trouble if possible.
Jana found her sister, Lili, age nine, with the women. L
“What’s going on?” Jana asked.
“Daddy says there are lots of soldiers in town—Germans. He says it means trouble, and we should pack up and go, but some of the uncles say it has nothing to do with us and that they want to stay for the harvest festival,” Lili said.
They came to Teplice every year for the Harvest Festival. The women told fortunes and sold herbs while the men traded horses. It was considered a prosperous stop, and they’d been looking forward to it. They counted on earning much-needed income before heading for their winter campsite.
Zofie pushed her way through the crowd. “Where were you all afternoon, Jana? And why is your hair wet?” she asked, trying to look angry, but succeeding only in looking frazzled. She had baby Eduard on one hip, and Jana’s little stepsister, Anna, was hanging on to her skirt, whimpering for attention. Without waiting for an answer, she continued, “I need you to help me so I can gather some wood and get dinner started.” She handed the baby to Jana and, picking up Anna, headed back toward their wagon. “Go get some water, Lili. Come on, girls! Let the men talk. We have work to do.”
Jana sighed and hung back to see if she could catch more of the conversation.
“From the looks of things, I doubt if the town will have a festival this year,” Josef said.
Jana turned and followed her sister and stepmother. That evening, after they ate, the men sat together at Grandma Berta’s campfire and talked in low voices until late into the night. Jana could still hear the low rumble of their voices as she drifted off to sleep between the two feather quilts she shared with Lili and little Anna.
The next day dawned bright and cold. Jana let the morning unfold slowly around her, listening to the familiar sounds. The birds were singing, the horses stomped and snorted, the women were building fires and filling kettles with water, the small children and babies whimpered for food, and their mothers soothed them in low voices, trying not to disturb those who were still sleeping. Jana could smell the coffee beans Zofie was roasting on a shallow metal pan over the campfire.
The daylight danced through her closed eyelids, and soon Anna started squirming and kicking. Jana’s eyes flew open as she remembered the events of the previous day. Would they be staying for the festival or moving on? She reached out to where she had dropped her clothes into a pile next to their bed the night before and pulled them on while still under the covers. She nudged Lili who was still snoring.
“Wake up, Lili, it’s morning.” Lili sat up and rubbed her eyes.
Jana walked behind the wagon to the washing-stand, poured cold stream water into the washbasin, and washed vigorously. She cleaned her teeth with salt applied with one finger, combed her hair and rebraided it. After she’d finished, she joined the family sitting by the campfire on the other side of the wagon. Coffee was boiling, and stew left over from last night was heating up. The family ate the stew with bread and some of the apples Jana had gathered yesterday and washed it down with sweetened black coffee.
Zofie ate—mostly standing—bringing more coffee to Josef, blowing on little Anna’s food to cool it, and feeding baby Eduard. She hovered nervously—looking even more tired and worried than usual.
“Are we going to stay or move on?” she asked Josef.
“We’ve decided to stay for a few days and see if there will be a festival,” Josef said.
“In that case, I’d like to go into town today,” Zofie said. “I need to do some shopping, and I can tell fortunes and make a little money. Perhaps I can also find out if there will be a festival this year or not.”
“I don’t know if it’s safe. I haven’t registered us with the police yet. I didn’t know if we were going to stay.”
“When is it ever safe? If I run out of milk for the baby, and we have to get it from a farmer, that might not be safe either.”
Josef sighed. “Well, if you’re going, take Jana with you. She can help keep watch and earn a little something, too.”
“But, Papa …”
“Don’t ‘but Papa’ me. You’re not a child anymore, and it’s time you stopped acting like one. No more sneaking off by yourself! Who knows what people will start to think—and then how will I find you a husband?”
Jana felt her face flush with anger and clenched her jaw. She knew that arguing with him wouldn’t change his mind, and wouldn’t end well. Papa would get angry and take it out not just on her, but on the rest of the family, too. She turned and walked away, without another word.
Jana helped Zofie wash the dishes and hang the sleeping quilts up to air and dry, and then they left the baby with Grandma Berta. Anna begged to go with them, so they took her along and walked to town. Ion and Lili had already run off to play with the other children.
The town looked very different than it had when they had been here last year. Then there was a bustling marketplace. Now there wasn’t any sign of a market. Instead, soldiers marched through the streets and hung around in small groups on corners and in the marketplace.
Most of the village people didn’t seem angry with the soldiers. They smiled and nodded at them as they passed. But some stared angrily at them when they weren’t looking. Jana wondered why. She noticed, as she walked through the crowd and listened to their conversations, that the smiling villagers spoke German, and the angry ones spoke Czech. It was clear that the residents of German ethnicity were in the majority in this village, and they were happy with the occupation.
Zofie ignored the soldiers and approached the villagers, asking if they wanted their fortunes told or begging for coins. After approaching several women, one finally agreed to have her fortune told. Zofie held her hand, palm up, bent over it, and seemed to examine it intently.
Jana watched with little interest. She had seen this many times before. While seeming to focus on the palm, Zofie was watching closely for a reaction as she made some general pronouncements about health, money, and relationships—the things people usually wanted to know. Jana also kept an eye on Anna as she strayed away from her mother.
From behind her, a deep voice, speaking in German, asked, “Will you tell me my fortune?”
She turned and looked up into the smiling blue eyes of a soldier. “If you cross my palm with a coin,” she responded in German.
As he dug into his pocket, she examined him. There was something familiar about this tall Gadjo with the blond hair and blue eyes. But what? And why were his two friends smiling and nudging each other so idiotically? She shrugged. Who could understand the Gadje?
“Here are two coins so that you will tell me about a lucky future,” he said.
Jana slipped them quickly into her pocket and took his right hand, palm up, in both of hers. The hand was firm and hard. A workingman’s hand. Probably a farmer.
“What is your name?” she asked
“Won’t the Spirits tell you?” he replied.
“I can see nothing if you are not open.” She dropped his hand.
“I’m Franz, and I certainly want you to see … and be seen,” he said with a smirk.
“You are very far from home.” She started with something very likely. She watched him out of the corner of her eyes. His grin widened.
“Those you have left behind miss you very much. You’ve left someone special.” Why was he grinning and casting those sidelong looks at his buddies? What was it that they found so damn funny?
“But she is not the one for you,” she continued.
“She is sleeping with your brother,” she said, in Romani, annoyed by his grin.
“What?”
“There will be another. She will be your true love,” she said in German.
“Ask her if she’ll have her clothes on when you meet her,” called out one of his friends.
He laughed, and she realized who he was. He was the man in the woods!
She cast his hand aside and said coldly, “That’s all I see.”
“I saw a good deal more.” He laughed, playing to his friends. They were all laughing at her now.
Jana flushed with anger and spat at his feet. “And both of you will die violent deaths. You will curse the day you met her.” Then she whirled around and stalked away, with their laughter ringing in her ears.
