Breath of Bones, page 20
As they trudged through the nearly deserted streets of Prague, the haunting beauty of the city stood in stark contrast to the horrors that continued to unfold. The majestic Prague Castle, silhouetted against the moonlit sky, bore silent testimony to centuries of history, while the winding Vltava River mirrored the shimmering stars of the night. And yet, in those serene surroundings, the weight of recent events pressed down upon them.
Their footsteps, a rhythmic reminder of their journey through the cold night, seemed to accentuate the gravity of their conversation. Josef’s voice, a low murmur in the stillness, shared tales of his friend Petr’s miraculous escape. The stories from Terezín, however, cast a far darker shadow. Terezín, or Theresienstadt as the Germans knew it, had transformed from a fortress town into a ghetto and a transit camp. In this place, Jews from Czechoslovakia and surrounding countries were sent before being transported to camps further east.
Petr spoke of overcrowded conditions, where families were torn apart, and the elderly and infirm suffered the most. Of the façade the Nazis maintained, misleading the outside world about the true nature of the ghetto. Tales of cultural events and performances held there—music, theater, and art—but also stories of hunger, disease, and ever-present fear. Josef’s words painted a vivid picture.
Kateřina softly sighed. “That’s not the worst of it. At least in Terezín, souls still draw breath.” Her voice faltered as she remembered the glass canisters. As the horrifying truth of their purpose took root, she watched Josef’s face pale, the shock in his eyes deepening, and his features contorted with horror and disbelief as if he’d been physically struck.
“They’re concocting a lethal poison, not for soldiers on the front lines, but for the defenseless—for men, women, and children.” The weight of her revelation hovered between them, a chilling reminder of humanity’s descent into darkness. Swallowing hard, Kateřina locked eyes with Josef, determination burning within. “And Josef, I promise you, I will do whatever it takes to find out where they’ve taken Hermina and the others. We cannot let this stand.”
The dim glow from a gas-powered streetlamp cast a flickering light over the cobbled streets, revealing brass gears embedded into the stones. These mechanized tracks previously allowed automatic carriages to navigate the streets of Prague with remarkable precision. Yet once the Nazi trucks and tanks rolled into town, those carriages had been parked for good.
They walked until they reached the path leading to the front steps of the home she shared with Father. Kateřina offered a quick goodbye, her breath catching. Their eyes met, and she was momentarily lost in the depths of his gaze, noticing faint gold flecks in his irises. An involuntary warmth spread across her cheeks.
“Be careful, Kat,” he murmured, running a hand through his dark hair. She was mesmerized by the way the faint light played upon his jawline and the curve of his lips.
She nodded, trying to calm the erratic beating of her heart. “Always,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.
Pulling away, she left Josef by the luminescent gaslight and approached her front door. The entrance to her townhouse was flanked by two ornate brass lion statues. The lion to the right whirred, and its eyes—a pair of glowing emeralds—blinked twice in recognition, allowing her entrance. She stole one last glance back at Josef, hoping the night shadows hid the yearning in her own eyes.
The door’s cog-and-gear mechanism opened smoothly. As she stepped onto the checkered marble floor, tiny steam vents in the walls released warm air, driving the chill from her bones. She aimed for the grand staircase with intricate ironwork railing shaped like intertwining serpents.
Yet, before she could ascend, a muffled conversation reached her ears—the hum of an electric gramophone mixed with deep, masculine voices from the sitting room. Heart pounding, she edged closer and pressed herself against the cool, ornate wallpaper, listening intently. The unexpected lightness in their conversation was unsettling.
“The advancements in Prague, especially in steam and aether technology, have been remarkable,” Sturmbannführer Langer’s voice floated, tinged with admiration.
Her father’s voice followed, a mixture of pride and nostalgia. “Indeed, they have. But even as the world hurtles forward, some things remain constant.” The rhythmic ticking of the gears from the room accompanied his words. “Times have evolved, Sturmbannführer Langer, but alliances built on shared ambitions are the lifeblood of our endeavors.”
There was a momentary pause before Sturmbannführer Langer chuckled, a deep, resonant sound contrasting with the delicate machinery around them. “To history and innovation. And to the world, we’ll shape once this war is behind us.”
Kateřina’s brow furrowed. The joviality in their conversation was jarring, given the day’s events. What could they possibly be planning?
Taking a deep breath, Kateřina rounded the corner, noting the men amidst a backdrop of moving gears, cog-laden wallpapers, and a fireplace where green flames danced, fueled by alchemical concoctions. “Father, Sturmbannführer Langer,” she greeted. “How unexpected to see you at this late hour.”
“Please, as I have pleaded before, call me Hilbert.”
“I was just heading to my bedroom, Herr Hilbert,” Kateřina deflected. “It’s been a long day. Goodnight.” She turned, feeling the weight of Hilbert’s gaze on her back.
“And where have you been?” Hilbert’s question pierced the air. “Out late, are you not?”
Kateřina turned, a practiced smile on her lips. “Once I heard of the assassination attempt, I rushed to Josefov. Who else could’ve been behind it?” She added a note of theatrical intrigue, making it sound like the makings of a riveting tale. “I wasn’t allowed inside, of course, but I lingered long enough to see the Jews being rounded up. Such drama, such tension—perfect for a story, don’t you think?”
“And did you find your story?” Hilbert asked.
The question caught her off guard and scrambling for a response. Then inspiration struck. “The sun rises over Prague, casting shadows over cobbled streets as whispers of rebellion stir in hidden alleyways. In a city poised on the brink of change, its people are torn between loyalty and hope. The question on everyone’s lips: who is our enemy?”
Her father’s jaw dropped slightly; eyes widened in disbelief. Hilbert, on the other hand, raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed.
She continued, finding her rhythm. “And sometimes our true enemy is the very neighbor one shares a wall with or the familiar face from the market.”
“That’s quite the narrative, Miss Kateřina. You’ve painted a vivid picture that many can resonate with.”
Feeling the balance of power subtly shift, she offered a slight smirk. “Every good journalist knows always to be prepared with a captivating lead, even during unexpected encounters.”
Her father cleared his throat. “Indeed. Perhaps we should use that in tomorrow’s edition, Sturmbannführer Langer?”
Hilbert nodded. “I agree. The essence of your story touches upon the underlying tensions that simmer beneath the surface. It’s too compelling to ignore.”
She paused, gauging Hilbert’s reaction. Should she ask him about the fate of the Jews rounded up tonight? No. Hilbert’s leader had been targeted, and she needed to tread carefully. To show too much interest in the Jews might make her suspicious.
She shifted her tone quickly, allowing a hint of concern to bleed. “Compelling and shocking. Is our great leader . . . is he going to be alright?” Her eyes sought his, trying to convey genuine care and concern.
“He’s alive,” Hilbert said, apprehension in his gaze. “Badly wounded, though. They’re doing everything they can.”
“Such a terrible thing to happen. Who could’ve been behind this?” Kateřina’s gaze darted between the two men, her father and Hilbert. It struck her as strange, this camaraderie amidst the storm.
“These are not things to discuss tonight. Today was shocking, but soon we will remember who we are—conquerors.” Hilbert cleared his throat, looking mildly amused. “To lighten the mood, Kateřina, there’s a gathering aboard an airship in two weeks. With Prague’s elite in attendance and history in the making, wouldn’t it be prudent to have someone documenting the events?”
“With all due respect, Herr Hilbert,” she began, treading cautiously, “that is far in the future, considering what transpired today. The city’s on edge, and people are scared. It’s hardly cause for celebration.”
Hilbert leaned back, his smirk unwavering, his eyes a cold shade of calculation. “Ah, Kateřina,” he chuckled. “You underestimate the strategy at play. The world might see it as an assassination attempt, but we view it as a godsend. What better excuse to round up ten thousand of our enemies? This act of defiance gives us the pretext we need.”
“So, you’re saying this whole situation . . . is favorable?”
Her father shot her a warning glance, but she didn’t back down and waited for an answer.
Hilbert’s laughter was chilling, devoid of warmth. “Very much so. Reports suggest that Heydrich will make a full recovery. It’s as if our adversaries delivered a gift right into our laps—a reason to exert our force without drawing the world’s censure.”
“That’s one way to look at it, I suppose.” Then she smiled, considering his veiled invitation. “And this gathering . . . I assume that was an invitation?”
“Yes, of course.” Hilbert cocked an eyebrow, waiting for a response.
She recognized the opportunity for what it was—a double-edged sword. One slip could spell doom, yet the potential insights she could gain from this event were invaluable. “I’m intrigued,” she said, feigning nonchalance. “It’s an honor to be invited.”
Hilbert’s eyes twinkled, a hint of genuine amusement. “Ah, the world seen from the skies offers a different vantage point. Besides, one never knows the alliances one might forge in such settings.”
Hiding the fear that caused her stomach to tense, Kateřina replied with a practiced smile, “Thank you. I’ll make sure it’s a night to remember.”
Her mind was already racing ahead, plotting and planning her next moves. The airship event would be both an opportunity and a challenge. She needed to be prepared.
Katarina’s room was a symphony of whirring gears and ticking clocks. Antique airships sailed through the hazy skies in miniature, their bronze hulls glinting in the dim light, suspended from the ceiling by delicate chains. A curious collection of figurines from old Czech fairy tales lay on the wall-mounted shelves, framed by brass and worn leather. Tales that spoke of adventures and lessons, of good and evil, and of the human spirit triumphing against all odds.
Kateřina’s fingers traced the contours of a rusalka, the water nymph of Czech legends, her steely blue eyes shimmering with a deep-seated wisdom that transcended her porcelain form. But as Kateřina’s gaze drifted, her hand stilled over a figure that sent a sharp pang through her heart—the Golem of Prague.
A lump grew in her throat as her mind wandered to the haunting, twisting alleyways of the Jewish district. There, stories of old intermingled with the present-day horrors she was still piecing together. She reached for a tiny replica of one of the buildings from the district, its ornate architecture captured in stunning detail. The weight of it felt solid, almost grounding in her palm. Yet, its implications made her heart race, linking today’s mysteries to age-old legends. It was as if their quest had always been destined, interwoven into the tapestry of Prague’s past, present, and future.
A rush of memories from earlier in the day invaded her mind. Conversations overheard and questions answered. More questions building and glances exchanged. It all began to piece together. Yet, in the center of this evolving puzzle was something she hadn’t genuinely reckoned with for years—faith.
Between volumes of tales and fables, a sacred book awaited her attention. Its aged leather cover, weathered by time, whispered stories and teachings from bygone eras. The Bible—a connection between the fleeting now and the timeless beyond. Memories of her grandmother and tales of faith merged, underscoring the enduring strength of stories.
Kateřina yearned to connect with the intangible in an era dominated by steam, mechanics, and palpable truths. She settled onto her bed, its blue coverlet soft beneath her, and carefully opened the pages of the Bible. Should she delve into it? Was its message still pertinent in this day and age? Or was it merely another collection of tales, not unlike the other stories on her shelf?
She pondered the golem, recalling the tales she had heard. God had often worked through people. Yet instances of God employing creatures to assist His people were few in her memory. Still, there were some. He’d directed Jonah to his destination with the aid of a great fish. He’d even enabled a donkey to speak, delivering through it a vital message. Nonetheless, she had witnessed the golem firsthand. Remarkably, she felt a profound connection with the creature’s essence.
Kateřina read the thin pages of the book. It had fallen open to the book of Job. She’d read it before—or at least part of it. It was a sad story of a rich man who lost everything after God agreed to allow Satan to attack him. Yes, Job remained faithful, but at what cost?
Behold now behemoth, which I made with thee; he eateth grass as an ox.
Lo now, his strength is in his loins, and his force is in the navel of his belly.
He moveth his tail like a cedar: the sinews of his stones are wrapped together.
His bones are like strong pieces of brass; his bones are like bars of iron.
Bars of iron? In one of her writing classes in college, she’d learned that Job was poetry, and she understood the bars of iron were most likely thick bones, but she couldn’t help but think of the golem.
Kateřina read the words again. Another phrase caught her attention. Then will I also confess unto thee that thine own right hand can save thee.
She needed to assist Josef and the resistance. They depended on her to gather information about the Jews who had been taken. She could potentially uncover vital details. But such endeavors came with peril. If discovered, she might face arrest or even execution. And yet, wasn’t that the grim fate many in the city were already confronting? Like lambs led to the slaughter.
Thy own right hand can save thee. Goosebumps rose on her arms as she read the words again. Yes, there were times when God swept down and destroyed wickedness, as with the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah. But more often, God used ordinary people to do his great work.
Kateřina pushed the book to the side and leaned back against her pillow. I promised to try. I have to do it. I am risking my life, but the people who need me will lose theirs if I do not act.
A low hum from outside the window drew her attention. She saw some sort of contraption, a machine resembling a disk, hovering midair. Kateřina yelped, the Bible slipping from her as she almost dropped it. Cautiously she investigated, opening the window and waiting as the disk hovered in place.
“What are you?” she whispered to the flying machine, her voice a mix of awe and curiosity. She hadn’t expected a response, but then she spotted a small piece of paper secured to the underside of the disk. “Have you brought something for me?” she inquired, carefully detaching the note.
Unfurling the note, Kateřina’s eyes raced over the meticulous handwriting, each curve and bend of the letters evoking memories of the day’s events.
The Germans have increased their presence in Josefov. We must lay low. Two weeks from today meet me at midnight at the old synagogue. Trust no one else. We must keep safe our guardian. JL.
Josef.
Kateřina felt a thud in her chest.
Our guardian, Golem.
The resurgence of this ancient protector was a beacon of hope in dire times. Yet why was she the one to whom the golem listened? She wanted to question, but the why didn’t matter. Yet her answer did. To meet Josef would take her down a path with even greater danger. This was more than a story now.
Shifting her gaze from the open window to the open pages of the Bible, Kateřina’s gaze again settled on a passage from the book of Job: Though he slay me, yet will I trust in him. The words, laden with perseverance and faith amidst suffering, gripped her. Kateřina felt a bridge connecting her present to these age-old truths. Like Job, her journey was one of deepening trust.
Looking back to the hovering disk, she noticed something attached to the top of it. It was the same key Josef had used to the clock shop—an unmistakable sign of trust. Attached to it was another slip of paper. Unfolding the new note, she read: “If something happens to me, tell our story.” She pondered the word “our.” Josef wasn’t just referring to himself and the golem. She, too, was now interwoven into this narrative.
The hovering disk, sensing her contemplation, gave a gentle nod, urging her to decide. She knew that somewhere out there Josef maneuvered the small flying machine and waited.
Kateřina approached her desk and the comforting scent of pencil shavings. She wrote swiftly, her response simple:
Understood. Two weeks. Midnight.
She attached her reply to the disk’s clip, watching as the mechanical messenger disappeared into the embrace of the night.
A flood of emotions swelled within her: growing concern over Josef’s cryptic message, awe of the golem’s legend, and newfound courage rooted in ancient Scriptures. Kateřina was no longer merely a journalist or a friend. She had become an integral thread in a tapestry of faith and resistance that had spanned this land for centuries.
Over the last two weeks, a whirlwind of emotions had enveloped Kateřina. There was an uneasy anticipation tinged with a profound sense of dread, especially about being Hilbert’s date at a prestigious gathering that would include Nazi officers and the upper crust of Prague society. The city had been on edge ever since the death of Reinhard Heydrich six days prior. Prague’s citizens, already bearing the brunt of the occupation, faced even more severe repercussions.
