The Midnight Circus, стр. 6
Itwas seven years and seven years and seven years again that the sealwife lived with him. The oldest of their sons was just coming to histwenty-first birthday, the youngest barely a man. It was on a gray day,the wind scarcely rising, that the boys all refused to go withMerdock when he called. They gave no reason but “Nay.”
“Wife,”Merdock called, his voice heavy and gray as the sky. “Wife, whose sonsare these? How have you raised them that they say nay to theirfather when he calls?” It was ever his custom to talk to Sel as if shereturned his words.
Tohis surprise, Sel turned to him and said, “Go. My sons be staying withme this day.” It was the voice of the singeron the beach, musical and low. And the shock was so great that he wentat once and did not look back.
Heset his boat on the sea, the great boat that usually took several mento row it. He set it out himself and got it out into the cove, put thenets over, and did not respond when his sons called out to him as hewent, “Father, fair wind!”
Butafter a bit the shock wore thin and he began to think about it. Hebecame angry then, at his sons and at his wife, who had long plaguedhim with her silence. He pulled in the nets and pulled on the oars andstarted toward home. “I, too, can say nay to this sea,” hesaid out loud as he rode the swells in.
Thebeach was cold and empty. Even the gulls were mute.
“Ido not like this,” Merdock said. “It smells of a storm.”
He beached theboat and walked home. The sky gathered in around him. At the cottagehe hesitated but a moment, then pulled savagely on the door. Hewaited for the warmth to greet him. But the house was as empty and coldas the beach.
Merdockwent into the house and stared at the hearth, black and silent. Then,fear riding in his heart, he turned slowly and looked over the door.
Thesealskin was gone.
“Sel!”he cried then as he ran from the house, and he named his sons in agreat anguished cry as he ran. Down to the sea-ledge he went, callingtheir names like a prayer: “James, John, Michael, George, William, Rob,Tom!”
Butthey were gone.
Therocks were gray, as gray as the sky. At the water’s edge was a pile ofclothes that lay like discarded skins. Merdock stared out far acrossthe cove and saw a seal herd swimming. Yet not a herd. A white seal andseven strong pups.
“Sel!”he cried again. “James, John, Michael, George, William, Rob, Tom!”
Fora moment, the white seal turned her head, then she looked again to theopen sea and barked out seven times. The wind carried the faint soundsback to the shore. Merdock heard, as if in a dream, the seven sealnames she called. They seemed harsh and jangling to his ear.
Thenthe whole herd dove. When they came up again they were but eight dotsstrung along the horizon, lingering for a moment, then disappearinginto the blue edge of sea.
Merdockrecited the seven seal names to himself. And in that recitation was asong, a litany to the god of the seals. The names were no longer harsh,but right. And he remembered clearly again the moonlit night when theseals had danced upon the sand. Maidens all. Not a man or boy withthem. And the white seal turning and choosing him, giving herself tohim that he might give the seal people life.
Hisanger and sadness left him then. He turned once more to look at the seaand pictured his seven strong sons on their way.
Heshouted their seal names to the wind. Then he added, under hisbreath, as if trying out a new tongue, “Fair wind, my sons. Fair wind.”
TheSnatchers
YOU COULD SAY IT ALL began in 1827 (though my part of it didn’t start until1963) because that was the year Tsar Nicholas I decided to draft Jewsinto the army. Before that, of course, only Russian peasants andundesirables hadto face the awful twenty-five-year service.
Butit was more than just service to the state the Jewish boys werecalled to do. For them, being in the army meant either starvation—forthey would not eat non-kosher food—or conversion. No wonder theirparents said kaddish for them when they were taken.
AfterTsar Nicholas’ edict, the army drafted sons of tax evaders and sons ofJews without passports. They picked up runaways and dissidents andcleaned the jails of Jews. Worst of all, they forced the kahal, theJewish Community Council, to fill a quota of thirty boys for everyone thousand Jews on the rolls—and those rolls contained the names of alot of dead Jews as well as living. The Russian censustakers were not very careful with their figures. It was the slaughterof the innocents all over again, and no messiah in sight.
Therichest members of the community and the kahal got their ownsons off, of course. Bribes were rampant, as were forgeries. Boys werereported on the census as much younger than they were, or they weregiven up for adoption to Jewish families without sons of their own,since single sons were never taken. And once in a while, a trulydesperate mother would encourage her sons to mutilate themselves, forthe army—like kosher butchers—did not accept damaged stock.
Inmy grandfather’s village was a family known popularly as Eight-Toesbecause that is how many each of the five sons had. They’d cut offtheir little toes to escape the draft.
Somany boys were trying in so many ways to avoid conscription that anew and awful profession arose amongst the Jews—the khaper. Hewas a kidnapper, a bounty hunter, a Jew against Jews.
MyAunt Vera used to sing an old song, but I didn’t know what it meantuntil almost too late:
I hadalready washed and said the blessing
When the snatcher walked right in.
“Where are you going?” he asks me.
“Tobuy wheat, to buy corn.”
“Ohno,” he says, “you are on your way,
Trying to escape . . .”
Oneof