Free The True Story of Hansel and Gretel by Louise Murphy Page A

shouldn’t take the children to the village.
    “Because the Karaites believe that boys should be cut.”
    “And when they tease you about it?”
    “Jesus was cut too. So why shouldn’t a Christian be the same?”
    “You won’t say that unless they’re pushing you hard. Who told you that about Jesus?”
    “The priest of the Karaites. They said it was true. I’m just like Jesus.” He wasn’t paying real attention. His mind was on the rooks that sat waiting for him to scare them off.
    Magda walked on. The girl was wary. There’d be no problem with her, but the boy was impulsive and too young. He had been quiet when the children came to her three weeks ago. Now Hansel jumped and ran and talked all day.
    It’s the food, Magda thought. Kasha and potatoes and turnips and the occasional bit of salt pork, dried mushrooms, and berries and herb tea. Tenaciously fastened on life, his body recovered. If only she had a little farm, a few pigs. Then she could do without the ration cards.
    Magda groaned as the cold crept up her legs and her hips began to ache. There was nothing for it. A guest in the house was God in the house. The old folk saying came to her.
    “Will we have to talk to the Germans, Magda?” Gretel fingered the plait of hair which hung down over her shoulder. Magda had braided it with her swollen fingers and tied it with string.
    “I can talk to them. I talked to them a lot. Look, Magda.” Hansel stopped walking and drew himself rigidly to attention. He clicked his heels and threw his arm out. “Heil Hitler!” he screamed. He held the pose for a moment and then relaxed and grinned at Magda. “Sometimes we got bread when we saluted.”
    “They won’t give you bread in the village if you do that. Too many mouths to feed. And if you act like a little Nazi, the village brats will beat you up.”
    “They won’t beat me up. I can fight. And I can run.” He ran down the road, around a curve and was gone. He slipped on the ice only once and with an acrobatic leap corrected his balance.
    Magda sighed.
    “He’ll be all right, Magda. I’ll watch him.”
    “He’s too young. He’ll kill us all.” Magda walked on, but it had become serious now. Forcing her brother to behave like the Christian he had always pretended to be had been amusing, but it wasn’t amusing anymore. It seemed an act of stupidity now. Trying to save two Jews.
    Like dancing with death, but maybe that was appropriate at her age. And her grandmother would have helped the children. The Grandmother would have spit on the ground and said, “Fuck the Germans. They don’t get their way every time.”
    Magda smiled at the thought. And the boy was almost like one of the Rom. How could she throw him away?
    Gretel didn’t ask if Magda was afraid. Everyone was afraid when they had to speak to the Germans. And if they didn’t speak to them, there would be no ration cards. Magda couldn’t feed them all winter on her card alone.
    “Hansel? Come back here.” Magda needed to collect the boy. She needed to walk into the village quietly, with no wild jumping and running and calling of attention. Two new children would be bad enough. Two new mouths to eat up what the Germans had portioned out for the village. No one would be happy to see them.
    Hansel trotted back, trying to slide on the icy road and slipping, falling, getting up with a grin, his cheeks red from the cold and the running. “I’m coming, Magda.”
    The boy took the old woman’s hand firmly and swung it as they walked on. She didn’t pull away, and the warmth of his hand gradually warmed her own.
    They smelled the village before they got there. It was the smell of smoke from wood fires, and mud churned up by feet and hooves and the hard round wheels of the carts.
    “It’s not the same,” Magda murmured.
    “What’s not the same?” Gretel smoothed her coat gently. It was a safe coat. There was no darker patch on her chest where a yellow star had been sewn and then torn off.