The execution has not been planned well. The scaffolds have been built too close to the Weitzmanns’ house, where the condemned prisoners are held. The quintet has little time to reflect on their last moments, and the mob has no space in which to cheer and jeer. Instead of being led through the crowd, the guards and prisoners advance down a side street. Those who blink at the wrong moment because of the blinding sunlight miss the procession altogether and by the time they reopen their eyes, they find that the prisoners are already tied to the poles.
Novak stands to one side and observes the unfolding of events. He has no wish to participate in the execution proceedings and he has no power to stop them. He watches Dodek scurrying back and forth, brandishing papers. There can be no doubt now: someone who is not Novak is running the show. The hangmen are obviously rookies. It would surprise him if they knew how to tie a noose. There’s the beginning of a new era: everything must be done with haste while patience is considered the Devil’s work.
This general state of carelessness gives the condemned companions more time to accept their hour of reckoning. There’s neither pomp nor circumstance. The hangmen put the rope around their necks with the indifference of tailors taking measurements for new clothes. The stools on which the prisoners stand have been carried out from various houses, each is of a different height and colour. A circus, that’s what this execution is.
Of the five, Shleiml Cantor is the only one to lose his composure when the noose is tightened around his neck.
He tries singing “Adon Olam”, yells “Help!” at Olga and then turns to the crowd. “This is the Father!” he shouts, pointing at Zizek Breshov. “The Father!”
A subdued Zvi-Meir Speismann does not scan the crowd for his wife and children. Before his capture, he had finished putting together what was to be his final sermon. It was tremendous, a speech not to be forgotten, words that were to enter the annals of history. But now his lips are sealed, and his one hand feels the empty space left by the three missing fingers of the other.
Patrick Adamsky requires special treatment. Half-conscious, he can only stand if he is supported on both sides, but he protests – can’t they see that Ada is trying to rock their baby to sleep in her arms? Shush, quiet please! People are pigs.
Zizek Breshov stares at the crowd. Does he really? Well, his eyes are open. His tongue feels the scar in his mouth, and, wishing he could smoke, he is reminded of the tobacco box he was robbed of on the road to Telekhany. This scene should frighten Zizek to the point of petrification. But the truth is that he hasn’t felt this tranquil for a very long time. When the child Yoshke Berkovits rode into that accursed night with Leib Stein the abductor and his pack of thugs, he knew that a chasm had opened up between him and Motal. On one side of the abyss he stood together with the Avramson brothers, while on its other side stood, well, everything else. One is born into the bosom of one’s family. A baby utters a word and immediately seeks its parents’ approval. It stands on its feet and looks to them for reassurance. From morning until evening, it is told that it means the world to them. Then one fine day the world sacrifices the boy to Moloch. His parents go into mourning, the congregation feels as if a piece of its own flesh has been torn away, but the world keeps turning. Overnight, the boy comes to learn that his own world and the big wide world are not one and the same. He is left hanging like a loose bandage on a wound, waiting to be ripped off.
And now Zizek turns his calm, blue eyes to the square and recognises twelve-year-old Mina Gorfinkel in the crowd. She holds the tips of her hair and twists her braids, holding in her hand a rag doll her mother had made for her. Mina’s older brothers tease her, and Yoshke wants to help her but fears their reaction. His bones are on fire as she passes by and he knows he will never let her down. His family will finally overcome penury, once he becomes a revered scholar who will make Mina proud. He aches to approach her but worries that his tongue will fail him. Then she is gone. Oh well. They have their entire lives ahead of them. The world will bring them together, one step at a time, and Motal will celebrate their unification in holy matrimony.