Even out in the woods the festivals and holidays were observed. Sukkot was celebrated with particular poignancy, the makeshift shelters of the forest reminding them all of the small booths they had constructed on their porches back in the villages. “So it has been and so it shall always be,” an elderly man commented. “Once more we are in the wilderness, fleeing the evil oppressor.”
“But this time we have no Moses,” one of the younger partisans commented bitterly, “and there is no promised land awaiting us.”
Maksim respected the routines and strictures of the older generation, without particularly participating in them. He never sent out partisans on the Sabbath, but neither did he join in the prayers led by rebbe Lazer. Some of the young partisans ridiculed the devout, but Maksim would always reprimand them, quietly but firmly.
After the incident on sentry duty, Yael retreated to her spot in the dugout. She slept badly that night, dreaming of Aleksei and then of Maksim, and confusing the two. She woke in the middle of the night, and lay for hours in the darkness, listening to the sound of breathing, the weeping of an old woman, an endless soft accompaniment to the snoring of rebbe Lazer, like a brook falling across stones. A child murmured and was quietened by its mother. Yael pictured Aleksei, and held her two hands over her belly. I will make my way back to you, she said to herself. I promise you I will be back just as soon as I can. She said the words over and over.
From inside her jacket she pulled out the photograph of Josef. It had become dog-eared and tattered. She gazed silently at his handsome face, the small, lop-sided grin, his open, relaxed stance in that little photographer’s shop in Selo. And she wept for all that had been lost. She wept for her father and mother who she had not had a chance to say goodbye to. For the life that had been taken away and could never be restored.
She was concerned Maksim would misunderstand her behaviour, and resolved to apologise to him the following day. But Maksim had already left when she rose. He had gone off on a raid with three of the partisans Anna told her. He did not return for five days.
The weather had turned colder, and then as the weak light of day faded, it began to snow, large, heavy flakes that fell fast through the still air. At first the flakes melted when they touched the ground, but by late evening the forest floor glistened with a thin covering. By morning it was carpeted thickly. The snow was useful to the partisans, as it showed German troop movements up clearly. It was useful, too, to the Germans, leaving as it did clear markers to the partisan hideaways.
Yael had begun to grow heavier. The limited diet kept her small but, by the turn of the year, her belly was distended and her breasts had begun to swell. As she found moving about more difficult, Yael withdrew into herself. Often she would find herself weeping, and when Anna, or the young girl Esther crouched down beside her to offer comfort, she was not able to explain the reason for her tears.
“I’m not unhappy,” she cried to Anna. “Quite the opposite, I feel full of life, of joy. I don’t know why I am crying.” Anna seemed bewildered, but Esther nodded, as if she understood.
When finally Maksim returned, he continued to treat Yael with care and quiet affection. He kept his distance, however, and they were rarely alone. In the long, dark evenings, she wished he would come over and sit with her. She longed for his company.
As the endless, snowy days passed, she found herself spending more time concentrated on her body. She was hungry constantly, and her back had begun to ache as the baby grew larger and heavier. Occasionally when she moved around, she had palpitations and was forced to lie back down on her bunk, calming her breathing. She did not want to feel that she was a burden on the others, but found she had less and less energy. Often all she wanted to do was sleep.
Towards the end of February, Anna brought over to Yael the old woman who had first noticed she was pregnant.
“Bóbe,” she said, gently, “what do you think? Say a few words over her.”
When the old woman looked at her, Yael was not sure whether it was fear or disdain etched across her face. She shied away now, not wishing to sit down.
“What is it, Bóbe?” Anna whispered.
The woman shook her head. She hesitated, as if unsure whether she wanted to say what was on her mind.
“There is madness,” she said, finally, her voice thin and cracked. She wiped some invisible thing from the surface of her skin, closing her eyes, as if she were better able to see this way. “There is something about this child,” she said, her voice low, little more than a throaty whisper that was hard to catch. “It is borne in darkness.”
Yael felt the hair on the back of her neck standing on end. Instinctively she covered her stomach with her two hands, cradling the bump, feeling the taut skin hard beneath her dress.
“Will it be a healthy birth?” Anna asked.
The old woman paused. She opened her eyes again and looked at Yael. The look was so frank and intense that Yael felt intimidated. She reached out an old and withered hand and moved away Yael’s fingers. “You must beware of any with the evil eye,” she said seriously. “You must beware of Lilith. She will bring harm to the unborn child if you are not protected and constantly on guard.”
“Lilith?” Anna asked.
“Lilith, the first wife of Adam, formed from the sediments of earth, she is evil. Ever since the Holy One, blessed be He, took away her own children she has sought to avenge herself on young mothers.”
She reached into her pocket and pulled something out. Taking Yael’s hand she pressed the object into her palm, folding the fingers tight around it. Gripping her hands, she threw back her head and began to mutter loudly. “By this Most Holy Eye, I command all evil eyes to be gone, to depart and flee away from the wearer of this amulet and to have no power over her. And by the power of this most Holy Charm, the forces of evil shall have no authority over you, neither when you sleep nor when awake…”
Maksim, hearing the sound of the old woman’s voice, glanced over. A small crowd of the elderly and the young had gathered around Yael’s bunk, as the old woman prayed. He stood up sharply, knocking over the wooden stool he had fashioned for himself.
“What is this?” he said, coming over.
The old woman’s hand shot out and he fell back, momentarily astonished at the authority of the gesture. She had switched to Hebrew. The words seemed to be coughed from the very back of her throat, spat out, harsh rushes of air. She pressed her hand down on Yael’s belly so hard she let out a cry. Maksim stepped forward again.
“Enough!” he called out. “Stop that!”
Everyone fell suddenly silent. The old woman let go of Yael and turned. Maksim seemed nervous of her. He glanced around. The faces turned from him, looked down at the beaten earth floor of the dugout. The old woman stumbled away across the room to the bunk she occupied on the far side.
“Are you okay?” Maksim bent down beside Yael, and reached out and touched her forehead, which was damp with sweat, despite the cold. Mutely, Yael nodded. She opened her fist and gazed at the simple amulet stuck against her palm. A tiny leather box tied to two leather thongs. She recognised the kímpet-tsetl, the childbirth amulet many expectant mothers had worn in the shtetl, blessed if possible by some tsádik. On it was written the words of Psalm 121. Maksim stood and walked away.
“What did she mean, do you think?” Esther whispered to her later as they lay together on the narrow bunk, the little girl’s arm snaked around her large belly. “When she said there is madness?”
“I don’t know,” Yael said thinking of Aleksei. Their narrow, damp home seemed suddenly oppressive beyond bearing. She felt as if she had been buried alive. It was hard to breathe. She recalled Eva’s story of how she had been buried beneath the bodies of the dead and of how the soldiers had spread the earth over them. Sitting up she pressed her head against the crude wood panelling of the wall. Her heart thumped and she felt faint.
“Get Maksim,” she croaked to Esther. “I’m suffocating.”