Words on Fire

I wanted to argue and tell him that I had enough sense to take care of myself, but I also knew that if he hadn’t pulled me down here, I’d still be standing up in full view of the soldiers.

Lukas craned his head in the direction he intended for us to go and then began crawling. We weren’t taking the nearest exit—there were too many open spaces we’d have to cross. Instead, we were crawling toward the barn.

I’d thought there was a chance of some of the wedding guests stopping us from leaving. After all, if they were in harm’s way, why shouldn’t we be with them too? But they merely stepped forward or backward as needed to allow us to pass.

Or maybe they were only vaguely aware of us. The soldiers had begun their search, and it was one designed to destroy. Behind me, I saw the flutter of feathers being torn from the pillows the couple had received as gifts, and the crash of a pot on the ground as another gift was tossed heedlessly.

We had barely crossed inside the barn when I heard the thud on the ground. The book.

“What is this?” Rusakov called to his comrades. “What have we here?”

The partygoers had become absolutely silent, not a single person moving. Lukas pulled me to my feet, gesturing that we needed to run out the other end of the barn. But I couldn’t, not yet.

“Who gave this book to the bride and groom?” Officer Rusakov shouted. “Confess and save the others from your punishment!”

I took a deep breath and started to turn, but Lukas pulled me back, sharply shaking his head at me.

I shook my head back at him, desperately trying to communicate my thoughts. He had heard Rusakov as well as I did. Someone was going to be punished for that book and everyone out there was innocent. I couldn’t just stand here and let that happen.

“You have until the count of five,” Rusakov said. “Adeen, dva …”

Lukas tried to tug me away, but I yanked my hand back. He leaned toward my ear and whispered, “Everyone here will be punished anyway. Trust me.”

“Tree, chityri.” Rusakov hesitated, then, “Pyat’.” When still nobody confessed to giving the book, he said, “Search the village. If you find a second book, this town will burn.” Then he added, “Starting with that barn.”

This time, I didn’t need to be pulled. Lukas and I ran for our lives as torches were thrown inside the barn, the dry straw beneath our feet immediately bursting into flames. We raced through the other side and kept going until we had entered the nearest patch of trees. From there, I sank to my knees, sobbing. “That’s our fault, Lukas.”

“That’s the fault of the Cossack occupiers and the foolish laws of their tsar,” he corrected. “We can still help. I know some of the homes that have books. We must get as many out as we can, before the Cossacks get there.”

I stood again, ready to follow him anywhere. “Show me.”

We crept three roads past where the soldiers were searching, and even then, Lukas told me to be extra careful when crossing from one house to the other. We visited the first house together, knocking on the door. When an older gentleman answered, Lukas said, “They’re searching homes.”

The gentleman immediately nodded, thanked us in Lithuanian, then shut the door.

“He didn’t understand the problem!” I said as we hurried to the next house.

“He understood,” Lukas said. “But he was already prepared to hide his own books. He doesn’t need our help.”

No one answered at the second door, so we walked inside a small, single-room home. Lukas said, “Search everywhere the Cossacks would, but we only have two minutes. Hurry!”

There were few furnishings. Against one wall was a thin straw mattress on a rope bed frame, a spinning wheel, and a trunk for clothing. I lifted the mattress to check its weight, but it felt too light to hold any books within its seams. Next, I searched the trunk, and sure enough, at the bottom was the same Lithuanian prayer book I had just given to the new couple. I snatched it into my arms, then turned to see where Lukas had pulled a small pile of Lithuanian newspapers from beneath a stack of wood. He tossed them in the fireplace and lit a match.

I gripped the book in my hands. “You won’t—”

“Burn the book?” Lukas shook his head. “The newspapers are one thing, but I’ll never burn a book. That’s what they do. Take that one with us. We’ll find a better place to hide it and return it when this is over.”

Lukas directed me to the next home while he crossed the road to check the homes there. Word of what the Cossacks were doing must have begun to spread through the town, because I’d only knocked once when a woman opened the door with a stack of eight or nine books and thrust them into my arms. “Take them and go!” she cried.

Lukas had been given a small stack of books, too, and said, “Give your books to me and I’ll take them into the forest. You go and collect more books. Meet me where we were before. I’ll hide them there.”

I gave him my books, then ran another few roads ahead, always conscious of the shouted orders of the Cossacks in the homes not far behind me, fully aware that I could run right into them at any moment. Families in the first three homes I checked either assured me they had no books or that they were properly hidden, and the fourth home was empty, so I entered it to do a search, like before. I found a thin book in the back room and was just standing to leave when the door burst open with an announcement in Russian that a search for illegal items was to be undertaken.

I quickly stuffed the book between my shirt and skirt, then retied my apron tighter, hoping it would hold the weight of the book. It might, if I didn’t move too much. I was still working at the knot when the Cossack entered the room.

“Stoy!” he said. “Did you not hear me?”

He had shouted so loud, I’d heard it vibrate through my heart. He’d interpret my silence as hiding something, which I absolutely was.