Eliška looked chastised, as if she were about to be unjustly punished.
Aleš grasped her shoulders. “We’re going to play a game, all right, Eliška?”
The girl tucked in her chin, and Magda could see that she did not believe him.
“Nobody except Magda or me is allowed to let you out.”
“But why?” Eliška asked.
“Because that’s the game.” Aleš’s voice sounded strained. “You like playing new games, right?”
The girl nodded again as a tear rolled down the side of her face. Magda tried an encouraging smile, but Eliška resisted when Aleš coaxed her toward the hiding place.
From below, truck doors slammed and voices fired commands. Aleš stood and grabbed the circumcision box from Magda’s hands and threw it open on the bed. “There should be opium.”
Magda handed him the vial Dr. Tauber had pointed out earlier, had said it would never be used for the ceremony, but just in case…
Aleš popped it open, used his forefinger, and then told Eliška to open her mouth. She obeyed. He rubbed the girl’s gums with his finger. “This is a magic potion, Eliška, part of the game. You’re Sleeping Beauty, and I will be the prince who wakes you up.”
Magda covered her mouth and bit her palm, the sob stuck in her throat.
Aleš lifted one of the goose-down covers.
“Go on, my little finch,” Magda said.
Obediently, whether from shock or trust, Eliška slipped between the two coverlets but protested as he lowered the top one over her.
Her hand appeared from beneath the cover. “It’s dark, Aleš. Don’t leave me here alone.”
Below them, dogs began barking.
Coming into the kitchen, Magda nearly jumped back at the sight of Frau Koenig’s rigid stance, as if she had been waiting for her all the time Magda had been gone.
“Where have you been?” the woman demanded. Her hair had been scraped back into a severe crown of braids. Her cheeks were flushed, and her hands were holding her enormous belly as if she were showcasing a trophy.
Jana was cutting up old bread as if nothing unusual was happening. A bowl of apples lay browning in the warm kitchen.
Magda raised the sack containing the meagre list of items and dropped it onto the table. “Supplies.”
“I thought you went yesterday,” Frau Koenig said. “I sent you out for them yesterday.” She grabbed the sack, pulled it to her, and opened it. “Where are the tins of milk? Where is the sugar? Ration cards for pregnant wives—for officers’ wives—secure special provisions!”
Feigning repentance, Magda lowered her eyes beneath the woman’s glare. Lying, and pretending. Renata said it would become easier with regular use. “I’m sorry, Frau Koenig.”
“And the supply train?” The woman was easing her way toward hysteria. “You missed the first run to the supply train?”
Looking as remorseful as possible, Magda said, “Nearly emptied by the time I arrived. I had to trade just to get all this.”
“All this?” Frau Koenig balled one hand into a fist, her face a blend of despair and fury. “What should I do with this rubbish? What good are my ration coupons if we can’t get the things we need? We have six guests coming to dinner tonight.”
Jana cast Magda an irritated look, then shrugged at Frau Koenig. “I’ll make do, Frau Koenig. Always do. I’ve still got some things in the garden. Perhaps you would like to go up to the library and we’ll bring you a cup of tea. You really ought to have a rest.”
Frau Koenig shifted on swollen feet and rubbed her hands along her sides. “I won’t have this.” But she had deflated. “This is what? The second, third time it’s happened?”
Magda glanced at Frau Koenig’s belly. Four times. Four times in three months.
Jana touched her temple, giving the woman a knowing look. “She had one of her spells again.”
Frau Koenig huffed and cast another resentful look at the sack. “Spells or no spells, the lieutenant colonel will certainly hear about this. One of these days I will get the whole story about what happened to your face, Magd.”
Magda tensed beneath Frau Koenig’s rising anger and looked at the floor to save herself.
“And draw me a bath!”
As soon as the woman stormed out, Jana went to Magda and patted her shoulder. “It’s over for now.”
Magda shook her head. “Magd,” she jeered.
On the day of Samuel’s Bris Milah, the lieutenant colonel had wasted no time in requisitioning the villa and replacing Aleš with new personnel. Koenig double-checked records, making certain that the new groundskeeper could prove at least four generations of German lineage. Jana could, so he decided that she and Magda would be left for his wife to decide their fates. The day Frau Koenig had arrived to Villa Liška, she had ordered them to line up before her, as if on roll call. Frau Koenig—with a bark of a laugh—said she would keep Magda on, as Magd in German meant “servant” anyway. Besides, what with the birthmark and crooked nose, the scar beneath her eye, Magda—Frau Koenig had assured herself aloud—would keep her head down and do as she was told. Who else would want to hire someone with such an ugly list of disfigurements? After they were dismissed, she had stopped Magda.
“I have my eye on you. Don’t think I don’t know how you were involved with that criminal groundskeeper. I know about his questioning, what he tried to do. I know how he protected you. I’ll have none of that in my prestigious home.”
Her prestigious home!
Jana pulled Magda out of her reverie with another touch. “I’ll deliver the tray to the library. You go upstairs and prepare that woman’s bath.”
When the bath was ready, Magda returned downstairs and halted at the bottom. There were fresh roses in Frau Tauber’s Venetian glass vase. They did not deserve to look that beautiful. Worse yet there was a new photograph next to it. Obersturmbannführer Richard Koenig. The dark hair swept to the side over a broad forehead. That penetrating gaze from protruding eyes. His square jaw, and collar, the SS
