Chapter Text
They reached Kolín safely and in heavy silence. At Kuttenberg they split into smaller groups, each of which went a different way, leaving Kuttenberg in various intervals. A meeting place was agreed upon, as well as a time to wait for the arrivals of the last latecomers before entering the town of Kolín. While Samuel and the rabbi arranged the move and gave instructions to their men, Liechtenstein nervously paced nearby. Henry and Kubyenka had left, leaving him alone among people whose language he did not understand and to whom he did not belong, even though he had spent the last weeks in their midst. With awkward clumsiness he tried to console some of the mourners, but they did not seem to appreciate his efforts; he felt almost like an intruder who had no business being here, and so he did not interfere in the planning of the journey to Kolín, waiting to hear what Samuel would say.
Tears rose in his smoke-filled eyes. Or were they tears of regret?
He noticed the way Samuel looked at him awhile in a heated discussion with the rabbi and the others, gesticulating furiously. He didn't need to understand Yiddish to grasp what they were discussing - it was a matter of which group he would ride in. Samuel came to tell him himself, embarrassed. John understood. No one knew if his presence would be a blessing or a burden to the group. Von Aulitz’s men would most likely want to take him alive, perhaps they wouldn't dare massacre the whole group, or at least be cautious enough to give the others a chance to fight - or flee. Or would they open fire without hesitation, and regardless of the fact that one of the group was Lord Liechtenstein?
“I will go alone,” Liechtenstein suggested, but Samuel would not hear of it.
“Nonsense. All of this didn't happen so that you'd get captured by the first bum you meet on the road.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“No!” Samuel touched John's arm apologetically, as if to soften the impact of his harsh rejection. “This isn't like poisoning someone's wine or stabbing them in the ribs.”
“I can - ”
“You'll go with some guys you can count on.”
Liechtenstein bowed his head. “And what about you?”
“I'll stay here with the last group.” He noticed the way John was looking at him. “There’s no other way. I'll meet you in Kolín. Zaj gezunt.”
“Zaj gezunt,” Liechtenstein repeated quietly. With the conversation over, Sam let go of his hand, leaving him at the mercy of his thoughts, from which he was only snapped out of by a man who invited him to join their group. At least they had horses; they were scarce, many of the survivors had to make the journey on foot, as the wagons were predominantly for the wounded and old.
The journey passed quickly, although John found the silence unbearable. He didn't even know anyone in his group by name, and none of his companions seemed interested in getting acquainted. He felt more like a prisoner than a protected member of the group, but as soon as self-pity came to his mind, he had to restrain himself. It wasn't him who had lost his home, friends, and maybe even relatives in the city; it wasn't him who had lost everything. His life had value even to their potential pursuers; no one would think twice about the lives or deaths of his companions.
Tears flooded his eyes again, only this time he was too far away from the fire to blame them on it.
With the last group of their strange caravan, led by Sam, arriving at Kolín, John hoped that the heavy feeling in his chest would go away. They were safe now, as safe as they could be, they had all survived the journey unscathed, and soon the wounded would be well cared for - but instead of relief, new doubts flooded his mind. What would happen to Samuel now? Will he stay here with his people? And what will happen to him? He didn't belong here; he couldn't stay here; it was bad enough that he had brought one disaster with his presence -
Sam smiled wearily but gratefully as he saw him standing apart from the others. He rushed closer to embrace him. “I'm glad nothing happened on the way here.”
For a brief moment in Samuel's embrace, everything seemed fine to John. That it had all been a bad dream they'd both had in the cellar of Kuttenberg, and that he would wake up, still in their embrace, his head aching from the wine he'd drunk.
The features of Sam's face seemed to have hardened today. He stepped back, wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, and exhaled. Liechtenstein wished he knew what to say now. He, ever so eloquent, searched in vain for words. He took Samuel's hand, but that was all he could do; he kept looking over his shoulder at others, and it was clear that he couldn’t for a long moment gather the courage to do more. He drew several breaths without uttering a word. Then he shook his head and rubbed his eyes with his free hand.
“I'm sorry - “ he blurted out. Only then did he look at Samuel. “I know it won't make any difference. But I'm sorry.”
“We must be grateful to Henry for warning us.”
Liechtenstein bit his trembling lip and nodded.
“It could have been worse,” Sam continued.
The tension in John's chest had reached an unbearable point. The tears he'd managed to hold back for the past few hours finally ran down his cheeks. He stood motionless in front of Samuel for several painful seconds before a heart-wrenching sob forced its way from his throat. He could no longer see through the veil of tears, he could only feel Sam's caring hand take his shoulders and gently pull him closer, into an embrace, as he buried his face into Samuel's shoulder.
Then he started sobbing uncontrollably.
“John - “ Sam's quiet voice was like a balm to the soul. “We did what we could. God knows we saved as many as we were able to.”
“But it wasn't enough!”
Sam's hand, which had been stroking John’s back soothingly, stopped. “You need to pull yourself together,” he whispered, taking Liechtenstein by the shoulders. “Do you understand?” He stepped back, touched Liechtenstein's cheek as if to force him to look him in the eye. “This isn't going to help anyone now.”
He spoke in a firm, determined voice, shaking John's slumped shoulders as if to rouse him from the fit of self-pity. He'd always been pragmatic and managed to keep his cool; even now he seemed to have no time for any self-pity from anyone.
‘We need to get into the town and get help for the wounded, we can't just drop them off and leave them to their own devices - the locals will take good care of them, I'm sure, but we need to help them as much as we can - ’
Liechtenstein nodded, wiping away his tears. We, we must, we can’t. He felt like it concerned him too, but only until Samuel asked directly, “What about you?”
“I'll help with whatever is necessary - ’
“You’re free to go now.”
“Sam.”
“No. This isn't your fight.” For a moment, Sam's eyes softened and he took Liechtenstein's arm. “You don't belong here. You can go. No one followed us here, if you take a horse you can be ... anywhere in a few hours. And God seems to hold a protective hand over you.”
John shook his head. He didn’t want to, he couldn’t, and yet he understood - there was a gulf between him and Samuel that they might not have seen in the cellar of the King Solomon pub in Kuttenberg, but tonight it opened up between them with all its horror.
Sam didn't have to say anything for John to understand.
Liechtenstein's life had a price, and a high one. The Jews of Kuttenberg were nothing but annoying insects swarming the prey.
“The sooner you leave here, the better - “ Sam hesitated. “For everyone. And you need better protection than we give you.” He took John by the shoulder and gestured for him to walk further away from others so they could have at least some privacy. “I promised Henry I'd join the group in the Devil's Den,” he said, squeezing John's hand urgently. Liechtenstein nodded faintly; he too had spoken to Henry, but he had refused to join Dry Devil's pack; if he didn't belong here, he didn't belong there either; and his sense of duty was calling him somewhere else entirely. “If you ever look for me. When it's safer for all of us - “
He lifted John's hand to his lips and pressed a quick, fleeting kiss to the back of it; the only tenderness he could - and wanted to - afford in this situation. His look said, I will wait.
“Ride towards Prague, as far away from Kuttenberg as possible, and only then to the south. Naar will give you a cloak and some hood. This,” he laid his hand lightly on John's blue silk quilt, “is like an open invitation for some bandits.” Then he released him from his grasp and stepped away. “And give Jobst our regards.”
Liechtenstein looked startled. Samuel almost felt sorry for him.
“I didn't say I'd go to him.”
Sam smiled wearily. “Where else would you go?"