The Willow Wren Philipp Schott (best free e book reader TXT) 📖

Walpurgis Night they gathered on the Brocken, a high mountain in the Harz, perhaps 200 kilometres to the northwest as the broomstick flies. Every German child knew this. Many people in the city dismissed these tales, but in the countryside, people still believed. They had more evidence for their belief because that is where the witches were. Witches did not go into the cities. The Colditzer Forst was safe though. I had seen absolutely no evidence of witches here. As this train of thought ran along it took a disturbing turn. I was still standing in the small clearing, with my canvas bag half full of red currants in my right hand. I decided to sit on a tree stump. I had seen no evidence of witches, but then it occurred to me that I really did not know what that evidence would be. A witch would not leave a broomstick lying about, or a cauldron, or live in a candy house like in Hansel and Gretel. That was a silly fairy story, but most of those had some dim and distant basis in fact. It was certainly possible that witches ate children. Probable even. I had never seen the bones of children or their clothing anywhere in the forest either. Was this evidence that there were no witches here? It was, I realized, very difficult to prove that something or some person, such a witch, was absent. One could always reason that one had missed the signs. Perhaps the witch was very good at hiding. Seeing a witch would definitively prove that she was present, but not seeing her was logically far less definitive.

This was as far as that train of thought would take me. Witches probably existed and I could not prove that one was not living in this forest. Nonetheless I felt safe in the forest and I reasoned that a witch always got her victims through trickery, and I was too smart to fall for that. The Rübezahl was a complication, however, as he could apparently also look like a feeble old woman in need of my assistance. But I was still not convinced that he was anything more than a Silesian folk tale conjured up to make people behave and to explain wild mountain weather. Moreover, there were plenty of mountainous areas in central Germany for him to go if he was real and on the move. There was no need to stop in the Colditzer Forst. And giants moved pretty quickly. Anna and Hans were younger than me and even a year or two difference at that age made a tremendous difference in wisdom.

Chapter Thirty-Four

October 8, 1945

Mama suddenly said, “I need to go to Rochlitz. The baby is coming.”

Rochlitz was ten kilometres to the south and had the only functioning hospital in the district. The Russians had dismantled the major rail lines going east but had left some of the smaller spur lines alone, so an antique coal-powered train with one passenger car had begun making the journey to Rochlitz again. The glass was missing from all of its windows, which was increasingly an issue as the weather turned cooler and damper. Cardboard had been provisionally nailed in place over parts of most of the windows to keep out the worst of the weather, but there was no power in the train car and some natural light was needed. The train was always absolutely crammed full too, with every available surface sat upon and stood upon. And it stank — the acrid stink of cheap brown-coal smoke and the reek of anxious people who did not have enough hot water to consistently do laundry or bathe themselves properly. Nonetheless there was no choice. Mama could not walk, so she would have to take the train. Theodor went with her and I was left in charge of the little ones. It was not clear when they would return, although Theodor said that he would likely be back before Mama.

About two weeks prior we had had a stroke of good fortune. An old lawyer colleague of Papa’s had been kept on by the Soviets in a low-level administrative position in the town of Colditz. He had done a good job of keeping his Nazi affiliation secret, but the Nazis kept thorough records. Many of these records had been hastily destroyed, but this gentleman’s had not and the Russians were gradually working their way through the document archives until they came upon his file. I never met the gentleman and I do not recall his name, but I know that the details of his Nazi membership were enough to get him fired, although not enough to have him imprisoned. This all sounds like misfortune so far, but I am getting to the good fortune, for us anyway. This ex-Nazi, ex–town administrator subsequently left Colditz and because he knew about our bad situation and what had happened to Papa, he pulled whatever strings he was still able to pull to allow us to move into his old apartment. It was directly across the lane from the brewery, so the move was easy. It was still far below what we had been used to in Leipzig in terms of comfort, style and size, but it was much roomier than the back of the brewery where we had been. The biggest change was that we would now each have our own bed! The impact of this cannot be understated. Mama had been sharing her bed with Oskar, Johann and Clara, while Theodor and I had been sleeping on the floor in the other room. To go from one bed to six felt like the gates of heaven had been thrown open for us. They were small simple beds mind you, and soon there would be seven of us and some bed sharing would be happening again, but none of this diminished the delight we all felt.

This was the first time I was alone in charge of my