The Hidden Saint by Mark Levenson

Author:Mark Levenson [Mark Levenson]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Level Best Books
Published: 2022-01-18T00:00:00+00:00

They came to the buskers’ commons and spied a short, stocky Cossack dragging a limp young woman into a dark building. The golem came up behind him, clamped a hand on his neck, and squeezed. The man dropped the woman as garbled sounds burbled from his throat. Shayna took the woman in her arms and gently lowered her to a grassy mound to recover.

As they entered the market square, a pair Cossacks, red tunics flapping about them like wings, charged them. The golem brought the men’s heads together, cracking them like eggshells, and moved on without waiting for them to fall. Beyond the square, they spied three Cossacks leaving a silversmith’s shop, their arms bulging with looted goods. The golem grabbed one of the men, lifted him, turned him upside down, and shook him as candlesticks, spice boxes, and a pitcher rained down with a clatter. The golem threw him at the other two, sending them all to the ground, where they lay still.

Everywhere the golem and Shayna went, Cossacks, their sweaty, swarthy faces twisted demonically, sought to kill them. Everywhere they went, they left a wake of red-clad bodies scattered like broken dolls.

Maybe the Cossacks left because the golem was one adversary they could not cow. Maybe they left because their taste for violence and plunder had been satisfied. In either case, the pogrom ended gradually, quite unlike the heart-stopping way it had begun. The Cossacks were gone and so was much of the merchandise from throughout the fair, particularly the horses and other livestock, the precious metals and jewels, and the talismans and amulets. But many people had survived. There were too many of them, even for the soldiers of death. The fairgoers had found places to hide in shops, under wagons, in pastures, the cemetery, dung fields and, in some daring instances, out in plain sight in the street, lying still alongside those who were not as fortunate. In the quiet after the desolation of the Okop fair, a thick silence hung in the air and draped itself like a shroud upon the dead.

The survivors crept out of hiding and, with a sense of confusion that was slowly congealing into grief, returned to what was left of what they had owned and whom they had loved. They assessed the damage to their lives and their livelihoods, tended to their wounded, and began the processions to the cemetery. Those who knew enough to perform the cleansing rituals required by tradition before burial did so. Those who didn’t simply dug graves in the holy ground and hoped for the best.

They packed their wagons—the ones who still had both possessions and wagons—and prepared to leave Okop for their own towns and villages. Few still had horses to do the work; most placed their harnesses about their own shoulders. All had a common destination: away.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.