From Sand and Ash(85)

Angelo’s mind raced, pinging from one option to another and dismissing it almost immediately. Had the captain hurt Eva? Was she in a cell at this moment, awaiting deportation? Was she even at Via Tasso? His breaths grew shallow and his hands clenched. He didn’t know it was possible to hate the way he did in that moment. The hate was so sharp it hurt, so bitter he could taste it on his tongue, so hot he could feel the flames in his chest.

Angelo didn’t close his eyes or bow his head, but he began to pray inwardly, searching for faith and strength. He ignored the captain, the soldiers standing outside the door with guns and helmets, empowered by evil men, and he pleaded for help. Prayer was the only weapon at his disposal. The captain leaned back, but he continued his negotiations.

“Ten. Let’s start with ten. Ten Jews for Eva. Ten for one, isn’t that the rule? I need ten addresses.” He handed Angelo a pencil and a sheet of paper. “Or just the names, Father. Just the names of the establishments, and I will place Eva in your care. You give me the list, and you take your sister and walk away. Only you and I will know. Eva might guess, but she will be grateful that you put her first, that you value her life above all others.”

“I don’t have any information for you, Captain. I’m afraid I cannot help you.” Angelo answered firmly and without hesitation, not allowing himself to think at all.

“No? Not even for your sister’s life?” Von Essen again put exaggerated emphasis on the word sister. “I will be sure and tell her.” He stared at Angelo for a moment, as if gauging his next move.

Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Oh, my Jesus, forgive us our sins, save us from the fires of hell, and lead all souls to heaven, especially those in most need of your mercy. Amen.

The rosary continued through his head like a desperate drumbeat, and Angelo begged Eva for forgiveness even as he prayed that they—that she—would be saved from the fires of hell. He would happily give his life for hers, but he couldn’t betray those in his care, and he knew Eva wouldn’t want him to.

Captain von Essen stood and leaned out the door.

“Bring the girl in,” he said to the nearest guard.

Angelo stood as well.

“Sit down, Father. I have not had you restrained out of courtesy, but I will if I need to.”

Angelo remained standing. The captain moved in closer, his hands clasped behind his back, his favorite pose.

“The men are all talking about her, Father. How beautiful she is. She won’t fare well here. You know that, don’t you? And she won’t fare well in a camp. But no one really fares well in the camps.”

“May God have mercy on your soul,” Angelo murmured, not trusting himself beyond a whisper. His hands ached with the need to close them around the sneering captain’s neck.

“She won’t be raped—not here, at least. Do you know it is illegal for a German to lay with a Jew? Don’t want to sully the bloodlines. We have higher standards than that.”

“Oh, my Jesus, forgive us our sins, save us from the fires of hell, and lead all souls to heaven, especially those in most need of your mercy. Amen.” Angelo prayed out loud, his eyes locked with the captain’s. He repeated the prayer again, enunciating the plea for those most in need of mercy.

The door opened, and a helmeted German pushed Eva into the room, as if shoving and intimidation were part of the routine. Her eyes were wide and her face pale and frightened, but her hair was neat and her clothes tidy, and she appeared unharmed.

“Sit,” the captain commanded, and Eva was pushed into a chair, the German soldier standing guard behind her.

“Sit,” he commanded Angelo, and this time, Angelo did as he was told, his eyes clinging to Eva’s. Captain von Essen sat on a chair, triangulated between them, as if preparing to pit them against each other.

“I have no desire for unpleasantness. My wife is very fond of you, Eva. And she is quite beside herself over all of this.”

Eva pulled her gaze from Angelo and stared at the captain stonily, waiting. The captain glared back, as if she had betrayed him personally. Then he continued.

“I have told Father Bianco that all he needs to do is tell me where the church is hiding the partisans and the Jews. Just ten. Not all. Just ten. But he says he can’t help me. What do you think about that?”

Eva continued staring steadily at the captain. He raised a brow, waiting for her to respond. When she didn’t, he leaned into her, as if confiding in her, and his voice lowered convincingly.

“You can save each other. I have no wish to harm either of you. I just want to do my job. There is a great deal of pressure from Herr Himmler himself.” Captain von Essen took her hand. “So why don’t you tell me, Eva. Where is your brother hiding his Jews?”

“I am the only Jew he has helped, and that is only because we were raised together,” Eva said steadily.

“You must be so very grateful,” von Essen said softly. He pulled his weapon suddenly, and Eva gasped, but instead of firing it, he used it to backhand Angelo across the face.

Angelo’s head snapped back, and the left side of his face bloomed in hot pain, but he almost laughed in relief. If this was the captain’s approach, he welcomed it. Ask Eva the questions, torture Angelo. He wanted to sink to his knees in grateful prayer.