The Aeschylus

1

Harald glanced up from the picture in his hand and looked out over the ford. The taste of salt brushed his lips, the breeze picking up on the water. He could just make out the train yard across the inlet, the silhouette of Kiel's opera house beyond. He could smell smoke and industry, the exhaust fumes of the harbor ships. It soothed him somehow. His father had been a shipyard worker for most of his life — until he dropped dead of a heart attack at fifty-two — and being here brought memories of the man. When Harald was young, his father would come to the dinner table covered in soot, still dressed in his blue work shirt and brown coveralls. He would bathe after, but never before. It was as if he were afraid his family would go hungry if they didn't eat the moment he walked in. Harald remembered sitting at the table, next to his mother and his younger brother Burt, and smelling the man. It was never strong, never enough to interfere with his appetite, but it was there: the faint odor of smoke and steel. Even back then, Harald remembered thinking it was the smell of what a man should be doing with his life.

“Do you think we're doing the right thing, Jan?” he asked, looking back to his companion.

Jan only grunted.

The other was a tall, wiry soldier in his mid thirties, as blunt and talkative as a stone. Harald could never sense how resentful Jan was that a man ten years his junior was giving the orders, but it didn't matter. Jan was the sort to take a bullet for a superior officer he hated because he believed it was his duty. And he didn't hate Harald.

“I can't believe we'll be away from our homeland for six months. Six months! God's fury, man, I never thought we'd be leaving this soon. I suppose it could be worse. We could be going overseas to Spain or Portugal for a year.”

Jan grunted again, flicking a spent cigarette butt over the railing and lighting another.

Harald smiled at the woman in the picture. The woman smiled back, her blue eyes shining so brightly they almost defied the black-and-white limitations of the photograph. He ran his fingers over the picture, remembering what it was like to run them through her soft brown hair. She was four years younger than him at twenty-three, and at twenty-three, waiting for someone could be difficult.

A cloud of smoke wafted into Harald's face, and he looked up to see Jan standing behind him, looking over his shoulder.

“You don't make any noise when you walk, Jan.”

“I guess you could say I'm always in character, sir.”

“Is that right?”

Jan grimaced, his beard stubble reflecting in the moonlight.

“Do you think she'll wait for me? She pledged that she would. But do you think women mean it when they say such things?”

“What do you think, sir?”

“She has never known another man besides me. So yes, I think she will. It's only a few months. Isn't that right?”

“Odysseus was away from his wife for twenty years, and she took him back when he returned from war.”

“I never read that one,” Harald said, reflecting on the small pile of books he had kept stashed under his bed as a child. It was one of the few, if tenuous connections he shared with the sergeant. “Did he have to do anything to prove his worth after all that time?”

“He had to murder the hundred and eight sons of bitches who had lined up to fuck her.”

Harald stared at him. “Do you think that was justice, Sergeant Eichmann?”

“Nothing worse than trying to take advantage of a lady, if you ask me.”

It was Harald's turn to grunt; the exchange was more than he'd gotten out of the man in weeks. He opened his mouth to continue, but across the inlet, he saw the beam of a hand torch flash. It was their signal.

He tucked the picture into his uniform and turned, motioning for Jan to follow. They began to walk south towards the highway through the pitch of night. When they reached the road, they only had to wait a few seconds before a black Mercedes 260 rounded the bend and slowed. A young man in uniform stepped out of the driver's side door and saluted. Harald returned the gesture, then climbed in the rear door and settled himself next to the prisoner inside.

“You don't have to be afraid of me, you know. I'm not here to hurt you or your family. In a way, I'm here to help you. You see, your presence here is a matter of national security. It's a matter of patriotism.” He waited. “I've been asked by my superiors to derail you from your current course of action. I am to remind you of your citizenship and obligations to The Republic. You were born a German man in spite of your… other heritage.” Harald turned to look at the prisoner and found him staring back, his eyes shifting uneasily behind his spectacles. His suit was a clean gray, all straight lines and angles. His thin mustache was perfectly even on both sides. Harald thought this was a man obsessed with detail, and perhaps, with appearances. A man such as this would not be difficult to control.

“My… my family,” the other whispered.

“Unhurt for now. They're in the car behind us. Your wife and your daughters will be safe.”

A loud pop came from somewhere outside. The prisoner spun towards the back window, his mouth agape.

“That was a pistol round. I've heard one before, in my youth. That was a gunshot!”

Harald paused. “Your driver. We had no use for him, I'm afraid. You yourself are quite fortunate. Treason is a capital offense, as you well know.”

“You bastard. You care nothing for the courts. Or the law.”

“It is the law that prevents you from leaving the country, Mister Kaminski. The courts are on our side, believe me. In this case, it doesn't matter. We are on a military operation, and I have been instructed to escort you and your family to Monkeberg Harbor.” Seeing the look of surprise on the man's face, he continued. “Yes, we know this is where you were headed, but I'm afraid your final destination has changed. You are no longer on course to Britain. You are coming with us.”

“Where are you taking me?”

“That is confidential, Mister Kaminksi. In fact, I shouldn't be speaking to you at all. I only wanted to introduce myself because I felt it would be beneficial for our relationship. You are not our prisoner; you remain a citizen of The Republic, as I have already said. You will be our mandatory guest for a few months, however.

“But ah! I have not introduced myself. I am Oberleutnant Harald Dietrich, and I am in charge of your transport.”

Kaminski spat in Harald's face, a thin, wet glob landing on the German's cheek.

For a brief moment, Harald considered smashing the man's nose inside out. In spite of his manners, Harald had been raised to discipline, and he knew how to dish it out. A few of his soldiers had learned that the hard way. Instead, he took a deep breath and wiped the spittle off of his face. Perhaps this man would not be so easy to control after all.

“I will let that pass. I understand you have had your plans laid to waste, and you are very upset. All I can promise is that I will try to make your journey as painless as possible. But make no mistake, you are coming with us tonight, and if you resist, your driver will not be the last to die.”

Harald shot a cold look through the rear window, then got out of the car.

2

It was almost midnight. They walked down a wooden pier that extended as far as the eye could see, watching as men loaded and unloaded various pieces of cargo under the glow of orange lamps. Harald saw sacks of grain and spices, metal artillery cannons, men in knee boots and overalls. A few old-timers sat on crates and whistled as they passed. The reek of sweat and poverty percolated the walk like dust. Then just ahead, he saw their ship.

At thirty-five meters, The Adalgisa was small compared to the others at the dock, but she still looked fierce. Narrow and feral, her two masts stood to the sky like fangs. Rust marks cut across her bow like battle scars. She had a single round smokestack, a barrel crow's nest, and a stocky wheelhouse made for equally stocky men. A massive harpoon gun at the bow completed the picture, looking too large for the rest of the ship.

The crew busied themselves carrying supplies below deck. As Harald neared, a man separated from the group and came to greet him. “Dietrich, my friend!”

“That's Lieutenant Dietrich, now. How have you been Heinrich?”

“I've been making a living. In fact, you could say I was just about to go on making one until I heard from your superiors yesterday.”

“Oh? Did you have plans?”

“Yes, I bloody well had plans! My entire crew is exhausted. Now we learn we're going back to sea without leave? I'll be lucky if I don't have a mutiny on my hands by the end of the night. Some of these men haven't seen their families in months.”

Harald grunted. “They're getting paid. And so are you.”

“Some things are better than money.”

“Money can be used to buy a great many more of those things that are better.”

The other softened at this. He tried not to smile. “Aye, the pay helps. This is more money than most of the men have seen at once.”

“I've never know you to turn down easy money. Whaling is a dangerous business, Heinrich. I thought this would be a vacation for the likes of you.”

One corner of the man's mouth moved. Then, without warning, he reached out and embraced the lieutenant in a great bear hug. “You're too smart for your own good, boy.”

Harald coughed, then laughed. It was amazing how quickly Heinrich had grown into the role of a ship captain. His beard was the color of iron now; it stretched over his face and down his neck. The light brown eyes that Harald remembered were much darker, tinged with the weight of a thousand hard decisions. Heinrich covered his thinning hair with a flat cap with a brown leather peak. It looked German at a glance, but Harald thought it more likely an acquisition from the territories. Like the man itself, it looked faded and gaunt.

“How are your men? Are they trustworthy?”

“It's just a skeleton crew to make room for you, but all of the men are loyal.”

“Excellent.”

“And you? It's time you introduced me to our new passengers.”

Dominik Kaminski stood at gunpoint behind them. Behind him, his wife Magdelena and his two daughters, Lucja, and Zofia. Sergeant Eichmann and the Gestapo agent, Boris Seiler, brought up the rear. Harald introduced them one by one.

“So you're the one they told me about,” Heinrich said, looking at Dominik. “I suppose you are what I expected. You can't always say that when you meet a man. Have they told you where we're going?”

“No,” the man croaked.

Heinrich laughed. “Then to Hell it is. We'll be going to the furthest reaches of the earth, my friend. We'll show you the sights of the damned, terrible things which drive strong men to tears and weak men to insanity. Oh yes. We'll show you fire, and terror, and abominations from the lowest depths of the sea.” He threw his hands into the air and drew a few chuckles from the sailors. “They have seen the unspeakable coils of the Kraken and the many-headed Hydras and have lopped flesh and bone from their steaming carcasses before hauling them to shore, victorious! They are the monster slayers of our time, my good man, and you will see such horrors aboard this vessel to make you croon and cry for dry land. Aye?” he shouted towards his men.

“Aye!” a few of them cried.

“Heinrich, please,” Harald said.

The captain looked fairly at ease with himself.

“I demand to know where you are taking us!”

Harald turned to see Maggie as she stepped forward, past the soldier with the gun. He felt himself tense. “That is not—”

“Near to the southern continent, my lady,” Heinrich interrupted. “We are but simple sea-faring men, and those waters are our hunting grounds. We are being paid to take you to a pier of Mister Dietrich's choosing.”

“It is not my choosing, it is the choosing of our superiors,” Harald said irritably.

“Our children are here,” Maggie said. “You cannot force children on board a ship such as this.”

“I'm sorry madame,” Heinrich said. “I do not have a choice in this, same as you.”

“You have a choice!”

“Even if I said no, they would have gotten someone else,” Heinrich said. “Rest assured you will be safe with us. We are not doing any hunting on this trip.”

“You cannot make us leave the country! We have seen no police. We have been to no jail. This is against the law.”

Heinrich belched. “The law has no bearing, here. Now, who all is coming on board?”

“All of us, save for Private Gantte,” Harald said, indicating the young soldier holding the pistol on Dominik.

Heinrich looked past Harald and counted, frowning. “No, no, this isn't right. We were told there would be six new passengers only.”

“I'm sure you'll be able to make room. One of us can sleep in the wheelhouse if we have to.”

“You don't understand,” Heinrich said, putting a hand on Harald's chest. “Our weight and rationing only permits the addition of seven passengers. One is already on board, which leaves six open spots. It is exact.”

“You can't make an exception?”

“The deal I made was for one passenger who arrived yesterday, and six of you today. That's it.”

Harald leaned forward and whispered. “And if we agree to pay you five hundred extra?”

“Don't bullshit me,” Heinrich said. “You can't promise this, and even if you could, I wouldn't take it. It's a matter of safety. The rationing will be too tight. You should know that.” He looked at the others. “Who is staying?”

“Sergeant Eichmann and I have been ordered to accompany the Lieutenant,” Seiler said. “It will have to be one of them.”

All heads turned to Dominik. He looked at his wife and his daughters, feeling the weight of their gaze. On some level, Harald knew, they blamed him for everything that had happened tonight, but the lieutenant could testify to the absurdity of that notion. It was Seiler who had found their friend in Sweden, and it was their friend who had given them up.

“So we can't all fit,” Maggie said. “What does that mean? You'll shoot one of us?”

“Let it be me,” Dominik said. “If it's my fault, take them and let me be the one.”

Harald turned to them. “I'm afraid not. Mister Kaminski is the reason why we are here, so he comes with us. But if the captain says he cannot take one of you, then one of you ladies will have to stay behind. Provided you cooperate, no one will be shot.”

“And the young boy who was with us at the hotel?” Maggie asked, her eyes red and wild. “Did you tell him the same thing?”

Harald shifted uncomfortably. “Well, allow me to say no one else will be shot.”

“Where will we go if we stay?”

“It depends on which one of you it is. One of your girls would be a ward of the state until you all are released. If it were you, Missis Kaminski, you would likely go to Neuengamme until your husband is released.”

Dominik tried to step closer to his wife, but Private Gantte shoved him back with the butt of his pistol. Dominik settled for leaning over the young man instead. “What is Neuengamme?”

Maggie shuddered. “It's a new prison yard, isn't that right? It's where they take communists and homosexuals. You wouldn't take me to a normal prison, is that right Mister Dietrich? Am I such a horrible person that you would take me to a den like Neuengamme instead?”

Harald sighed. “If you were the one to stay, you would not be processed in the usual way, Missis Kaminski. You would be at the government's disposal.”

“What do you mean?”

“I'm afraid I can't say.”

Anxious to extricate himself, Heinrich caught Harald's attention with a wave. “This is not my affair. I'm headed below deck to finish. Call me when you are ready to leave, aye?”

Harald nodded, and the man bowed himself out.

“Why pick one of us at all?” Maggie demanded. “You can't separate the girls from both of their parents. Why not let us all stay? They… they need me.”

“I can't do that.”

“And the other man on board? What about this other man the captain spoke of? Why not leave him behind? Would you break up a family instead of sending another prisoner off ship?”

“I'm afraid I can't do that either,” Harald said. “Dominik and the other man are very special to this affair. Our orders are to transport Dominik and his family. I am truly sorry the count was wrong for the transportation. I was not involved in that aspect directly.”

He did feel bad about the error, but it was not one he could have foreseen. When he had chosen The Adalgisa, no one had bothered to point out there was a passenger limit. He had simply assumed seven new passengers would not matter. In light of this oversight, he considered what would happen if he did allow all three girls to stay. His contact at Neuengamme would likely accept one new prisoner as a favor, but three? That would certainly be a black mark in his column of favors. And what of leverage? If Mister Kaminski was transported to the base with no family members present, then there would be nothing to guarantee his cooperation. This was a hard conclusion, but Harald had been put in charge to make hard decisions. “One of you stays, the rest go,” he reiterated.

3

Zofia clutched her stuffed bear to her chest and sucked fiercely on one thumb.

Dominik himself was shaking. He couldn't remember a time in his life when something so meticulously planned had gone so far awry. He looked at his wife and his mouth opened, but no words came out.

“You know it has to be me,” she said. “It has to be you or me, and they won't let it be you. They want you for something. Whatever it is, it scares me, Dominik.”

“I'm scared for you,” he managed.

“It will not be as bad for me. I can deal with prison. But I can't bear the thought of Zofia or Lucja being alone. Can you?” She put a hand to his cheek, and welcome as it was, he felt the desperation in her. Not to escape, but a desperation to love and to be loved. The desperation to know that the last twelve years had not been in vain. In that moment, he saw her as he had the first time, the butcher's daughter who used to stare at him from her second story window. She had been so beautiful then, was still so beautiful now.

A dark curl of hair fell in front of her eyes, and he brushed it aside, just as he had done the very first time they kissed. He pulled her close and kissed her then, a dozen years of fire and memory passing between them. When they broke apart, he saw Lucja's cheeks were stained with tears. How very much alike they look, Dominik thought.

“It's his fault you have to go away,” Lucja said. “I'm not staying with him. I'd rather leave than go on this stinking… damnable ship.”

“I don't want to go either,” Zofia said.

“Lucja honey,” Maggie said, bending down, “I want you to listen to me. Your father loves you very much. And you will do what he says. Do you hear me? You are going with him.”

“We're not,” Zofia said, and sniffled.

“Yes you are. I have to go away and it's no one's fault but the men with the guns. Do you hear me? It's no one's fault but theirs. Your father is the head of this family and I want you to listen to him when I'm gone. He will keep you safe. I promise.” She knelt next to Lucja. “You remember when you were just a little girl, and we went to see Grandma? We spent all day riding the bus, and it was dirty and noisy because we couldn't afford anything better. But we got there and you were so happy to see your Grammy. The next day we went to the riverside, and I brought a picnic lunch. Do you remember? You played in the grass and climbed the trees, but you wanted to go swimming. Your father told you no because the water was too cold. You kept looking at the river all day because your little sister was just a baby and you had no one to play with. So you got bored. And what happened?”

“I jumped in the water,” Lucja said.

“You jumped in the water. And it was cold, wasn't it? You splashed and sank. We thought you were still playing with your kite until we heard you scream. Your father jumped in after you, didn't he?”

“He jumped in with all his clothes on,” Lucja said vacantly.

“That's right,” Maggie said. “He jumped in, and five seconds later, he dragged you to the surface and saved your life.”

Zofia listened intently, her thumb still in her mouth. Dominik hadn't seen her with her thumb in her mouth since she was three. Maggie turned and knelt to her as she had done with Lucja. “And you, Zofie. Do you remember when you got sick last year, and you were lying in bed because you couldn't go to school?”

Zofia nodded.

“I wanted to send you back to school the next day, but your papa insisted we take you to the doctor. He heard something funny in your cough. The doctor listened to your chest and examined you. Do you remember?”

“I didn't like it,” Zofia said, taking her thumb out of her mouth and then promptly sticking it back in.

“He found you were really sick. You had to stay home for a long time, and if we hadn't gotten you medicine, you might have died.”

Zofia knew this was all past, of course, but she still looked frightened. “I had no-mona.”

“That's right, you had pneumonia. Your daddy knew there was something wrong with you, and he got the doctor to get you medicine. If it wasn't for him…” She had to catch herself. Dominik moved towards her and stopped, not wanting to break the bond between them.

“The ship is ready,” Harald said from some distance away. “Try to hurry it up. Please,” he added.

Maggie got a hold of herself and looked at her daughters. “So you see, your papa is the best at taking care of you. He was trying to save all of us by bringing us here. He can still save you two, but he might have been… he might just have been a little too late for me.” She pulled the girls close and gripped them to her chest.

Zofia was frightened. “Mama! Mama, you're hurting me.”

Maggie let go and tried to smile. “I'm sorry, baby.”

And then Private Gantte was at her back with the pistol, and it was time to leave. She wheeled on him. “Don't you dare point that at me with my children here!” she screamed at him. “I'll come with you, but you put that thing away. Have you got that?”

The young man was so surprised he took a step back. He did not put the gun away, but he lowered it to his waist and crossed his hands.

Maggie rushed to Dominik and planted one more kiss on his lips. Before he could whisper goodbye, she turned and began to walk away with the young man. Private Gantte gripped her by the elbow but did not point the gun at her again. He stopped once to salute Lieutenant Dietrich on his way out, then turned and walked Maggie away from the pier until they both disappeared into darkness.

4

The Adalgisa left the docks around midnight, skimming into the ford and bellowing black smoke into the sky. Presently, the boat began to pick up speed, bouncing up and down in spite of the calm waters. Dominik observed all this from the foredeck, holding his daughters close and wondering where Magdelena was at that precise moment.

As the buildings on the shoreline diminished, he thought of the home they had left behind. Not the people or the neighborhood, but the physical space itself. He thought about the desk in the corner of his office, a dark mahogany writing table that had been in his family for three generations. He thought of the portrait in the hallway of he and Maggie and Lucja, the one that had been painted when their oldest daughter was just a babe. He thought of the journals where he had published, filed neatly away in the kitchen drawers. Bottles of wine kept on the ground floor dating as far back as 1918. An old grandfather clock in his office with hand-crafted brass gears. All of these things and many more, now gone forever.

Then, he thought again of his wife. He thought of Magdelena with her raven black hair, and her smile, and her laugh that always reminded him of summer rain. Would she be gone forever now, to fade with the memories of his physical things?

No, he thought for the first time. There is no prison, no boat, no man that can hold the likes of my family, not for long.