So I gave my opinion of what to do with the Jew, knowing that I was going to break Emmerich’s soul, but hoping that it wouldn’t be broken for long. Just for this evening. For one night only. I prayed that Emmerich’s broken heart and broken soul would mend quickly, and that he would forget all of this, just like all the rest.
But I wouldn’t have done that, I swear, had I known what chance had in store for us, had I known what awaited Emmerich in the spring, not far from here, under the bridge in Galicia. And that the only bravery Bauer and I would show was in not looking away while he died.
It was night when we left the house. The storeroom door was all burned. In the light from the embers, we slipped back into our clothes. Outside, the cold took us by surprise. In the doorway, the Jew put on his coat, his fur mittens and his hat.
We took him back to the company, and the next day, we were allowed to leave again at dawn, before the first executions. Clouds raced past the setting moon. A cat crossed the road. In the frozen night, I wanted to remember a prayer I could say for Emmerich and his broken soul, but all that came to mind were odd words, just little remnants of prayers. We walked through a hamlet. Light glowed from behind a window. Emmerich walked ahead of us, alone. I couldn’t remember a whole prayer, but I did what I could with those remnants.
About the Author
Hubert Mingarelli is the author of numerous novels, short story collections, and fiction for young adults. His book Quatre soldats won the Prix de Médicis. He lives in Grenoble, France.
About the Translator
Sam Taylor is a translator, novelist, and journalist. His translated works include Laurent Binet’s award-winning HHhH. His own novels have been translated into ten languages.