Outcasts (8 page)
Tibor and Istvan Schroeder at the vineyards.
Istvan Schroeder's wedding.
Karola abruptly stopped running when she saw Tibor extend a hand to assist his stepfather stepping down from the carriage. She was stunned and walked more slowly down the long stairs leading out of the house. Fighting back tears, she willed herself to stay calm and strong for him.
Domokos, with Tibor by his side supporting him, saw his wife coming toward him and tried to stand straighter, pulling his shoulders out. When she reached him, they melted into each others arms. Sobbing softly, she repeated over and over again, "I'm so glad you're home. Thank God you're home. I will never let you go away again." She looked up at her thin, pale husband, gently stoked his cheek, and smiled. "We've prepared your favourite meal, Domokos." She glanced at her son and saw that he was choking back tears as well.
With his wife on one side and Tibor supporting him on the other, Domokos made his way slowly up the stairs to the house. Their daughter was away at boarding school in the nearby town of Beregszasz and their younger son, Bela, hadn't yet come home from school. Karola was grateful for their absence.
After soaking his battered feet in a gentle, saltwater solution, Domokos lay down in his clean, comfortable bed and slept soundly for the first time in many months. Karola lay next to him, gently wrapping her arms around him.
The next morning, Bela knocked on their door as soon as he woke up, anxious to see his father again. Karola calmed her son. "Your father will be dressed and down for breakfast soon, darling. Just be patient."
When Domokos did come down for breakfast, Bela simply ran to his father, burying his head in his lap. A single tear slipped out of Domokos's eye as he gently stroked Bela's hair.
News of Domokos's return spread quickly through the town and, by ten o'clock the next morning, a long line of people wove its way down the lengthy driveway on Kaplincka ulica. The local residents waited patiently to speak to Domokos Aykler. In their eyes, he was still the man who could take care of local problems in Nagyszollos, even if he had just been released from a Czech prison. Karola was frantic when she saw the lineup and begged him not to go out of the house.
Domokos smiled at his wife and patted her hand. "The entire town knows what I have been through and where I have been. It is important that I make an appearance. People need to see that the Czechs have not succeeded in breaking me."
She knew she would not deter him in this, as she had not been able to influence him in any of his political activities. "At least sit on the terrace to receive them."
Domokos knew he wouldn't have the strength to deal with all of these people individually and decided to address them as a group and speak for a few minutes. He inhaled deeply and pulled himself out of the armchair. The crowd grew silent as soon as he appeared and they pressed closer.
"I speak to you today as a free man," he began. From the corner of his eye, Domokos caught a glimpse of Karola, her forehead wrinkled with worry. "My wife is worried about me. You know the way wives are ...." There was a smattering of laughter in the crowd. "I stand before you as a man who has been charged with treason in this country and has been condemned to death." An audible gasp went up from the crowd. Domokos raised an arm to calm them and continued. "Yet, here I am in front of you today. I am not worried and want you to stay calm too, to be patient." He paused and chose his next words very carefully. Raising his right arm high into the air, he cried out, summoning all the strength he could, "Our sufferings as a minority in this country will be over soon." With that, Domokos turned and started for the house, nearly collapsing before he made it to the nearest chair.
People continued milling about outside until noon, and then everyone was told to go home. Later that evening, Senator Karoly Hokky, a close family friend, came to visit. He didn't call ahead as he usually did, and apologized to Karola for arriving unannounced. He asked to speak to Domokos in private and had a request. He asked if one of the maids could put a few logs in the fire. The fall evenings were starting to get cool, he told her, and he had caught a bit of a chill coming over. Karola nodded her head and led him into the drawing room where Domokos was sitting.
The men sat quietly as the maid brought in the logs and lit the fire. When she left, Domokos began to talk but Karoly Hokky put his finger to his lips, directing the conversation to the weather. As he spoke, he walked over to the wireless radio, turned it on, and tuned it to a Czech station where the news was just being read. He turned the volume up as Domokos watched him intently. Then Karoly Hokky opened the desk that sat in the corner and pulled out a handful of stationery, drawing his pen out of his waistcoat pocket. He began to write something and handed the note to Domokos.
"This house is probably bugged," the note began. "Detectives have searched your home many times while you were away. They could easily have planted listening devices at any time. I have warned your wife of this as well."
Domokos read the note and nodded his understanding. He handed the note back to Hokky who threw it into the fire and pulled out a fresh piece of paper. Then he continued writing. "They have probably already issued a warrant for your re-arrest. This time they will undoubtedly not postpone the sentence." The senator handed the note back to Domokos and looked gravely at his dear friend. When Domokos gave him the paper back, he smiled sadly. Hokky continued. "Yesterday, a group of
Rongyos Garda
(Ragged Guard) sabotaged a train and ordered some three hundred Czech soldiers off. They burned their equipment and uniforms."
Domokos nodded knowingly as Hokky crumpled up the paper and threw it also into the fire. Domokos motioned to his friend to give him a piece of paper. "Was anyone killed?" he wrote.
"Only the station master," Hokky wrote back. "He happened to be an ethnic Hungarian." Hokky looked up at his friend and continued to write. "These groups worry me, Domokos."
Domokos read what he had written and nodded. "They nearly killed me yesterday," he wrote back. "They thought I was a Jew."
Finally, Hokky put his pen to a final sheet of paper. "I want to take you to the western part of the country tomorrow afternoon. Tell no one where you are going. I think it best you tell your wife you are going to Prague to appeal your case. We will cross the border at an obscure border crossing and you will be hidden in my car. My diplomatic immunity will prevent them from searching the car at the border." Domokos lifted his tear-filled eyes from the sheet of paper and nodded.
Karola Aykler and Domokos Aykler in the vineyard, circa 1937.
Hokky flung the final page into the fire and, as they watched their conversation go up in flames, erasing the evidence of their discussion, both men sat in silence as the edges of the pages curled up and were sucked into the fire. When Karola came into the room with a tray of tea and pastries, she immediately sensed that something wasn't right. The radio was blaring and the fire was ablaze, even though it wasn't cold. Before she had even put the tray down, the senator stood up, bowed from the waist, and told Karola his wife sent her love. He shook hands with Domokos and said good night to both of them. Without another word, he left the house.
Karola knelt at her husband's chair and put her head on his lap. Domokos took his wife's hand, kissed it, and helped her up. Then he led her out of the parlour and out onto the back terrace where they both sat down on a bench. He closed his eyes, enjoying the cool, autumn air of home. There is just enough of a breeze, Domokos thought, so that we can talk freely. He put his lips into her hair and whispered to her. "Our friend fears for my safety. He thinks the Czechs will probably re-arrest me in a few days. I must go away tomorrow." Even with just the soft glow of moonlight casting light on her face, Domokos could see the look of utter desolation on his wife's face. "We will be together soon, my darling. I promise you that." Karola took a breath, ready with the next question. "It's best you don't know where I am going," Domokos continued, cutting her off. "I will send for you and the children as soon as I am safe. Should anyone ask you, I've gone to Prague to appeal my sentence."
The next day he was gone and Karola Aykler was again left alone to manage the vineyards and raise her children.
T
HE FIRST GREYS OF
dawn spread slowly into the hills and valleys of the region, followed by streaks of magenta as the first rays of the sun pushed their way into the sky from the east. Officially on a covert military operation, the soldiers were in civilian clothing. They had been out all night surreptitiously criss-crossing the border region with Czechoslovakia. Scouts moved unnoticed on bicycles and mopeds, traversing with ease between villages and towns, in many locations, aided by the local population. Their mission was to destabilize the border region, but the border was porous by then. Part of the region had already been re-annexed to Hungary as part of the First Vienna Accords.
The men were exhausted but elated. They could hardly wait to report to their commanding officer. "The border guards are gone, sir," one of the five announced, saluting, barely able to contain his excitement. "The Czechs have withdrawn from the region."
Domokos Aykler, the commander of this small detachment, saluted back and smiled. He had been notified some days earlier by top-secret military messenger that March 15, 1939 would be the fateful day when the rest of Karpatalja, including Nagyszollos, would be reoccupied by the Hungarian military. He was very well aware that on the same day less than one hundred years ago, in 1848, the Hungarians, led by Lajos Kossuth, declared their independence from the Hapsburgs. The day had enormous historical significance for Hungarians. It was an amazing coincidence that the liberation of their hometown and district was to take place on the same day!
One week before this military action, his men had reported little resistance in the district and Domokos calculated that there was minimal risk of danger to his family. He sent for his wife and son, Bela (the other children were away at school). Domokos wanted his loved ones by his side as the Hungarians reoccupied the region.
On March 15, 1939, the German army occupied Bohemia and Moravia, the two western provinces of Czechoslovakia. As soon as they did, Slovakia ceded from Czechoslovakia and created its own independent, fascist state under the protection of the Third Reich. That same day, the Hungarian army reoccupied Nagyszollos and, within three days, it took all of Karpatalja without much resistance.
Following behind the tanks and lines of infantrymen that rolled into Nagyszollos, Domokos sat in front of a black Tatra sedan with his wife and son in the back seat. The main street, Verboczy ut, was lined on both sides with ecstatic, cheering crowds. Women were dashing in among the troops, thrusting red and white carnations into their hands and lapel buttons, planting random kisses of welcome on the cheeks of soldiers. Many people along the route had tears of joy in their eyes.
Bela felt he would burst with pride. His father was the commander of the troops marching into Nagyszollos, and he, Bela, was sitting in the back seat of the command vehicle! The red, white, and green Hungarian flags that had been forbidden until then were popping up everywhere in windows and doorways and flying from balconies and rooftops. Each time the familiar tricolour was pushed through a second-storey window of a house or shop window, Bela would yell, "Look, Father, another flag! And another. Look, Mother! It's unbelievable!"
Along with the thousands of residents lining the streets that day was Suti Weisz who, together with his father, Vilmos, stood proudly waving a red, white, and green tricolour and yelling patriotic slogans. "Our people are back," he chanted. "We are part of Hungary again!"
Karola, dressed in an elegant beige linen suit with matching hat, watched her excited son and couldn't stop the tears of joy from streaming down her face. She was so proud of Domokos. She could barely believe that her husband was home again, that there were no more borders to contend with, no more searches, no more intimidations. They would no longer be made to feel like second-class citizens in their own homes.
