“No need to run, Inge,” Jüttner said, a smile in his voice as he quickened his pace to keep up with her. But she couldn’t even look at him, couldn’t acknowledge the lighthearted admonition, for there was, in fact, every reason to run, to fly into the woods as quickly as her feet would take her, without looking back.
The church was guarded by two soldiers, who straightened to attention and gave Jüttner the flat-palmed salute of the Germans, their hands tilted downward as if shielding their faces from God. He saluted back and led Yona past them and into the church. She could feel their eyes burning a hole in her back until the church door swung slowly, heavily, closed behind her, shutting out the sunshine.
It took a split second for Yona’s eyes to adjust to the church’s dim light, and another split second to register that all eight of the nuns were lined up on the altar, all of them still alive, all of them seated with their hands bound behind them. She exhaled audibly, and the Nazi officer from yesterday, who was standing beside them, glared at her before saluting Jüttner, who saluted back.
“See?” Jüttner said proudly, nudging Yona as they strode down the aisle toward the prisoners. She recoiled from his touch, but he didn’t seem to notice. “What did I tell you? They’re perfectly fine.”
Yona nodded, but she couldn’t bring herself to speak. In any case, Jüttner was wrong. Though the nuns were still alive, which was a great relief, they looked terrified, all except for Sister Maria Andrzeja, who was sporting a black eye and a gash on her cheek, and who looked angry and resolute. As Yona moved toward her, the Nazi officer made a move to stop her, but Jüttner held up his hand.
“No, let her approach, Schneider,” he said. “She feels a fondness for them.”
The other man’s eyes narrowed and then flicked from Jüttner to Yona and back. “I don’t understand.”
“You don’t need to,” Jüttner said. “She will speak with the nuns now. It is my order.”
The man glowered at her but stepped aside and began to speak in low tones with Jüttner as Yona reached Sister Maria Andrzeja’s side. The other nuns scooted aside a bit to allow Yona room to squat there.
Neither Yona nor Sister Maria Andrzeja said anything for the first few seconds. The nun searched Yona’s eyes, as if trying to answer a question, before finally saying in a hoarse whisper, “You are the daughter of a German commander?”
Yona bowed her head. “By blood only.”
Again there was silence between them. Behind her, Yona could hear the low, angry murmurs of Jüttner and the other Nazi officer.
“You should have told me,” Sister Maria Andrzeja said at last, and Yona looked up, relieved to find that some of the nun’s anger and suspicion had faded, though the confusion remained. “Why didn’t you?”
“I didn’t know it myself.”
The bafflement in the nun’s expression deepened. “What do you mean?”
“I was stolen from my parents when I was just a baby.”
After a few seconds, she nodded, accepting this. “But then why are you here now? In this church?”
“I needed to know that all of you were safe. I needed to know what happened. I—I want to help you.”
The other nuns were watching her, some with suspicion, some with pity and sadness. Sister Maria Andrzeja didn’t say anything.
“Is it true?” Yona asked after a moment. “The German officer said on the steps that you offered your lives in exchange for the hundred townspeople they planned to execute.”
Sister Maria Andrzeja didn’t say anything for a long time. When she finally looked back up at Yona, her eyes were so full of despair that Yona felt the air knocked out of her own lungs. “We’ve been praying about this, all eight of us, for a long while now,” the nun said softly. “Praying for the safety of the town. Praying that the Germans would let us live in peace. First, they came for the Jews, and we did little to stop them. And then, last year, they executed sixty townspeople for no reason at all, among them the two pastors of the church on the other side of town, which is now closed. Since then, the town has been holding its breath, waiting. But in the silence, God spoke to us.”
“But to sacrifice yourselves…”
“This is the only answer. We will save innocent lives. And the Germans will feel that they’ve gotten a prize, because surely it will frighten the town to see eight nuns in their habits murdered right in front of them.” When the nun looked up and met Yona’s gaze, her eyes were gleaming with purpose. She lowered her voice to a fierce whisper. “But we also believe this might light a fire of resistance. The Germans don’t believe that Poles and Belorussians have it within them to fight back. But we do, you see. All of us do. Perhaps our deaths will inspire a change, will force people to ask God themselves what their role is.”