Chapter 16 - The Weapon Dropping

CHAPTER 16 THE WEAPON DROPPING HILDEBRAND. That's how he introduced himself. MR. HILDEBRAND? asked Mother. No, just Hildebrand. It's not really my name, he explained. It's the pen name of a Dutch writer I like, but the less you know about me, the safer for you. Mother nodded. Hildebrand felt happy at once, and the watchman. Mother and Mother welcomed him cordially, and he loved the children. He had quite a conversation with Trixie the first time they met. Hello, he said. You seem to be a sensible young lady, for Trixie had taken off her socks and was warming her bare feet against the lukewarm stove. No, said Trixie, fixing her chocolate-brown eyes on him. I'm a mother. Oh, inquired Hildebrand. Trixie withdrew her feet and stood up, reaching to Hildebrand's knees. Bending her head back, she looked up at him. I have a husband, she announced. Oh, yes. I found him in church, said Trixie, winding a red curl around a fat forefinger. He is called Biny, an unusual name, remarked Hildebrand. Trixie nodded and took a deep breath. He is a great big man, she said, and he sits in my high chair, and he sucks his thumb. She slipped back, her head to one side, to contemplate the effect of this bombshell. When Hildebrand looked properly horrified, Trixie crept near and added in a confidential whisper. He is very bad, but the angels don't know it. Then I won't tell them, he whispered back, and the friendship was sealed. Ever after, Trixie regarded and treated him as a fellow conspirator. With Coba and Betsy, the young man had less success. They disapproved of his manners. He did not seem to know about eating only with the right hand, thinking politely in two words and never tilting one's chair. Jorius, however, was enchanted with the new visitor. He fetched books for him from the libraries of Father Cobus and Dr. DeVrys. Father Cobus's books were heavy and dusty and bound in dark green. They were led by people like St. Augustine, St. Toget, Thomas. Dr. DeVrys' books weren't so heavy and had gay covers. Jorius didn't like them all. He said he was a student of philosophy. Jordan wanted to know what that was. It's a love of wisdom, said Hildegrand. Don't you get that out of the Bible? asked Jorius. Oh, yes, indeed, said Hildegrand, but there is wisdom in other books, too. What's the difference between wisdom and knowledge? asked Jorius. Hildegrand thought for a while, frowning at the floor. Then he said, knowledge is a matter of knowing facts. Wisdom is a matter of understanding and applying principles. A certain amount of knowledge is necessary for wisdom, and without wisdom, knowledge is not only useless, it's dangerous. And I thought they were the same thing, said Jorius. Teach me philosophy, will you? But Hildegrand said it was not a subject you could teach in a hurry. Think and read, he said, then you'll get there. Most of the time, Uncle Cor was out on mysterious errands in connection with the weapon dropping. In the daytime, he made himself up like an old man and hobbled off leaning on a cane. He did not see much of Hildegrand and looked slightly askance at him. A tall, able-bodied young man, more interested in reading than in doing underground work. He could not understand it. Jorius noticed that his uncle was constantly conferring with Dirk Jan. Dirk Jan had acted superior ever since his trip, as if he had become a grown-up and Jorius were miles beneath him. He seemed to class Jorius with the little girls. Of course, Dirk Jan was older. Jorius knew that. But he had always talked to Jorius and shared things with him. Now something had gone between them, a secret he had with Uncle Cor. Of course, Uncle Cor had been pleased with the way Dirk Jan had carried out the mission, but Jorius would have done it too if they had let him. It irked Jorius. He drew closer to Hildegrand, just to show Dirk Jan that he had a friend, too. But he was unhappy all the same. He and Dirk Jan had never felt so far apart before, and besides, Jorius could smell excitement in the air. Something important was being planned, and they were leaving him out of it. Then Freya pricked up her ears at odd moments and gave low growls. I know, I know, Jorius told her, slinging his arms around Freya's neck. The most wonderful things are happening, and we aren't in on it. But he was determined to watch carefully and to find out. He'd teach them all he wasn't a baby. Once he heard Dirk Jan and Uncle Cor talking together. What about Shingerhans? Dirk Jan was saying. Don't underestimate him. Oh, we have him fixed, said Uncle Cor with a laugh. He'll get a message that'll take him miles away. Then Uncle Cor cropped out of Jorius and stopped suddenly, as usual. The important evening arrived, and Uncle Cor was at home. He seemed more than ever irritated by Hildegrand, who was peacefully absorbed in the ideal- He sneezed. He seemed more than ever irritated by Hildegrand, who was peacefully absorbed in the ideal state of Plato. What's the use of that old stuff, he said? It's today that counts, Hildegrand looked up. He had to withdraw for a moment from what he was reading and realize what Uncle Cor had been saying. Then he tilted his chair and put his feet against the mantelpiece. Shocking, Koba and Betsy. That old stuff is our only hope, he said. It's what lifts us above the present and gives us perspective. There have been tyrannies and wars, robberies, cruelties, and oppressions ever since the world began. How are we going to get out of it? At this moment, you think it is enough to hate the Germans and to amass brute force to wallop them back to where they belong. When it's done, you'll say, now we've finished with war and injustice. But you won't have. Because the walloping you have given will wrinkle and cause a new war, and so it goes on and on. If we listen only to our emotions and our instincts, we'll keep on hitting one another until we get as clever as the two dogs who fought each other until only their tails were left. I see, said Uncle Kor thoughtfully, but surely you can't let injustice rampage without stopping it. What about the victims? Does it help the prisoners and the people dying of starvation that Plato thought of an ideal state over two thousand years ago? Perhaps not, agreed Hildebrand with a little smile, but it ought to help them that Christ promised them an ideal state less than two thousand years ago. Yes, admitted Uncle Kor, but how is one to love one's enemy when he acts like the Germans? I admit it's hard, said Hildebrand, but I am coming to the conclusion that it is the only practical way out of a vicious cycle. He who takes up the sword shall perish by the sword, quoted Father suddenly. Well, you may talk, Hildebrand, said Mother, and I dare say you are right, but if they touch my children, I take the bread knife to them, sword or no sword. That night, night, Joris awoke suddenly. Perhaps he had heard a plank creaking. At any rate, he saw that the mattress beside him was empty. Dirk Jan had gone. Quickly, he threw on his clothes and tiptoed downstairs. Stork outside. The moon was hidden behind the clouds. Joris had his mattress on and had wound a muffler around his neck. He had his mattress on. Joris had his mittens on and had wound a muffler around his throat. There was no sign of Dirk Jan, but through the frosty air he heard the creaking of wagon wheels. He ran along the dike in the direction of the sound. The cart was not as near as he had thought. Sounds carried far in the frosty air. He did not catch up with the wagon till well past the old mill. He went cautiously then, keeping in the shadow of the bushes. He noticed that the wagon was pulled by men, but stopped near a gate leading to one of Farmer Kuat's meadows. Joris could hear the men opening the gate and going through it. He crept near to investigate, but a little cough warned him that someone had been left in charge of the wagon. He ducked back quickly into the alder bushes, hoping he hadn't been seen. What were these people doing? Shadowy figures were moving through the low-hanging mist. Joris was getting cold. He dared not move. In the distance, he could hear the village clock chime twelve. He sat up suddenly. He'd seen a little light emerge above the mist on the far side of the mountain. A little later, another one appeared on the near side, quite close to Joris, and then one to the left, in the same direction of Schanderhans' farm. At the same time, the moon broke through the clouds, flooding the landscape with its eerie silver, through which the light pricked warmly. Now he noticed the sound of an airplane. It came from the west and grew louder. Joris recognized the hum of an English bomber. It receded to the north. Then the noise stopped, and Joris saw a large, glittering silver plane come gliding low over the meadow. It was dropping something. Little black objects, wearing white parachutes, which drifted down like huge dandelion seeds. Thud, thud. They hit the ground. The lights had been extinguished as soon as the parcels had been dropped, and the plane went roaring off. The men were running about the meadow. Soon, two of them came through the gate, carrying a heavy oblong chest, which they deposited on the wagon. Others soon followed, laden with boxes and parcels. The last man closed the gate and gave a short word of command. Hands grabbed the wagon pole and began to pull the wagon in the direction from which it had come. Joris heard Uncle Kor's warning voice. Earlier, he thought he had recognized Dirk Jann as one of the men. So this was Dirk Jann's secret. Glad to stretch his legs again. Joris followed the wagon at a respectable distance. He did not want to be discovered. Something warned him that his uncle would not be pleased. It had been a weapon-dropping, Joris had witnessed, of course. That meant sure death if it was discovered. The wagon swerved into the side road, leading to the old giant. The creaking of its wheels sounded fainter and fainter than it stopped. Joris had been listening so intently that he did not look where he was going. He ran slap-bang into Hendrik Schinderhans.