Let the Angels Keep You Safe

The two soldiers led her down some stairs through another door past more guards, heavy gray metal bars, and a wall splattered with blood and bullet holes. A vision of her dead body leaning against that rock wall with her fresh blood glistening on it was immediately imprinted on her mind. She couldn’t shake that horrible image, no matter how hard she tried. They stopped in front of two cells, one of which they unlocked. Her escorts pushed her inside then slammed the door shut with a clank. After locking it, they walked away. Cesia was alone, scared, hungry and tired. Her cell was small, about two metres by two metres, with solid gray bars and no window to the outside world. It was empty save for a pail of water in the middle. The cement in the cell was cold to the touch, and she could feel a draft coming from the ceiling. What have I gotten myself into? Cesia asked herself. Why did I do this? After thinking about it, she realized that she had had no choice. How else would she have gotten across the border? Cesia clasped her hands together, knelt and whispered, “Black Madonna, you have done well so far to keep me safe. Please, in my time of need, give me guidance to get through this mess. I don’t want to die. I want to be with Jurek. Please help me. I am forever in your debt for bringing me this far, but please get me out of this situation. I’m innocent. I have done no wrong. Please tell the commissar that I’m not a spy, convince him of it. Amen.” The prayer comforted her somewhat, but she was still scared and cold. It was getting late and she wanted to fall asleep but she didn’t want to lie on the chilly cement. Then she heard footsteps coming towards her. She started to panic. Were they coming for her already? She peered through the bars of her cell. To her profound relief and delight, she saw the face of a smiling priest coming towards her. He wore the cross around his neck over his black, flowing cassock and high collar. “Hello,” he said in Serbian when he got to her cell. “Why are you here?” “They told me I'm a spy,” she replied. “Are you a spy?” “No, no! I'm not a spy. I’m going to my husband in France, and they think I’m a spy because I speak English and I arrived here when the border was closed. I walked for a long time. I didn't see the border.” “I think you are Catholic, no?” “Yes, I am.” The priest’s wrinkled mouth started to quiver and he became very serious. “You know that they kill spies?” “Yes, they told me that.” “Maybe you'd like to confess to spying before you die?” “I cannot say I am a spy because that would be a lie and I’d like to go to heaven.” “But they are going to kill you. You must confess.” “I’m not going to confess to being a spy because I’m not one. I will not lie to you. I just want to get to my husband.” “Maybe you have some other confessions?” “No, none.” “Do you have some wishes then?” he requested, changing the topic. “Yes. I would like my husband to find out how I died. That poor Italian man made a big mistake by not believing me. That's all I want.” “Where is your husband?” “He’s in Castelnaudary,” she said, immediately regretting it because she thought they would go after him there. “What is his name?” “Jurek Illas.” “You know you are going to die so in the confession you can tell the truth, and your soul will be clean and will go to heaven.” “I'm sorry. Like I said before, I didn’t spy, and I don't want to lie to a priest before my death because then I will go to hell.” “But you are going to die.” “Then let me die without sin.” “All right then, let’s pray for you.” The priest began reciting Hail Mary and Cesia joined in. They recited several more prayers. Then he gently touched Cesia’s cheek and said, “God bless you.” Both made the sign of the cross. The priest smiled at her again and then did what Cesia desperately wanted to do—he walked out of the jail area without any guards. Cesia spent the rest of the night praying in the corner of her cell. She leaned against the wall, keeping her arms crossed in an effort to retain body heat. When she began to tire, she sat down on the cold floor with her back against the wall. Although still frightened, she was ready for whatever would happen to her. Sadness overwhelmed her. She had lost her battle to reunite with Jurek. She could have spent the night crying, but that wasn’t her way. She was a determined, strong-willed woman who had accepted her fate. During the night, she prepared herself for death. There was nothing she could do to change her situation. She had to stay strong for Jurek and the Black Madonna that was still looking down on her. Very early the next morning, two soldiers entered her cell and signaled for her to go out with them. They each carried a rifle on their shoulder. She stood up and they grabbed her gruffly and took her out of her cell. They are going to kill me now, she thought as they walked her toward the bloody wall. When they got there, Cesia stopped and turned around so her back was facing the wall. Her arms hung straight at her sides. She closed her eyes. Shoot me now. I’m ready for this. I will see Jurek in heaven. Do it! I’m ready.