Levi watched with trepidation as the first motor vehicle to come to his homeland pitched over a low saddle, the only navigable entrance to the valley and slowly inched along a road that was little more than a goat track towards the remains of his family, he silently repeated his new name. Around him others mumbled. The youngest voices were audible. The van creaked to a crooked halt. The mass of humanity huddled together for comfort gave a shrug and stiffened up.
     The first stranger who ever spoke to Levene, who now called himself Levi, was a woman alighting from the large van wearing the uniform he'd seen in the months before when the Nagli's had travelled in Europe. The sight of her struck fear into his heart, which made his stomach constrict. On her coat he saw a version of the cross his kind held in their mythology, stories passed down around the fireside, stories of fear and pain - of slavery. In earlier times the flames at the ends of the crosses arms had run in a clockwise spread. These were aligned in the opposite direction.
     "If the symbol of the Mongols who dispersed us in the first place is now widdershins, does that mean the evil behind it is even worse," Lillian may asked, her question addressed to her cousins, with wisdom belying her youth.
     “Yes, it does,” the blonde lady said in their language, tinged with a northern dialect. “I'm in a disguise - to keep us all safe. Magda...”.
     “Welcome, Magda. My father instructed me to go with you.” She looked around. “No he's gone...” She gestured to a boy now known as Johann, the eldest son of the leader of all the families of which the Nagli's were but one, the Smitts, now named Schmidt. He returned the gesture. Trusting contact was established. As soon as the beautiful woman and made a familiar signal to the eldest male and spoke the children relaxed. She was one of them, though with a dark face her tall slim figure and silver hair made her seem different.
     “This is Hank. Please put these clothes on,” she asked, proffering a large dull bundle.
     She and Hank faced the mountains as the children changed into uncomfortable underwear, black trousers and skirts, grey shirts and blue coats. On every arm was a black triangle and the letter ‘Z’; the cattle brand, indicating they were less than human - bound for a slaughterhouse. As they did so the only adults now left in their lives saw two completely different things, mental images in each mind affecting the sight in front of their eyes.
     The children then solemnly placed every piece of the beloved coloured clothing they'd just removed, loose fitting and comfortable, some pieces of which the children had owned from birth, on the embers of the bonfire that had given them warmth that night. They'd grown up with those garments and now that growth had been curtailed by the flames of war. They were no longer to be nomadic wanderers but must blend into the background and disappear as the clothes they now wore did. The flames licked in a dance of lust, consuming its sustenance, for a short time. As the ashes cooled no phoenix rose.
     “Please... Get into the van, please,” the girl that was one of them gestured kindly, the man next to her glancing nervously in the direction they’d just come from.
     They lined up in order of each father’s seniority then age within each family, each saying their new names as the happily filed in, lambs to the slaughter, Johann August, May Augusta, Mary Jane, Levi John, Reginald James, Magda Lena, Sarah Josephine to the youngest Lillian May. They lay down on the floor - silent, still, playing dead, as they’d been instructed. Levi saw a series of vents in the ceiling, wondering if they were for fresh air to be blown onto them. Hank graunched the gears and the van rocked as it slowly pulled away from the empty blackened field. It was a long time later the van stopped again after lurching into a goat track. Magda got out, walked to the back and pulled at the door handles till the crossbar fell with a clank. The children didn’t move. Their parents had told them to obey the two strangers because that was the only way the families would live when the soldiers came.
     “Come on!” Hank said when the van stopped as the handle clunked open, “This's one chance you’ll get to eat and go to the toilet till tomorrow night”.
     Magda held the hands of each boy as they jumped from the high back. Hank put his slender fingers around the waists of the youngest girls and swung them through the air with a jocular strangled cry. The girls went together. The boys chose the opposite direction. It was a difficult situation for them all. Their usual hygiene standards were very different to what they were being told to put up with. The younger ones adapted quickly, unable to control their bladders as well as the older ones who spent a few moments steeling themselves to sit out in the open, though it was a dark night in which, however, they couldn't be seen.
     When they regrouped each was served cold soup made of turnips out of a wine cask, a roll of hard black bread and a segment of cracked orange cheese. Lillian May began to cry. Magda Lena told her to be quiet. She struggled until she’d stopped sniffling because her older cousin was being brave and she wanted to be also. Hank started singing a song about a little Dutch girl who lived in a windmill and went out to pick tulips in a yellow hat. Magda smiled. The girls all moved closer then began to join in then he turned to the boy, got an army knife out of his pocket and showed them how every tool on it worked.
     Magda shepherded the brood into the van when everyone had eaten the meagre meal. They lay down, snaked across each other, as they’d been told. Magda sat in the driver’s seat.
     None of the children heard the voices; heavy guttural men who stopped Hank and Magda nor did they feel the van turn right into a field, accompanied by instructions spoken in broken German. They didn’t notice the flashing torches. None bothered that the van slowed, almost to a stop then rose up with a lurch first to the left, then right before jerking and rolling forward in an uncontrollable manner. The van slowed to a stop then tortuously raked up the muddy ground as Magda drove it in a slow circle until the back of it faced the doors of a big farmhouse.
     Seleena stirred, hearing Magda talking to a person who gave her name as Wilhelmhina. She wanted to wake Levi to warn him. It was intended they’d be married on her fourteenth birthday. Already she instinctively turned to him as head of her family. She couldn’t though, as she felt wetness on her legs and smelt pungent odours thickening the air, which made breath catch in her throat. She was too embarrassed. Others were waking up; perhaps it was the still silence that had disturbed their rest.
     Wilhelmhina’s big hands expertly pulled the door handles down in one swift motion. She saw a herd of cringing, sputtering young bereft bodies. Her heart went out to them. Her sensibilities, under normal circumstances, would’ve been affronted as none of her kind would ever allow themselves to smell of urine, or any other smell in public. However, these were not normal circumstances. Hank and Magda were shepherded away into the farmhouse. They were starving and exhausted. There were others to do the tiring work now. Stephan, Wilhelmhina’s husband, her daughter Matilda and sons, Jakob, Illya and John got into the van, woke the sleeping children and helped them to the ground. Fear and shame, along with a lack of food and sleep made the girls cry. Trepidation and the desire to protect the remains of the Nagli family made the boys circle in a bristling protective manner until the situation became clear. Nightmares lifted and they recognised the friendliness around them.
     Wilhelmhina rounded up her charges like a sheepdog keeping an unruly mob of sheep in one pack and took them all to a side door. Two women were inside. The girls were stripped and coaxed, one by one into a hot tub of water, quickly given a soapy wash, dried and given clothes such as they’d been wearing since they’d left their home near the mountains. The boys stood near a basin and scrubbed their bodies and dressed under Stephan’s stern gaze.
     Then they were herded into the kitchen where food was abundant. No one had to coax them to eat. Soon the mountain of food had been cut in half. More soup was ladled out of the black cauldron on the stove. Another round of cheese was placed on the table next to the loaves of rye bread. Extra slabs of goat meat sizzled over a grate. A rotund barrel of milk was rolled in from outside. It was freezing cold but helped to wash the food down.
     “Look, Marta... Magda Lena, I mean,” Lillian May said, pointing at the milk keg, “it looks like the big lady's sister”.
     Most of the girls clustered around their oldest brother except where they’d been getting ready for marriage to a cousin in the coming winter when the family wasn’t travelling. The betrothed ones stood close. Normally they’d stay apart until after the wedding feast was over but these times were not normal. Levi allowed Seleena to stand by his side and he fumbled till he found her hand - their fingers joining. She had no older brother so her sister, Marlena, tucked between her legs, only darting out to grab food when her mouth was almost empty. She used only one hand. In the other was a wooden peg with a few bits of wool tied onto the top of it and a smiling face painted down its front. On its head was a delicate lace bonnet the same as the one she'd pitched onto the fire. Its body was covered by a white ruched blouse gathered at the neck and red skirt trimmed with green and orange flowers. The girl's clothes had also gone up in flames. Marlena knew if she kept the doll she could make herself some new clothes one day. She would learn how her mother had done it by studying the doll.
     Her head cocked upwards and she told Seleena, “It's not so bad. We have not lost each other,” and was pleased to see her siblings face light up in the way it had always done before her mother and father sold them to Hank and Magda. “Is Wilhelmina going to buy us…? Ouch!” she started but stopped as Levi's legs crushed her head.
     Most of the conversation was in a mix of German and French with a heavy Russian tinge. Some of the words spoken were in a language the children understood. While pretending not to hear, every child listened intently to what was being said. Even the youngest recognised the gravity of the situation.
     In the background an accordion, fife, banjo, then a violin and tuneless piano with peeling varnish created a whirling happy atmosphere. Stomachs eventually rejected all further offers of food. Wilhelmhina grabbed Stephan, heaved him up then picked out a delicate polka until Matilda sang a fast loud mazurka while her brothers leapt in the air, kicking, shouting and madly tumbling. Levi pulled a tin from out of mustard coloured goo and slowly smeared it on the wood of the ancient instrument.
     “I think it's making the old thing sound a lot better,” Illya said as he slapped him on the back then sucked in as he realised how rich the polish made the wood look.
     One by one the children rose and began to do their individual family dance. A hushed stillness fell across the adults. It was as if they were spying on the most private of rituals. In a way they were; this was how families knew which of their children could be betrothed, who to do business deals with, and traced their ancestry, what part of the land they came from and many other more subtle bits of information. Many alliances were forged just by looking at the steps of each dance. Usually only during great gatherings would such a spectacle be seen. It was a display of the most ancient movements, handed down over the centuries from mother to daughter and father to son. It was to be the last time Levi, Seleena and the others saw or heard something familiar. The dances already no longer held any significance. They were part of the past - never to be needed again.
     Wilhelmina stepped forward after the youngest had left the floor and showed the children a variation; it was her own dance. She hadn't done it in a long time. Stephan didn't have the heart to sway her from it. He knew this was the only way to wipe the tears from behind her glassy eyes before they burned ruts in her face. It was the first time her sons had seen it. Stephan had discouraged her from handing that part of her culture to Matilda. Her daughter could sew and cook but wore dowdy clothes and spoke the language of her father. As Wilhelmina danced she made up her mind to change things in her life. A culture under threat should be fought for, she thought. It wouldn't be hard to bend Stephan to her desires.
     “Do yours…” she gestured to Magda as she walked to a chair, glancing around to see smiling young faces asleep on couches and rugs.
     “No!” Magda vehemently shook her head. “This is the past. Don't give them false hope... The burning cross flies in the heavens again - backwards this time. It will clean the land of the dancers... I've no family... I've no need to display my wares.
     The next morning Stephan’s family said goodbye to each child, each child was given a hug by the whole family. Matilda pressed a package of food into every set of arms. She blushed and held on the longest when Johann kissed her.
     As the children were getting into the van Wilhelmhina nudged Stephan, who walked over, whispering to Hank. “We can use help. If we take the oldest he can do my share of the work. You can hide the younger ones easily; some families have lost their children... They’re also less likely to be killed. Girls are sometimes made use of... Young man can be moulded to new ways...”
     Hank had a hushed conversation with Magda, nodded at Johann then motioned for three boys, Josef, Vincent and Peter to get out of the van. All four looked at their cousins, brothers and sisters then at Wilhelmhina, Stephan, Matilda, Jakob, Illya, John - standing in front of the cosy farmhouse looking at them with kind, pleading faces. They cast their eyes down, knowing they’d never again be amongst those they felt most comfortable with. It was a great betrayal - to prefer a warm bed and full stomach. The children in the van were happy for those they were leaving behind.
     “Johann and some others will stay here,” Magda said to her charges. “It’s best. You can see Stephan needs help as he walks with a stick. The other three… I think the boys will be happy here...”
     They four boys spoke a quick goodbye to those most closely related to them, whispering words of love and encouragement, then the remaining children, got into the van. The vehicle disappeared with painful lurches. Johann went to the barn, hand tightly held inside Matilda’s. He was ready to work on the farm. Her three brothers and Johann’s cousins tagging behind.
     “Look Stephan.” Wilhelmhina said. “Johann likes her. It'll be good. She hasn’t been happy since Klaude left. These younger boys will be welcome as the grandchildren we’ll never have.”
     Matilda had once been married but after two years no child had been born and her husband had left to find a wife who would give him an heir. Since then no girls would look at their sons, suspecting they too would be unable to have children. Nothing was ever said but Wilhelmina knew why her farmhouse wasn't a hub of young people milling around, looking for love. She knew it wasn't because her past had been discovered. It was not she who was being ostracised but her children.
     Wilhelmhina saw the look of concern on Stephan’s face then he smiled; “Their blood won’t mix”