Pride and Perseverance | {Scorbus}

Part I

Part I
December 1938

It was mid-December, not even a week before Chanukah. Scorpius would normally be with his parents at this time, just like any other eleven-year-old boy would be. But here he was, in the back of some chauffeur's automobile, on his way to some stranger's house, where he was supposed to live until his mother and father came to the country and got him. He thought it was stupid. Why did he have to leave and why did he have to go alone? It wasn't fair. He didn't want to be with some other family; he wanted to be with his own.

"Sind Sie gute Rückseite dort?" the driver asked. Are you good back there?

"I can speak English," he replied with force.

The driver let out a disappointed sigh. "Keine Notwendigkeit, sich zu zwingen," he insisted. No necessity to force yourself.

"I neet to get uset to it anyvay."

Scorpius was glad when the man let it be. He didn't want to talk. Who would anyway? He had been travelling non-stop since he boarded and left the train station. He couldn't remember how many days ago it was, but it seemed like forever and it had been terrible. The train had been packed to the absolute fullest capacity. It had been a mad house; one full of emotional children who were scared and depressed. And the boat ride later wasn't much better either. The car ride on the other hand was a godsend. The hum of the engine was like a sweet, long sought after lullaby. No cries of other children, no terrified screams, and no angry yelling. Perfect, he thought to himself as he closed his eyes and leaned his head against the car door.

As the car drove along the dirt road, he watched as the English countryside passed by him. He'd always wanted to come here. As the spoiled darling of his family, Scorpius had been given the opportunity to learn the unfamiliar English language at the tender age of six. He had hoped to learn to be fluent by the time he was old enough to go study at Oxford or Cambridge. Ever since he ran across some poetry by prominent poets like Yeats, Wordsworth, and Coleridge in his father's library, he dreamt of going to England to study English literature. But now his dreams of attending the most prestigious universities in the English speaking world plummeted to hell just as his own life.

He'd give anything to be with his parents right now. He couldn't understand it. Last month, when that horrific event, the Kristallnacht occurred, he knew some unexplainable changes had come into his life. He knew that his family, as well as the others in their affluent neighbourhood, were finally given that slap in the face that perhaps things were no longer safe in their country. The last few years proved to be difficult for people like him, but the incident last month finally proved everyone fears. Jews were no longer safe in Germany.

A couple of weeks ago, Scorpius saw the hushed urgency on his parents faces. He knew they were trying to get a visa that would allow them to escape Nazi Germany. What he didn't expect was to be sent ahead of them. Alone. That idea never came to him, but now here he was alone in the car, and it was all thanks to the Kindertransport organisation. A group of volunteers in England and Germany had arranged for German Jews children a safe passage to England, where they would be placed in foster homes or in child care services. Scorpius just happened to be one of the many children selected. He knew he should feel lucky, but he didn't.

"Here ve are," said the man in a heavy accent. "Wellingborough. That house on the hill? That is where you stay."

Scorpius eyed the gigantic house on the hill. He almost retorted at the driver that it wasn't a house but a mansion, but he stayed silent as he studied the Victorian architecture of the place. It was an old house, and he could see it. At first glance, he felt a shiver go down his spine at the unfriendly looking place, but as he looked at it closer, he sensed something gentle about the place, despite its sheer size and its formidable appearance.