"Prince Wilhelm!” Reb Mayer Anschel greeted his old friend and employer. “Tell me what this is all about!”

“Es tut mir Leid! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to frighten you with this dramatic visit,” Prince Wilhelm replied, talking quickly as his heart pounded in fear. “But I have no choice! I received top secret reports that Napoleon’s forces will be marching through Frankfurt before nightfall! Because I have supported the forces against Napoleon’s army, Napoleon has put a price on my head!”

“Tell me what I can do,” Reb Mayer Anschel replied without hesitation.

“I have loaded several wagons with gold. They are headed towards your home. If you would keep them safe until I return, I would be forever indebted to you!” Prince Wilhelm replied.

“I will store your money in the safe hidden behind that picture,” Reb Mayer Anschel promised, pointing towards a grand, beautiful painting of a forest that was hanging impressively behind his wide wooden desk. “But where will you flee to?”

“I’m leaving to Denmark immediately,” Prince Wilhelm answered. “One day, when Napoleon’s forces are defeated, I will return here once again.”

“I will do everything within my power to keep your money safe until you come back,” Reb Mayer Anschel told the Prince.

“Ich kann Ihnen nicht genug danken! I can’t thank you enough!” Prince Wilhelm said, tears gathering in his eyes as he stared at Reb Mayer Anschel.

“You don’t need to thank me,” Reb Mayer Anschel replied softly. “But you should go. I don’t want anyone to see you leaving this house.”

“You haven’t changed a bit since I met you many years ago,” Prince Wilhelm said, pausing as his hand closed around the doorknob of the study. “You’re still the same honest person who gave me a tour of the ghetto.”

“Honesty above all,” Reb Mayer Anschel said quietly, his gaze moving over the hundreds of holy seforim that were packed onto the bookshelves lining the walls of his study. “There is nothing more important.”

“Danke,” Prince Wilhelm said. As he slipped from the room, his cloak concealing his face, he added, “Viel Glück… Good luck.”

Napoleon’s general trotted on his horse through the streets of Frankfurt. Thirty soldiers and their horses cantered behind him. Heads raised proudly, they advanced purposefully toward Prince Wilhelm’s castle.

“Etre prêt! Be ready!” shouted the hook-nosed French general with the glowering face and black eyes. “Armes prêtes! Weapons ready!”

The sound of swords being drawn from their sheaths rang in the air. The general placed a white, gloved hand upon the handle of his .69 pistol and swiftly drew it out.

A terrified servant stepped out of the mansion. “Er ist gegangen! He’s gone! Please don’t hurt us!”

The general pushed the servant aside. “Bouge toi! MOVE!” He stormed into the house, dividing the troops into groups to search every inch of the beautiful palace. After some time it became obvious that the servant was telling the truth. (Excerpted from Mishpacha Jr., Issue 709)