pulled the coverlet over her ears. She didn't want to hear any more. This was a place of love. Her mother and father loved each other and they loved her equally. But another face of the world had been brought in ...
Suddenly she heard the mattress creak. Her mother was getting up, had taken her shawl from the doorknob and was creeping out.
'Where are you going?' came from the bed.
The only reply was that of the door being shut.
From her trundle bed, the child, eyes watching and wide, stared from the window into the night. Like a genie who pops from a bottle to cast a spell, so the moon, now full, had cast a spell over the night and stamped the world in silver. Silver flowers in silver pots spilled from silver windows. The rooftops, and trees beyond, Herr Neumann's dog asleep at his door, the filigree of fruit trees – all shone in silver. And above the tree-tops, stars twinkled in a silver sky.
It was magic. She would have sneaked outside, but eyes from the big bed were awake and watching.
She studied fingers resting on the sill that had turned silver and listened for her mother.
Four
The woman whipped the shawl around her head and
took off. She reached the marketplace, now bare of
traders, stalls and caravans, of all but the column with its
shimmering star and cross of gold. She hurried through
the square, and along streets where shadows leered with
menace in the moonlight. As she turned a corner she
could see an orange glow and, as she got closer, hear the
hum of noise. She pushed open the mitred door and
entered into a haze of smoke, and the smell of bodies
and cheap wine.
The tavern was filled with men mostly but woman too joined in the laughter and the banging of fists on tables. Someone on the stage was attempting to sing.
'Hey, over here.'
'No.'
'Uppity, eh?'
She pushed ahead. The man behind the bar wore a rag around a neck thick as that of a bullfrog.
'Next?'
'How dare you –' Her voice was trembling.
'What?'
'You knew his weakness yet you paid him in wine ... ' Her voice was getting stronger, clearer. People at the bar were staring.
She went on, her sound strong now, 'Shame on you ... You get the wine cheap and the more he takes the less you pay and you ply him with more so you can pay him less; no more than you would pay a dog to do tricks ... '
Suddenly the whole place had become silent.
'Shame on you.' The woman swung around. 'Shame on all of you for you know him, but you watched and said nothing. Yet you listened. Oh yes, you did that. For who among you can quote Schiller and Goethe as Otto can? None of you. And you know it. You know it as you know his weakness, and you did nothing. Shame on you – on all of you...' The woman broke into a fit of coughing. She staggered towards the door as bodies parted to let her through.
'He wanted it!' yelled the man at the bar.
On the street, the woman sobbed. She drew her shawl tighter and started back. At the corner she heard the sound of footsteps behind her. She went faster. The footsteps went faster, were catching up.
'Wait!'
Her heart was thumping inside her chest, but she turned and saw, coming closer, the man who had opened the door as she fled.
'The army is recruiting,' he said. 'In the wars against Napoleon we lost many. The pay is good and –' he paused, 'there is discipline.'
The woman stood in the watery glow of a gas lamp and hung her head.
'Otto is a lucky man,' he added.
'Oh?'
'To have a woman like you.'The man gave a quick bow and walked back along the street.
In the cottage by the granary the child heard the gate click open. She pulled the coverlet up and fell asleep.
Five
The day was the colour of butter. Perfect for being with someone whose hand you can hold and hear street musicians play melodies you tap your feet to.
When they got to the cafe in the Kaiserstrasse the players were having a break.
They sat outside and ate cake. The child dropped crumbs.
'The birds will thank you,' remarked her father. He pulled his seat
Suddenly she heard the mattress creak. Her mother was getting up, had taken her shawl from the doorknob and was creeping out.
'Where are you going?' came from the bed.
The only reply was that of the door being shut.
From her trundle bed, the child, eyes watching and wide, stared from the window into the night. Like a genie who pops from a bottle to cast a spell, so the moon, now full, had cast a spell over the night and stamped the world in silver. Silver flowers in silver pots spilled from silver windows. The rooftops, and trees beyond, Herr Neumann's dog asleep at his door, the filigree of fruit trees – all shone in silver. And above the tree-tops, stars twinkled in a silver sky.
It was magic. She would have sneaked outside, but eyes from the big bed were awake and watching.
She studied fingers resting on the sill that had turned silver and listened for her mother.
Four
The woman whipped the shawl around her head and
took off. She reached the marketplace, now bare of
traders, stalls and caravans, of all but the column with its
shimmering star and cross of gold. She hurried through
the square, and along streets where shadows leered with
menace in the moonlight. As she turned a corner she
could see an orange glow and, as she got closer, hear the
hum of noise. She pushed open the mitred door and
entered into a haze of smoke, and the smell of bodies
and cheap wine.
The tavern was filled with men mostly but woman too joined in the laughter and the banging of fists on tables. Someone on the stage was attempting to sing.
'Hey, over here.'
'No.'
'Uppity, eh?'
She pushed ahead. The man behind the bar wore a rag around a neck thick as that of a bullfrog.
'Next?'
'How dare you –' Her voice was trembling.
'What?'
'You knew his weakness yet you paid him in wine ... ' Her voice was getting stronger, clearer. People at the bar were staring.
She went on, her sound strong now, 'Shame on you ... You get the wine cheap and the more he takes the less you pay and you ply him with more so you can pay him less; no more than you would pay a dog to do tricks ... '
Suddenly the whole place had become silent.
'Shame on you.' The woman swung around. 'Shame on all of you for you know him, but you watched and said nothing. Yet you listened. Oh yes, you did that. For who among you can quote Schiller and Goethe as Otto can? None of you. And you know it. You know it as you know his weakness, and you did nothing. Shame on you – on all of you...' The woman broke into a fit of coughing. She staggered towards the door as bodies parted to let her through.
'He wanted it!' yelled the man at the bar.
On the street, the woman sobbed. She drew her shawl tighter and started back. At the corner she heard the sound of footsteps behind her. She went faster. The footsteps went faster, were catching up.
'Wait!'
Her heart was thumping inside her chest, but she turned and saw, coming closer, the man who had opened the door as she fled.
'The army is recruiting,' he said. 'In the wars against Napoleon we lost many. The pay is good and –' he paused, 'there is discipline.'
The woman stood in the watery glow of a gas lamp and hung her head.
'Otto is a lucky man,' he added.
'Oh?'
'To have a woman like you.'The man gave a quick bow and walked back along the street.
In the cottage by the granary the child heard the gate click open. She pulled the coverlet up and fell asleep.
Five
The day was the colour of butter. Perfect for being with someone whose hand you can hold and hear street musicians play melodies you tap your feet to.
When they got to the cafe in the Kaiserstrasse the players were having a break.
They sat outside and ate cake. The child dropped crumbs.
'The birds will thank you,' remarked her father. He pulled his seat
Similar Books
