by Tia Nevitt
Ange was silent for a moment. “I can see why you are cautious. But nobody else here would think it was funny. There would be no one to share the joke with.”
“I know. I just wonder, is all.” She sighed. “And I guess I’m judging him exactly like other people always judge me.”
“Hmm. It does sound like it.”
They both chuckled.
Gretchen lay silent for a moment, and then she said, “I can’t believe I’ve been talking to you this way. I don’t usually confide in strangers.”
There was another silence from the pallet. Then Ange said, “Neither do I.”
* * *
The sound of feminine laughter greeted Lars as he left the stuffy bunkroom to begin his chores. He hesitated for a moment and then continued on down the animal stalls.
The cow mooed petulantly.
“No, no.” Gretchen’s voice came from a cow stall. “You don’t just squeeze the teat. You have to squeeze and pull. Otherwise you just irritate the poor dear.”
“This brute is a poor dear?” the princess asked.
“Of course she’s a dear.” There was a patting sound. “And you’d better treat her like she’s your dear, or she’ll slap your eyes with her tail.”
“Maybe I’ll just let you milk her.”
“Oh no. You wanted to do this. Milking a cow is a skill every queen should know.”
Again, the sound of laughter was with him as he unbarred the barn door and pushed open one of the great doors along its tracks. There was the usual screech. As he turned to open the other door, he noticed two heads poking out over the cow stall.
“Guten Morgen,” he said. He didn’t hear their responses as he shoved open the other door.
Ange said something that made Gretchen giggle. And then she walked back toward the kitchen. She disappeared around the corner, and he heard a door close.
This was it. The first time he had been alone with Gretchen since her arrival. Well, not alone exactly, but—
He headed toward the cow stall. He heard the milk spray into the bucket in a regular rhythm. He knew the cow would not appreciate another interruption, so he paused.
Although he was no untried lad, he had little experience with courtship. The few women he had attempted to court had not taken him seriously, and the ones who had taken him to their beds were mostly older women who were curious, or women who didn’t mind teaching an odd boy a few things. Therefore, he was in the awkward position of having had sexual experience without having any romantic experience.
Rudolph’s pursuit of Gretchen seemed insincere. He had come back the previous evening amused and self-satisfied. It was not the reaction of a man who had genuine feelings for a girl. It was the reaction of a man who felt confident he would soon make a conquest.
The milk pail seemed slow now, and the sprayings of the milk less frequent. He would wait for her to stand, then he would come up and ask her—
The bunkroom door slammed open.
The cow mooed. Gretchen muttered a brow-raising oath, and she stood to look over the wall. She stopped when she saw Lars.
“Why, Fräulein,” Rudolph said in his usual mocking voice. “Was he spying on you?”
Lars pressed his lips together, turned, grabbed a bag of pig feed and walked out of the house. As usual, Rudolph’s laugher followed him.
* * *
Gretchen spun to face Rudolph. “I’ll thank you, Herr Rudolph, to open the door quietly when you come out in the morning. I believe I’ve spoken to you about this before.”
“It is difficult to prevent,” Rudolph said as he gripped one of his biceps, “when nature has blessed you with such strength.”
She scowled at him, turned and followed Lars out of the farmhouse. She found him at the pigpen. He had partially climbed the fence at the corner and stood with his feet on the second slats from the bottom, the bag of feed propped on the corner of the fence boards in front of him
“Herr Lars!” He turned to regard her. She continued to walk up, and then she stood looking up at him. “Was there something you wished to ask me?”
“Oh—well I mostly wanted to strike up a conversation, but the cow seemed jumpy, so I was waiting for you to finish.”
“I see.” She folded her hands before her. “And now?”
“Now what?”
“Don’t you still want to have a conversation?”
He shot a glance at her. Did her voice have a flirting tone? “Of course I do,” he said.
“And I actually have a question that I’d like to ask you.”
“And I’d love to hear it.” His eyes slid past her to something behind her. “But maybe you should wait for some time when we are not so well observed.”
She turned to see Rudolph leaning up against the door frame of the farmhouse, watching them.
* * *
Later that morning, when she had finished her chores, she decided to seek out Lars. As she walked down the main hallway of the farmhouse, she halted when she saw Klaus repairing a manger. She had not spoken to him much either. He stopped working when she approached.
“Am I bothering you?” she asked him.
“Of course not,” he said. He picked up a pair of pliers and wrested a nail out of the manger.
“You don’t speak very much, do you?” she asked as she overturned a bucket and perched upon it.
“It’s hard to speak with Rudolph always running his mouth.”
She smiled. “Then why do you let him?”
He paused and looked at her. “What did you say?”
“Why would you let him do all the talking?”
“I...I don’t know. It seems rude to interrupt.”
“Does he interrupt you?”
“Well, yes.”
“Don’t worry about it then. He was rude first.”
Klaus thought about it a moment, and then he nodded. “You have a point.” He got back to work.
“How long have you been living here?”
“Six months or so.”
“How long are you staying?”
He paused. “I haven’t really thought about it.”
“You staying here forever?”
“’Course not. But I’ll at least stay through winter.”
“And then what?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. There doesn’t seem to be many places for people like me.”
Gretchen cocked her head. “That’s what I thought too, a few weeks ago.”
“What happened then?”
“I heard of this place.”
“Ok,” he said. “So there’s one place.”
“There doesn’t have to be,” she said.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean we can always do what Herr and Frau Klein did.” She smiled. “We can each make our own place.”
He stared at her in silence.
She stood. “Guten Tag, Herr Klaus.”
“Guten Tag, Fräulein.”
She left and reflected over her conversation with Klaus. She didn’t want to judge him based on only one conversation, but his defeatist outlook bothered her. She could imagine years spread out before them, with her always trying to prop up his sense of optimism until they were both worn down.
She shook her head and went to find Lars. He was nowhere around the farmhouse, so she went down the road that led between the fields. After going a short distance, she climbed on the lower slat of the fence
for a better look around. In one field she could see Rudolph guiding the horses and a harrow. Lars was plowing the other field. Two yoked oxen pulled the plow; his job was to guide it along the furrow. For an ordinary man, it was backbreaking work. Gretchen didn’t know how he managed it. She watched as he reached the end of the field. Then he took up the reins, guided the oxen around and paused to mop his brow.
She went to the well, filled a bucket and carried it to the end of the field.
He was already on his way back. He didn’t notice her until he reached the fence.
“Fräulein!” He pulled the oxen to a halt.
“Thirsty?”
“Yes,” he said, but then he patted a water bladder at his waist. “But I bet these oxen are even thirstier.” He took the bucket and offered it to one of the great creatures, which began to drink messily. He let both oxen drink, and then he took a swig from his own bladder.
“Would you like me to refill your water skin for you?”
Lars looked pleased. “Yes, thank you.”
Gretchen found herself smiling as she walked away with the skin and the empty bucket. At the well, she refilled the bladder and cleaned out the bucket before setting it beside the well. Then she took the bladder to Lars.
“Thank you,” he said, reaching out to take the bladder as he swung the oxen around. He stuffed the end into his belt.
“I still have that question I’d like to ask you,” Gretchen called as the team started to haul the plow up another row.
He looked at her. “Yes?”
She smiled. “I’ll wait until you come back.”
She watched as he made his way down the row, reached the other end and made his way back again.
Then when he came back around, he asked. “Your question, Fräulein?”
“How did you know I wasn’t a man?” she asked. “Everyone else I met on my journey was fooled.”
“Were they?”
“They seemed fooled to me.”
“Most of them probably didn’t see past your dwarfness.” He guided the oxen toward the next row.
“Everyone here thought I was a man too. Or at least a boy. Except you.”
“Well,” he said as he grunted with effort, “there was one thing that gave you away.”
“What was it?”
He got the oxen on track, and they began to pull back the way they had come. After they were underway, he looked back with a grin and said, “I’ll tell you when I come back.”
Gretchen regarded him for a moment with lifted brows, and then she smiled.
When he came back, she was perched on a nearby stile, with the bucket of water beside her. Lars looped the reins around a fence post, watered the oxen and joined her.
“So?” she asked.
He smiled and took a swig of water. His face was red. Gretchen wondered if it was from the hard work, but then she realized it hadn’t been red a moment ago. “So, what?” he asked, obviously stalling.
She lifted a brow playfully. “How did you know I was a woman?”
He opened his mouth to answer.
“Yes, how did you know?” another voice cut in. Gretchen and Lars both spun around. Rudolph was walking up.
“I—” Lars’s gaze cut to Gretchen. “I’ll have to tell you later.”
“Hmm. It must be quite personal.” Rudolph vaulted over the fence and looked out over the plowed fields. “Looks pretty crooked. Do you expect Herr Dieter to plant in a zigzag?”
Lars looked unconcerned. “He was out here an hour or so ago. He didn’t seem to have any problem with my work.”
“You’ve obviously slacked since then. You’ll have to redo the last five rows.”
“Herr Dieter would be very annoyed if I wasted daylight by trying to make these rows any straighter than they are now.”
Rudolph stood up straight and looked down at Lars. “I advise you to remember that I am senior to you around here.”
“Perhaps so, but that doesn’t make you my boss. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a field to plow.” Lars turned back to the team.
Rudolph watched him for a moment while Gretchen frowned at him. “Wait a moment,” Rudolph said. “You still haven’t told Fräulein why you were able to see through her disguise.”
Lars turned around. His face was no longer red—he only looked determined. “I was going to tell her that she couldn’t possibly be a man because she was entirely too pretty.”
There was a moment of silence. Then Rudolph threw his head back and laughed.
Gretchen, however, hardly heard him. Instead, she watched in wonder as Lars moved away behind the team, his back straight with indignation. Did he really think her pretty? Or had he only said that for Rudolph’s benefit?
Rudolph, however, couldn’t resist one final insult. “How touching! The stump has found another stump to love.”
Gretchen gasped in outrage.
Lars stopped the team. He turned around and said, “You will apologize to her, or you will eat dirt.”
To everyone’s surprise, Rudolph turned to Gretchen and said, “He is right, Fräulein. I should not have included you in my insult.” He bowed low at the waist. “I humbly apologize.” Then he sprang at Lars. “But you! You are the one who’ll be eating dirt. I’ll plant you like the stump you are.”
Gretchen watched in shock as they began to wrestle in the newly turned soil. She turned and fled back toward the farmhouse, calling for Herr Dieter.
Chapter Seven
Lars stumbled to the farmhouse behind Dieter, determined to stay ahead of Rudolph, who seemed equally determined. They went in the side door, and Dieter directed them to a table bench. Rudolph sat, and Lars reluctantly sat beside him.
“Now, Herr Lars,” Marta said. “I thought I made it plain when you started here that there will be no fighting. Since you’re the new one, and since we had no trouble before you arrived, I must conclude that—”
Lars was unable to keep silent. “Frau, the only reason you didn’t have fighting before was because the others don’t stand up to his bullying.”
“Herr Lars, this is not a schoolyard!”
Herr Dieter harrumphed. “Dear, I think we should start by asking each their side of the story, not with reprimands. Now.” He looked at Rudolph. “Fräulein Gretchen says that it started with an insult.”
“I was angry because I thought Lars was doing shoddy work,” Rudolph said. “I did insult him, and I regretfully included Fräulein Gretchen in my insult. For which I promptly apologized.”
“And then you promptly jumped on me,” Lars added.
“Only because you threatened me.”
“I never!”
Rudolph looked at Herr Dieter. “He said he’d make me eat dirt.”
“Only if you didn’t apologize.”
“Enough,” Frau Marta said. “You will now shake hands and try to get along.”
Rudolph’s handshake was bruising, and his smirk was unrepentant. Lars left the kitchen, knowing that Rudolph would use the time to get a last word in, but he didn’t care. He intended to get a last word in himself, so he waited for Herr Dieter in one of the animal stalls. When Dieter stalked past, Lars stopped him with a hand on the arm.
“I didn’t want to say it in front of Frau Marta,” he said, “But the insult was to call me a stump. Fräulein Gretchen as well.”
Dieter took off his hat and scratched his head. “I’ll have a little talk with him about that, and about the b
ullying too.”
That would do no good, but he thanked Dieter anyway and went back to work. He worked until the sun was setting, and came in while the other farmhands were washing up at the river. He brought the animals in, unhitched the plow, grabbed his other change of clothing and headed to the river as the others were headed back.
“Your dinner will be cold, Lars,” Dieter said.
“It will be delicious anyway.”
He bathed in the river, blessedly alone for once. In the castle there had always been little nooks were he could go to escape the constant presence of others. Here he had only discovered one place. But it was so difficult to slip off undiscovered, and he would rather not risk Rudolph discovering it as well.
He went to shore and took the clothing that he’d worn that day and gave them a good scrubbing against the river rocks. He wrung them out, emerged from the water, shook off the excess water and wrung out his hair. When he was reasonably dry, he dressed, grabbed his wet clothes and headed back to the house.
Just before he reached the farmhouse, Gretchen stepped out of the shadows. He stopped.
“I...I just wanted to thank you,” she said, wringing her hands in nervousness. “For your compliment and for defending me.”
For a horrified instant he wondered if she had seen him out in the river. But he quickly dismissed the notion. Of course she would not have done such a thing. He suspected she was very proper. Following him out to the river and spying on him while he bathed would be totally unlike her. She would be aghast that he’d ever suspected her of such a thing.
“You didn’t deserve any of that,” he said. “It was natural that I defend you.”
“Still, I wanted to thank you.”
“You’re certainly welcome.”
She nodded and then turned stiffly and walked back toward the farmhouse. She certainly seemed more awkward than usual. It must have been because they had been rather alone out there together. Mindful of her sense of propriety, he waited a moment so they would not be seen walking in together, and then he followed.
* * *
“You did what?” Ange exclaimed.
