The Gravedigger’s Son and the Waif Girl 1

by Sam Feuerbach

  She really shouldn’t have appealed to heaven and certainly not with those words, for now the bishop was looking up towards the ceiling. Their eyes met.

  He can’t possibly see me, the gap is too small, and anyway I’m lying in darkness, Aross tried to reassure herself. It was getting hot, almost as hot as the previous evening on the platform.

  The bishop yanked open the barndoor: "Captain, where does the ladder lead to?"

  "Up to a little hayloft, nothing special, I’ve searched it already."

  "I’m going to check it out myself", decided the bishop.

  Aross regretted her prayer, it had only made everything worse. Her legs were twitching, she had to flee.

  The sound of cracking wood stopped her.

  "For Christ’s sake! The damn rungs are half rotten."

  The God-fearing man abandoned his attempt to scale the ladder.

  A rustling sound. A flying, clucking hen.

  "Where did the rats come from so suddenly, and since when have they ganged up to attack people?" asked the bishop, more to himself than to his companions. "My instinct tells me, it has something to do with that girl called Aross. So, bring the hussy to me."

  "We’ll catch her," assured the captain.

  "What’s the story with the only witness – Grim?"

  "It was clearly too much for him when the rats made mincemeat of the matron. He fainted. He knows no more than what he’s told us already. What should we do with him?"

  The bishop clarified the matter callously. "The rabble really revolt me. String him up or cut his throat."

  "He claims he can deliver Aross to us if we let him go. Nobody knows her as well as he does." The captain’s voice suggested he believed Grim.

  "The little shitbag is unimportant. Well then, if he helps to find the hussy, let him go. We can string him up afterwards anyway. Come on, I want to have a look in the orphanage."

  The men left the barn. For a fleeting moment Aross caught a glimpse of the creepy whisperer. A chalk-white hooked nose peeked out from under a black cape. The mouth consisted of a thin line, no lips. He followed the others out the door.

  The girl in the hayloft was alone once more and continued to shiver for a time.

  What have I landed myself in now?

  The sounds outside suggested that the men had entered the orphanage. Aross carefully stuck her head out through the hole in the roof. The town watch was no longer to be seen; the yard was completely deserted.

  She needed to get away from here as fast as possible before anybody decided to check out the loft.

  At the very back under the straw was her water bottle with its leather strap. She hung it around her neck. She took her felt cap from its hook and put it on her head. She left the coins where they were; it would make too much of a racket were she to loosen the board and would take too long if she didn’t want to risk peeing in her dress. And the tooth? Where should she put that? Stupid question, where did teeth belong? She stuck it in her mouth like a sweet. A bitter, ashen taste spread out on her tongue. If she swallowed it by mistake, it would turn up again, anyway. Main thing was, she had both hands free for climbing. Off she went, through the hole in the roof shingles and over the ledge to the beech tree. She made her way, hand over hand, along the bough, down onto the ground. The entrance door to the orphanage remained closed, nobody seemed to have noticed the girl. She ran – just get away from here.

  Aross gathered herself together, leaning against a wall in one of the laneways. It took a while for her breathing to normalise. God’s supreme servant was a despicable misanthrope – that much was clear. She didn’t want to know all the things he did in the name of the Lord – on no account must he catch her. His visitor, the hoarse whisperer, sounded at least as dangerous. And the mendacious meanie Grim really believed he could hunt her down?

  The first thing she needed to do was to get another dress or dye her old one. The children of the orphanage were, of course, strictly forbidden from doing either of those things. But she wasn’t a child of the orphanage anymore. Aross realised she was free now, free from serving at table, free from orphanage rules, free from the matron.

  Now I’ll be making my own rules. The first thing I’ll do is get myself a dress from one of the clotheslines in the upper town.

  People seemed to be looking at her more than was usual. When she touched her face, she understood why – much of the graveyard clay was still sticking to it. It wasn’t far to the well in the old town. Using both hands she washed the dirt from her skin with the yellowed water. She had to learn to be as inconspicuous as possible. The upper town was teeming with clotheslines, hanging between the houses. Mostly airily high, but that wouldn’t present too much of a difficulty to Aross.

  Everything was clean as a whistle here compared to the old town, and it even smelled half-way decent. No wonder – the canals ran under the ground and flowed downward. The one thing the Uptowners had to spare for the slums was the shit from the sewers.

  Her cap pulled low over her face, Aross climbed two steps at a time in spite of her short legs. The long steps led up the hill to the royal castle. She didn’t want to run for too long, so halfway up she veered left and walked through the narrow streets with a face that suggested she was on a very important errand. Her timing was perfect, the women had spent the morning washing clothes and hanging them up in the sunshine. The lines ran every which way, from balconies to hooks, from windows to metal loops.

  What a choice: shirts, socks, legwear, underwear and dresses dripping everywhere. Preferably long-sleeved, after all, winter was coming, although it was rarely really cold in Hubstone, thankfully. It gets really cold up north, a kitchen maid had explained one time. So cold that the water became hard as iron. Aross hadn’t believed such nonsense, of course. How was that supposed to happen?

  A clothesline in a side street attracted her attention. Three linen dresses hung across the alley just over three yards high. They were all roughly her size; she liked the middle one best, brown with nice long sleeves. A man approached her, she looked down at the ground – all innocence – he ambled past her without giving her a second look. Aross quickly glanced over her shoulder, the man disappeared around a corner. A quick look ahead – not a sinner to be seen. She scaled up the house wall on the left, child’s play, first up the railing beside the front door, next onto the porch roof over the entrance, and now there was only another yard before grabbing the dress. And then, instead of tossing them a coin in payment, she would simply turn tail and run!

  With one foot balanced on the ledge, she stretched her fingers forward. Only two widths of a thumb. Her forefinger was already touching the material. Then two arms were grabbing her under her armpits and pulling her through an open window into the house,

  "YOU THIEF! Think you can steal my washing, do you? You’re in for a sound thrashing and then I’ll hand you over to the town watch – let’s see what they do to you."

  Aross went pale with fright – she’d completely overlooked the open window on the second floor. A fat woman, two heads taller than Aross, was holding onto her tightly. She could grip even harder than Grim.

  "What were you thinking of, girl?" Two beady eyes flashed angrily at her. Two powerful arms were shaking her.

  "Eh-eh-eh-eh, uh-uh-uh-uh…"

  The woman stopped her vigorous shaking.

  "Has the cat got your tongue? What’s wrong with you?"

  "Aaahh, iiih, uhht". Aross’s mouth was clattering.

  "Don’t think you can fool me! You’re not going to get away from me."

  She dragged Aross by the arm to the door, turned a large key and stuck it in her apron. She quickly walked to the window and closed it, not forgetting to bolt it.

  "You look agile. Now you won’t be able to escape until I’m done with you and call the town watch."

  Aross instinctively remembered the beatings she’d suffered at the hands of the matron. She couldn’t help searching the walls for canes.

  "Sit over there!" bark
ed the woman, gripping Aross firmly, dragging her to a chair and pushing her down on it.

  Aross had walked right into the rattrap – not cheese, but clothing to catch her.

  Still, now that everything was barricaded, the woman let go of her. "What have you got in your mouth?"

  Aross didn’t react.

  The fat woman’s cheeks went pink with anger. "Take it out, now!"

  Reluctantly, the girl took the tooth out of her mouth. The woman looked in disbelief at her hand. Arms akimbo, she looked Aross up and down. "So that’s what rotten, impudent girl thieves look like."

  Aross still couldn’t think of what she should say. She could think of nothing else but escape, but the wherewithal still failed her.

  "What sort of a minx are you? Are you so hungry you have to suck on a tooth?"

  "I…I don’t know."

  "When I look at you like that…totally scrawny, your ribs are showing through your dress." She examined Aross again, rubbed the material on her collar between her thumb and forefinger. "That’s nothing but a rag," she sighed and frowned.

  The woman sat down on an armchair directly opposite Aross. "Your grey dress. Are you from the orphanage?"

  If she admitted it, the fat woman really would hand her over to the town watch. It was getting more and more dangerous for Aross. Her only option was to fight. Her eyes darted left, then right. Maybe she’d find something she could hit hard with.

  The woman leaned forward and yanked the cap off Aross’s head. "And your face looks a mess."

  Would the old dear please stop telling me what I know already? Is she going to give me a beating now or not?

  The woman stared silently at Aross, the anger in her beady eyes evaporated. Her pink expression suggested several scenarios struggling with each other. Then she let out a peculiar groan, stood up, went to the window and leaned out of it.

  Aross sat on her chair and thought furiously. The idea of fleeing felt like a cold shower – didn’t appeal to Aross at all. No, not one little bit.

  I’ll take a run-up and shove the fat one out onto the street below.

  The woman stood on her tiptoes and leaned further out of the window. Aross stood up, her poisonous stare fixed on the bum in the window. What other option was there if she wanted to save her own skin? The town watch would bring her straight to the bishop, that unscrupulous misanthrope. Torture, burning at the stake, hanged up by her feet and slit open like Mattilda – terrifying pictures flashed across the girl’s mind.

  Do it, Aross. Now or never!

  "Which of the three dresses did you want to steal?" asked the fat woman in a friendly voice. "I’ll give it to you as a present."

  Never!

  Gobsmacked, Aross sank back onto the chair. What did she mean by that? What did the woman want from her? She surely had some trick up her sleeve.

  Aross let her chance of escape pass by. The fat woman turned around, holding all three dresses in her hands. "Which do you like best?"

  "I…uh…the…the brown one," stammered Aross.

  "Stand up then."

  She hesitantly got to her feet. The fat woman held the dress in front of Aross’s body.

  "Yes, fits quite well, maybe a little long, but you’re still growing. It’s practically dry. Why don’t you try it on?"

  Aross stood there, dumbfounded. That must have been a joke. Aross was a pathetic thief, that was beyond doubt. Friendliness and presents weren’t part of the deal.

  "Come on, then! We’ll throw away that rag. Unless you really want to hold onto it."

  Stunned beyond belief, Aross barely managed a shake of her head before pulling off her orphan dress. She still didn’t know what to make of it all.

  "Dear, oh dear, you really are nothing more than skin and bones." The fat woman held her hand in front of her mouth in horror. "And…who beat you like that?"

  The signs of cane number five still shimmered impressively in green and blue – never mind the welts and encrusted wounds.

  "Heavens, that’s near enough to an execution. Did they catch you trying to steal the royal crown?" She said it with a friendly smile.

  Suddenly something struck Aross, something that rarely played a role in her life – the truth. "I…I know, it sounds funny. But I’m innocent and in spite of that I was severely beaten."

  "Hm. Come on now, slip into your new dress."

  She helped Aross pull on the brown dress. The material was thicker and felt comfortable to the touch.

  "Better already, child. If you like, I’ll give you something to eat too."

  Aross was – not to put a tooth in it – completely at a loss. Was there anything more disarming than friendliness and kindness, especially when it came so unexpectedly? The terrible events of the past few days swooped hither and yon in her head like the seagulls in the harbour. The loss of Wolf, the terrible execution of Shewhoknows, Mattilda’s death, her hatred for Grim and Chain Dog. A lonely waif, surrounded by catastrophes, fighting her way through the cesspool, being hunted down by the most powerful man in the city, the archbishop. Everything was collapsing in on her at the same time, pressing down on her tiny shoulders. But that wasn’t all. Aross sobbed quietly so that only she could hear it. Then the tears rolled down her cheeks, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d cried – but now, the time had come. The woman stretched out her arms and pulled the girl gently to her chest. The same hands that had only a moment ago grabbed her angrily and pulled her through the window and into the house were now stroking her back. An unbelievable feeling.

  "What’s the matter, child? Everything is alright, you can keep the dress and can go whenever you want to."

  The silent tears were in full flow now. The fat woman’s apron was becoming damp. Something else was causing her to sob which was enough to make you weep. A deep sense of shame and a guilty conscience! Hadn’t she only just toyed with the idea of pushing the woman out of the window? Had the violence, corruption and depravity rubbed off on her to such a degree that she could no longer tell the difference between right and wrong?

  "I…I, sorry. Thank…thank you. Thank you so much."

  It was taking Aross a while to calm down.

  Rats don’t cry!

  The new, long, brown sleeves were perfect for wiping away tears. At the last moment Aross managed to stop herself from heartily blowing her nose into one of them too. As if able to read minds, the woman produced a handkerchief before the girl’s nose, dug the key out of her apron and opened the door.

  "Well, child, do you want something to eat before your go?" she asked.

  Aross nodded, dried off her tears and nose with the handkerchief and followed the woman down the stairs and into a large living room. Only now was she really taking in her surroundings. On the walls hung pictures with people on them. Who could paint so wonderfully? The dark, polished furniture gleamed at her. Warm, soft carpets were spread out on the floor.

  Her hostess placed a basket with bread and a plate with cheese, clarified butter and blood sausage on the table. "If you prefer something sweet, I have cherry jam as well." She pointed at a row of fruit jars on a shelf.

  "No-one has ever been so friendly towards me," murmured Aross.

  "Then isn’t it about time!" The fat woman turned around and dabbed her face with a corner of her apron.

  Aross placed the tooth on the table.

  The woman only barely flinched. She pointed to Farin’s breastbone. "There’s a little inside pocket here in your dress. You can put…", she pointed at the tooth, "…that in there."

  Surprised, Aross peered into her neckline. Amazing! Well, that was practical. She quickly hid the tooth in the little pocket and immediately began to feast on the food.

  "Oh dear, we left your cap lying upstairs. You sit there and I’ll fetch it."

  Aross opened her mouth wide and bit into the fresh bread. The woman trudged up the stairs. The girl’s eyes were amazed by the beautiful furnishings, especially the cabinet with its dresser opposite her. She’d never see
n such plates before, made from a white material with golden rims. She loved the painted cups hanging over them, each with pairs of handles. In a small cast-iron bowl was a pile of silver coins, and even a golden thaler among them.

  The second bite tasted even better than the first. Aross still couldn’t believe her luck. The fat woman came down the stairs and pressed the old felt cap on Aross’s head. "I can’t say it’s nice", she commented.

  "I’m not either, which is why it suits me," said Aross, chomping noisily.

  "Oh, come on now, who says things like that?"

  If she were to be honest, she could answer – none other than the archbishop of this great city would say such a thing.

  But Aross decided to hold back on the honesty, she was used to doing that anyway. "Oh, it doesn’t matter." She concentrated on her bread and butter.

  After a quarter of an hour she felt full. She’d devoured three slices of bread, each as thick as a thumb. Aross stood up, went over to the woman and hugged her. Her arms were nowhere near long enough to embrace her completely. "Thank you again. I’m sorry I was going to steal your dress."

  "Don’t worry about it. Theft is never a good idea. If you’re caught, they’ll chop off your hand." The woman gently pinched her cheek. "Good luck on you travels."

  Aross left the house in the knowledge that politeness, understanding and kindness were also to be found in the world. A warm and comforting feeling. Only even rarer than a decent meal, unfortunately.

  Dear day, you’ve won again – it isn’t often you bring me to tears.

  alone in the catacombs

  W ould you have a few candles for me?" Farin asked the quartermaster.

  "Certainly, sir." The man pressed a bound bundle of eight candles made from mutton tallow into his hand. "Why didn’t you send a servant?"

  The gravedigger’s son shrugged his shoulders. "Thank you very much."

  To be perfectly honest, he was quite capable of wiping his own backside and didn’t need anyone’s assistance, but he wasn’t able to say that to the man. Instead, he gave a friendly nod before returning into his little tower room.