The Last of the Freemen

by Carl Trotz

  Harm nodded. “I have Erbstauden in the back here, they need to be planted out.”

  “You look tired, Harm. Go and rest. I'll have the boys unload them and set them in a shady spot. You can all go later to the far end and find good spots for them.”

  Harm hesitated. Oscar insisted.

  “Help this poor lady and her child to the house. They've been through quite an ordeal. Go introduce her to your sister. And Hilda will be glad to see you, she's always worried about you.”

  “Freilich,” Harm said begrudgingly, then retrieved the luggage from the car. “Come on,” he said to her, “let’s go to the house.”

  “See you later, Mrs. Gordon,” Oscar said as he lifted the wheelbarrow. “I have to get these out to the road. The English are buying as fast as I can cut.”

  Oscar went up the grade towards the road, while Erin followed Harm across the driveway - where they were kept from view of the road by the slope into which the barn was built - to the backyard of the house. Two straw-headed children scurried away, giggling, and made their way under laden clotheslines, then into the house just ahead of them.

  “Follow them,” Harm said, and held open the door.

  Chapter 20

  They entered a bright, clean kitchen with white wainscoting on the lower half of the walls, and blue-and-white striped wallpaper above; a large wood-fired cook stove was across the room, and a modern saddle sink to her right. A tall, sturdy woman stood while she folded laundry at the table; her gray-blond hair was pulled back in a pony tail, she wore blue jeans and a red flannel shirt, and her eyes were gray like Harm’s. The two children, a girl and boy, hid under the table, while a plump old woman with a stern face, a brown dress, and a matching scarf on her head, sat at the far end peeling rutabagas.

  “Well, hello there,” the tall woman said with a soft but assertive voice. “You must be Mrs. Gordon. Welcome to our home. I'm Harm’s sister, Hilda.”

  “Hello. Please, call me Erin.” She repeated a hello to the old woman, who ignored her.

  “That's our mother over there,” Hilda said. “She doesn't talk to strangers. Or English. My kids Bertie and Axel are under the table. I saw that you met Herman and Rudy, and my husband Oscar. Our oldest daughter Frieda is out at the roadside stand. And our ten-year old, Ada, is staying with relatives for the week. She loves knitting and I've never been so good at it, but Oscar’s sister and mother are amazing. She stays there sometimes to help them with chores, and they love to teach her.”

  The old woman eyed Erin suspiciously and kept at her work. The children crawled off into the hallway, then peered back around the corner.

  “Have a seat, make yourself at home,” Hilda said. “I'll get you something to eat. Then we’ll get you settled. You must be tired after what you've been through.”

  “Thank you, I am.”

  She sat in the closest chair, directly across from Hilda.

  “Good to see you're still alive, little brother,” Hilda said casually as she turned and went to the cupboard behind her.

  “Warum bist du immer unberechenbar?” the old woman suddenly launched at Harm in a scolding tone.

  “Ich bin wie du, Mutti,” Harm answered patiently. Hilda smiled and the old woman scoffed.

  “Hirnchen!” the boy called teasingly from the hallway; both children giggled and withdrew their faces as Erin looked their way.

  “Hör auf!” Hilda chided them. “Please excuse them, Erin. They have to learn their manners. And they don't hear many nice things about you English people around here.”

  “What did they say?” Erin asked uncertainly.

  “Don't worry about it. They won't say it again.”

  “They called you a name we use for the English,” Harm said. “Little brain.”

  “We don't all talk that way,” Hilda said, then turned to her children. “This lady has been through a lot. You be nice to her. She's a neighbor.” She came back to the table with an empty plate for Erin, pausing on her way as the children ran past and out the door; then she made another trip to set down a cutting board that held bread, cheese, dry sausage, and half an apple. Finally she brought a tall glass and poured a pale amber liquid into it.

  “Is apple wine okay?” she asked as an afterthought. “Or would you prefer water?”

  “Oh, this should be fine,” Erin said quickly. “I could use a drink.”

  “The apple doesn't have much flavor, I have to warn you, it’s been in storage a long time.”

  “That's okay.”

  “Aren't you hungry, Harm?” Hilda asked. “Sit down.”

  “Nein. Ich bin los.” He turned, placed Erin's luggage on a bench by the door, and started out; Erin looked over her shoulder with a hint of panic.

  “You're leaving?” she asked.

  “Yeah. I'll be around.”

  As he exited, Hilda pulled out a chair and sat across from Erin, then leaned forward with her elbows on the table and gazed at Hughie.

  “He’s adorable,” she said. “I'm so happy they didn't get him.”

  “Me, too.”

  “Can I hold him?”

  “Oh, sure.”

  She sprang to her feet, went around the table, and gently took Hughie in her arms.

  “So precious. I'd never get tired of having them,” she said. “Does he need to be fed soon?”

  Erin swallowed a bite of cheese before answering. “Pretty soon.”

  “There’s a room down the hall, I think it used to be a sitting room, it's more of a playroom now, but you can close the door if you want privacy.”

  “Oh, thank you, but I don't - I bottle feed.”

  Hilda nodded and sat back down. Harm reentered with Axel riding on his back - the boy’s arms wrapped tightly around his neck - and the case of baby formula in his hands; he placed the box on the bench and left without saying a word. Erin’s eyes followed him out the door.

  “So what do you think of him?” Hilda asked with a twinkle in her eye.

  Erin laughed nervously. “I don't know. He's been very kind to us. But he’s a little hard to figure out. And a little intimidating. I certainly wouldn't want to be on his bad side.”

  Hilda smiled. “It doesn't seem that you are.” She watched as Erin cut a slice of bread, then added, “You two would make an interesting pair.”

  Erin blushed and, nearly choking, struggled to speak.

  “I hardly know him,” she finally managed.

  “I know. That would come with time. Just a little something to think about.”

  “I'm not over my husband yet.”

  “Maybe you'll never be. That doesn't mean you don't need to move on, for the sake of your son.”

  “And anyway, he doesn't even look at me like he finds me attractive.”

  “So he's not a flirt. He's still a man, and you're pretty. You seem like a good mother. Sometimes you just have to teach them what they should want.”

  “I'm not - I'm not one of your people.”

  “That’s never stopped him in the past.”

  “It doesn't matter, then?”

  “It does. But Harm’s been shunned by a lot of our people, for things he’s done. For choices he’s made. He’ll never find another wife, not from our people, with his reputation. But I just want him to be settled. I don't want to lose him to some blaze of fury out there.”

  Erin paused politely and nodded.

  “And he’s handsome, don't you think?” Hilda continued. “The ladies have always seemed to like him.”

  “Well -” Erin said with an awkward shrug, “he's not really my type. I’ve never been attracted to the rugged type. I like a man who’s more... sensitive. And intellectual.”

  Hilda looked directly into Erin’s eyes.

  “Dear, can you really afford that kind of vanity? Look at your life. You and your baby need a provider, and a protector. Harm can do that. And he needs a reason to keep his eye to the line. You’re both outcasts, it seems to me. You both lost your spouses. It might work. It's just something
for you to think about. You watch him here and you'll see what a good father he'd be. I know it's a lot to throw at you right away, but I wanted to get right to it, because you might not have much time to work on him before he passes you off.”

  “Passes me off? What do you mean?”

  “He has a couple of his men trying to find your brother-in-law. That's where he's planning to bring the two of you, once they find him.”

  “Oh.”

  “Understand that we don't mind having you here, not at all. It’s just that it creates... a little tension in our community. Harm is very sensitive to that. He feels like he's caused enough problems for us, with the other Freibauern.”

  “I'm sorry to be the cause of any problems.”

  “You're not, so much as Harm is. If someone else had a neighbor in need of shelter, it would be less... controversial. But he's family and we’re not going to shun him, ever. Anyone who doesn't like that can get lost.”

  “It sounds like people have pretty strong feelings about him.”

  “They do. But where would we be without him? He keeps us armed with the best rifles, and stocked up with ammunition. And he’s helped so many of us relocate, buying their old land when no one else would, making loans. I mean, we wouldn't have this farm without him.”

  “You haven't always lived here?”

  “No, we lived not far from your place. We moved here when things started to get too difficult up there, with taxes and bureaucrats. Eight years ago now. Harm loaned us the cash and helped my husband find this old farm.”

  “It’s beautiful here.”

  “It is. It's good land. What helped us decide on this farm - over the others we looked at - was that big old linden tree in the back. It's almost like one of our own kind lived here before us. So it worked out. It feels like home now.”

  Hughie interjected with an attempt at a few words; Hilda listened closely as if he were part of the conversation.

  “You know,” she said when he had quieted, “Harm has a lot of land in different places, I'll bet a lot of it is beautiful like this. I'm sure he could carve out a nice little homestead if he wanted. For all three of you.”

  Chapter 21

  “Harm called us yesterday, so we knew you were coming,” Hilda said - still holding Hughie - as she led Erin upstairs. “We got the crib down from the attic.” At the top of the stairs she turned around and gestured into the first room on her right. Erin entered and cringed at the sight of old swords and pole arms adorning the walls, along with the skull of a ram with large, curled horns. A bunk bed was to the right; to the left, the antique crib stood pressed against a bookcase. The wall opposite the door had a window that viewed the back yard.

  “Interesting decor,” Erin said apprehensively, shifting the bags on her shoulder while holding a baby bottle filled with formula.

  “The boys’ room, as I'm sure you could guess.”

  “They won't mind? Where will they go?”

  “They'll sleep in the attic. It's not too hot up there yet.”

  “I feel bad to take their room.”

  “Don't worry, they're tough. It won't kill them.”

  Erin crossed the room, put her bags on a chair against the far wall, and looked out the window; she could see, off to the left near the barn, an old red tractor with a flatbed trailer, onto which the boxes and crates from Harm’s car had been loaded. Harm stood, Axel now up on his shoulders, talking to Herman and Rudy - the former sitting on the trailer, the latter leaning against it – as they listened intently.

  “There they are now.”

  Hilda walked over and looked out; with a chuckle she turned and went back to the doorway.

  “They love his stories,” she said. “Harm has always been a good uncle to them. Even when he was running around with gangsters, back when he wasn't in touch with anyone else in our circle, he always came to teach them. He has that strong sense of duty.”

  “Duty? Even to extended family?”

  “Oh, absolutely. See, by us, maternal uncles have an important part in the raising of a child. It’s like being a godfather. So the kids get more know-how from both sides of their family. And for the boys, that also means they learn to fight from two sides, from their dad, and a brother of their mom. Which is lucky for them, because Harm never once lost in the Holzerei. They really look up to him for that, because, you know, boys will be boys.”

  “Never lost in what?”

  “The Holzerei. When we have gatherings, all the boys and young, unmarried men wrestle each other, and fight with sticks. Short sticks, like swords, and long ones, like spears. My boys do pretty well, thanks to Harm teaching them. It gives them bragging rights, you know, they get to show off to the girls. And of course you never know when you need it out there in the world, like what happened to you.”

  “That explains why he was ready for the Cull Warriors.”

  Hilda nodded her head knowingly. “We’re not sheep.”

  Hughie interrupted with sounds oh his own and grabbed Hilda’s nose. She smiled and put up her index finger for him to play with.

  “Harm was the baby of our family,” she continued wistfully. “He and our dad were close; dad was slowing down by the time Harm came along, he had more time to pay attention to him than he did with us older kids. They used to go on walks where dad taught him all about the plants, all the wild ones you can eat, but especially, about the Erbstauden, the half-wild plants we grow, that no one else knows are food. They were really important to him, little fountains of freedom, that was how he used to put it, and Harm remembered it all. It's funny. He knows next to nothing about farming cash crops, like my husband does. But with the Erbstauden he’s an old sage. And those plants that he brought here, that he's probably telling my boys about right now, those are descended from the ones our dad grew. Harm moved a lot of them to those properties after he married Bern’s daughter. It's a nice connection to have.”

  “They do seem very important to him.”

  “Oh, they are. And to all of us, really, but the pressure is to grow what you English will buy. We have to pay the taxman, after all. Who’s going to buy ground elder or hop shoots? We still eat them all here, of course. But with the relocating some families have gone through - and a lot of times it’s happened in such a hurry, places where life has gotten so much more difficult, so quickly - things get forgotten, and left behind. He's mended that for dozens of families.”

  She shifted Hughie to her other arm as he began to fuss.

  “Here I am rambling on when you need to get settled. The bathroom is down the hall. If you want to take a shower, I’ll be happy to hold him for a while longer.”

  “Thank you,” she said, panicked at the thought of being separated from Hughie, “but I think I’d just like to feed him and then, maybe, lie down for a while. Would it be okay if, maybe, you could watch him a little later?”

  “It will be a pleasure,” she said, and carefully passed Hughie into Erin’s arms. “If there’s anything you need, just let me know.”

  She closed the door behind her as she left. Erin took a deep breath, kissed Hughie on the forehead, and held the bottle up for him to feed. She again looked out the window and watched as the older boys returned to the barn; Harm drove slowly away on the tractor with a glance over his shoulder to check on Axel, who stood balancing himself - arms outstretched - on the trailer. Though they soon disappeared behind the wood shed, her gaze remained fixed there until Hughie had finished his bottle; she then pulled the crib closer to the bed, placed him in it, and lay down wearily.

  Chapter 22

  Late in the afternoon Erin came downstairs with Hughie, her wet hair pulled back in a ponytail; she wore a light blue, knee-length dress with short sleeves. Hughie had been changed from his one-piece pajama into jeans and an orange polo shirt. She rounded the corner and entered the kitchen to find Hilda stirring a pot on the stove; the old woman was nowhere to be seen.

  “You showered?” Hilda asked with a raised eyebrow as she glanc
ed over her shoulder. “You should have let me know. I would have been happy to keep an eye on the little one.”

  “That's okay. But thank you. I didn’t want to trouble you, so I brought him into the shower with me.”

  Hilda shrugged her shoulders. “Well, I'm glad you didn't drop him.”

  Erin laughed nervously and looked around. “Is there anything I can do to help out?”

  “Don't worry about it. Thanks for offering, though. If you end up staying here for a while, we’ll break you in on some chores before too long. But for today, you’re our guest.”

  Erin sat at the table and held Hughie in a standing position on her lap.

  “You look nice,” Hilda said. “And Hughie is adorable in that outfit.”

  “Thank you. Is that ham I smell in the oven?”

  “It is. It's a special occasion. Harm is here, and we have you as a guest.”

  “It smells wonderful. I haven't had anything like that in such a long time. Is it... legal?”

  “Why?” Hilde asked with a wry grin. “Are you going to report us?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “It’s black market, that's true.”

  “My husband loved ham, and bacon too, for breakfast, even though it wasn't healthy for him. But those were getting hard to find even a year ago. Is it so hard to raise pigs?”

  “No. But it's hard to make a profit now. We have the price controls, the carbon taxes, and then the government takes its ‘crisis share’ for ‘the people’. But when they came up with the cholesterol tax, the Healthy Food Act as they call it, that killed pig farming. The fact is, you just can't make money with a lot of things, because of all the rules and fees. So people give it up. Or go black market.

  “So Harm and some of his associates keep hogs, unofficially you might say, in some deep, wooded ravines, where even the flying drones can't find them. Or at least they haven't yet.”

  “They check on you, even out here?”