Victor's Rage:: Waldmann Family Saga, #2

By Anke Waldmann and Katharina Gerlach

A forced courtship. A legacy's honor under threat. Will the truth destroy a young girl's chance at real love?

 

Northern Germany, 1848. Young Rieke Waldmann knows the man she loves and hopes to marry doesn't meet her mother's standards. Though the radical idealist is willing to prove himself a suitable husband by striking out on his own to earn money, Rieke must also accept her mother's request to get to know the local miller's son. Surprised to discover her new suitor is far more considerate than she expected, Rieke's forced courtship reveals a deeper personal crisis: Her late father kept secrets that could ruin her dreams.

 

With the German Revolution plunging the country into turmoil, the young woman's search for an affordable farm overturns yet more disturbing puzzle pieces. And increasingly distant from the love of her heart, these fresh allegations only add to the weighty burden on Rieke's spirit.

 

With her father's legacy on the line, where will Rieke's loyalty lie?

 

Victor's Rage is the second book in the captivating Waldman Family Saga historical fiction trilogy. If you like real characters from history, fictionalized true-life events, and heartbreaking choices, then you'll adore Katharina Gerlach's fascinating novel.

 

Buy Victor's Rage today to join one woman's struggle to make the right choice!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Independent Bookworm
• Release date: Aug 13, 2020
• ISBN: 9783956811685

Book preview

1848

Rieke nearly dropped her basket of white bread when she rounded the stonework corner of the church and saw the broad shoulders of her aunt's stepson Willem beside the old linden tree near the entrance. As she stepped closer, her lips tingled once more from his kiss from the day before. With the help of tenant Sundermann, Willem worked on a small coffin. Child sized. Rieke's heart filled with pity for the child's parents, but she also wondered why the town's carpenter wasn't making the coffin.

When she reached the linden tree, she stared openmouthed at the crowd that had gathered in front of the village's only inn. Everybody wore their Tracht, and the black trousers, skirts, and bodices with the white shirts or blouses contrasted nicely with the ocher and brown of the inn's timber-frame walls. How could she have missed a funeral?

Rieke looked at the mourning guests and her confusion grew. Almost all the men, and even some of the women, had fixed to their clothes the black-red-golden cockades the merchant had ordered from Osnabrück. She also noticed angry overtones in the people's conversations.

She turned to Willem. Who died?

Over there. Sundermann pointed at the ground beside the church's thick stone walls.

Rieke frowned and stepped closer. The sweet metallic smell of blood clogged her nose as she stared in wide-eyed shock at a long-legged hunting dog that had been clubbed to death.

The poor dog, she said.

Sundermann frowned. The beast killed all our hens before I got him. Now, it'll be even more difficult to make ends meet, and there's no use asking Baron von Schele for new hens.

Despite it being the baron's fault for letting it off the leash. Willem wiped the sweat from his brow, and with precise strokes hammered the last few nails into the makeshift coffin. But we will make him understand.

And the funeral is a damn fine idea, Willem. Sundermann threw some ivy into the casket and put it on a handcart. Schele will rage, but there's nothing he can do about it. Serves him right.

Rieke didn't know what to reply. It's a shame that a dog must die because people are furious with the nobles. She looked silently at the still-growing crowd beside the inn. Tenants, day workers, and even some farmers passed around a bottle of Schnapps. Their voices grew angrier with every swig.

Willem flung the dog's carcass into the coffin and wiped his hands. It had to be, sweetheart. Baron von Schele won't understand it any other way. We will set a sign for all the von Scheles in the world that they can't do with us as they please. The slim young man wiped the tousled fair hair that Rieke loved so much from his forehead. Radiating happiness, he took her hand and squeezed it gently. This time we'll show him. It's unjust that nobles gain their fortune from our labor and insist on ancient privileges while we are struggling to earn enough money to buy our freedom. His eyes blazed. Schele should have talked reason into the king. After all, he is Royal Secretary.

All the happiness at seeing Willem drained from Rieke. She hated it when he became political. Lowering her eyes, she turned away. If you have to stage a burial, you should at least clean the corpse. She pointed to the dead hound. Nobody had made an effort to wash its soiled fur. Although it was still cool this early in the year, numerous flies buzzed around it.

Rieke eyed the crowd and wondered if she should leave. Only a handful of farmers stood beside the tenants and day workers, and even fewer women. With her back to Willem, she said, You are so full of rage. Our lives aren't all that bad.

Talk is cheap. Your family has been free for quite a while, and you don't have debts either. But for people like us… With the money we had to pay Schele, I could have bought a small farm. Willem turned her around and put his hands on her shoulders. His eyes begged. I need you, Rieke. Don't leave.

Rieke's heart began to pound, and she felt torn between her love for him and her disgust at the fake funeral. She tried to reason with him. Aren't you happy that everybody can buy their freedom now?

Willem grunted with disgust. As if that is an improvement for the Coloni. Most end up with debts so high that they will have to pay for generations to come. Some even have to sell bits of their land or their entire farm.

It's not the baron's fault.

But his father's. If he hadn't persuaded the king to abolish our constitution, we wouldn't have to do this now.

Blame it on the current baron's hunting passion. Swaying slightly,young Colon Bettinghaus slapped Willem's back and handed him the bottle of schnapps, smelling of juniper berries. He fined Dad because we set our dog onto a pair of roebucks that were eating our wheat.

You know the law, his cousin Heiner called from behind. If you don't keep it, you have to live with the consequences. I think you got away mildly.

It's none of your business, Colon Bettinghaus shot back. You're the miller, and beholden to no one. Why did you come? This protest doesn't concern you.

Willem raised his fist and yelled, Equal rights for everyone!

The crowd fell in. Men shouted for fair pay, a united Germany, or hunting rights, and drowned out the young miller's answer. When Rieke looked at Heiner Bettinghaus, she was surprised to see her brother Adam beside him. Why did he come? Usually he is too cautious to get involved in Willem's plans.

Two tenants took the handle of the handcart and started dragging it down the road, coffin and all. The more or less drunk mourning guests fell in line behind it.

Willem smiled and put his arm around Rieke. The palms of her hands began to sweat when she felt his breath on her cheek. Still, she hesitated. I think you should take me the long way home, she said.

Oh, Rieke, I'd love to see Schele's face. It is really important to me, love. Willem looked at her with his big brown eyes. With that kind of look, he could talk her into anything, even into taking part in the funeral of a murdered dog. Willem's gaze punched a hole in Rieke's heart. What if he stopped loving her just because she didn't come? When next she spoke, her throat was sore and tight.

I can't come. The baron's father was my father's godfather.

I would put the world at your feet if I could, Willem whispered into her ear. But as it is, I can't even provide for you. If nothing changes, it means 'cobbler, stick to your last' for me. I will have to slave away for my sister without a remote chance of ever owning a farm.

Rieke frowned. Do you think a protest like this will change the way our king rules?

If we learned but one thing from the French, it's that when enough people are dissatisfied, even a king can't ignore it. Willem cupped her elbow, urging her into the line of mourners.

Rieke gave herself a mental push. Well then, but I will not enter von Schele's cemetery.

Willem's smile radiated like the sun. It wiped away the last of Rieke's reluctance.

You can hide behind the cemetery's back wall. There, the baron won't see you but you will have a good view.

Rieke squeezed his hand without saying a word. It was clear that she had lost her chance to stop this strange funeral procession. Despite her misgivings, she followed her cousin and the thudding handcart on the church road out of town. Occasionally, somebody called Down with nobility! or Hunting rights for everyone. But it hardly disturbed the solemn silence. If it weren't for the crowd's suppressed rage, it could have been a real funeral. Only the dirge was missing.

Willem pointed to Schele's Erbbegräbnis. We're here.

Rieke looked at the two grates with pointed ends screwed to the pillars on either side of the man-sized wrought-iron gates.

Oh, it's finally finished. The iron grating on the walls surrounding the cemetery had been assembled some time ago, and the last time she'd been here, only the two at the front had still been missing. It looks quite pretty.

Obviously the family grave in our cemetery wasn't good enough for old Schele. Willem sounded annoyed as he looked at the two stone pillars with von Schele's chiseled family crest. Gentry always need a little extra, don't they?

Rieke winked to take the edge of his feelings. I wouldn't mind having a private cemetery myself when the time comes.

Willem smirked and put his arm around her.

A couple of men tried to open the wrought-iron gates.

Come, then. I'll show you where to hide. Willem took her hand and led her through the grove surrounding the cemetery. The ground rose steeply toward the back wall. Since it didn't have bars, it was only a little higher than Rieke.

Willem stacked some log ends and stones into a crude platform. This should do. I'll help you up.

Anxiously, Rieke took Willem's hand, put a foot on the timber, and pushed herself up. She grabbed the top of the wall with her free hand and looked over it while Willem helped her keep her balance. She saw the cart with the dead dog roll into the little private cemetery. Obviously, it had cost the men some effort to open the gates. Rieke made herself as small as possible and hoped that no one would see her. Willem squeezed up next to her. For two, the platform was a little too narrow, so he put his arm around her shoulders. Rieke's heart beat faster. Contentedly, she leant her head against his chest.

We'll have to wait, now, he whispered.

Squeaking, the iron gates were pushed open some more, and the mourning guests streamed in.

Rieke bent forward to see better. Where did they get the key from?

One doesn't always need one, Willem said.

Rieke stared at him. They picked the lock? Anger rose in her chest, and she tried to wriggle out of his arm.

Willem tightened his embrace, kissed her cheek and whispered, I assume the gardener didn't lock it after his last visit.

Relieved, Rieke looked down at the people again. They were standing around in groups, talking and waiting for something to happen. There were only two graves, both covered by thick slabs of stone in a place hardly bigger than the hallway of a farmhouse. The men who pulled the cart put the casket with the dog next to the grave of Baron Georg von Schele. He'd been buried there four years ago, close to the wife he'd lost too early. The little graveyard was empty apart from the fake coffin and the strange mourning guests. Silently, Rike and Willem watched the cemetery where the flies settled on the corpse, and people talked in low voices.

The sun moved across the sky; the day was going to waste. Rieke plucked at Willem's sleeve. I don't think the baron will come. Can we go home now?

He will come.

He doesn't even know we're here.

We sent him a message. It's just because he's off hunting again. Willem let Rieke go, and jumped off the platform. I'd better run.

Rieke would have loved to call him back, but she knew he wouldn't listen. She leaned over the wall again and watched Willem join the people beside the stretcher. He loves me so much, and he's good looking, she thought. If he is as passionate about our future as he is about this, our parents can't object when he asks for my hand in marriage.

A farmer from old Schledehausen half turned and shook his fist against the Schelenburg on the far side of the village. Down with Schele.

His outburst was welcomed by thundering approval. More and more fists stretched towards the sky and everyone was shouting. On the little stretch of road visible through the gate, Rieke noticed two riders. A third man stayed behind with a pack of hounds. Baron von Schele and his companion dismounted in front of the cemetery and entered on foot. The baron looked at the assembled people, and frowned.

This is private property. His voice dominated the general murmuring.

The mourners fell silent and moved closer to each other. Colon Bettinghaus stepped forward although his cousin Heiner tried to hold him back. The young Colon nervously turned his hat in his hands. Finally he squared his shoulders and looked at the baron. He seemed to search for the right words.

Willem chipped in. This dog– he pointed to the casket with the hound's bloody body, and then spit toward the previous baron's grave, –shall rest beside that one.

The young baron blushed and clenched his fists. Before he could say anything, Willem started a mourning song. The others joined in and drowned out the baron's answer. The baron reached for the pistol in his belt.

Rieke bit her lip and trembled. The second man put his hand on the baron's arm, and whispered something into his ear. Von Schele relaxed, but Rieke recognized the effort it cost him.

When the song was over, the baron said, I know your anger, and I understand, but it wasn't necessary to desecrate this holy ground.

Colon Bettinghaus answered, Look at yourself, Sir. Whenever you're at home, you're hunting. And most of us aren't even allowed to chase away the deer to protect our crops in the fields.

The others murmured in agreement.

We will no longer tolerate our fields being abused as feeding grounds for the fun of hunters, called another Colon.

An older man cleared his throat. The young people are right. We won't watch helpless again as in thirty-three. We demand to be heard!

The men shouted at the baron. German countries unite! Equal rights for everyone! Free hunting for free men! and more.

Rieke thought she could see Baron von Schele grind his teeth. So his next words astonished her all the more.

I agree that some laws are somewhat unjust, he said. I hereby declare that I will give up all my exemptions and privileges. As of today, I will be equal to every other landowner of the municipality. I hope this satisfies you. He looked at the surprised faces and nodded contentedly.

Rieke stared at the baron. She hadn't reckoned he would give in so easily. Did he really mean it.

Willem also seemed to doubt his words. He crooked his head, cocked an eyebrow, and looked at Colon Bettinghaus. When the young Colon didn't answer, he put his fists on his hips and confronted the baron.

For now, we'll believe you, but we'll keep a close watch to see if you stick to your word.

Baron von Schele stared back, stiff as a stick. He turned to the crowd. Is there anything else?

The men glanced at one other, slightly confused. Some twitched their shoulders; others nodded or shook their heads. They'd never thought it possible the baron might agree with them.

The baron became impatient. Well, is there?

No, Sir, Colon Bettinghaus said.

Then I would be grateful if you'd leave my family's property. I have much to attend to.

The farmers, tenants, and day workers were like a flock of sheep that had lost its shepherd. One by one they left, and after a few minutes, the baron and his companion were alone with the dead dog. Baron von Schele kicked the open casket.

Such a waste. These idiots have no idea of the worth of such an animal. I should take them to court. All of them.

Do you really want to give up all your privileges? his companion asked.

Baron von Schele shrugged. We've already committed to do that anyway. We will even carry a part of the municipality burden.

Who do you mean by ‘we’?

Myself, the owners of Gut Ippenburg, Gut Hünnefeld, Gut Sutthausen and the Meier from Bad Essen. We promised it in writing.

I'm surprised the farmers didn't know.

The baron shrugged. I as well. Usually such news spreads fast. But I think the mob would have gone violent had I said anything else.

Yes. For a moment, I thought so too.

The promise isn't chiseled in stone. We won't have to keep it forever. The baron flipped an invisible speck of dust from his hunting jacket. The king will make sure the farmers won't overrule the gentry, I am sure.

Doubtfully, his companion shook his head. I fear there will be more trouble for all of us.

Rieke had the terrible foreboding he could be right.

Willem climbed onto her platform. He put his lips next to her ear and whispered so the baron, who stood but a few yards from their hiding place, would not hear them. Did he say something important?

Rieke didn't want him to become angry again, so she shook her head and cuddled closer. He put his arm around her shoulders and bent forward to better see the baron.

If we leave decision making to the farmers, the whole kingdom will be thrown into chaos, Baron von Schele said to his companion. Do you think I would allow the God-given order to be turned upside down by a handful of dissatisfied morons?

I have heard the raging of the masses is a lot worse in other countries. What if we can't prevent the changes they demand?

Baron von Schele shrugged. The king will have to cope alone. I handed him my letter of resignation a few days ago. And now, I'll have to go and tell the dog handler to remove the carcass. He sighed. What an expensive escapade. It was such a good hound.

The two nobles left the cemetery, locked the gate, mounted their horses, and rode off.

Rieke breathed a sigh of relief. She hopped to the ground and sat on the wooden platform. I wonder why you absolutely had to be one of the spokesmen. That will bring nothing but trouble.

Willem grinned. He sat next to her and put his arm around her shoulders again. Don't you think everyone should have the same rights? Do you think it just, that nobles can commit a crime, for which everybody else is punished severely, without being held responsible?

That's the way it is.

The world does change, Rieke! There are people who are ready to die for liberty and equal rights.

Rieke shrugged and looked at Willem. Why is it so important for you? Until now, everything was good the way it was.

I want to change something, Willem said. Something that will make the world a better place for everyone. Something that will help the German countries unite into a single strong nation.

You could organize more protests.

It's no use. The farmers have been lulled by the baron's promise. They wouldn't come along again. And the tenants have mouths to feed. Their protest, as valid as it is, would be for better working conditions and more pay, not for equal rights and united German countries.

I'm sure you'll find a way to fight for your ideals.

Maybe I should leave. It is said that people in Prussia are far more agitated than here. And in Frankfurt, they are fighting for a Parliament of German countries where the representatives aren't appointed by royals but voted for by citizens.

Rieke's eyes widened, and she sat up straight. You'd leave home?

I'd even leave the whole kingdom of Hanover behind if I knew it would do me good.

What about me? Rieke's voice was so low she hardly heard it herself.

Whatever I do, I will not go without your permission, my love. Willem put his arms around her and kissed her. His lips fluttered on her cheek like a down feather. With equal rights for everyone, I could become someone on my own merits, not because of a birthright. We could think about marriage and the start of a family. He gazed into the distance longingly. As it is now, I can't even emigrate to America. I can only marry you if all my siblings die which is neither likely nor desirable. You do want to be my wife, don't you?

Sudden warmth flooded Rieke's body, and she looked into his eyes. It would make me very, very happy.

Willem smiled at her, and she drowned in his eyes. Her heart pounded so loud it roared in her ears when he bent forward and kissed her. His lips were damp and warm. He tasted of juniper berries. Rieke held her breath and closed her eyes, and the world whirled around her. When he stroked her back, she wanted to purr like a cat. Willem's kiss burned her lips. Unknown desire made her moan.

Willem breathed faster. He opened his mouth, and his tongue parted Rieke's lips. With his free hand, he pulled her skirt up and stroked her thigh.

Suddenly, Rieke realized what they were doing. She pushed him aside. I don't want this. Her breathing was irregular and fast. Not yet. She got up and adjusted her dress to avoid seeing the disappointment in his face. I must go home. Mother will be furious if I'm not back in time for milking. She didn't dare to look at Willem, but she heard him get up.

He hugged her from behind, kissed her neck, and whispered into her ear. You are my heart, Rieke. I will wait.

She was so relieved she turned round and kissed him, quickly but intensely.

He laughed. I see. I'll have to hurry to earn some money, or you'll die of impatience.

Rieke blushed. She was so happy she could have sung her joy to the woods. Willem took her hand and led her back to the road. It was empty. Neither the baron nor the farmers were in sight.

Willem kissed her hands. I must go back to Schledehausen. I forgot to pick up my spade from the blacksmith. Will you be angry if you have to walk home alone?

Rieke shook her head. She smiled so much her cheeks hurt.

He kissed her once more and left. Again and again, he turned and blew her kisses. When he disappeared around a bend, Rieke also turned. Singing, she walked back home.

spacer

She opened the door at the side of the big farmhouse and entered the Flett. Her eyes needed a while to adjust to the gloom. Around the knee-high fireplace, the maids prepared dinner. The chair beside the fire on which her mother usually sat was empty. Rieke was surprised at her absence, but she was late already, so she thought no more about it. She snatched the milking bucket and the stool and hurried to the first cow. With a damp rag, she wiped the udder, sat next to the animal on the stool, put the bucket in place, and began to milk. Rhythmically, the milk shot into the bucket and slowly filled it. Rieke leant her cheek against the cow's belly and enjoyed the warmth. Its familiar sour and pungent smell mixed with the enticing flavor of the soup boiling over the fire.

She closed her eyes. Her fingers pulled evenly with gentle pressure at the teats. While the milk splashed into the bucket with a hiss, she dreamt. She imagined a small but spacious house with stables filled with cows, pigs, and horses. In the yard, chicken, geese, and ducks fluttered around. Several children played in the mud while she and Willem sat on a bench that had been built around the trunk of an enormous linden tree. Birds sang and the sun warmed her face. The fields smelled of fresh dung, and through the open front door, she saw the maids preparing dinner. She pulled Willem closer, raising her lips towards him, and he kissed her.

You're my one and only love, dearest.

Rieke smiled until the loud voice of her mother dragged her back to reality.

Rieke! Come to the good room when you're done.

Yes, Mother, she called back. Elisabeth went back to the good room, and Rieke hurried to the milk chamber where she emptied the bucket into the Bütt, then went on to the next cow. Although she tried repeatedly, she couldn't manage to return to her dream. Sullenly, she kept milking and finished faster than she'd anticipated. Her favorite cat prowled around her legs. It was well advanced in pregnancy.

Meow, begged the cat. Rieke poured some milk into her hand and watched as the cat drank. She even licked the last drop off her fingers. The small pink tongue felt rough, and it tickled a little. Rieke loved this feeling.

Rieke! her mother called. Don't dawdle!

Rieke sighed and picked up the last bucket. She carried it into the milking chamber and emptied it through the cloth. It would wait for her sister who skimmed the cream and made butter. Rieke went outside, rinsed the bucket with water from the well, and put it in its place in the Flett next to the milking stool.

Reluctantly, she entered the good room. Since the death of her father, she didn't like to go into the gloomy room with the gigantic oak table and the wooden shelves. The smell of sand and dried herbs reminded her too much of how his blood had spread on the wooden floor. To stop herself from crying, she bit her lower lip and sat down on the chair next to her mother.

You took your time, didn't you? Elisabeth's voice sounded kind but Rieke felt her annoyance.

Her stepfather said, We have some very important news for you.

Rieke found it difficult to accept that Johann had fatherly rights over her since his wedding with Elisabeth nearly a month ago. In her eyes, he was still her big brother's buddy. Surprised, she looked at him.

He seemed very content. It concerns your future.

Suddenly Rieke's heart sank into her shoes. She suspected the subject her parents wanted to discuss with her. I don't want to hear this. I just don't want it!

At that moment her brother Adam poked his head through the door. The brown horse has lost an iron, Mother. I will go to the blacksmith in Schledehausen.

Elisabeth nodded. Get two loaves of bread from the baker and have it written up. We will pay when we pick up the wheel for the cart.

Will do. He nodded in Rieke's direction, and grinned. Have you told her the news?

Without your interruption, we would have been done already. Johann waved Adam from the room. Rieke's brother winked at her and disappeared.

Elisabeth looked at her daughter. It is time to think about your prospects, Rieke. You are almost eighteen years old now, and the range of suitable men not large.

Johann leant over the table. There is a widower in Harpenfeld who is looking for a new mother for his four children. His farm would be sufficient to provide for you, and your cousin is nearby.

Rieke felt tongue-tied. She wanted to ask the widower's age but she could not utter a word.

Johann continued. An acquaintance from Iburg suggested we look at the Meyer from Vehrte. He has a stately farm and is still unmarried.

But it's very far away. Elisabeth sighed. I would prefer it if you would decide on someone nearby.

All of a sudden, she knew her mother had already settled on someone. Sweat dripped down her back and she struggled for air, feeling like a bird in the jaws of a cat. Who do you have in mind?

Elisabeth smiled at her. Do you remember Clamor Bettinghaus?

He left for America three years ago, Johann said.

Rieke nodded dumbly, although she only vaguely remembered the heir of the Hiddinghauser mill. Adam had been friends with him, but all Rieke remembered was a freckled young man with bushy eyebrows and greasy hair, eight years older than herself. I don't want him, she thought again and again.

His parents got a letter from him today.

When will he be back? Rieke felt as if someone else were speaking for her. Her voice sounded unnaturally quiet, but the fear that coursed through her body didn't show.

Elisabeth beamed. But that's just it, he won't come back. He got engaged and will stay in America for good. Confused, Rieke looked at her mother who went on. The new heir of the mill will be Adam's friend Heiner. It would be an ideal connection. The mill would work even closer with us, and you would be in the neighborhood.

Johann put a hand on Rieke's arm. You can always come home when you need us. You just need to jump over the creek.

Rieke was paralyzed. Heiner, of all men! The boy who had always pulled her plaits at school, who had thrown her favorite doll on the manure heap, and who had poured beer on her beautiful new apron during the second to last spring fair. One need only look at him to realize he could never, ever, compete with Willem. Heiner had been unimportant to her, but now she detested him with every fiber of her heart. She would never become his wife. Didn't her parents notice how she felt?

I see it's a bit much for you. Think about it. It would really be for the best. Elisabeth patted her daughter's shoulder and got up. Sleep on it, and then, put on your best clothes. We've been invited to Bettinghausens tomorrow afternoon, so you can get a picture of what life will be like at the mill.

It was too much for Rieke. They've already promised I'd agree. Rage flamed up and broke her paralyzing quietness. She jumped up so forcefully her chair banged against the wall. I won't marry him! she screamed. I'd rather kill myself! With satisfaction, she noticed that her mother went deathly pale.

She ran out of the room, darted past the surprised maids in the Flett, and left the house. As fast as her legs could carry her, she ran through the yard and up the hill on the much-trodden road. Without looking left or right, she ran. The tenant who was preparing his garden for planting with an unwilling ox and a heavy plow watched her run. Rieke didn't mind his astonished looks. She stumbled past the Leibzuchtskotten and Rahenkamp's farm. Tears streamed over her cheeks, and she barely recognized the road.

Sobbing, she raced up the hill to her favorite place. The pasture at the Gausberg wasn't used at the moment since the cows and heifers were still in the stable. Rieke threw herself onto the soft grass under a lightning-blasted beech tree, and cried. The birds sang their songs; the earth smelled of fresh grass. Rieke shivered in the evening chill. Time and the peaceful surroundings slowly calmed her wild feelings. Finally her tears stopped, and she sat up and dried her cheeks. Her eyes were swollen, and for a moment the world around her seemed unreal and blurred.

By and by, the blue-black night swallowed the last light. It reminded Rieke that supper was almost over back home. So what, I'll stay hungry. It can't be that bad, she reasoned defiantly. The children of some tenants don't get three meals a day either, and they're still alive.

With her arms folded on her knees, she watched the moon rise behind the hills in the east. Hot breath touched the nape of her neck, and she stiffened. Was this the devil come to fetch her for disobeying her parents? She wanted to jump up and run away, but her legs refused to move, and she hardly dared to breathe.

Suddenly a warm, soft mouth nibbled at her shoulder.

Mooooh.

Relieved, Rieke laughed. She got up and looked at the cow more closely. It was a scrawny animal, hardly more than skin and bone. Cattle so starved could only belong to a tenant. Hungrily, the cow wound her tongue round tufts of grass, tore them off, and gobbled it down. The thin rope around her neck had been nibbled away as far as the cow could reach it. Rieke grabbed a horn and pulled. The cow resisted, and Rieke couldn't drag her off the juicy pasture. Come on! Someone will be looking for you desperately. They'll believe something bad has happened to you. For the moment, her own worries seemed less urgent. Bit by bit, she dragged the animal along, stopping every so often because the cow snatched more mouthfuls of fresh grass. They hadn't yet left the pasture when a woman came walking up the hill. Her linen bonnet shone in the moonlight.

When she saw Rieke and the cow, she shook her head and called, Berta! What are you doing again?

Rieke recognized the voice. It's Klara. As long as she could remember, the old woman lived in the Waldmann's Leibzuchtskotten. Klara was like a grandmother to her. Thank God. Rieke left Berta who immediately lowered her head and munched more grass. Without saying a word, Rieke wrapped her arms around the old woman's neck and cried.

Klara patted her back and said, Dear child. Want to tell me what's wrong?

Without releasing her embrace, Rieke shook her head. She didn't know where to start, and so she decided to say nothing at all.

Klara stroked her hair. It's got to be lovesickness, then. Just you cry.

Finally, Rieke let go and dried her tears. Breathing hard, Klara sat on the grass next to the cow. It's so good that you found Berta the Fifth. I couldn't have searched much longer. My legs aren't the youngest anymore.

Rieke sat next to Klara. You're not that old.

Klara laughed quietly. I'm really glad you captured Berta, love. Your stepfather would've been very angry again, had he known. He'd probably have chased her even further away.

Is that the reason Berta is so thin?

Klara shook her head. No, dear. We're getting old, my Berta and me. At sixty-five one is no longer as round and fresh as in younger years.

Rieke looked at the woman's crinkled face and raised an eyebrow. Klara had been thin and bony as long as she could remember. Perhaps both of you should eat more.

Klara laughed again. That's just what my best friend always said. Your aunt was an angel not only by name. Did you know that she gave me Berta the First as a present after her own wedding?

Rieke nodded but Klara didn't seem to notice. "As long as she lived, she regularly sent me money. It's thanks to her that