But Aladdin continued to feel the sting of the young lord’s haughtiness. It showed the great gulf between Lady Margaretha’s suitors and himself, the same gulf between Aladdin and whomever Kirstyn would be expected to marry.
“And what do you think of our town?” Herr Kaufmann drew his attention back to the present. “Prosperous, independent, and strong, we answer to no one and share our wealth with no one. God gave us the saltworks, and this whole part of the world depends on us for their salt supply. No more perfect place on earth. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“It is a great town. You—and it—have been very good to me.” No more perfect place on earth? Aladdin’s thoughts flew to Hagenheim, to all the people he loved there—to one person in particular. But he forced her face from his mind and conjured up the Rathous, the fountain, the Marktplatz with its generous cobblestone area where people bought and sold goods, but also stood and talked and laughed, meeting up with friends at the fountain while their children splashed each other with cold water. A sudden longing nearly overwhelmed him, snatching the breath from his lungs with a sharp pinch.
“Yes, we have it very good here,” Herr Kaufmann went on. “And with you guiding the business, we shall be the most prosperous merchants in all the Hanse.” He clapped Aladdin on the shoulder and made the “ah” sounds that Aladdin had grown so accustomed to. It was always easy to tell when Herr Kaufmann was pleased.
His approval, so often written on his face, in his smile and his eyes, and evident in his words to Aladdin, touched a place inside him. All his life he’d worked harder than anyone else, and he’d earned the approval of Priest, the teaching masters at the orphanage, and later, the teachers at Hagenheim Castle, the stable master, and even Duke Wilhelm. Their approval had assuaged something deep inside him that echoed with absence, a void, but the balm had felt somehow . . . inadequate. But Herr Kaufmann’s approval was different. He treated Aladdin like a son, a member of his family, with concern and affection.
So it was due more to Herr Kaufmann’s kindness and approval that Aladdin was content to stay in Lüneburg than to the town itself, though it was an amiable town, with its magnificent and artistic architecture, its prosperity and independent spirit.
Herr Kaufmann halted and looked down, holding up his houppelande to inspect his feet. “My shoe has come undone.” He bent down.
“Shall I fix it for you?”
“No, no, I have it. I have not grown so old I cannot buckle my own shoe.” He grunted as he fumbled with the buckle on the leather that came just above his ankle. The shoe’s toe was so long it curled upward and also wrapped around his ankle. Aladdin had admonished him, more than once, that the fashionable shoes were not practical and would someday trip him and cause him to injure himself, but Herr Kaufmann wouldn’t hear of casting fashion aside.
“People expect the prosperous to be fashionable,” he would always say.
While Aladdin waited, he glanced down a narrow alley between two houses. An unusual shape caught his eye. It was a small boat wedged between two buildings with something lying inside it. The boat seemed familiar, so Aladdin went to investigate.
As he drew closer, he could see a face visible around a sea of rags and clothing and ragged blankets. It was the same little boy he’d seen floating down the river the first morning after he arrived in Lüneburg—the boy who called himself Abu.
His eyes opened a crack, his mouth opened to yawn, and arms emerged from the mass of makeshift blankets to rise high. But in midyawn, he caught sight of Aladdin and sat straight up, snapping his mouth closed.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” Aladdin said.
“You are Abu.” “You are Aladdin, Herr Kaufmann’s adopted son.”
Adopted son? Was that what people were calling him? Warmth flooded his chest.
Aladdin noticed the layer of snow covering the boy’s boat-bed. “Is this where you sleep?”
“Of course.” Abu wrapped his arms around himself and shivered before reaching for a torn and stained wool cape. He threw it over his shoulders and stood up.
“Why don’t you come with me to the market and I’ll buy you breakfast.”
Abu quickly took in Aladdin’s person from head to toe, then said, “I will go with you.”
“Hello there, Abu.” Herr Kaufmann walked toward them. “It was a cold night to sleep out of doors. You can rest in the kitchen at Kaufmann House anytime you please.”
“Thank you, Herr Kaufmann, but I like staying with my boat. It’s not too cold for me.”
“Very well.”
The three of them fell into step as they headed toward the town center.
“So, Abu, how did you come to be in Lüneburg?”
“Herr Stenngle—he’s a merchant—brought my father and me here from Palestine. But my father died of a fever, and Herr Stenngle released me from his service, and now I fish with my little pole and come and go as I please. I am no one’s servant. I have a better life than anyone in Lüneburg—even Herr Kaufmann.” With that observation, he laughed quite raucously.
Herr Kaufmann frowned. “What do you mean? You are an orphan with no one to feed you, and I am one of the wealthiest men in town.”
“Yes, but you must get up early every morning and worry about this and that cargo ship, or this and that worker, or this and that thief who stole your money. Me? I have no ships or workers or money. I have no problems.”
His gleeful smile was infectious. Aladdin laughed.
“Ach. Don’t encourage his nonsense,” Herr Kaufmann scowled. “The little imp has no concept of what life is supposed to be.”
But when Aladdin looked down at Abu, he was still grinning. “I am the boss of me, and of my lice and fleas too. I sleep very well in my little boat. How do you sleep, Herr Kaufmann?”
“Be quiet, boy. I know for a fact that Hilde slips you bread rolls and even cheese out the back door five days out of seven.”
Abu’s smile finally dimmed a bit. “Yes, Hilde is very kind.”
Herr Kaufmann grunted.
“As are you, Herr Kaufmann,” Abu said contritely. “A man among men.” He became more animated. “Truly, you will be in charge of this town someday.” Abu winked up at Aladdin.
“Not I. Aladdin here. He is the wise one. He shall be running my business—and this town! Someday, you watch. Richer than all the other merchants combined.”
Aladdin began, “Herr Kaufmann, I—”
“Never you mind refusing the praise. It is no more than you deserve. And here we are at the market. I shall go on and see you at our desk.”
Aladdin stepped aside and bought Abu some fruit pasties and late apples, which the boy put in the stained and faded woolen bag he carried over his shoulder.
Abu drew out one of the fruit pasties and took a big bite. “Thank you, sir.” His voice was muffled by the food in his mouth. “If you need any messages delivered, just ask me.”
“You can call me Aladdin, and you’re most welcome. I hope you will come to Herr Kaufmann’s home or office if you’re ever hungry or in trouble. And if you need help, ask for me.”
Abu drew himself up to his full height, the top of his head reaching almost to Aladdin’s chest.
Abu swallowed the bite of fruit pasty and shook his head. “I’m not a beggar. I am my own man, and I prefer to work for pay. I deliver messages for the merchants in town. I work for the butcher sometimes, cleaning behind his shop and delivering meat, and I don’t ask for help. But Hilde worries about me if I don’t come by very often. She says she cannot sleep if she hasn’t seen me lately. But I am not an infant who cannot take care of himself.”
“Of course not. You are right. I only meant if you wanted some work or you knew of someone else, a friend of yours, who might need help for some reason. I can see that you are a very capable young man.”
Abu nodded slowly with a serious look. “Thank you. And I shall keep that in mind.”
“Very good.”
“Perhaps I shall see you sometime, Aladdin.
”
“Take care of yourself, Abu.”
The little boy, with his long, scraggly black hair and ragged cloak, turned and walked away.
What would Aladdin’s life have been like if he’d been living on the street—or in a boat—like this boy? What had happened to his old companion Zuhayr? What if Aladdin had not grown up in the Hagenheim orphanage? He never would have met Lady Kirstyn, and he might not have learned about Jesus and God’s redemption.
Aladdin hurried to the office inside the warehouse where Herr Kaufmann conducted most of his business affairs. Herr Kaufmann was arguing with the man who captained the boat that conveyed his goods down the Stecknitz Canal to the port in Hamburg.
“I can no longer work for that price,” the man, Orloft, said.
Aladdin stepped in and asked the man how much he wanted. The boat captain named a price that was much more than the other captains he had heard of.
“Herr Kaufmann cannot pay you that.”
“Cannot or will not?”
“Will not.” Aladdin met his eye and was determined not to blink. “We can offer you a bit more.” Aladdin named a price that was a fair wage, as high as the highest price he knew of for making the slow, twenty-day trip down the canal between Lüneburg and Hamburg.
“Ach so. I will take it.”
Aladdin took a coin out of the pouch at his waist and added it to the wages Herr Kaufmann had already given him. Orloft grunted. “I shall return in forty-one days.”
“With the cargo from my ship, the Wassernixe, do not forget.” Herr Kaufmann shook his finger in the air.
Orloft grunted again and nodded. “I shall bring it.”
After Orloft left, Aladdin pondered the way the cog captain had reacted to what was said to him, his facial expressions, and decided to send one of Herr Kaufmann’s loyal guards with him on this journey. But instead of raising Herr Kaufmann’s anxiety, he went and saw to it himself.
If Orloft was stealing from Herr Kaufmann, the guard would either discover it or deter it. Either way, Aladdin could report the incident to Herr Kaufmann when it was all over.
Herr Kaufmann handed Aladdin the reports the sellers at the market had brought the evening before. Together they went over the numbers and the inventory lists.
“Profits are up quite a bit from this time last year,” Herr Kaufmann remarked. “I sleep much better than I have in years.” Herr Kaufmann gazed across the desk at Aladdin. His expression was warm and gentle. “You are the best thing that has ever happened to my business—besides, perhaps, the overthrow of the ruling princes and the remanding of the town government to the people.”
Aladdin couldn’t help an amused smile at Herr Kaufmann’s mention of his favorite event in the history of his beloved town.
“But you are also like a son to me, Aladdin.” Herr Kaufmann’s eyes misted with tears. “I couldn’t ask for a better one.”
Just then, another of Herr Kaufmann’s workers burst into the office. When he finished his business and departed, Herr Kaufmann turned back to Aladdin.
“I have something I wish to say to you, a question—a request, truly—and I should like to make that request . . . Tomorrow is Sunday, yes? I should like to speak with you before the church service. Will you attend with me early? Grethel can come later. The servants will escort her.”
“Of course. I will do my best to grant whatever you wish, Herr Kaufmann.”
“You mustn’t say that until you hear the request.” The older man gave Aladdin an inscrutable smile.
A prickling sensation skittered up Aladdin’s spine, traveling up to his neck, where it stayed, along with a premonition of something unpleasant.
CHAPTER NINE
Sunday morning Aladdin walked beside Herr Kaufmann toward the church. The sun was shining, though the air was rather cold, giving a rosy hue to Herr Kaufmann’s nose and cheeks. Aladdin’s own skin had always been too dark to react so readily, but it rather fascinated him to see the effect of the elements on the pale faces of everyone he knew. Were they equally fascinated with his darker skin? Kirstyn had once told him, “Your skin is so warm looking. I think it’s part of what calms me whenever I see you.”
His heart swelled just thinking about that.
Herr Kaufmann was pointing out some of the buildings around them, as he often did, and telling him this or that memory associated with each one.
“My wife and I were married at Johanniskirche, which you have attended many times. Grethel prefers Nicholaikirche, and it is a beauty, another testament to how prosperous a town can be when its residents are free and independent—we were able to build a new church.”
Aladdin smiled at the man’s oft-spoken assertion. But they had nearly arrived at the church, so he interrupted him. “Herr Kaufmann, you said there was a question you wanted to ask me.”
“Patience, my boy.”
Aladdin followed him through the front door of the church. They both touched the holy water just inside, crossed themselves, and genuflected before the crucifix. Then Herr Kaufmann led him to a small bench against the wall.
No one was near. A few people were kneeling at the chancel amid some lit candles, their heads bowed in prayer, but they were too far away to eavesdrop. A hush hovered in this beautiful, high-ceilinged nave made out of brick, plaster, and stained glass, similar to the hush at Hildesheim Cathedral. It was a holy feeling that permeated his chest and reminded him that God was bigger than he was.
“As I was saying yesterday . . .” Herr Kaufmann slumped slightly forward, speaking softly while looking into Aladdin’s eyes. “You are like a son to me, a son who is loyal and trustworthy, wise and intelligent, with a great head for numbers and business. I could not ask for a better young man to come into my family. And that is why I wish . . . My dear boy, I wish you to be my son in name as well as in my heart, and for you to take on my surname and to inherit my business when I am gone—or when I’m too old to make wise decisions. And as I wish the very best for my precious daughter, Grethel, it is also the desire of my heart for the two of you to wed.”
Aladdin’s stomach tied itself into a knot. He sent a silent, incoherent plea to God for the right words.
“Herr Kaufmann, you must know how much it pleases me to work with you, how much I enjoy the business, and how you are like a father to me. And for someone who grew up without a father, that is a wonderful thing I do not take for granted. It is also my wish to stay with you and help grow your business. You know I have ideas to build it up and make it even more profitable.”
“Yes, yes. So why do you look so grim? Grethel is a lovely girl. Many men have asked to marry her. And you must not have the notion that romantic love must come before marriage, for it absolutely comes after the wedding. You both are loving people. I am sure you will come to love each other.”
“Herr Kaufmann, please. Let me explain. I care for Grethel very much, but as a sister, as your daughter, and as a . . . a sweet and lovely girl. But I . . . I do not wish to think of her as a wife.” Kirstyn’s face rushed unbidden into his mind. Perhaps if he told Herr Kaufmann he had already given his heart to another, that he was in love with Duke Wilhelm’s daughter, Lady Kirstyn, he would understand. But how could he admit that to Herr Kaufmann when he hardly allowed himself to think about it? He couldn’t love Kirstyn. It had always been his secret wish to marry her, but it was a foolish one.
A herd of wild red deer charging through his stomach could not have made him more unsettled.
“It pains me to say no to anything you wish.”
Herr Kaufmann reached out and patted Aladdin’s arm. “Do not upset yourself. I am sad that it cannot be, but I had to try. To join the two people I care for most in this world . . . to ensure my daughter’s future . . .” He heaved a sigh. “At least I still have you as my partner in the business. I plan to have my clerks draw up the legal papers entitling you to half the Kaufmann property and profits. Equal partners we shall always be, and upon my death the business shall be inherited by you, as long
as you promise to give my house to Grethel and to take care of her financially.”
“Of course. And I shall sign any document saying so. You are being incredibly generous, Herr Kaufmann.”
“Nonsense. You deserve it. I am the one who has been blessed, ever since the moment God brought you into my life—to save me from robbers and to soothe an old man’s broken heart over his wayward son.” A shadow came over the man’s face, as it always did at the mention of his son.
“And I have been equally blessed,” Aladdin said softly, “since the night I first met you. God has given me more than I could have asked or imagined in such a short time—a business partner, friend, and the very model of a kind father.” At this admission, tears stung the back of his eyes.
“Well, you are easy to be a kind father to, Aladdin.” Herr Kaufmann patted his arm again, then a smile crept over his face. “And one never knows what the future holds. But I shall say no more. We will not tell God what will be, but we shall pray and ask God to guide our future, then meet it when it comes. That is a good plan, is it not, my boy?”
“Yes. It is a good plan.”
Aladdin glanced up. A tall, thin man with dark, greasy hair and a shrewd look in his black eyes stood crouched in a dark corner near them, as if he’d been there for some time, listening to their conversation. But as soon as Aladdin met his eye, the man turned and walked toward the door.
Aladdin got a sick feeling in his stomach. He turned to point out the man to Herr Kaufmann, but Herr Kaufmann was already staring after him, his eyes narrowing.
“Do you know that man?” Aladdin asked.
“He was one of Cedric’s friends. I always suspected he was helping Cedric steal from me, but it was never proven.”
“I think he was listening to us.”
Herr Kaufmann shook his head. “We shall just have to pray nothing evil comes of it.”
Winter was well under way a few weeks later. No people sat outside any of the many breweries in town drinking ale as they had every day since he came to Lüneburg.
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