Aladdin kept his head down as he walked, the stiff wind swirling the snow around his feet. His woolen cloak, normally so warm, felt like the thinnest linen, so little did it block the sting of the bitter wind.
Aladdin braved the wind alone on his way to the warehouse, glad Herr Kaufmann was warm at home. He wanted to go over the accounts, in spite of Herr Kaufmann saying it was too cold to conduct business.
Aladdin took a different route from his usual walk along the river. Perhaps the buildings would block some of the wind. He turned down a narrow street, then down a wider one. Few people were about. He saw no one at all for a few minutes, but then he heard someone coughing. It was a very insistent cough, and it seemed to be coming from a narrow alleyway.
What was a sick person with a terrible cough doing out in this weather?
Aladdin stepped toward the sound. The alley was rather dark, even with the morning sun shining. As he approached he realized Abu’s small wooden boat was wedged in between the buildings. The makeshift blankets in the boat shook with every cough.
“Abu? Is that you?”
The blankets moved some more, and Abu’s face emerged as he raised his head and shoulders above the mound of ragged blankets and clothes.
Abu’s eyelids were heavy and drooped over red-rimmed eyes, and his face was blotchy and puffy. Aladdin knelt beside the boat. “You don’t look well. Are you in pain?”
Abu seemed to make a great effort to breathe. “My chest.” He took another labored breath amid a rattling sound. “I think I’m dying . . . just like my father.”
“I’m taking you to Herr Kaufmann’s house.”
Abu’s shoulders drooped. He tried to stand, but it was obvious he was too weak.
Aladdin scooped him up with his blankets on top of him, and Abu did not protest. Aladdin carried him down the street, drawing some curious looks from the few people who were out in the cold. Once he reached Herr Kaufmann’s home, he deposited him on the extra bed in a tiny room on the street level.
“Aladdin? Who is that? What is amiss?” Hilde followed them into the room.
“It’s Abu. He’s very sick. Can you send someone to fetch Herr Kaufmann’s physician?” Aladdin glanced back at Hilde. Her face showed great concern.
“I will.”
Aladdin heard her telling one of the other servants to fetch Herr Monnik as soon as possible, then she was back in the room, hovering over Abu.
The boy’s eyes were closed and he coughed again, arching his back as he wheezed in. The coughs racked his small body, and he reclined against the pillow as if exhausted.
“Oh dear.” Hilde set her hand on the boy’s forehead. “He’s burning up with fever. I shall fetch him some feverfew and . . .” Hilde’s voice trailed off as she hurried out of the room.
Aladdin felt helpless watching Abu struggle to breathe, obviously in pain. He fell to his knees beside the boy’s bed and began to pray quietly.
Soon Hilde came back with a cup. “You must drink this.” She sat on a stool by Abu’s side and held the cup to his lips. “Aladdin, can you hold him steady?”
Aladdin eased him forward, then sat behind him, bracing Abu’s back against his chest and his thin shoulders between his hands. Hilde managed to get several swallows into him before the coughing racked his body again. But as soon as he stopped, Hilde poured the liquid in through his parted lips. After a couple more coughing fits, Hilde had given him the entire contents of the cup, and Abu lay unmoving.
Was he still alive? Aladdin touched his head. Still warm.
He carefully slid off the bed, setting Abu back, but he and Hilde propped him up on pillows so he was not lying flat. Abu slept on, his chest rattling and rasping with every breath.
Abu was awake and coughing again by the time the physician arrived. He took one look at Abu and his step faltered, his face freezing. Aladdin’s spine stiffened and heat rose inside him at the physician’s reaction. Was his objection to treating a homeless orphan? Or to treating a dark-skinned Saracen?
Herr Kaufmann was lurking in the corridor outside. He had a fear of sickness and bad humors. The physician took a step back, turned on his heel, and went to talk to Herr Kaufmann.
Aladdin’s stomach churned. Would the physician refuse to care for Abu?
“I shall pay you the same as I would for any sick servant of my household.” Herr Kaufmann’s voice rose precipitously. “He is not an animal, after all. You do treat human children, do you not?” His voice contained an angry edge Aladdin had never heard before.
Moments later the physician reentered the room, a sheepish look on his face. He put down his bag and knelt beside Abu. He picked up Abu’s limp hand, pressing his fingertips to the underside of Abu’s wrist, then pulled on the skin underneath Abu’s left eye, then his right.
“His humors are unbalanced—too much cold and wet, and too much phlegm in the body. He needs this room to stay warm and dry. To flush out his body, he will need to drink a lot of warm liquids. He must cough out all the phlegm in his lungs, but do not allow him to lie on his back or he will drown in it.”
The physician rummaged around in his bag and brought out a tiny cloth bundle. He handed it to Hilde. “Here is some dried Lungenkraut. Give it to him in hot water or perhaps some watered-down wine—no milk.”
“Yes, Herr Monnik.”
“It is also possible the illness is caused by a demon spirit. In that case, only God can save him.”
Herr Monnik nodded to Aladdin, closed and hefted his bag, and left.
Soon Hilde returned with a cup of the physician’s dried lungwort steeped in hot water. She and Aladdin waited for Abu to awaken, and it didn’t take long before he started coughing again, too hard to remain asleep.
Hilde took the opportunity to pour some of the warm lungwort drink into his mouth. Then she swung his feet off the bed and placed them in a pan of very warm water on the floor.
“My mother swore that soaking a child’s feet in hot water would take away any fever.”
Poor Abu was letting them move him around and do anything to him, and he remained mostly unconscious through most of it.
Soon after she put his feet in the hot water, Abu began to sweat. Sweat beaded on his entire face.
“Is that a good sign or bad?” Aladdin turned to Hilde. He had seldom been sick himself, besides when he’d been injured in the bear attack.
“Oh, sweating is a very good thing.” Hilde leaned over Abu, then dabbed at his face with a cloth. “It means the fever is leaving him. That prideful physician might say his humors are balancing out.”
“His breathing doesn’t sound quite as bad as it did.”
Hilde listened. “Not as much rattling. And the color in his cheeks is getting better.”
After Abu sweated out the rest of his fever, he fell into a deeper sleep. His coughing grew much less frequent and less violent. As Aladdin sat beside his bed, he prayed, God, thank You for sparing his life. I know You are no respecter of persons, not like that physician. Abu is just as precious to You as a prince would be.
When Aladdin looked up from his prayer, Abu was staring at him with tired but clear eyes. “Thank you,” he said softly.
“Feeling better?”
“Yes, but I’m very sleepy.”
“Sleep, then. When you wake again, you’ll be much stronger.”
Abu nodded and turned over onto his side. Soon his breathing was steady and even, but without any of the rattling from before.
Abu was from the Holy Land, from Palestine, the same as Aladdin. But unlike Aladdin, Abu still remembered his father. The only thing Aladdin could remember was a blurry image of his mother’s face as she lay dead and a vague feeling of heat, spices, and the sandy color of the buildings. And unlike Aladdin, Abu had been living on his own for at least a year or two. What did a child, on his own, learn about life? That he had to take care of himself, that he could not trust others—this was clear from the few times Aladdin had spoken to him.
A heaviness filled Ala
ddin’s heart, but then he remembered something Kirstyn had said a few years ago on one of their walks in the woods.
“I may not have a particular talent or any extraordinary skills—”
“That’s not true. You are talented and extraordinary.”
Her eyes were big and solemn and seemed to see into his heart. Could she tell how much he cared for her—how she was the loveliest, dearest, safest person in his life?
“I may not be as extraordinary as the rest of my siblings,” she went on, “but someday I want to get married and adopt ten orphans, at least.”
“Ten? Are you so eager to be a mother?”
“I just can’t bear to think of a child feeling insignificant and unwanted. Every child should have a mother. And that is what I want—to adopt orphans as my mother and father adopted Toby. He was alone and mistreated, and now he is a joyful little boy. It hurts my heart to think of what his life would have been like if Margaretha had not brought him home.”
A lump formed in Aladdin’s throat. Her words seemed to melt inside of him, filling in the holes that the absence of a family had left.
He swallowed and said, “You will be a wonderful mother, and your children will adore you.”
She smiled that gentle smile of hers. “Thank you, Aladdin. I don’t know what I’d do without you. You are the best friend I’ve ever had.”
His heart had leapt inside him—and the very next moment crashed against his chest. He was getting older. Being her best friend would not always be enough, he knew, but . . . anything more was impossible. Besides, she obviously only thought of him as a friend.
He made an effort to push the memories away as he watched Abu sleep, his face relaxed and no longer flushed.
Abu slept for a few hours, and when he awoke, he was ravenous, eating everything Hilde brought to him—thick peaand-bean porridge, a hefty portion of pheasant, a large bread roll, and a fruit pasty. But when she tried to give him more of the lungwort tea, he clamped his lips closed and turned his head.
“Why do you want to be so obstinate? This herbal drink is what the doctor ordered for you. Will you refuse to listen to a learned man like him?”
But Abu only scrunched up his face more, lowering his brows and pulling his lips in so they were no longer visible.
“His cough is much better,” Aladdin said, trying to hide his smile from the plump, motherly servant. “He doesn’t need it anymore, perhaps.”
Hilde huffed. “Boys are such stubborn creatures.” Shaking her kerchief-covered head at both of them, she left the room.
Aladdin pulled up a stool and sat beside Abu. “Feeling better?”
“Ja, much better.” He laid his head back on the pillow, obviously still a bit weak.
“You must listen to Frau Hilde. She has taken good care of sick children before, including Herr Kaufmann’s and others she told me about. And she is very kind.”
Abu frowned a bit on one side of his mouth. “She is kind, and you . . . Thank you, Aladdin. I thought I was dying.” He spoke softly, but his eyes were big and round and sincere as he gazed up at Aladdin.
“I’m glad I found you and could bring you here. Herr Kaufmann is a good soul.”
“He is not a cruel man, not like some, but he would not have brought me here the way you did. He loves you. He took care of me because of you. And as soon as I am well, I shall leave.”
“Perhaps you are right, but perhaps not.” Aladdin shook his head. “Herr Kaufmann was constantly asking after you. He sent for the town’s most expensive physician and—” He was about to say, “He hotly rebuked the physician for not wanting to treat a poor orphan from Palestine.” But he said instead, “I think you would be surprised how softhearted Herr Kaufmann truly is.”
Abu stared down at the blanket covering him. “I’m sorry. Please give Herr Kaufmann my thanks.”
“Of course, but you may tell him yourself a bit later. And I hope you will consider staying here with us. You won’t want to sleep outside in this cold, not after how sick you got.”
Abu again stared down without meeting Aladdin’s gaze. “I will think about it, if you want me, and if Herr Kaufmann doesn’t mind me staying here.”
“He won’t mind.” And Aladdin would make sure Herr Kaufmann told Abu so himself. He couldn’t bear to think of Abu spending another night outdoors in the cold.
Abu reminded him so much of himself and Zuhayr, his friend from so long ago. If Aladdin could keep Abu safe and warm, perhaps it would give him a sense of power over those painful memories of his early childhood. It would help him imagine someone rescuing Zuhayr from the streets as well, the way Priest had rescued Aladdin, and the way he would now rescue Abu.
Kirstyn had said she wanted to adopt ten orphans. Perhaps she and he . . . But he should not be thinking that.
CHAPTER TEN
It was a sunny but cold day as Kirstyn and her mother were on their way to visit the orphans. She was imagining running an orphanage of her own or living in an enormous house that she would fill with her own orphans. How she would love them, wipe their tears, kiss their cheeks, tell them stories, and tuck them in at night. She’d listen to the horrors that had happened to them before they came to live with her, then reassure them that nothing like that would ever happen to them again.
She also thought often of Aladdin, of some of the things he had told her, how Priest and Sir Meynard had caught him trying to steal from them. Her heart squeezed as she thought of him, uncared for, so young and ragged, without a mother to hug him and kiss him.
“Lady Kirstyn!” Anna, one of the older orphans, waved at Kirstyn as she and Mother made their way toward the grassy area where the children played their games, the place where Kirstyn had first seen Aladdin.
Since Aladdin had gone and Kirstyn had begun visiting the orphanage more often, Anna approached Kirstyn as soon as she saw her. Anna was a pretty, brown-haired, green-eyed girl who had come to the orphanage after her mother died when Anna was thirteen.
“Lady Kirstyn, Frau Litzer said I am her most improved student.”
“That is wonderful, Anna.” Kirstyn squeezed the girl’s arm and smiled. “I know you are proud of yourself, and Frau Litzer and Master Alfred are too.”
“I told them it was because of your influence. You make me feel as if I can do anything.”
“Me?”
“Of course. You are so beautiful and clever, and you are the first person who has ever made me feel as if I could be something besides just an orphan.”
“Of course you’ll be something besides an orphan. You already are. You’re getting an education. You already know how to sew and spin—valuable skills—and you can add and subtract and multiply, and so you could be a shopkeeper or a seller in the market.”
“That’s very kind of you to say.” Anna shook her head. “But I never imagined myself doing any of those things. I had always hoped I’d be a wife and mother.”
“And I’m sure you will be. When you’re older.”
The other children were starting to go back into the large house where they lived.
“I’ll be fifteen in a few weeks. And since you’re sixteen, we are very close in age, you see. And just as you found your true love at a young age . . .” She gave Kirstyn a look from beneath lowered lashes. “Have you heard from your sweetheart, Aladdin?”
“Whoever said he was my sweetheart?” Kirstyn’s breath shallowed, as it always did when someone mentioned Aladdin.
“Everyone knows that, if you will pardon me for saying so.”
Kirstyn’s cheeks warmed as she imagined Aladdin and her doing the things sweethearts did. “We actually were not, and are not, sweethearts. We care about each other, and we have always been close friends.”
She pictured his dear face, the way he looked at her, how he always made her feel special, how he always listened to her. Her mind took her back to a conversation she’d had with her parents not long after the bear had attacked Aladdin.
“Now that you and Aladdin ar
e growing older,” her mother had said, “things might begin to become awkward between you.”
“Why?” Kirstyn didn’t like the way Mother and Father were looking at her.
“Because he is nearly a man,” her father said. “He . . . well, he may begin treating you differently. Boys and girls simply don’t stay only friends when they grow up.”
“Oh, Father, that’s ridiculous.” She folded her arms over her chest. “Aladdin will always be my friend.”
“But one day you will get married, and Aladdin will also wish to marry. He may . . . he may wish to marry you.”
Kirstyn’s stomach twisted. Why must Father speak of such things? “Aladdin doesn’t think about marrying me. Besides, marriage is far in the future. I’m only twelve years old, and Aladdin . . . well, he’s around fourteen, but he’s still just a boy. He loves me as he would a sister.”
“Perhaps it is too soon to speak of marriage.” Mother placed her hand discreetly on Father’s arm. “But we wanted to warn you that Aladdin may develop feelings for you that are not consistent with those of a brother or friend. He may care for you in a different way.”
“I don’t like this conversation.” Kirstyn glared first at her father, then her mother. Her breath was coming fast and shallow as she became desperate to make her parents listen to her and stop this uncomfortable talk.
“Aladdin is a good boy. And I am a good girl! We are friends, and we enjoy exploring the forest and talking about a lot of things—innocent things!”
“We know you are good children. And we love you both. You are our precious daughter, and Aladdin is one of our own precious orphans. Priest entrusted him to our care, and he is an exceptional boy. Your father wants him to work in the castle as the assistant steward.”
“Then I don’t understand why you wanted to warn me about him. He treats me better than anyone. He is kinder to me than any of my brothers.”
“Do your brothers mistreat you?” Mother asked.
“No, but Steffan and Wolfgang tease Margaretha a lot, and it hurts her.”
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