"Let's go sit on the sofa," Reed suggested.
"I'm sitting on Daddy's lap," Kathy declared before any of the kids could. She did.
"That's silly," Lydia pronounced. But she joined her siblings in piling around and on top of their parents.
Kathy exchanged glances and a quick smile with her husband. He gave her a squeeze. They'd let the kids talk to Daddy first, and she and Reed would have time alone later.
She raised her voice. "Magdalena! Rosina! Come meet Reed!"
****
Kathy cuddled up next to Reed and pulled the blankets up to her chin. "I missed you so much."
Reed kissed her. "I missed you."
"Do you know where your pajamas are? Because in the morning, the kids are going to pound on the door and want to jump in bed with us."
Reed stretched, trying to reach toward the floor.
"Not yet, silly," Kathy teased. "We might wake up before the kids do."
"Ooo, I like that plan," Reed told her. "I do have to go to work tomorrow. Camp Saale handed us a full inventory of the USE supplies that have been prepositioned there, so I need to place orders in the Grantville area to fill in the gaps. I should be able to be home for dinner, but don't wait on me if I'm not."
"Okay."
Kathy snuggled closer and started to drift off to sleep. Then she remembered something.
"Reed, will you still be here Sunday?"
"I think so."
"Good. Can you preach? We were supposed to have a pastor, but he canceled. I was going to start making calls tomorrow to line somebody up …"
"Huh. Funny how that works out," Reed observed. "Almost like it was planned. Sure. I'll bring my guys. Oh—a couple letters ago you asked about comparing who was attending. Remind me in the morning. I have a list in my pack. Can you check them against yours …?"
"And see if I need to make sure to invite anyone's family for this Sunday? Or if you need to invite any of your guys in particular?" she finished for him.
"Exactly. And there's this monk we need to pray for. I didn't dare write down anything about him."
Kathy sat up. "There's a girl who comes to the Bible study and church. She's Unitas Fratrum. Remember how you said they had people in Grantville? I couldn't tell you …"
"… because she's technically a spy, even if we not only don't care but are actively encouraging it," Reed murmured. He sounded distracted.
"Reed?" Then Kathy realized she'd lost her blankets when she sat up.
"Definitely a picture I want to remember," her husband told her. "C'mere." He pulled her down close.
"How's the PTSD?" he whispered.
"I'm good, Reed. I could really do without any more defense drills, but I can handle a raid if I have to." She waited a moment. "You?"
"I'm good, too, Kathy. The battles are different than the dreams. It makes the dreams less real."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"Maybe tomorrow. Right now I just want to hold you."
Kathy really couldn't object to that.
A few minutes later, Reed murmured, "Thank you, Jesus, for protecting us."
"Please keep Reed safe," Kathy chimed in.
"And Kathy and the kids."
"Amen."
****
Kathy is using a New King James Version.
"Scripture taken from the New King James Version. Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson, Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved."
Reed is using a New American Standard Bible.
"Scripture quotations taken from the New American Standard Bible®,
Copyright © 1960, 1962, 1963, 1968, 1971, 1972, 1973,
1975, 1977, 1995 by The Lockman Foundation
Used by permission." (www.Lockman.org)
The Night Soil King
by Walt Boyes and Joy Ward
In November of 1634 a great tidal wave overran the entire area from the Waddensea lowlands in the north of Germany and the Netherlands to the west coast of Denmark killing thousands of people and animals. It arose at night while many slept with no chance to escape. The survivors called it "A Great Drowning of Men."
"Hans!" "Hans!" "Wait!" Liesel ran after her big brother as he led the family's huge old Frisian horse, Beatrix, over to the night soil cart. Her small feet threw up so much mud as she chased him that the edge of her yellow skirt took on a brown splotchy pattern. Her blonde braid bounced around her back, the small blue bow at the end looking like a kite tail.
"Liesel, you know it's time for me to take the night soil to the tanner's at Bremerlehe. Now quiet down before the village thinks our little princess has been bewitched into a crow." He laughed and lovingly tugged her long braid. He pressed his ancient faded brown felt hat further down on his head with his other hand.
The sun was getting lower in the darkening afternoon sky as the pigs in the corral to the right squealed. Liesel and Hans's father emerged from the front door of the wood and stone home they all shared. He shushed the hogs then frowned at Hans. "Haven't you left yet?" He pushed the blue cotton sleeves of his threadbare, faded work shirt up his arms and wiped his brow with one of the sleeves. He was a tall, sinewy man, the very image of what twenty-year-old Hans would look like in a few years with light brown hair and a full brown beard. Hans was whipcord thin but wiry, with clearly some growth to come.
"Hans. Why haven't you left yet? Is Beatrix all right? Did that new shoe job hold? What is the matter?" Hans's father wiped his hands on his brown cotton pants and walked over to the cart, eyes scanning the horse.
"Papa, Hans can't go to town today." Liesel moaned. "My birthday is tomorrow and Hans said he would make me a new doll and be here. If he takes the cart to town today he won't be back in time."
Papa shook his head and turned away as he hid a small smile from the slightly spoiled eight-year-old. He knew he and Hans had made her the center of their world ever since his wife, Mitza, had died two years prior. But he could not coddle her forever. She must start growing up and now was a good time.
"No, little princess, it is time for Hans to take the scheisswagen to the tanners. The winter will be upon us soon and we will need the money he will make to feed us all. When he comes home he can make you a new dolly."
Liesel loved her dollies. They were all made of bits and pieces of cloth scraps. The very fanciest of them had buttons for eyes but most of the faces were sewn or drawn on. Papa and Hans called Liesel's array of dolls her "court."
"Papa is right, princess. I'll make you another doll for your court when I come back from town. Maybe I'll find some extra beautiful scraps while I'm there." He reached down and hugged her. Hans started to step towards his taciturn father but his father had already moved away to continue his autumn repairs. Papa had never been too demonstrative but since the death of Hans and Liesel's mother he seemed to have pulled even further away. Hans didn't know what he could do to prove himself. Maybe someday …
Liesel stepped back so Hans could climb up into the loaded night soil cart. Beatrix was waiting impatiently, chewing the bit and flicking her tail to drive away the pesky flies that circled the cart and its odiferous load of dung.
Hans clucked at the horse from his seat on the scheisswagen. It was a fairly warm day, and even though it was November, there were still flies. With three big barrels of night soil in the wagon, there were lots of flies.
Hans was happy it wasn't July, because the smell would have been unbearable. He had read in a pamphlet from the Committee of Correspondence that the smell was from something called bacteria. These were supposed to be little tiny animals, smaller than you could see with the eye. You had to use something called a microscope to see them. Hans thought that was as good an explanation as "it was bad air" and probably was right. At least the CoC said the up-timers said that was how it worked. He often daydreamed about being a member of the CoC, and discovering ways to prevent diseases. He was fascinated by their pamphlet on "sanitation." He took the trip from his small village to Bremerlehe at the mouth of t
he Weser once a week, and he'd been doing it for years. Sometimes he went all the way into Bremen, just a few miles further. The horse had been doing it even longer than Hans, so the horse, as they said, knew the way. His family was one of the hereditary night soil collectors for a set of five small villages set along the inner dike about five miles inland from the Waddensea coast.
"Hey!"
Hans turned in his seat to see his friend, Japik, running up the road after him. "Dummkopf, I almost had to leave without you. You're late."
Japik smiled the gap-toothed grin Hans had known all his life, first as boys and then teens in the village. "Now I am here." Japik made a jesting bow to Liesel, managing to turn his bum to Hans at the same time.
Hans just shook his head. "Enough, Japik, let's get on the way before Papa decides to drop us both into the back of this cart. I'd rather deliver this load than swim in it."
Japik clambered up next to Hans, adjusting his several-sizes-too-big dingy blue pants as he sat down. Japik was the youngest of a family blessed with five boys so nothing he wore was anywhere near new or fit. The loose brown and white shirt he wore looked like it had been washed more times than Japik.
Japik whistled through the rather huge gap between his middle upper teeth. "You worry too much. But thanks for letting me catch a ride with you to Bremerlehe."
"Just be on time when we come back." Hans slapped the reins across her neck, encouraging Beatrix to pick up her speed just a bit.
The sun dropped below the horizon early in the trip, and the boys watched the waxing moon slip up to fill the cloudy sky as Beatrix's hooves beat their pattern across the road along the top of the dyke. It was late enough that the night soil cart was the only one in sight. Hans knew everyone else must be in their snug homes while he and Japik rode their odiferous load into town. No one wanted to see or smell the cart while it made its way to the tannery so he was required to make his trips at night. The moon seemed to slip from cloud to cloud as it played a lunar hide-and-seek with them.
It was about 10 o'clock. Hans figured he would get to the tannery right before dawn. It was dark on the road, but it was built on a raised dike and was pretty straight. It had gotten very cloudy and looked like rain was on the way.
The boys sat in companionable silence for a mile or so with Hans lost in his thoughts. Japik was the first to break the quiet. "Well, Hans, have you had the chance recently to save a princess from a dragon or something just as dangerous?"
Hans didn't bother to turn his head. He knew his friend was engaging in his usual game of teasing him. Hans made the mistake once of confessing to Japik that he loved the stories, fairy tales, the up-timers called them, about dragons, knights, princesses, and the like. His daydream when he was younger was to rescue a fair princess and live happily ever after like the stories.
Of course, now he was older and knew those were just stories. His life, like those of his father and everyone else of his station in life, was to perform certain jobs. He could carry night soil, be an executioner (ugh), a tanner, or something else of the sort. He hated it! Night soil collection was a proscribed occupation. He was shunned by other people, and not just because of the smell. He would have to marry within the other proscribed occupations, like executioners, tanners, dyers, and the like. His wife would come from the same station and any children he had would be relegated to this station as well. No princesses for the likes of him.
The wind started to pick up just enough to blow the first of the season's fallen leaves across the dirt road in front of them. The wind gusted strong enough to rock the wagon on the road. Beatrix seemed to feel something in the air. Her ears pricked up just a bit more and the clip-clop of her new shoes on the stone road seemed to get a tad faster.
Following behind the wind, big drops of rain fell, singly at first, then as a driving rain.
Hans came out of his thoughts as Beatrix sped up yet again. Now her shoes were louder as they moved across the dike. The view around him was open so he could see the tops of a few old buildings in the distance.
"Hans, something is wrong. Do you hear that roaring? And the sky is too dark." Japik had stopped whistling.
Hans turned toward the wind. The wind was carrying the scent of ocean and rot. The smell became overpowering.
The rain and wind lashed them. Hans quickly lost his hat, and both he and Japik were soaked to the skin almost in an instant. Lightning started to flash, coming way too close to the boys on their high point. Hans kept the horse and wagon moving, moving.
Beatrix seemed to agree as she tried to speed up yet again. But the loaded cart was too heavy for her. She puffed and pulled but could gain no more speed.
The sky went from simply overcast to almost black. The boys could hear a massive roaring that could only be the sea. Suddenly, the wind died and then came back harder than ever. Then Hans saw it by the light of the moon and screamed. In the distance he saw the largest wave he had ever seen in his life. It could have been miles tall and still miles away. Even miles away, the wave towered over the dike road, over the scheisswagen, over Hans. He knew he was going to die. The wave looked like it was moving much faster than they could run.
Hans leapt off of the cart, dragging Japik with him. "Quick, loose Beatrix from the cart! We have to run to safety. She can't make it with this cart!"
Hans jumped down and ran forward, grabbing the reins and holding the horse from a short rein. "Ssssh! Shhh! Calm, now, Beatrix!" he shouted into the horse's left ear.
He then turned to Japik. "Come on, we have to get to shelter!" Hans already had half of the traces loose.
With both of them working at it they were able to free Beatrix. Her eyes were wild with fright as the two boys clambered onto her broad back and gave her head to run. And run she did! The old cart horse knew watery death when she smelled and heard it. She didn't need to be told that the winds whipping around her head were faster than she could run.
She fled across the rest of the dike as the seemingly miles-high wave pressed towards them. Hans and Japik held on to Beatrix's mane, fighting the same wind that tried to rip them away. The sky got even darker, and the waves got louder.
They made it to the end of the dike with Beatrix running towards an old stone ruin. The roof was partially gone and a few stones had rejoined the land but it was close and big enough for all three souls.
The boys half leaped, half fell off Beatrix's back as the horse made for the open doorway. Hans half-dragged Beatrix and Japik to the strongest remaining wall and pulled Japik down beside him and behind Beatrix, who was shaking with fright.
"Calm down, girl. I'm here with you." Hans wrapped his arms around her neck and prayed to God to help them.
A roaring was all he heard and the world became water. The roof above gave way as the hellish wave dashed across it, depositing tree limbs, flotsam, and even fish. The stench of seawater filled his nostrils.
Hans yelled for Japik but his friend had been ripped away and out of the building. But Beatrix, heavy as she was, became Hans's anchor, holding him in the water-logged stone building. Hans wrapped one of the traces around his left arm to keep himself from being torn away from Beatrix.
The two half-floated, half-swam to the top of the seawater that became a pool within the building. The building blunted some of the force of the storm but water still flooded around them. Hans hit his head against one of the many tree limbs. He felt himself starting to black out. His last thoughts were of Liesel and Papa …
When Hans came to, the sun had retaken the sky, and Beatrix stood over him munching on whatever green shoots she could find outside the remains of the stone building that had saved their lives. His left arm still bore what was left of the leather traces he had used to hang on to the immense black and white horse. Water still dripped from her dingy white mane and tail. Mud caked around her hooves.
Japik! Where was Japik? Japik was young and strong but that wall of water was more than anyone could handle or withstand. Hans spoke to the heavy, water-logge
d air. "Japik, I hope you got your dummkopfer bum to safety and we can share a tankard together soon."
Then the day seemed to darken again for Hans. "Liesel! Papa! I must get to them." He struggled to stand up but fell back down. His head spun. Hans was forced to sit back down in the mud and wreckage spread across the ground and even up into the hulks of trees. His leg wouldn't hold him. He pulled back the dripping pant leg to reveal a broken leg,
Everywhere he looked was disaster-strewn. Only the stones of the building seemed to be where they were before the hellish storm. Hans could barely breathe for the stench of rotting fish and worse. He was used to overpowering odors, having worked with night soil all his life. But these were the smells of death, not simply urine and feces. He couldn't even tell how many and what was dead or dying all around him. He felt like he had been washed into one of those old paintings from centuries before when Death strolled hand in hand with the Black Death. Was he even still in the world? Had he been flushed into some backwater of a demonic fairy tale? Would life ever come back or be nearly the same?
At least Beatrix was with him. Beatrix had been with his family before he was born. He could bring her home to his father. He could show his father he was not a loser. Oh no! The cart! Hans had left the cart on the dike! His father would never let him live it down that he had deserted the one piece of equipment the family used to bring in money! How would they replace it?
Hans sat in the stone-strewn mud, not noticing he was as wet and filthy as Beatrix and everything else around them. His head swam; his mind jumped from Papa and Liesel to Japik to Beatrix to the lost night soil cart to the pains running rampant through his bruised and broken body. The situation and his damaged head overtook him, pushing him to the sloppy ground and pulling him into a sleepless darkness. Hans's eyes closed against his will.
****
It was an angel, he thought. Blonde hair, blue eyes, beautiful face staring into his own. He thought she was speaking to him, but the words didn't make sense at first.
Grantville Gazette, Volume 64 Page 6