by Gemma Holden
In the kitchen, her mother was already hard at work, kneading dough with her capable hands. Flour covered her cheek and dusted her hair. She said nothing to Adrianna as she came in.
Adrianna ladled some porridge into a bowl and sat down at the table. An awkward silence stretched out between them. After supper last night, her mother had tried again to point out all the benefits of marrying Peter, and they had gone to bed on bad terms.
Her mother sighed and wiped her hands on her apron. She took the chair across from Adrianna at the table. “I’m sorry for what I said last night.” Adrianna looked down at her porridge, unable to meet her mother’s gaze. Her mother reached out and raised her chin so that she was facing her. “I just want to make sure that you will be taken care of if something happened to me.”
“I know,” Adrianna said in a small voice. They seemed to argue more and more lately. It had been just the two of them for so long, but now not a day passed without some disagreement between them. “I’m sorry I can’t be like the other girls and just marry Peter.”
“I wouldn’t want you to be.” Her mother pulled her up and hugged her tight. Adrianna closed her eyes. She could feel how thin her mother was. If she squeezed too hard it felt like her bones would break and crumble. Her mother would say she wasn’t hungry and went without when their food ran short and Adrianna often heard her coughing in the night from a cough that wouldn’t go away. It was up to her to take care of her mother now. Her mother laughed as she pulled away. “I’ve covered you in flour.” She brushed the powder from Adrianna’s cheek. “I need to go and check on Frau Luft. The younger ones will need to be washed and fed.”
“I’ll get started on the washing,” Adrianna said.
Since her father had died six years ago, they had taken in washing to make a living. They had little money, but they didn’t starve. They had done well since the prince had come to stay at the castle. The servants couldn’t cope with all the washing, so they sent it down to the town, but it was heavy and exhausting work.
Frau Mueller nodded to her as Adrianna set the buckets down and joined the queue of women waiting to take their turn at the pump. Frau Mueller was a quiet woman who rarely smiled. She was thin, but most of the townspeople were thin; she saw that her children were fed. Inga appeared carrying a single bucket. She joined the queue behind Adrianna. With her wheat blonde hair, she stood out amongst the other townspeople. When she was younger, Adrianna had often wished her hair was the same golden colour instead of dull brown.
“Has he asked you yet?” Inga whispered.
“Has who asked me?” Adrianna said, pretending she didn’t know what Inga was talking about.
“Peter. Has he asked you to marry him?”
“Not yet.”
“He will though.” Inga sighed wistfully. At fifteen, she would soon start looking for a husband herself. Adrianna had seen her casting glances at Peter from beneath her lashes. It would be much simpler if Peter could just marry Inga, but then there would be no one for her.
“Did you hear about Jutta?” Inga asked. “They found bruises on her arms. They think that someone drowned her.” She sounded almost gleeful. Inga hadn’t come to fetch water; she had come to gossip. Inga didn’t have anything else to do as the chores were divided between her and her five siblings. Adrianna seemed to spend her whole life doing chores. When she finally finished them, it was time to start all over again. “I think it was the prince,” Inga went on.
Adrianna stepped forward to take her turn. “You have no right to accuse him of such a thing,” she said as she set a bucket under the spout and worked the handle.
“It all started after he came to stay at the castle. Before that no one has ever gone missing.”
“That doesn’t mean it was the prince.”
“I suppose it could have been the prince’s tutor.”
Knowing how gossip could spread, Adrianna whirled around to face her. “You have no right to accuse him of such a thing.”
“Do you like him, Adrianna? You’re always talking to him. Don’t you think he’s too old for you?”
Adrianna flushed scarlet. “It isn’t like that. Monsieur Gaspard is simply kind.”
“That’s enough,” Frau Mueller said, stepping between them. “Off with you now, Inga.”
“Well, I think he did it.” Inga tossed her head and sauntered off.
Adrianna picked up her buckets. “You don’t think it was him, do you?” she asked Frau Mueller.
“No. I think Jutta had a sweetheart. Several times I saw her slipping out of the town. I think she was going to meet someone.”
“She never mentioned a boy to me.” But Jutta had been acting strangely just before she disappeared. She’d had a dreamy look in her eyes and she had brushed by Adrianna when she had tried to speak to her. A boy would explain the sudden change in her behaviour.
Adrianna hauled the buckets back to the house. She poured the water into a huge pot and set it to boil and then went back for more. She was on her fourth trip and carrying the last buckets back, when Peter appeared.
“Let me help,” he said, reaching to take a bucket from her.
“I can manage.” She sloshed water over her dress as she side stepped to avoid him. He caught hold of the handle of the bucket in her right hand. She tried to tug it away from him, but he wouldn’t let go. She had no choice but to let him carry it or risk soaking herself further.
It was worse carrying one bucket than two. Having one bucket in each hand balanced out the weight. She had to use both hands to grip the handle of the remaining bucket.
“I thought you were out with the boats,” she said to break the silence as they walked back to her house.
“There was a hole in one of the nets, so we had to come back.” It was a poor excuse. She wondered if the men had sent him to speak to her. The whole town was aware of what Peter intended to ask her. She could see them staring as they passed. Jorg headed toward her, but his mother pulled him away. Herr Kreuger actually turned around and went back into his house.
“I brought you a fish,” Peter said. He had a package in his free hand wrapped in brown paper.
“Thank you. My mother will be grateful.”
She quickened her pace. She was relieved when they reached her house. He set the bucket down on the ground. “Adrianna --,” he began.
“Thank you for the fish.” She picked up the bucket and carried it into the house, but he followed her in. He stood there looking uncertain. Hoping that if she ignored him he would leave, she poured the water that was just beginning to boil into the wooden tub outside and set more to boil.
“Adrianna, please stop.” He stepped in front of her, blocking her way. “I’ve been trying to think of the best way to do this.” He took a deep breath and let it out and then took her hands in both of his. She could feel how hot and clammy they were. She waited with dread for what she knew he was about to say. “Every time I try and speak to you, you’re always so busy. It’s almost as if you want to avoid me.”
“I have work to do,” she replied, not meeting his eyes.
“I watch you.” He blushed red and ducked his head. “I mean, I’ve seen you. How hard you work. But you don’t have to do that anymore. I want to take care of you, Adrianna. You and your mother. My aunt thinks it’s time that I married and I think it’s time as well. Adrianna, I want you to be my wife.”
Adrianna closed her eyes. She had been trying to avoid this, to somehow prevent it from happening.
“Aren’t you going to say something?” he asked.
She didn’t know what to say. She knew what her mother wanted her to say and what everyone else in the town expected her to say.
“Why do you want to marry me?” she eventually asked.
He seemed at a loss how to answer her. “I like you. I will work hard to make sure you want for nothing.”
What she wanted he couldn’t give to her. No one could.
“We could live with my aunt,” he continued. “And your m
other could live with us and help with the children when they come. When my aunt dies, I will get the house. She’s old. I don’t think it will be much longer.”
It was the best offer she would get, perhaps the only offer. They could have a happy home. She could see herself washing and mending while he was out with the boats. She would have supper waiting for him when he came back. That would be her life. Her entire existence. Every day would be the same, an endless cycle of washing and mending, cooking and cleaning.
“I don’t know what to say,” Adrianna said. His face fell. She didn’t want to marry him, but she didn’t want to hurt him either. “I need some time to think. They only found Jutta’s body yesterday. It wouldn’t be right for us to announce anything yet.” She felt terrible for using her friend’s death as an excuse to delay him.
“Of course.” A smile filled his face. “We can wait until after the funeral and then we can announce it.”
He thought she had accepted his offer. She opened her mouth to correct him, but he ran off before she could speak, the door banging shut behind him. She stood in the kitchen, with the water bubbling and threatening to boil over, wanting to cry at how unfair her life was, but there was no time to feel sorry for herself. There was work to be done.
She threw armfuls of bed linen that had been soaking into the tub outside and went to work. She used a dolly stick to pummel the fabric. She put all her frustration into it. Her hands were soon red and raw and her arms aching. She worked all morning. She winced as she stood up and stretched her back. She wiped her forehead and pushed back the damp tendrils of hair that had come loose from the braid. Jorg’s mother walked past, her hand resting on her swollen belly. A gaggle of children fanned out behind her like a flock of geese. She tried to imagine blonde-haired children following behind her. She should be content with that. Who was she to want more? She had no education, no wealth and no connections. She was just a washer girl from the town. She had to be practical and accept this was her lot, not waste her time with silly hopes and dreams. She would be happy with Peter, she told herself fiercely. They could have a nice home together. Maybe in time she would come to love him.
With the washing done and hung out to dry, she put the iron in the range to heat it. She laid out a cloth to cover the table and protect it from the heat and then started on the mountain of shirts that were waiting to be ironed. If she left the town to find work as a maid, her life would be no different. She would spend her days washing and cleaning. It might not be any different, but it could not be any worse.
Relieved to finally be able to rest, she sat before the fire and started on the pile of mending. Since Herr Fleischer’s wife had died two winters before leaving him with two sons, her mother had taken in their washing and mending in exchange for some of their fish. The pile never went down; there was always more added to it. The boys tore their shirts or ripped their breeches at least once a week. She had only just mended this linen shirt a few days before and already there was a wide gash in the sleeve.
Her mother came in. She set her basket down with a sigh. Adrianna put her mending aside and rose to take her mother’s cloak. “How is Frau Luft?”
“She’s stopped crying at last. Now she just lies there.” Her mother sank down into the chair. “Herr Fleischer went over to St Goar today. There’s a girl missing in the town. She disappeared over a week ago and hasn’t been seen since.”
Adrianna stood with the back of her dress against the fire for warmth. That made two girls who had gone missing and one of them had been found drowned.
“I want you to stay away from any strange men,” her mother said.
“I will.” She didn’t need her mother to tell her that.
“I saw Peter with you earlier.”
Adrianna turned her back to her mother and busied herself putting the mending away. “He brought us a fish.”
“He told Herr Fleischer that you had accepted his proposal.”
Adrianna closed her eyes. That was it, she thought with despair. Her fate was sealed. It was too late to try and find a way out of it. News of Peter’s proposal would have spread through the town by now. “I didn’t disagree to it. I said that I needed some time. It was too soon for him to ask with Jutta only being found yesterday.”
“But you will say yes.”
What other choice did she have? “Yes.”
“He’s a good boy. He will be a good husband. We need some time to get your bridal things ready. I have a little money put aside. You can choose some fabric and I will make you a new dress.”
Suddenly, she couldn’t breathe. Her chest felt tight, her petticoats too restricting, and even the walls seemed to close in around her. She felt like she was suffocating. “I need to get some air.” She grabbed her cloak and bonnet from the peg behind the door.
Her mother frowned. “You do look pale, but I don’t want you going far after what happened to Jutta.”
“I’ll stay within sight of the town.”
She fled before her mother changed her mind and decided that it wasn’t safe. As soon as she left the town, she picked up her skirts and ran along the riverbank, not caring who might see. But what she was running from she could never escape.
She finally stopped and drew in deep breaths. The river calmed her. She didn’t have to marry Peter. She could speak to Monsieur Gaspard. He might help her to find a position elsewhere. But if she left to find work in the city, it would mean leaving her mother all alone with no one to help her.
Wanting to feel the sun on her face, she left the ribbons loose and let the bonnet hang down her back as she walked along the riverbank. The sun warmed her and chased away the chill from what her mother had said. Two girls had disappeared. Adrianna would never go near any strange men, but Jutta had been so trusting and sweet and she had liked to flirt with the boys.
She looked up at the castle perched in the hills high above her. From up there, the prince would be able to see the whole of the river and the town. She wondered what it would be like to be born to privilege. To never worry about having enough food to eat or enough wood in the winter to keep the fire going. To be free to do as you pleased all day and have servants wait on you. Her mother believed that you had to accept your lot in life and make the best of it. It was useless to waste time thinking about what could be.
She hummed softly to herself as she walked. It was the song she had heard the day before, the one her mother had heard Jutta singing. She broke off. Another voice - a girl’s voice - had taken up the song. They sang so softly, the barest whisper, but it was the most beautiful sound. The music seemed to fill her head and wrap around her, pulling her toward it.
Something hard struck her shoulder and a voice called behind her, “Adrianna.” She blinked and turned. Evert came puffing up, his face as red as his hair. He had a handful of stones clutched in his hand.
Adrianna put a hand to her shoulder where he had struck her. “Why are you throwing stones at me?”
He stopped before her and bent to rest his hands on his knees as he panted. “I’ve been calling you for ages. Where are you going?”
“I’m going for a walk. I’m not going to go far.” She broke off as she turned around. The town was no longer in sight. The sun was much lower in the sky and yet she had only just set out.
“It’s not safe. Not after what happened to Jutta.”
“I - I didn’t realise I had come so far.”
Evert took her hand and led her back to the town like a disobedient child. She should have pulled away, but instead she stumbled along beside him. She didn’t understand. How did she get there? She had only just set out, and yet she had come so far. Hours had passed, but to her it was only a few minutes since she had left the town. What was happening to her?
Chapter Four
Christian stood at the very top of the bergfried, his legs braced against the wind, watching the boats bobbing in the distance and the fishermen throwing out their nets. He could hear Gaspard calling for him from somewhere in
the castle. He had been calling for him for the last ten minutes, but unwilling to go in, Christian had stayed silent. Gradually, his voice was getting closer now.
Gaspard finally emerged, panting from his climb to the top of the tower. He mopped his red face with his handkerchief. “I’ve been looking for you.”
“I didn’t hear you,” Christian said innocently.
Gaspard frowned. “We have lessons.”
Christian turned back to the river. “We both know that I don’t need a tutor anymore. My English and Latin are perfect. My French is flawless.”
“I have tried to speak with your mother, but if she insists that you are to have lessons, then you are to have lessons.”
He spotted a figure, a girl from her simple brown dress, walking by the river. She had more freedom than he did. She could at least be left alone. He was never alone. There was always a servant watching what he did or Gaspard chasing after him. Europe was at war. The world was being reshaped around him, while he was stuck here in this castle, out of the way. He had heard stories when he was a child, of princesses being locked away in a tower. His mother had found a castle for him.
“If I spoke to my mother, do you think she would let me go sailing?” He missed the river. It was the one place he could be alone.