The Fairytale Keeper: Avenging the Queen (10 page)

“Really?” he shouts.

“Yes, but it’s a secret so don’t tell your mother who it’s for.”

He nods, but looks a little uncomfortable at the thought of lying to his mother.

“Here’s an extra pfennig. Give it to her and tell her you love her very much,” I say.

Levi smiles widely and runs for the house. Ivo catches the chicken and hands it to the smallest boy. The rest whine while the little one runs to the manor yards for his pfennig. Levi returns with my bread and cheese.

“Who caught the chicken?” Levi cries.

“Michael,” Ivo replies.

“Oh,” Levi says with a shrug just like his big brother. He runs off to join his friends who are now playing a game called “Chase the Chicken” in which one of them pretends to be a chicken while the others try to catch him.

I offer half the bread and cheese to Ivo, but he shakes his head. Good, I think, as I eat the whole thing in three bites. We make our way back down the narrow alley and onto to the wide thoroughfare of Severin’s Strasse, making small talk about how my arm is feeling and predicting what had set his mother off this morning. It is a short walk from his house to the tree-lined city wall. I find the tallest tree and hope we aren’t in the middle of our climb when the church bells strike noon.

“You climb first,” I order.

“Why?” I think if I stay silent for long enough, he shall just start climbing, but he doesn’t.

“Come on. Just go,” I grumble, pushing him forward.

“Fine…” he shrugs, shaking the hair from his eyes as he grabs a limb. But rather than climb he looks to me one more time. “Is this a trick?”

“No! If you don’t hurry, we’re going to miss it!” He turns and hoists himself onto the branch. Before I am even onto the lowest branch he has climbed three. The muscles and veins in his arms swell, though he never struggles with the climb. I am much slower for my wounded arm hurts. He pauses on a limb ten feet above me, turns, and swings down from the branch he’s on, shaking his head with a gloat.

“It’s my arm.”

“Sure it is.”

I eventually reach a place in the tree where we can see all the way to St. Laurentius and all the streets that wind around it. I motion for Ivo to come down a few branches. Before I am even seated comfortably, he is sitting on an opposing branch, watching me nervously.

“Scared of heights?” I quip.

“I’m scared you’ll fall and I’ll have to explain it to your father.” His foot twitches nervously. “I’m coming over there. Scoot forward.”

Gripping the trunk, he slides over to my branch and sits behind me. He wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me close so my back rests against his chest. I gasp, startled from the pull and from being so close to him.

“What are we looking at?” he asks nonchalantly, as though being this close is ordinary for us.

“Well…” I forget. I lose myself in the warmth of his chest on my back and his arm around my waist, but I recover quickly enough. “Actually, we are listening for something.”

The timing could not have been more perfect. The first dongs of the dozen church bells echo through the city. Although I’ve anticipated them, they startle me and Ivo grips me tightly.

The bells chime noon and there should be a flock of Christians filing out of St. Laurentius, slowly making their way back to their homes in Airsbach for dinner. Only a few parishioners walk through the doors.

Ivo rests his chin on my shoulder as we stare out over the city. The slow steady flow of his breath tickles my neck, raising goose bumps on my arms. Luckily, they are covered by my sleeves so he does not notice.

I expect him to gasp or curse or react in some way, but he does not even seem to notice that no one has attended Mass at St. Laurentius, that Soren has been humiliated and soon all of Cologne will hear about it.

“Don’t you see?” I turn to look at his face.

“See what?” he asks in a daze.

“Look at the streets of Airsbach! At St. Laurentius!”

“God’s teeth! It’s Sunday,” he laughs. Parishioners from the other churches of Cologne fill the surrounding streets, but only a handful of people come out of St. Laurentius. They look very confused.

“No one went to Mass this morning,” I laugh.

“Good.”

The few confused parishioners who’d attended St. Laurentius disperse and make their ways home. My eyes stay on the doors of the church like a cat would keep his eyes on an unsuspecting mouse. I want Soren to walk through those doors and into the empty street. I want to see the embarrassment, the anger, the bewilderment on his fat, ugly face, but he doesn’t come out. It doesn’t surprise me. It doesn’t even disappoint me. Soren is a coward and I’m sure he shall spend the rest of the day sulking like a spoiled little boy.

For the rest of this lazy afternoon, we sit and watch the streets of Cologne. Ivo rests his chin on my shoulder. Though I know it’s forward of me, I lay my head back on his shoulder so our crowns are touching. Time passes quickly, I imagine, as it always does when one is happy.

***

The church bells chime three times more and I know supper isn’t far off, but I don’t want to go home. I’ve had time to think of what worried Father this morning and I think I know what it is.

Perhaps, this isn’t over. Father Soren isn’t a gracious man. He isn’t likely to learn his lesson and beg his parishioners forgiveness. He won’t learn to treat the people of Cologne better. He shall want to find a way to make us fear him, obey him. He’ll find a way to punish us. And what makes it worse is we do not know how or when or to whom this punishment shall come. Why hadn’t I thought of this?

“Ivo, what do you think he’ll do?” I ask, knowing he will understand what I am talking about. He always does.

“I don’t know,” he sighs, his breath blowing a strand of my hair out of place.

“My father looked worried this morning.”

“Your Father? Really?” His head pulls back with shock.

“Does your father… did he look worried?” I ask.

“I haven’t seen him much today.” He leans back against the tree and pulls me with him. I lean my head on his shoulder again.

“Are you worried?” I ask.

“Nah, there’s only one of him and hundreds of us.” He rests his chin on top of my head.

“Do you think that is why your mother is angry? Maybe she’s just worried we shall all be punished?”

“Nah, I think she’s mad because you were trying to sneak into my bed,” he chuckles.

“That’s not what I was trying to do!”

“You should have seen your face when she caught you,” he laughs.

“Mine! You should have seen yours.” I push forward and turn to sneer at him, but lose my balance. I tip and nearly fall. His eyes widen with fright and he catches me. My heart pounds from the shock. He climbs around the front of me and pushes me back up against the trunk of the tree.

“There, now you cannot fall,” he says. I nod and look down because I am embarrassed by my clumsiness. I shift with discomfort. Our faces are so close.

His whole face relaxes as he looks down briefly then back up as if he were looking directly through me. “I’m going to kiss you.”

“Right now?” I laugh.

He looks down. “Yes. Now.” He laughs.

I giggle nervously. He slides closer, slipping his hand around the small of my back. Our cheeks nearly touch and I freeze. My heart quickens and I look into his eyes permissively. He shifts his head and I close my eyes.

THUMP!
THUMP!
THUMP!

My eyes shoot open and we turn toward the city. Ivo sighs and his head drops. Airsbach is filling with guards carrying heavy sacks filled with rolls of parchment.

THUMP!
THUMP!
THUMP!

The guards weave their way from St. Catherine’s Strasse, Witschen Alley, and Filzengraben onto the smaller alleys that make up our parish. They are nailing something to all the doors. The sound of hammers smacking nails echoes through the city, ruining the quiet I had so appreciated. People open their doors and rip off the notices, struggling to decipher them as few of them are able to read.

At best, the parchments are a warning. At worst, I assume they are an issuance of punishment.

But the guards pass the boundaries of Airsbach and into the other boroughs of Cologne whose inhabitants had attended church. We saw them exiting the churches at noon so why are notices being nailed to their doors? Now I do not know what to think, but the guards march soberly, and I know the news shan’t be good.

Ivo rests his head on my shoulder again. I reach up and brush the hair out of his face.

“I’ll walk you home,” he sighs.

I pull the hood of my cloak up as we walk down Severin’s Strasse on the way home. I worry a little that we might be troubled by the guards, but it is an uneventful walk to my home.

Ivo pauses at my door and I know it shall be strange when we say goodbye. I wonder if he’d be brazen enough to try to kiss me here, but I doubt that. He’d have to be mad to kiss me at the door of my Father’s house. We stop at my door and I look down, waiting for him to say something funny to break the strange silence between us, but he doesn’t.  He turns awkwardly, without a word, and heads for his home.

“Wait,” I say and he turns. “I don’t want you to go…yet. Let’s find out what the letters say before you head home alone. If it’s not safe then Father can walk you.”

His mouth opens to argue, but he shrugs his shoulders instead.

We run up the stairs and Father sits at the table with the torn piece of parchment. Galadriel leans over his shoulders. Both of their eyes dart back and forth across the parchment trying to decipher it. I know Father cannot read, and from Galadriel’s silence I assume she cannot either.

Father turns and looks relieved to see me. “Ivo should head home before Erik goes out looking for him.”

Ivo steps backward and I grab him by the arm. “Can’t he stay until I read the letter? Then he can tell his father what it says.” Father nods.

“She can read?” Galadriel says.

“Yes, I can read,” I reply, annoyed she directed her question at Father and not me.

Father passes me the letter and I read it once silently.

“What does it say, Addie?” Ivo asks, so I read it out loud.

***

Any person not attending Sunday Mass has mortally sinned, abandoning Christ and his own soul. To believe or act otherwise is heresy. By order of our Supreme Chancellor, His Highness, the Archbishop of Cologne, all heretics shall be punished. According to Holy Law, only the gravely ill and the lame are permitted to abstain from Sunday Mass.

***

No one says a word. None of us have learned church doctrine. We know of sin from what we are told at Mass, and every Mass is given by Soren. Is it a mortal sin to miss Mass? I’m sure Father Soren would like us all to think so. Besides, I doubt the Archbishop even wrote this for he is in Rome where he has been since he was appointed a month ago. Unless, of course, he arrived without the normal festivities, which is even more doubtful. And even if he was here, he hasn’t made sure those who die get last rites or funerals so it is clear he cares not in the least for our souls. I doubt this is about our souls at all. This is about Soren squashing a rebellion within his own church.

Still, the threat of being punished as a heretic is something to fear. I’m sure Galadriel is quite afraid having watched her sister burn at the stake, albeit for witchcraft. Heretics are treated the same. They are burned alive so all can see what it is like to burn for eternity in the flames of Hell. Galadriel’s eyes are wide and I imagine she is thinking of Elizabeth right now.

Father’s brow is furrowed, his clenched fist on the table. He seems to be as far away as Galadriel. I know he is angry, but is he afraid? Ivo said there were too many of us for one man to punish. Could one man, even one as powerful as the Archbishop, burn an entire borough of people?

This has become a dangerous game, but it is Soren’s fault! Why are we to be punished for his wrongdoings, I think angrily.

“So that’s all. Soren just goes unpunished for what he did?” I huff.

Everyone looks at me sadly, not an answer among them. I expect at least one person to have my passion, my anger. I throw the parchment to the ground.

“His whole congregation abandoned him, Adelaide. His parishioners are forced to attend church or face death. He is the fool of Cologne,” Galadriel says.

“It’s not enough,” I sulk.

“Can it ever be enough? Can he ever be punished enough to right what he did?” she reasons.

“I want to see him punished over and over again until he begs for death and burns for eternity in hellfire,” I spit.

“Even if it means your friends are burned at the stake? Is that what your mother would want?” Galadriel adds. She is only a few years older than me yet speaks to me like a child, like she is my mother. It angers me so.

“How would you know what she would want? You hardly knew her.”

“Adelaide, enough!” Father orders. “It is over.”

“What about another meeting?” I ask. “It doesn’t say anything about us not being able to meet in this thing. Let’s see how the rest of Airsbach feels about this. If no one wants to go back to Soren, what’s he going to do? He cannot kill us all.”

“Such things have been done before,” Father says. “You have not seen what men are capable of.”

“Fine. You can all give up, but I’m never going back to Soren’s church!” I affirm. “Never!”

“You don’t have to,” Ivo says.

Father turns to look daggers at Ivo.

“The letter says you have to go to church, but it doesn’t say which church.”

I pick up the parchment and read it over again. “He’s right.”

“I don’t know.” Father sighs.

“Why not? We’ll be following the order. We should hold a meeting and see what the people of Airsbach think,” I suggest proudly.

“And if spies are sent?” Father reasons.

“Good, let them see we aren’t defeated.”

Father shakes his head. “No, you’re not thinking, Adelaide.”

Ivo nods his head. “Soren’ll just have another letter sent the day he discovers our plan and devise some way to punish us if we don’t go to his church.”

Father nods in agreement. “Never tell your enemy your plan of attack, Adelaide. Remember that.”

I nod, a little embarrassed and angered at being corrected.

“We tell only those we trust. No one in the guard, no friends of the guard, no kin of the guard,” Ivo adds. “And, for now, we lead on like we plan to go back. It’d be best to go to the cathedral. It shows our support for the Archbishop and he has more power than Soren.”

Father shrugs, purses his lips, and finally nods, seemingly impressed with Ivo. There is a long silence as Father’s forehead wrinkles with thought. We stand almost strategically around the room, like pieces on a game board, except for Galadriel who sits at the table. Father walks toward Galadriel and places his hands gently on her shoulders.
Why is he touching her?
She blushes and looks down smiling lightly. Is this why she acts like a mother to me? Does she want to take my mother’s place and be my father’s wife as I’ve suspected before? How foolish I was to doubt my suspicions. She wants my Father! I know now. This is why she has not left!

I’m boiling with anger. I want to jump across the table and claw out her pretty blue eyes so she can never look upon my father again!

The glare on my face must be quite scary, but neither of them look up to notice. Ivo has though. He comes closer so he can nudge me with his elbow, and looks to me with raised eyebrows.
Are you all right?
he mouths. My eyes dart back to Father’s hands on Galadriel’s shoulders. Ivo looks at them and looks back at me. His brow knits with confusion. He can be so slow at times. I shake my head and huff in frustration. Father opens his mouth to speak to Galadriel, but it seems he does not know how to say what he needs to. Is he going to ask her to stay or tell her he loves her? If so, I think I shall have to claw both their eyes out.

“Galadriel, you should go home. It’s not safe here anymore,” Father suggests, still staring at the ground. I have to bite my lip to keep from cheering out loud.

“And I was wondering if … you would take Addie with you… just for a little while.”

“What? No! I’m not leaving,” I yell.

Father’s face reddens and he points an angry finger at me. “You will do as you are told!”

I jump. My heart pounds with surprise and no one utters a word. The room is painfully silent and I feel like a child at market whose mother spanks her in front of the crowd. My face reddens with embarrassment and I fear the stares of those around me so I look to the floor.

There is a loud knock at the door. “Ansel… you home?” a deep, gruff voice hollers.

“Yeah,” my father calls. “Go let him in, Addie.”

“You seen my boy?”

“Yeah, he’s here.”

Erik’s scowl is angrier than usual and I worry Ivo shall be in trouble. “It’s my fault Ivo’s here, Herr. I begged him to walk me home,” I explain, running after him as he climbs the stairs.

“I doubt you had to beg,” Erik chortles, shoves his letter into my stomach, and sits at the table. “Be a good girl and read that.”

I do as I am told and peek above the parchment to gauge his response.

Erik shrugs it off. “We going to drink?”

“Fetch us some ale,” Father orders, and I oblige quickly. Perhaps, if he sees that I am an obedient girl, he shall change his mind about making me leave Cologne with Galadriel.

I’ve only poured ale for Erik and Father before the door bangs again.

“Who is it?” Father calls impatiently.

“Otto,” a booming voice replies.

“Let him in, Addie.”       

A large brown eye peaks through the hole the guard put in our door. One might expect a great stature to match Otto’s booming voice, but he is only as tall as me and just as slight.

“You can read, can’t you?” he asks, and I nod. I show him up the stairs as he waves the parchment angrily. “Those arses put a hole in my door!”

He sits down and slaps the parchment on the table. I wonder if I should keep pouring ale or read the parchment when there is another knock on the door. Father groans.

***

My voice has weakened over the course of several hours as I repeat the words on the parchment over and over to the people of Airsbach. Ivo only lets our closest friends enter the house but the second floor is filled as is most of Father’s workshop.

Soren, or whoever had those parchments delivered, is terribly stupid to have nailed them to our doors when so few of us can even read. It has only forced us to meet and discuss his demands, a bad move on his part which perfectly illustrates how disconnected his church has become from its parishioners.

A crowd files down the stairs and I hear laughter. “To the Gopher!” someone yells.

“To the Gopher!” the crowd cheers as everyone leaves the house. Father passes me without a word and I guess I am to stay here alone because Galadriel is among those heading to the tavern. I am shocked she’s allowed to go.

Father sees Ivo ahead of me and grabs him by the arm. “Your father says you’re comin’, boy. Wait, wait, take Addie to your place first,” Father slurs and Ivo nods.

Ivo and I are soon alone, standing in front of the open door to my empty house. I have a wicked thought, a delicious thought. Greta doesn’t know that we should be at her house and Ivo won’t be missed by the drunkards at the Gilded Gopher. I look at the open door, then at Ivo who smiles back at me and shakes his head.