The Last of the Freemen (10 page)

“Zigg,” Erin said as they drove along a country road past mostly abandoned farms.  “You people have some unusual names. Is that short for Siegfried?”

“Yeah.”

“Aren’t you impressed?  I guess I didn't take that class on Wagner’s operas for nothing.”

“He surprised me,” Harm said.  “He told you his real name, maybe because he knows Bern told you about the
Kreis
.  We don't normally do that.”

“No?”

“You only know my real name because Bern let it slip.”

“And Bern?  Is that his real name?”

“It is, but that's different.  He’s not one of us who deal with problems, problems that our people have with the English.  Zigg and I, and others, we break your laws as a matter of course, so we keep our names from you English.  It doesn't apply for our everyday people.”

“You and Zigg are part of some sort of protective force?”

“Don’t make it sound too glamorous.  The word we use is more like an orderly.  We talk with the heads of the families, the
Häupter
, to decide our activities.”

“Like the meeting tomorrow that he was talking about?”

“Yeah.”

“So what should I expect? I mean, is there anything I need to know? Any certain way I should act?”

“No.  Nothing I can think of.”

“Do I need to cover my head? You know, like some sort of bonnet?”

He smiled faintly.  “No.  Remember, we try to blend in.”

“And for how long will we be there?”

“I don't know. One thing though - you should try to keep a low profile, since your face is all over the news. They have a little farm stand out by the road, and the English come by.  Stay away from the road, even the driveway. We don't want anyone to spot you.”

“Okay.” She sighed. “It feels pretty bleak, to think I’ll have to worry about being identified for the rest of my life.”

“You’ll get used to it. I've been a fugitive since I was twelve.”

“I hope you're right. By the way, can we stop soon?  I have to feed Hughie.”

“We’re almost there.”

“That's good. You must be tired, too.”

“Yeah.”

“It's very pretty around here. I do like the country. I wasn't totally opposed to moving out of the city, when my husband wanted to. It seemed like a good idea for raising a family. We just bit off a bit more than we could chew. It's a lot of work.”

“It is, especially when you have no one around, no family. That makes everything harder.”

“My husband had friends who were doing similar things, they would share ideas and help each other out. But they were all on that learning curve together.”

“So what happened to these friends after your husband was gone?  They never offered to help?”

“Not after the Loyalty Counselors called on them.  Everybody's terrified of that.  The government doesn't have to prove you're guilty.  You have to prove you're innocent.  And you could lose everything while you're fighting.”

“That's how they like it.”

“One of his friends dropped off a care package, a box of canned food, at the door a few days after he was killed. He didn't even knock. I saw him drive away and never saw him again.”

“You'd better get down,” Harm said, “so you won't be seen up here.”

Erin looked ahead and saw three cars parked at the side of the road, in front of a canopy with a long folding table set under it. Four people were out of the cars and in front of the table to see the various items for sale. She quickly bent over to the side.

“I'm surprised that this is legal,” she remarked as they turned down the driveway. “I thought all food had to go through the government depositories.”

“It varies by state. Here, for now, there’s a loophole, because the system isn't set up to deal with many perishable vegetables. So those who can afford it - and they probably all work for government - they drive out here to get what they can.”

They went down a long driveway lined with walnut trees, past a white, two-story colonial farmhouse, then down a slope and around to the other side of an old bank barn, where he stopped.

“We made it. You can get up now. We’ll walk to the house from here. But you'd better stay in the car for a minute. I'm about to be attacked.”

He got out and went around to the back as if to retrieve the bags, when two strapping teenage boys in tee shirts, blue jeans, and dirty mucking boots rushed at him from the barn, their faces wild with fury beneath flaxen locks; Harm stepped aside the first, placed a hand behind his head, and shoved him forcefully to the ground, then moved back as the second youth leapt awkwardly to avoid tripping over the first; the youth quickly turned to renew his charge, but Harm had already set upon him, gripping him by the face and throwing him over backwards.

Harm went to the side door and opened it for Erin as the youths climbed to their feet.  Seeing her alarmed expression, he reassured her.

“My nephews,” he said, then directed his attention to the boys.

“Strength with poor timing is weakness.  How many times do I have to throw you?”

As the older of the two dusted himself off, the younger crouched and moved towards Harm.

“Genug!”
Harm said firmly.  “You have guests.”

The boy relented and watched with curiosity as Erin climbed out of the car.  Meanwhile a man in his late forties, wearing olive-green work clothes, came from around the corner of the barn pushing a flatbed wheelbarrow; it was loaded heavily with bushel baskets of bundled kale, chicory, lettuce and chard. He was smaller in stature than the youths, had a weathered face, and his shaggy hair and beard were gray; he approached quietly, greeted Harm with only a nod, then set the barrow down.

“Saved from the clutches of the empire,” he said, watching as Erin lifted Hughie from the car.  “So now what?”

“I'm working on it,” Harm answered.  “Thanks for letting us come here.”

“You can have whatever you need from us, you know that.” He caught Erin's eye as she studied him. “My name is Oscar, I’m Harm’s brother-in-law. These feral young men are my sons, Herman and Rudy.”

“Nice to meet you,” she said.  “Thank you all for having us.”

“We should get them out of view,” he said calmly to Harm. “We’re due for one of those unannounced government inspections.  They like to make sure all the baby animals are documented, taxed, and microchipped.”

Harm nodded.  “I have
Erbstauden
in the back here, they need to be planted out.”

“You look tired, Harm.  Go and rest. I'll have the boys unload them and set them in a shady spot. You can all go later to the far end and find good spots for them.”

Harm hesitated. Oscar insisted.

“Help this poor lady and her child to the house.  They've been through quite an ordeal. Go introduce her to your sister. And Hilda will be glad to see you, she's always worried about you.”

“Freilich,”
Harm said begrudgingly, then retrieved the luggage from the car. “Come on,” he said to her, “let’s go to the house.”

“See you later, Mrs. Gordon,” Oscar said as he lifted the wheelbarrow. “I have to get these out to the road.  The English are buying as fast as I can cut.”

Oscar went up the grade towards the road, while Erin followed Harm across the driveway - where they were kept from view of the road by the slope into which the barn was built - to the backyard of the house. Two straw-headed children scurried away, giggling, and made their way under laden clotheslines, then into the house just ahead of them.

“Follow them,” Harm said, and held open the door.

They entered a bright, clean kitchen with white wainscoting on the lower half of the walls, and blue-and-white striped wallpaper above; a large wood-fired cook stove was across the room, and a modern saddle sink to her right.  A tall, sturdy woman stood while she folded laundry at the table; her gray-blond hair was pulled back in a pony tail, she wore blue jeans and a red flannel shirt, and her eyes were gray like Harm’s.  The two children, a girl and boy, hid under the table, while a plump old woman with a stern face, a brown dress, and a matching scarf on her head, sat at the far end peeling rutabagas.

“Well, hello there,” the tall woman said with a soft but assertive voice.  “You must be Mrs. Gordon.  Welcome to our home.  I'm Harm’s sister, Hilda.”

“Hello.  Please, call me Erin.”  She repeated a hello to the old woman, who ignored her.

“That's our mother over there,” Hilda said. “She doesn't talk to strangers. Or English. My kids Bertie and Axel are under the table. I saw that you met Herman and Rudy, and my husband Oscar. Our oldest daughter Frieda is out at the roadside stand. And our ten-year old, Ada, is staying with relatives for the week. She loves knitting and I've never been so good at it, but Oscar’s sister and mother are amazing. She stays there sometimes to help them with chores, and they love to teach her.”

The old woman eyed Erin suspiciously and kept at her work.  The children crawled off into the hallway, then peered back around the corner.

“Have a seat, make yourself at home,” Hilda said.  “I'll get you something to eat.  Then we’ll get you settled.  You must be tired after what you've been through.”

“Thank you, I am.”

She sat in the closest chair, directly across from Hilda.

“Good to see you're still alive, little brother,” Hilda said casually as she turned and went to the cupboard behind her.

“Warum bist du immer unberechenbar?”
the old woman suddenly launched at Harm in a scolding tone.

“Ich bin wie du, Mutti,”
Harm answered patiently. Hilda smiled and the old woman scoffed.

“Hirnchen!”
the boy called teasingly from the hallway; both children giggled and withdrew their faces as Erin looked their way.

“Hör auf!”
Hilda chided them. “Please excuse them, Erin. They have to learn their manners. And they don't hear many nice things about you English people around here.”

“What did they say?” Erin asked uncertainly.

“Don't worry about it.  They won't say it again.”

“They called you a name we use for the English,” Harm said. “Little brain.”

“We don't all talk that way,” Hilda said, then turned to her children. “This lady has been through a lot.  You be nice to her.  She's a neighbor.”  She came back to the table with an empty plate for Erin, pausing on her way as the children ran past and out the door; then she made another trip to set down a cutting board that held bread, cheese, dry sausage, and half an apple.  Finally she brought a tall glass and poured a pale amber liquid into it.

“Is apple wine okay?” she asked as an afterthought.  “Or would you prefer water?”

“Oh, this should be fine,” Erin said quickly.  “I could use a drink.”

“The apple doesn't have much flavor, I have to warn you, it’s been in storage a long time.”

“That's okay.”

“Aren't you hungry, Harm?” Hilda asked.  “Sit down.”

“Nein.  Ich bin los.”
  He turned, placed Erin's luggage on a bench by the door, and started out; Erin looked over her shoulder with a hint of panic.

“You're leaving?” she asked.

“Yeah.  I'll be around.”

As he exited, Hilda pulled out a chair and sat across from Erin, then leaned forward with her elbows on the table and gazed at Hughie.

“He’s adorable,” she said.  “I'm so happy they didn't get him.”

“Me, too.”

“Can I hold him?”

“Oh, sure.”

She sprang to her feet, went around the table, and gently took Hughie in her arms.

“So precious. I'd never get tired of having them,” she said. “Does he need to be fed soon?”

Erin swallowed a bite of cheese before answering.  “Pretty soon.”

“There’s a room down the hall, I think it used to be a sitting room, it's more of a playroom now, but you can close the door if you want privacy.”

“Oh, thank you, but I don't - I bottle feed.”

Hilda nodded and sat back down.  Harm reentered with Axel riding on his back - the boy’s arms wrapped tightly around his neck - and the case of baby formula in his hands; he placed the box on the bench and left without saying a word. Erin’s eyes followed him out the door.

“So what do you think of him?” Hilda asked with a twinkle in her eye.

Erin laughed nervously.  “I don't know. He's been very kind to us. But he’s a little hard to figure out.  And a little intimidating. I certainly wouldn't want to be on his bad side.”

Hilda smiled. “It doesn't seem that you are.” She watched as Erin cut a slice of bread, then added, “You two would make an interesting pair.”

Erin blushed and, nearly choking, struggled to speak.

“I hardly know him,” she finally managed.

“I know. That would come with time. Just a little something to think about.”

“I'm not over my husband yet.”

“Maybe you'll never be.  That doesn't mean you don't need to move on, for the sake of your son.”

“And anyway, he doesn't even look at me like he finds me attractive.”

“So he's not a flirt.  He's still a man, and you're pretty.  You seem like a good mother.  Sometimes you just have to teach them what they should want.”

“I'm not - I'm not one of your people.”

“That’s never stopped him in the past.”

“It doesn't matter, then?”

“It does.  But Harm’s been shunned by a lot of our people, for things he’s done.  For choices he’s made. He’ll never find another wife, not from our people, with his reputation. But I just want him to be settled. I don't want to lose him to some blaze of fury out there.”

Erin paused politely and nodded.

“And he’s handsome, don't you think?” Hilda continued. “The ladies have always seemed to like him.”

“Well -” Erin said with an awkward shrug, “he's not really my type. I’ve never been attracted to the rugged type. I like a man who’s more... sensitive.  And intellectual.”

Hilda looked directly into Erin’s eyes.

“Dear, can you really afford that kind of vanity?  Look at your life. You and your baby need a provider, and a protector.  Harm can do that. And he needs a reason to keep his eye to the line. You’re both outcasts, it seems to me.  You both lost your spouses.  It might work. It's just something for you to think about. You watch him here and you'll see what a good father he'd be.  I know it's a lot to throw at you right away, but I wanted to get right to it, because you might not have much time to work on him before he passes you off.”

“Passes me off?  What do you mean?”

“He has a couple of his men trying to find your brother-in-law. That's where he's planning to bring the two of you, once they find him.”

“Oh.”

“Understand that we don't mind having you here, not at all. It’s just that it creates... a little tension in our community. Harm is very sensitive to that. He feels like he's caused enough problems for us, with the other
Freibauern
.”

“I'm sorry to be the cause of any problems.”

“You're not, so much as Harm is.  If someone else had a neighbor in need of shelter, it would be less... controversial. But he's family and we’re not going to shun him, ever. Anyone who doesn't like that can get lost.”

“It sounds like people have pretty strong feelings about him.”

“They do. But where would we be without him? He keeps us armed with the best rifles, and stocked up with ammunition. And he’s helped so many of us relocate, buying their old land when no one else would, making loans. I mean, we wouldn't have this farm without him.”

“You haven't always lived here?”

“No, we lived not far from your place.  We moved here when things started to get too difficult up there, with taxes and bureaucrats.  Eight years ago now.  Harm loaned us the cash and helped my husband find this old farm.”

“It’s beautiful here.”

“It is.  It's good land.  What helped us decide on this farm - over the others we looked at - was that big old linden tree in the back.  It's almost like one of our own kind lived here before us.  So it worked out.  It feels like home now.”

Hughie interjected with an attempt at a few words; Hilda listened closely as if he were part of the conversation.

“You know,” she said when he had quieted, “Harm has a lot of land in different places, I'll bet a lot of it is beautiful like this.  I'm sure he could carve out a nice little homestead if he wanted.  For all three of you.”