“Ach, mein Kinder!” laughed Heinrich as his boys tumbled into his bakery. “You’d be hungry?”
Three dirty little faces smiled and nodded. The baker glanced about to be sure no one was watching and handed his tikes a pretzel. “So, all of us be working hard except you three!”
“Mutti says m’work is to watch these two.”
Heinrich smiled.
“And what shall you be doing?”
Lukas shrugged. “Grandpapa says come watch the mill grind the first rye.”
“Hmm,” answered Heinrich. “Could be worth a watch. But first, give Vati a hug!” With that, each laughing child jumped into the man’s arms. He then gave them each a playful swat on the bottom as they charged out his door, and he smiled as they disappeared down the path toward the mill.
The first grind was truly “worth a watch.” It was prayed over by Father Pious, now the only surviving priest in Weyer. With Johannes now in his grave, Pious covetously held a fist of grain in one hand and repeated his prayer of Lammas dedication, the Immaculatum Cor Mariae. Having so honored the Holy Mother, he raised his hands and cried to the Lord, “Restore us, O God our savior, and turn Your anger from us, so You wilt not be angry with us forever nor extend Your wrath from generation to generation.”
The miller then poured the first basket of flailed grain into his funnel. Everyone watched as the brown seed spread atop the grindstone to be squashed to powder by the slow-moving wheel. It would be only one basket this day, for the harvest had just begun, but the ceremony was of great importance to all, and word was spread throughout the fields that Weyer’s harvest had been properly blessed.
The deed done, the miller bade all farewell and then eyed his grandsons spying from behind a wide post. “Ha! Get in here, y’devils!” he cried. Dietrich smiled a huge, toothless smile and pretended to be a giant stalking his prey. The little ones scampered in all directions, shrieking with delight as their grandfather growled and pawed at the air.
Little Gerberg giggled his way to the ground where he was snatched by Dietrich and held under one thick arm. Wilhelm gleefully darted like a frightened hare, finding refuge inside an empty grain bin. Dietrich put a finger on his chin and peered about the shadows of his dark mill. His grandsons were quiet and well hidden. The man set Gerberg atop a stool and pat him on the head. “Good lad,” he whispered, “shhh … I shall find the others!”
Dietrich stepped lightly across the dusty planks and peeked behind crates and baskets, gears and posts. At last, he heard a muffled sneeze from inside a bin. The old man smiled and flung open the lid. Wil squealed and laughed as his grandfather tickled his belly. Dietrich then turned to find Lukas. “Where do y’think him to be?” he whispered to Wil.
Dietrich raised his brow and asked again. Wil giggled. A glance to the beams some twenty feet above gave his secret away. “Ah …” Dietrich winked and slowly turned. “Hmm,” he said loudly. “It wonders me where the lad could be.” He took a few steps around his grindstone, then moved slowly toward the ladder leading to the crossbeams and the gear-works above. “Hmm … methinks I needs have a look from up there.”
With that he began his ascent toward the ceiling. From high above young Lukas was so excited that he could barely keep silent. He licked his lips and his heart pounded. He cast his eyes from side to side, looking for a place to shuffle.
Grandpapa climbed slowly, adding drama to the boy’s game. Lukas was determined not to be seen, but smiled at his two brothers’ upturned faces and ventured a wave. With that he lost his balance for just a moment and his belly fluttered. He quickly grasped both hands upon the beam and looked for his grandfather, now nearly at the top of the ladder. I must hurry! he thought.
Lukas spotted a knot of gears and crossbeams directly over the grindstone and decided it would be a good place to hide. His five-year-old body was nimble and sprite and the lad deftly scurried across the beam like a hurried mouse. Dietrich, however, was neither nimble nor sprite. His old joints were stiff and weary. He saw the lad quick-stepping down the beam and he took a determined breath. For all his many vices the man was a good grandfather and he stayed in the game.
Dietrich had not been to the top of the mill for many years. After all, he was forty-three years old! The sport of chasing his grandson through the forest of posts and beams now invigorated him, and he smiled as his knees ached their way along the rough-hewn timber.
Little Lukas paused above the mill’s mighty gears to glance back. Seeing his grandfather’s slow approach, he grinned and looked for a place below to hide. He stared into the gears, the teeth, and the sprockets of the millworks and thought them to look like the inward parts of a sleeping giant. The brakes had been set so nothing turned, but the little lad could hear the water of the Laubusbach just beyond the walls. He looked once more across the dim-lit heights of the mill and saw the gray head of his grandfather coming slowly closer. He laughed, set his little hands timidly against a rough post, and stretched a curling leg forward in hopes of shimmying down.