Chapter Four
After Madlen arrived back home, she told Jerg and Kilian what had transpired, not failing to mention that Matthias Trauenstein, Adelhaid’s own husband, had caused the miscarriage. Jerg was speechless; he shook his head in disbelief. Kilian, however, cursed the nobleman. It did Madlen good to hear her brother speak against such a monster. Madlen knew very few people who willingly got involved in such matters. Kilian, however, didn’t mince words, regardless of the consequences. He didn’t have especially high expectations for his life. One day, he would take over his father’s woodshop. Day in, day out, he would build tables, benches, cabinets, and chairs. Occasionally, he would fashion a decorative stair railing for one of the noblemen’s houses. Every day would be the same as the next.
Madlen knew that Kilian would have been all too happy to take up another profession. He had always been interested in the stories of traveling tradesmen who passed through Heidelberg. When there wasn’t enough work in the woodshop, Kilian would go to the nearby tavern and take care of the guests’ horses. He would often come home with interesting stories about journeys to distant lands, his eyes aglow. He seemed especially intrigued by colorful tales of the Far East, like no other place in the world. Some years ago, one of the merchants gave Kilian a new leather book with fine blank parchment paper in thanks for nursing his favorite horse back to health. Madlen’s brother treated that book like a priceless treasure. Once, he had shown his sister his painstakingly neat drawings of oriental markets and foreign cities, which Kilian had created solely from the merchants’ descriptions. He didn’t know if they were accurate, but whenever time allowed, he’d pick up a piece of charcoal and draw in his notebook, hoping that one of these days, he’d travel to those foreign lands.
Madlen knew how much her brother was tormented by their humble, cramped living quarters. She also knew that Kilian worked in the shop for his father’s sake and bore the brunt of many tasks his father should have done. She loved Kilian with all her heart and admired him for his uncompromising integrity. She prayed with all her might that he would free himself of carpentry work and stale cottage air to take his rightful place in the world. Although she was scared about what would become of her and her father if he left, her fear that Kilian would waste his life was even greater.
“A man like that should be hung from his balls,” Kilian said, finally ending his rant about Matthias.
Madlen shrugged. “I’m afraid that won’t happen, not now, not ever. Even if he beats Adelhaid to death, one of his guards would swear up and down that she fell down the stairs when the master was out of the house.” Kilian hugged Madlen for a moment, unashamed to express his affection for his only sister.
“You must be dead tired. Are you hungry? Father and I already ate.”
“No, thank you.” Madlen freed herself from her brother’s embrace and gave him a big smile. “I just want to lie down.”
“Hey, little girl.” He lifted her chin with his finger. “You can be proud of what you accomplished today. I’m certainly proud, and I’m sure that Clara would be, too.”
She stroked him tenderly on his cheek and threw a glance over at her father. He didn’t look up once, cleaning the dirt from under his fingernails.
“Thank you.” With that, she took off her cloak and laid it on the chest before crawling into bed. She was still agitated by what had happened to the little Trauenstein baby, but fatigue’s iron grip fell over her. She wasn’t even aware of the hushed conversation between Kilian and Jerg. Only when her brother and father arose the next morning did Madlen open her eyes. She woke up refreshed, having slept more soundly than she’d slept in days. Surprisingly, what had happened at Adelhaid’s home brought an important piece of her back to life. She quickly prepared oatmeal and put the bowls on the table.
“You look much better today,” Kilian remarked.
“I feel better.” She smiled.
“What will you do now? I mean, now that Clara’s dead. You didn’t earn any money last night.” Jerg slurped down his porridge and looked at his daughter expectantly.
She bit her lip. She hadn’t thought about getting paid. “I’ll go to the Trauensteins and get my fee,” she assured him quickly. Her father nodded.
“Well, the women are used to going to Clara. Yesterday was an exception, but you’re no midwife.”
“I could try to find a job as a seamstress. You know how skilled I am.”
“With whom?”
Madlen thought about it. “Maybe Bernhard, the cloth merchant.”