1636 The Devil's Opera: Chapter Nine

    Morning came. Simon came awake gradually, aware that someone was nearby. For a moment he panicked, until he remembered where he was. He opened his eyes to see Hans crouched by his feet, feeding sticks into the rekindled fire. A yawn came upon him without warning and tried to unhinge his jaw. When that was finished and his eyes were open again, he saw Hans looking at him.

    “Good morning.” Hans’ voice was grumbly in the early morning air.

    “Good morning,” Simon replied. The tip of his nose was cold, so he reached up and rubbed it. Hans stood and walked over to a table in the corner, where he took cloths off a loaf of bread and a partial wheel of cheese. Simon unfolded the blanket — the nicest, warmest blanket he’d ever seen — and sat up, smacking his lips and rubbing his eyes.

    “Hungry?” Hans asked over his shoulder.

    “Yah, but . . .”

    “There’s a chamber pot in my room.”

    Moments later Simon walked back into the main room. As usual, arranging his clothing with only one hand took a bit of effort, but by backing up against the wall to hold things up he managed to deal with the buttons.

    “Here.” Hans handed him a plate of bread and cheese.

    Simon sat on the stool and began eating just as the door to Ursula’s room opened. Her progress was no faster in the morning that it had been the previous evening, but she finally made it to her chair and lowered herself with care. She sighed and hooked her cane over the edge of the table as Hans approached with another plate.

    “I like this cheese,” Ursula said with her mouth full. Simon smiled at the sight of her plump cheeks. “You need to get some more when this is gone.”

    “If I can remember who I got it from,” Hans said as he brought two cups over, one for his sister and one for Simon. “This is the last of the small beer. I’ll need to go get some here in a little while, so you’re not left dry when I head out for work.”

    There was silence for a while as the three of them munched on hard bread and soft cheese. Midway through their repast, they heard the piercing whistle of the night soil man with his wagon. Hans stood while his cheeks were still bulging and went into his room. He returned with the chamber pot, went into his sister’s room, then carried the two pots down to be dumped in the wagon’s barrels. Simon grinned as he saw that even Stark Hans did not want to be confronted by the CoC and their mania for sanitation.

    “All right,” Hans said as he came back into the main room. “I’ll go get the beer now. Nay, Simon,” as the boy started to rise, “stay here. I won’t be gone long.” He picked up a small keg in the corner and left.

    Simon and Ursula looked at each other. After a moment, Ursula gave a tentative smile, which Simon echoed.

    Fräulein Metzger seemed even more like an angel today, Simon thought to himself. She was dressed in a forest green skirt, with a brown bodice and a cream colored linen blouse. Her hair was braided and wrapped around her head under a soft cap. A glint of humor was in her eye, and a flush was on her cheeks. All in all, she was the prettiest woman he’d ever seen.

    Aware that he was almost gaping at her, Simon tore his gaze from the young woman and crammed the last of his bread into his mouth. He looked around the room as he chewed the bread, and noticed the traces of mud that he and Hans must have tracked in last night. “Um,” he started, then strained to swallow the wad of bread in order to clear his mouth. “Do you have a broom?”

    “In the corner,” Ursula pointed. She had set her plate on the table next to her, and removed a bundle of cloth from a bag sitting beside her chair. Unfolding it carefully, she pulled a needle out of the cloth and started sewing.

    Simon stood and crammed his feet into his wooden shoes. They were cold, and he shivered at their contact. He walked over to the corner and picked up the broom, then turned to address the dried mud.

    It took him a few moments to find the balance of the broom. That was always a bit of a challenge for him. But he was sweeping away before long.

    Simon decided that as long as he was sweeping, he might as well do a job of it, so he swept the entire room. He was well begun when Ursula spoke.

    “Is your other arm hurt?”

    He felt his cheeks flush a bit. “No. It’s useless.”

    “An injury?”

    “No. It’s always been like this.”

    “Did Hans bring you here because of that?” She looked up with a frown.

    “No . . . at least, I don’t think that was the only reason.” Now she had a quizzical expression on her face. “He calls me his luck.”

    Ursula chuckled, and now it was Simon’s turn to feel confused. “My brother, for all that he is hard-headed about most things, is surprisingly superstitious. If something is lucky to him, he’ll keep it around until it absolutely wears out and falls apart.”

    “Well, I hope that doesn’t happen to me.” They both shared a laugh over that comment.

    Simon swept around the room, brushing all the dirt toward the outside door. He built the pile with care, then opened the door and swept it all outside onto the landing. It was the work of a moment to sweep the dirt off the landing, then he returned inside and placed the broom back in its corner.

    “Do you have a family, Simon?” Ursula asked from where she was plying her needle.

    “No, Fräulein Metzger.”

    Her laugh rang out. “Please, call me Ursula. You make me feel like an old maiden aunt.” The smile left her face. “Not that I won’t be an old maid some day. No one will marry a cripple.”

    Simon sat down on his stool. “Me neither.”

    “So what happened to your family?”

    “Mutti and Vatti died before the soldiers came, along with my little brother Johann. The pastor came and put me in a family to foster me, because I had no uncles or cousins to take me in. That was okay, I guess, but then the soldiers came and we had to leave.”

    “That’s when I got hurt.”

    “Hans told me last night.”

    Ursula sighed. “He would. He gives no thought that I might like some things to remain private.” Sigh again. “Brothers.”

    “Anyway, when we came back, they didn’t want me any more. The pastor tried to find me an apprenticeship, but no one wants a one-handed apprentice. Especially a left-handed one. He found me another family to take me in, but they were hateful folk, so I left. I’ve been on my own ever since.”

    “So what do you do?”

    “Whatever I can. I can carry messages and small packages. I can watch over things. I can sweep.”

    “You seem to be surviving.”

    “I do okay.”

    Simon stood up, restless all of a sudden. He wandered around the room, looking at different objects, wondering what it was like to be able to pay for rooms like this, and have your own things in them. His path took him by Ursula’s chair, where he looked at what she was working on. He discovered she wasn’t sewing, she was embroidering.

    “That’s pretty,” he remarked.

    “Thank you,” Ursula replied. “It’s a good thing I like to embroider, since that’s about all I can do to earn money.”

    “Someone pays you to do this?”

    “Oh, yes. I work mostly for Frau Schneider, seamstress for many of the best families in the city. Sometimes I’ll do something for someone else, but Frau Schneider keeps me pretty busy.”

    Simon watched her for a while, watched the precise stitches being placed just so, watched as a bit more of the pattern was revealed. “I wish I could do something like that.” His voice was very wistful. “To be able to make something beautiful, that would be . . . wonderful.”

    Ursula looked up at him. “Perhaps some day you will.”

    “Not with only a left hand I won’t.”

    She started to say something, then stopped all of a sudden. A smile crossed her face. “Did you know that one of the heroes of the Bible was left-handed?”

    Simon was startled. “Really?”

    “Really.” Ursula set the embroidery in her lap and reached over to the table, where she picked up a worn Bible. She handled it with care, opening it with a delicate touch. “It’s in the book of Judges.” Pages were turned, one by one. “Here it is.” She cleared her throat and began to read:

    “And the children of Israel did evil again in the sight of the Lord: and the Lord strengthened Eglon the king of Moab against Israel, because they had done evil in the sight of the Lord. And he gathered unto him the children of Ammon and Amalek, and went and smote Israel, and possessed the city of palm trees. So the children of Israel served Eglon the king of Moab eighteen years. But when the children of Israel cried unto the Lord, the Lord raised them up a deliverer, Ehud the son of Gera, a Benjamite, a man lefthanded: and by him the children of Israel sent a present unto Eglon the king of Moab.”

    Simon listened as she read the tale; how Ehud bound a dagger to his right leg under his clothes, fooled the king into dismissing his guards by saying he had a secret message for him, and when they were alone stabbed him with such force that the handle of the dagger was hidden by the king’s fat. The end of the story was eighty years of peace for Israel.

    There was a moment of silence after Ursula finished reading. She closed the Bible and put it back on the table, then resumed her embroidery. “Of course, I always thought it was a little unfair for Ehud to trick the king like that. But then, I guess the king was not a nice man, so maybe it was all right.” She giggled. “He must have been very fat, though.”

    Simon laughed with her, all the while marveling at the thought of a left-handed hero. A Bible hero, at that. His heart seemed to beat stronger at the thought of somehow following in Ehud’s footsteps. He didn’t know how he would do it, but somehow, some day people would tell stories about him like that.

    The outside door opened as they were laughing. Hans stepped through, a small keg on his shoulder. He grinned at their mirth. The keg was placed in its corner and made ready. Hans straightened and dusted his hands together.

    “Hah! All done.” He looked to Simon. “Well, boy, time for us to be about our work. Come on.”

    Simon stood and crossed to the door, where he turned back for a moment. “Goodbye, Fräulein Ursula. I’ll see you another time.”

    “Goodbye, Simon. I’d like that.”

    Hans crossed to his sister and bent to kiss her cheek. “There’s still water left from yesterday. I think you have everything you need. I’ll be back late tonight.”

    “Another fight?”

    “We need the money.” Hans straightened.

    She caught his hand. “Be careful, then. You know I don’t like you fighting. You might get hurt.”

    “Don’t worry. Careful doesn’t win fights. I’ll be the best.”

    Simon waited for Hans to move through the door, then he followed him with a wave to Ursula. At the bottom of the steps, Hans turned to him.

    “I’m off to work.”

    “Where do you work?” Simon asked.

    “At the Schardius grain factorage warehouse, down by the river.”

    “Can I come? Would they have work for me?”

    “Probably not.” Simon’s face fell and Hans added, “But I will ask. Where will you be around sundown?”

    “At Frau Zenzi’s.”

    “The bakery?” Hans asked. Simon nodded. “Good. I’ll meet you there. Here.” Hans pressed a pfennig on Simon. “Get something to eat today. I’ll see you later.”

    With a wave of his own, Hans was off down the street, whistling tunelessly as he dodged around a woman with a basket on her arm and then sidestepped a pile of dung. Simon watched him go, feeling a bit left out. He comforted himself with the thought that Hans had promised to meet him in the evening.

    Simon squared his shoulders back, and set out to face the day.