Devotion(14)

Anna Maria nodded. ‘Tell me, who is the woman with the’ – she paused and then assumed a look of rigid severity and tapped herself on the chest – ‘with the large bust? Dark hair.’

‘The woman who kept looking at us during services?’ Thea asked her.

Anna Maria nodded.

‘I think you mean Magdalena Radtke. She has five children. A daughter our age and four younger. Elder Radtke’s parents live with them too.’

Anna Maria raised her eyebrows. ‘I meant to introduce myself, but she left very quickly.’

For a moment I wondered if Anna Maria knew of the rumours discussed at the Federschleissen. I pictured Christiana’s face as we cleaned, the whispered ‘Hexe’.

‘What’s her daughter’s name? The one our age?’ Thea was asking.

‘Christiana,’ I muttered.

‘What is she like?’

The room suddenly felt very warm. I could feel sweat prickle across my brow and undid the shawl I had tucked into my skirt.

‘You don’t like her,’ Thea said quietly, narrowing her eyes at me.

I laughed, embarrassed. ‘I didn’t say that.’

Thea smiled. ‘You didn’t need to.’

Just then the door opened and the winter weather swept in with Thea’s father, who apologised for the draught as he heaved the door shut against the wind. He collapsed into the chair next to Anna Maria and took his hat off his head, nodding at me in greeting. ‘Smells good,’ he said.

‘This is Hanne,’ Thea told him.

‘Yes, I know. Thank you for joining us,’ he said. He accepted a cup of water from Thea and drained it.

‘I’m starving,’ Thea said.

Anna Maria pushed her chair back. ‘I hope you’re hungry.’


As we ate Pellkartoffeln with herbs, pickled cabbage and thick turnip soup with dumplings, the Eichenwalds asked me more questions about Kay and its inhabitants. They did not seem to mind that, embarrassed to find myself the centre of attention, I dropped cabbage on my lap, nor did they remark on the fact that my cheeks kept flaming red, even though I felt them burn. Anna Maria told me that she had some experience in healing, as well as midwifery, and wanted to know who might be receptive to herbal treatments. I told her about Magdalena Radtke’s suspicion of homeopathy and Eleonore Volkmann’s digestive complaints, that Mutter Scheck considered herself a competent herbalist but that, as she had outlived three husbands, no one knew whether to trust her skill. (‘It all depends,’ Matthias said to me once, ‘on whether she treated herself or her husbands.’)

‘I don’t know about the others,’ I said, blowing on my soup. ‘If anyone suffers a complaint here, they generally keep it to themselves.’

‘Would your father like his eye treated?’ Anna Maria asked.

I hesitated. ‘He doesn’t see it as a complaint.’

Anna Maria sat back in her chair. ‘The angel.’

‘Yes,’ I nodded. ‘His holy eye.’

Friedrich reached for another slice of bread, smiling at Thea as she passed him the butter. ‘Daniel Pfeiffer told me that Kay is a stronghold of dissenters. That your own father was fined for refusing to allow Matthias instruction in state doctrine.’

‘Yes, fifty thaler.’

Friedrich paused, spoon held in mid-air. ‘That much?’

‘He sold Mama’s wedding dress to pay it,’ I said.

There was silence around the table. I noticed Anna Maria exchange a look with her husband and remembered, suddenly, the sodden handkerchiefs I’d found balled up in the laundry the night of Papa’s announcement. I had never seen my mother cry, but I wondered then, sitting at the Eichenwalds’ table, if she must sometimes. She had never said a word about the loss of the dress.

To break the silence, I told Friedrich that most of the men in Kay had been fined or arrested. The congregation, already stitched together in an embroidery of need and solidarity, had puckered closer under persecution. ‘Now, if someone is fined, we all make a contribution to pay it.’ I realised I was running my finger around my bowl, savouring the last of the soup, and looked up at him, horrified.

Friedrich dismissed my look with a casual wave of his hand. ‘She’d be offended if you didn’t,’ he said, and Anna Maria beamed.

Thea dropped her spoon and did the same with her bowl, smiling at me with her finger between her teeth. ‘There is no shame in appetite,’ she said, and both of her parents nodded.


When Thea walked me home that afternoon, her arm in mine, she asked if I would show her the village.

‘There isn’t much to see,’ I said.

‘You can show me who lives where,’ she replied.

We had reached the lane. Being a day of rest, there were no men working in the fields, and Kay was even quieter than usual. Only smoke drifting silently from chimneys indicated that people were home.

‘Well, this house belongs to the Pfeiffers,’ I said, nodding to a small, one-windowed cottage, the path to the front door pitted with puddles.

‘Oh yes, I met them with Mama. They have two daughters.’

‘Yes. And that house there . . .’ I pointed, and Thea strained her neck to follow my line of sight. ‘See the larger house there, with the goat staked in front? That’s Elder Gottfried Fr?hlich’s house. He’s also a shoemaker.’ It had started to snow. I unwound my arm from Thea’s and pulled my headscarf down on my forehead. ‘I should go home,’ I said.