Fundvogel

• Chapter 01
• Chapter 02
• Chapter 03
• Chapter 04
• Chapter 05
• Chapter 06
• Chapter 07
• Chapter 08
• Chapter 09
• Chapter 10
• Chapter 11
• Chapter 12
• Chapter 13
• Chapter 14
• Chapter 15

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Books

Anarchist Knight: Apprentice Paperback: $25.50 Download: $3.75

Magister Templi Paperback: $24.95 Download: $6.25

Modern Survivalism Paperback: $24.50 Download: $6.25

Edgar Allan Poe Paperback: $15.50 Download: $6.25

Lakes Area Pagan Paperback: $6.94 Download: $3.75

Lakes Area Pagan II Paperback: $8.23 Download: $3.75

Fundvogel

By Hanns Heinz Ewers
Translated by Joe E. Bandel 2008

Chapter 2

Of Geese, Leeches, Spirits & Cat Organs

It is the colored fool that
Gaily poaches game in Fairytales
Wild Fairytales also portray
How he opens the little box,
Takes the glittering magic dust,
Sprinkles it around, and how
Children easily make gold
Out of nothing.

-Gottfried von Strassburg

Andrea Woyland lived very much alone during this time. At dusk she would go running in the park or visit the concert at nearby Carnegie Hall.

Later, as it grew colder, she bought some ice skates and went to the skating rink. She hadn't ice skated for over twenty years and thought she wouldn't remember how. She hesitated, was almost nervous, as she took her first step onto the ice. But after a few minutes her legs jumped through time and served her like they had once before. One after another all of her little tricks came back to her, the running leap, the axle, the Hollander, the triple and the vine-they all came back!

Every day she ran for a few hours. It was as if she was living a new life, hers and someone else's. There was a remembrance, like how her legs remembered to skate; her brain was remembering long forgotten feelings and sentiments. These feelings were like presentiments of her future.

Soon the early March winds would blow, the April showers would thunder and the sweet sun of May would kiss the green spring growth. That was how it used to be when she skated on the frozen lower Rhine by castle Woyland. The poor old Rhine would flood the lowlands and there would be smooth ice, infinite ice with no one else around.

That was how it was for her now. It didn't matter if people pressed around her or that the pond in Central Park was a pathetic makeshift skating rink. She didn't see the other people. It was for her alone.

Warmth filled her from these presentiments of a new coming spring. She rarely met any of her old acquaintances, but when she did, she wished them well. If they didn't move on, she chatted lightly, quickly broke off and left.

She called up Briscoe once, read Gwinnie's numerous letters, answered them, spoke briefly with her father, only for minutes, and then wiped all of it away from her memory.

She was alone. She sat for hours in her room. When she came home from the skating rink her nerves, muscles and veins were hot, flooded with these new longings that swelled within her.

There was a half-conscious feeling that she was a larva, soon to be wrapped up in a cocoon. Then she would emerge into a new dawn, her wings would grow, the narrow veil would fall, she would flutter and fly in the bright sunlight up through all the aethers.

She didn't use makeup anymore to look beautiful, went without lipstick and face powder. Still, she was sorry she had cut her hair and wore a silk cloth around her head wrapped like a turban.

She lay on the divan, sat in the armchair. In front of her lay the white piece of paper with the words "Andrea Woyland" written on it. She wanted to write down everything that she knew about herself, dozens of pages. Then, yes, she would give it to someone. Who? Who would understand the way she understood? Again she could think of no one other than her cousin, Jan Olieslagers.

Him, always him! He could scarcely care about her. She had very seldom written and hadn't seen him for years. No, she wanted him to forget her as well. She didn't want to give these pages to anyone. They should go into the fire, sink into the flames, just like she herself would soon be sinking.

She didn't write a letter, not a single word. She only lay on the divan and thought about it.

* *

*

Oh yes, Castle Woyland! Once it was a gloomy stronghold with a moat around it deep in the dark wild forests. There was a drawbridge and a mighty gate that had once held many family crests upon it. They were the old families and when they died out another family member, another next of kin, took possession.

The lost bloodlines included the Schonenveldt's, the Eulenburg's, the Zulnhart's, the Wickede's, the Bronkhardt's, the Croy's and the Spaen's. Then there were no more male heirs to the land.

In the seventeenth century the red falcon of Brandenburg fluttered over the tower when a son-in-law, Frederick I, the great Elector of Brandenburg of the Holy Roman Empire, acquired Cleves, as it was then called. He helped drive the Spanish out of the land that his grandfather had inherited. The duchy of Cleves was united with the duchy of Mark and of Ravensburg.

Then he brought Louise Henrietta, the Princess of Orange and the red falcon of Brandenburg back home with him. His grandson, Frederick II became the first King of Prussia and Voltaire was there when the black Prussian eagle flew over the tower for the first time.

Frederick the Great preferred to pass his days in his summer palace at Sanssouci where the sunbeams glittered and played rather than the dark gloomy citadel. He wanted a private place where he could get away from the busy court so he sold the old moat protected castle.

Now the Woylands lived there. They renovated the castle and grounds in the baroque style as if it were an English property, a white palace like Windsor. They created a magnificent carefully groomed English park, but the moat remained. You went over the drawbridge to get into the castle. Large bronze stags lay on both sides of the drawbridge.

The wooded hills of Woyland forest extended behind the castle. The largest hill was an extinct volcano, the Katzenbuckel. Then there was the city of Sternbusch down below, a part of Cleves. The mighty and ancient King's forest extended to the west. To the east were rocks, meadows and low pastureland surrounded by water that extended back south and southeast up to the city of Kalkar. Fat farmers lived there. To the southwest were more undulating woodlands.

It was there deep in the woods where the falcons flew, where grandmother, Roberta von Woyland, Duchess of Kranenburg, ruled in her house by the Rhine.

Andrea didn't know exactly when she came to live with her grandmother. Her father died before she came into the world, she lived with her mother for only four or five years before her mother died as well. She had no memory of the time with her mother.

So she lived at Woyland with the old Lady. The old Lady was not really that old, forty-five or forty-six perhaps and there were all the servants. The little girl Andrea was always running around somewhere. No one looked after her, much less her grandmother. She grew like a weed.

The people called her "Fundvogel" like the child that had been snatched from heaven and sent wrapped in linen to bedevil old Mad Meg in the fairy tale and because she could never be found when you went looking for her. You would find her by the brook, hiding in the alders, or sleeping in the manger in the barn with the cows. After awhile no one searched for her anymore but the name "Fundvogel" stayed.

Once she went to her grandmother and asked, "What can I do?"

The Duchess had no time for the little one. She was dressed in her riding clothes with a high hat from which an ostrich feather waved. Pittje, the groom, laced his hands together; she stepped into them and swung up on her horse. She was riding to Reiherbeiz with her falcon.

She cried laughingly down from the saddle, "What can you do? Go, take care of the geese!"

The little one ran straight to the stables.

"What do you want Fundvogel?" The Swiss stable boy asked.

"I want the geese," she declared. "And you must give them to me!"

He didn't want to but the little girl was so adamant about it that he talked to the others. It didn't matter. He had to give her the animals, the Duchess, herself, had said it. So the Swiss lad cut her a long willow switch from a branch that was hanging overhead. He trimmed the leaves and gave it to her.

She drove the geese, thirty-six large birds and eleven goslings, over the castle grounds up to the moat by the drawbridge or down through the park into the meadow. She cared for the geese every day. She carried her butter bread in a pouch that hung around her neck. Every day when the sun was high in the sky she would eat it. In the evening when she came home the first thing she would do was run to the stables for some fresh milk. She was only five years old and ran around barefoot.

Grandmother laughed.

* *

*

Once on a late summer afternoon she was sleeping under the willows near the dark gloomy brook that her geese were swimming in. The old gander was keeping watch, she called him Philipp. He was her good friend and she shared her noon bread with him.

She awoke frightened when a hot breath hit her in the face. When she opened her eyes a giant head was looming over her, it was brown and white underneath with a powerful mouth full of yellow teeth. Warm slobber dripped onto her face.

She screamed loudly, gripped the yielding nostrils with both hands and clawed tightly in her terror. The old nag threw her head back ripping the girl high off the ground. She let go, sprang back and hid behind the trunk of a willow tree to save herself.

"Philipp!" She howled. "Philipp!"

With outstretched wings, raging hisses, honking and spitting the gander climbed out of the water and attacked the leg of the horse. In a moment all the geese were there, flying out of the water and up the slope. The young ones attacked with their bills and held on flapping their wings. The older ones beat the horse with their heavy wings, cackling, crackling and ratcheting.

The horse shied, tried to jump high out of the quarrel and sprang to the side. The rider lost his stirrups and had all kinds of trouble trying to stay in the saddle.

But then the storm broke just as quickly as it had started. The gander was clever, he recognized the horse. Oh yes, it was old Lene whom he had gotten along well with for years. He had many times slept on the straw in her stall when he was tired of the foolishness of the geese folk!

Instantly he pushed with his wings and hissed loudly for the others to hear and then stretched his neck over the mare's feet, almost caressing them. Immediately the noise of the excited geese died away. It was deeply peaceful as if nothing had happened. Only the young geese still flew around but he hunted them down and drove them back into the brook.

"Come out from behind your tree," cried a light voice.

On top of old Lene sat a blond youth only six years older than her, but he seemed much larger.

"Are you Fundvogel?" He asked.

"Yes," she whispered.

"I am your cousin Jan," he said. "I'm here at Woyland for the Holidays. Grandmother said I was supposed to bring you home."

"No," said the little girl. "I must take care of the geese. I will come home in the evening."

"It's already evening!" The youth cried. "Look around you some more barefoot!"

She looked around and saw how low the sun was in the sky. Had she been sleeping that long? She gave the boy her willow switch and tried to get up on the horse but it was not easy. She tried climbing on the mare's forelegs while holding onto the mane. The good-natured mare turned her head to look at the girl.

She slid down a couple of times but didn't give up. She kept trying. Finally she was hanging with her right hand on the stirrup and the left on the mane. The youth bent over, grabbed and pulled her the rest of the way up. At last she sat astride the horse in the saddle in front of him, panting and very out of breath.

She was glad she had made it to the top. The boy was also glad and the old mare didn't mind. No other mare would have taken such abuse.

They rode very slowly taking the leisurely strides that old Lene loved. The goose girl sighed. It was not easy to drive geese when you were so high in the air. They always tried to go the wrong way when she was not watching. But Philipp helped, wanting to prove to old Lene that he was in charge of his flock of geese.

When they reached the stable the youth reached into his pocket and took out a piece of sugar. The girl took it. She had no fear of the large animal at all and shoved her entire hand deep into the mare's mouth.

Lene shook her head in disapproval. She couldn't eat sugar that way and she was certainly not a willow tree for children to clamber around on!

Jan showed the girl how to do it, how to lay the sugar on the open palm of the hand so the mare could take it with her lips.

Outside in the yard Philipp was walking around. He never went to bed with the other geese folk. The gray cat went by, a mouse in its mouth. Immediately Philipp was there, pretending to be very furious, very frightening. The cat let the little mouse fall. Snap! The gander had it in its beak and gulped it down. He saw no reason why only cats should eat mice.

Jan pointed his finger at her, "Go! Look how dirty you are! You need to wash your neck too. Who looks after you?"

"Katherine," said Fundvogel.

The youth raised his voice and screamed across the yard, "Katherine! Katherine!"

The large flaxen haired maid came up to them in hurried strides but it wasn't fast enough for the boy.

"Run," he cried to her. "Run, you lazy Katherine! Lift your skirts and run when I call!"

The rascal pointed at the girl. "Take her with you, Katherine," he commanded. "Get her ready. Grandmother said she will be eating at the table with us tonight. Look at her neck, it hasn't been washed for three weeks. You better take care of this child for me, hands, feet, everything! Do you hear me Katherine?"

"Yes, young Sir," answered the maid.

Jan left and went straight to the castle. They both stared after him with open mouths and wide open eyes.

"Come Fundvogel," said Katherine and grabbed her little hand.

The barefoot girl tugged and pulled at her hand until she was free.

"No, I don't like it," she yelled. "I won't do it and I don't like it. You shouldn't lead me by the hand. I can go by myself."

Would Katherine lead her cousin Jan by the hand? She would not dare! Young Sir is what the maid had called him!

* *

*

She sat in the great hall that night, the three of them were alone at the long table. Grandmother sat at the head of the table. Further down and on the other side sat the youth. She sat across from him and even further down.

She was washed very clean; it had cost many tears and heated arguments with Katherine. Her hair was parted down the middle and braided in little pink-banded plaits. They were so tightly braided that they stood out like little pigtails. She wore a light green dress that was freshly starched and ironed. It scratched her neck. On her feet were white stockings that were pressed into black shoes.

Grandmother laughed.

The little one sat on one of the big chairs with her nose barely peeping over the edge of the table. The tall butler, Klaus, waited on them with white cotton gloves pulled over his powerful paws. He compassionately pushed a pair of pillows underneath her to lift her up.

He wanted to cut her meat too but Grandmother said, "Leave her, Klaus. She should do it by herself."

She was hungry and ready for everything that he put on her plate but something was missing. Nothing tasted right that evening, not without her milk. It was better in the barn.

* *

*

The youth told her, "Grandmother said I should give the blessing."

Fundvogel nodded and waited. The two sat in a thicket high up on the Katzenbuckel. He didn't know what to say. Finally he asked her.

"Can you pray?"

She nodded again, she could do that. Someone had taught her long ago, yes, her mother. But now she had forgotten.

He considered, but couldn't think of anything appropriate. "As far as I'm concerned we don't need to pray," he told her. "I don't do it anymore."

Then she asked if he knew any fairytales. He told her they were silly but he stammered and painfully told her some, inventing parts that he didn't know.

Once he broke off a red and white striped Field Bindweed flower.

"What does it look like?" He asked her.

"Like a glass," said the little girl. "Maybe the elves drink out of it, or the dwarves."

"Maybe," he said. "But I have never heard of it. It is Our Lady's Little Glass and Our Lady drinks out of it. Sometimes she goes for a walk and gets very thirsty. When you meet her and give her some water out of one of these she will be very happy and grant you a wish."

"I would wish that the geese don't run so far away," the little girl said.

The youth laughed, "She would be happy to do that. But you know Fundvogel; you shouldn't be with the geese so much. Maybe they are little girls like you that have been enchanted."

Andrea thought about it.

"But not Philipp," she decided.

"No, not him," agreed Jan. "He's much to clever for that."

Or else they played Piff-Paff-Poultrie. She caught onto the game easily the first time they played.

"Good day Uncle Lecketeller," said the youth with a deep bow. "I am Piff-Paff-Poultrie. Can I marry your daughter?"

"Thank you very much, Piff-Paff-Poultrie," answered Fundvogel very seriously. If mother Schmutzeschuh, brother Huschefusch, sister Käsebraut and the pretty Katrina herself all agree, then you can marry her."

"Where is mother Schmutzeschuh?" He asked.

"She is in the barn milking the cow!" She informed him in a singsong voice.

So Piff-Paff-Poultrie took his proposal to mother Schmutzeschuh and she sent him along to brother Huschefusch who was in the willow bushes. He was then sent to Sister Käsebraut who was in the potato patch. Piff-Paff-Poultrie went to all of them and made his proposal and then finally came to the pretty Katrina herself.

"Good day pretty Katrina," Jan greeted her.

"Thank you very much Piff-Paff-Poultrie," curtsied the child Andrea.

Then he asked if she would marry him, everyone else had consented, Uncle Leckteller in the coal bin, Mother Schmutzeschuh by the colored cow, brother Huschefusch in the willow bushes and sister Käsebraut in the potato patch.

Katrina knew then that everything was all right but she still wanted to know what he did for a living.

"Are you a brush binder?" She asked.

"No, they have too many children!"

"A clothes cutter?"

"They are always hungry!"

"Farmhand?"

"That is certainly not right!"

"Chimney Sweep?"

"A filthy job!"

Finally Jan explained that he was a drummer and smoked a long pipe.

"Piff-Paff-Poultrie!"

He needed to know what he would be receiving from her as a dowry.

"I have a gold quarter," replied Katrina.

"And thirty pennies owed!" Piff-Paff-Poultrie sang.

But then she out trumped him.

"A thimble full of wine,
A cherished old plaster stone
Of a gnome she had found,
A hand full of pretzels
An old cat
A dead sparrow
A little reed basket
Filled full of lentils"

That decided him. They were excellently suited to each other and could put the lentils to very good use at the wedding. They sang together and he beat the drum keeping time.

"Lentils, they are the thing,
Pop them in the oven
Bake for six weeks
They stay hard as a bone!"

It was all set; they could get married in seven weeks. All the geese would be invited to the celebration and the goslings would be the bridesmaids. The gander Philipp would stand as godfather with his godchild as if she were his own. She wanted to call Jan, Piff-Paff-Poultrie, and she could be called Katrina or perhaps even Fundvogel. She hadn't decided yet.

* *

*

They came back to Woyland as the evening sun was shining into the castle courtyard. Jan and the little girl Andrea came running in from the meadow laughing and holding hands. She took his hand gladly. It was entirely different than holding Katherine's red lugs.

The youth suddenly put his hand over her mouth.

"Shh! Shh! Be quiet Fundvogel!"

He pulled her with him under grandmother's window. Music rang out from it. They stood still and listened, not moving a finger.

"She is playing Bach," said her cousin.

The little girl nodded. She didn't understand, believed that grandmother was playing the brook, the dark brook, where her geese swam, the noise they made and their chatter. That is what she thought grandmother was playing on the organ.

But the youth said, "It is the 'Partita'. That means farewell and goodbye. 'Partire' is Latin for depart! I recognize it Fundvogel. She is playing it because my time is almost up, because I must soon leave Woyland."

The little girl nodded. "Yes," she said. "That is why she is playing it."

She held his hand tightly. They stood together in the evening sun of the quiet courtyard of Woyland, listening, listening.

* *

*

On the next holiday Jan tried to give her swimming lessons. He had blue swimming trunks and commanded Katherine to make her a pair as well. Katherine made her a swimsuit out of an old red and yellow polka dotted blouse but it was so huge that you could fit two Andrea's into it, one in each leg.

That didn't matter, Katherine thought. She would grow into it. In the meantime, she needed to go without a swimsuit.

Andrea was afraid and wouldn't go any deeper into the water than up to her ankles. The youth pushed and pulled at her but couldn't bring her in any further than up to her knees before she tore herself free and ran out of the water screaming.

He splashed her and scolded her saying that she was dumb as a potato or a cucumber, she could take her pick. She should be ashamed of herself in front of the little goslings. They could swim as soon as they were hatched.

She was ashamed but that didn't help much. It went on like that for almost a week before she dared venture back into the water at the brook. That remained the high point. Any further attempts to show her the movements were useless.

One day he explained that he wanted to catch leeches with her. It was something different that they hadn't done yet. He knew of a putrid brown pond that was full of them. He led her there and had her go in only a little way, then a little more. He stayed quietly on the bank and watched.

She felt no pain and stood there in the dirty water cooking in the hot sun. The water was wonderfully warm so she got up her courage and went deeper into it until only her head peeked out.

He told her that she needed to stand very still and to keep her occupied suggested they play Piff-Paff-Poultrie. She was always ready to play that and they played it together three times, one after the other. The little girl was so into the game that she didn't notice at all when the things bit her.

Finally he decided it had been long enough and she could come out. She came all right but how she came! The yellow and brown muck ran down off her and she was covered with leeches. Her horrified eyes opened wide, staring so hard she couldn't even scream.

The cousin applauded in amusement, laughed in delight, praised her very highly and said there was no better bait for leeches in the entire world than Fundvogel! That calmed her down. He told her it didn't matter how dirty she was because she only needed to run back over to the brook where her clothes were laying. She could wash herself clean there and they would take the leeches off. They would be rich; such nice leeches would certainly bring good money!

If only he had a can or cardboard box to put them in! He didn't have anything except his own swimsuit. He took it off, pulled the waist string out and tied off the legs making a sack that he could put the beauties in.

Now it was time to pluck the dainty grape like things off, first the large fat swollen ones hanging in the middle of her belly. He broke off a small willow tree branch and tried to scrape them off. It didn't work. He didn't like touching the disgusting things with his fingers.

The leech thought nothing of the stick, didn't let go. It sucked and sucked, nothing had tasted so good in its entire life!

Andrea watched, her face growing longer and longer all the time. Silent tears came into her gray eyes, ran down her back.

Jan threw the stick away, got up his courage, grabbed the leech with three fingers and pulled but the animal would not let go. It hurt and Andrea screamed.

"Wait," he cried. "I will pull it loose!"

He grabbed onto it very hard with his entire hand and ripped it off. Blood was instantly streaming. He was terrified. The strain was too much for the little girl and she lost it screaming convulsively, howling wildly and bellowing.

"Be quiet Fundvogel!" He admonished. But it didn't go well for him. Desperately he ripped two more leeches off her left leg. The blood streamed brightly, mixing its red in with the brown and yellow muck. She looked like an Indian, he thought. An Indian on the warpath and she bellowed like one too!

Then Philipp tore up to them. Oh yes, Philipp knew very well how she screamed when she was in danger. The little girl saw him storming to her rescue like a vengeful bronze angel.

"Philipp," she lamented. "Oh Philipp!"

The gander was right by her now, he hissed at the youth. Was he the enemy? Then he hesitated, flapped his wings, bowed his neck, eyed her and sniffed. Leeches? He despaired of ever understanding these human folk. Is that why she was screaming and yelling? He would take care of that right away. His bill shot out like lighting, then back, then out again. In no time he had caught and swallowed two of them.

Only, the hard pecking of a gander's bill, even when well intentioned, is not very pleasant for a five year old dog naked girl. She ran off screaming to high heaven, running through the meadow with Philipp and his flock in pursuit.

The youth stood there with a dumb look on his face not knowing what to do. Then he ran after them. Dear God, that powerful gander would peck the little thing to death! Now he was screaming too.

The chase went through the park, over the drawbridge and right up to the castle door screaming, honking and making noise. All the servants ran out to them. Grandmother stood there by her horse. She had just came back from her ride. The poor hunted naked thing ran straight into her arms.

"Now what's going on?" She asked.

"Leeches," howled the little girl.

The Duchess looked at the mess. "Take her with you," she commanded Katherine. "Carefully put salt on the leeches to get rid of them. Then wash the child and put her to bed."

She turned around to the naked youth.

"You have some explaining to do!"

He obeyed, gasping for breath. "I had Fundvogel go naked into the pond as bait for leeches. She was very good at it and caught a lot of them, but it is really hard to rip them off. It bleeds."

Grandmother laughed. Then she grabbed him by the hair and dragged him with over to the bronze stags by the drawbridge. She raised him high and laid him over one of them. Then she swung the riding whip to her heart's content.

The youth knew that if he cried out it would be double so he bit his lip instead until it bled. He saw green and yellow spots before his eyes, would she never stop?

She pulled him down from the stag, stood him up, shook him by the shoulders.

"Do you know why you just got a thrashing?" She asked.

He pulled himself together. "Yes," he said. "Because I used Fundvogel as bait for leeches."

"No," said grandmother. "That's not why at all! It's because you didn't know that you needed salt to get them loose!"

She waved old Griet over. "Take the young gentleman to bed. He can't very well sit at the table tonight. He doesn't get any supper either."

The limping maid wanted to put in a good word, "Duchess..."

Grandmother interrupted her, "Quiet Griet! Give the young gentleman a glass of water and nothing else."

The limping old maid took him by the arm and led him to his room, took some oil and rubbed it over his welts and laid him in bed. He had to lay on his belly cramming his fingers into the pillow and biting it with his teeth. There was no place on his backside that didn't hurt. There were stripes from his neck down to the hollows of his knees. He moaned and sobbed from the pain.

Then he slept.

* *

*

That night he dreamed that his bedroom door opened. No, no, it wasn't a dream. The door creaked so loudly that it woke him up. He raised his head, looked around, the light of the full moon shone through the huge window. The door really was open; the little girl came in. She looked dreadfully pale; he was frightened, almost believed she was dead. She wore a long nightgown; her hair had fallen down around her shoulders.

"Fundvogel?" The youth whispered.

She came up to the side of his bed and took his hand.

"Does it still hurt?" She whispered.

He said, "No, not at all!"

Then he made an awkward movement and groaned. She put her little hand on his red-hot forehead, caressing it tenderly.

"Are you mad at me Jan?" She asked.

"Why should I be mad at you?" He came back.

"Because grandmother gave you a thrashing," she said.

He shook his head, "No, that doesn't matter at all. I scarcely feel it."

Then he saw how she staggered, almost fell down, grabbed his arm to steady herself.

"You are so pale!" He said. "You are so pale and very cold. You've certainly lost a lot of blood."

"A little bit," she agreed. "But it doesn't matter. If you want, we can go catch leeches again tomorrow. I won't scream any more."

"No, no," he said. "I don't know what I want to do yet."

She raised up on tiptoes, rubbed her cheek against his.

"Good night," she whispered. "I must go before Katherine notices."

She sneaked out lightly on her bare feet. That's when he saw how weak she really was as she staggered through the door.

* *

*

He didn't see his little cousin any more that holiday. She was very weak, caught a fever, and they needed to call the doctor. She had to stay in bed for twelve days and Jan was not permitted to see her. In the meantime his holiday ended.

Katherine had put the leeches in a bottle, she thought she could sell them in Kleve. They were worth a lot of money. Jan wanted them, claimed they were his, that they belonged to him. Katherine claimed they belonged to her because she had removed them. They agreed to share the proceeds between the two of them.

Jan was resolved to buy something for his sick cousin with his half of the money. He had Pittje saddle up old Lene so he could ride into town. The Elephant Pharmacy didn't want the leeches, thought they had enough in stock already. The Unicorn Pharmacy offered him only five pennies a piece, but the Lion Pharmacy, the one at St. Anthony's hospital, said they would pay ten pennies each if Jan would buy something from the store. Jan bargained, said he needed half in cash to bring back to Katherine. The Lion Pharmacist agreed. He counted them out, there were forty-nine but one was apparently dead. Four of them were horseleeches, he couldn't use them. So he gave Jan two Marks and twenty pennies for Katherine. Jan bought candy with his share, Licorice, Licorice and more Licorice. That would make Fundvogel very happy.

But it's a long way from Kleve back to Woyland, especially when you are riding old Lene. First, he just wanted to see how it tasted. He sucked, chewed and sucked some more. It was all gone long before he was back. He consoled himself by thinking the sick girl would probably not have been allowed to eat the candy anyway.

He gave Katherine the money, asked her if she would like to go out and catch some more leeches with him. She was three times the size of Fundvogel, thick and fat. They would certainly bite on her. Katherine didn't want to so he thought about who else he might use as bait. He would gladly use grandmother but didn't dare ask her. Then he thought of old Lene but that wouldn't work either so he gave up on catching any more leeches.

* *

*

The leeches were long forgotten the next year when Jan came back for the summer holiday. He couldn't ride old Lene anymore. She had been retired, permitted to run free and do whatever she wanted.

A heartfelt friendship grew between him and the old gander, Philipp, who had been independent for a long time now as well. They often walked through the meadow together. The goslings had grown up and new ones were hatched but the old ones were still there as well. Fundvogel had seen to that. She had thrown a fit when they were supposed to be slaughtered for St. Martin's day.

She had ran to grandmother, told her that they were her geese and besides, it was quite possible that they were really little girls that had been enchanted into the bodies of geese. Grandmother had agreed, decided that all the geese should live. That year they bought the St. Martin's day birds from a nearby farmer.

Jan wanted a Welsh pony and the Duchess presented him with one so they could both learn how to ride. Its name was Hobgoblin, but everyone called it Goblin. Pittje, the groom, said it had a devil in it. It bit or kicked as soon as you tried putting a blanket or saddle on its back. He explained that they needed to bite back. Then he bit Goblin on the ears, first the right and then the left. That way the pony learned what happened to him when he bit someone.

They needed to learn how to saddle the pony and even before that Andrea needed to learn how to bite back. For two days she practiced biting hard into a leather strap and into fabric. Jan led her around with the strap, pulling her and she was not allowed to let go. Finally she tried her new skill on Goblin. The youth bit him on the right ear and Fundvogel on the left, bit so hard the pony couldn't shake them loose. Then they got the snaffle bit into his mouth and buckled the bridle on before he could spit it out.

Goblin patiently let the little girl climb up on his back. He understood perfectly, was standing quietly one moment, then raised up on his forelegs and with a bound onto his back legs giving a little buck. Fundvogel crawled out of the manure pile.

Again and again she climbed up, again and again Goblin threw her off. She was finally beaten and crept away black and blue. That day the pony had won. Now Pittje joined in the work. Jan climbed up and the groom put a line on the pony and let it run around the corral in a big circle while he cracked the whip around its ears. Goblin saw that it was better to stand nicely for the little girl than to be oppressed by the two rascals.

By the next day he had already forgotten and the dance began all over again. It went like that for a week until Goblin was tame and stood quietly for the little girl. Meanwhile, she had more bruises on her body than hairs on her head.

Grandmother was away on a trip and Jan intended that his cousin be riding before her return. Afternoons he took her for swimming lessons. The yellow suit with red polka dots still didn't fit and Fundvogel needed to go naked as she had last year. But Jan thought she looked fully clothed with all her colorful bruises, they were a rich rainbow of colors.

He had gotten a couple of pig bladders from the swineherd, inflated and tied them around her. Andrea was still afraid, but didn't make a big scene that year. The Duchess, Roberta, came back but didn't stay the night. She rode quickly on to the house in the forest, to her hunting lodge, where her falcons were kept.

Jan had ten more days to work with Fundvogel. Finally the day of the great performance came. He took grandmother down to the gloomy brook where Andrea needed to prove that she could swim, first with and then without the pig bladders. She wasn't very fast, but she swam from one bank to the other side and then back again.

That evening Fundvogel sat astride Goblin in the corral as Jan ran the animal on the line letting his whip crack. Andrea crouched like a trained monkey on top of the pony. You could scarcely call it riding but she stayed on and didn't fall off. She jumped over three hurdles. Jan explained that she had lots of talent, he would train her to become a circus performer. He also wanted to put up a tightrope between two of the castle towers, and then she could be a tightrope walker too!

Grandmother was very satisfied that evening. She commanded that from now on Fundvogel should be called "Young Miss". None of the servants bothered, they still called her Fundvogel, at least when the Duchess was not around.

The little girl didn't care, only Katherine needed to call her "Young Miss" and she argued herself green over it.

* *

*

When Jan came for the Easter Holiday he declared that they needed to build a cat organ. Other people had tried but never been successful and the great idea had almost been forgotten. If they could do it, it would be a magnificent work of art and they could travel through the world with it and make lots of money.

Pittje, the groom, gave them sacks and the HouseMaster, the long Klaus Schiettekatte, gave them Valerian to use as bait. Then Jan built a trap. No cat from the surrounding neighborhood farms was safe. Every morning a few more were caught in the Valerian baited trap.

"Look Fundvogel, see how eager they are," laughed the cousin. "They all want to perform in the Cat organ!"

He ran to grandmother, asked her if she would play the Largo for them and write it down.

"What will you do with it then?" The Duchess asked. "And what does a dumb boy like you know about Handel?"

Jan said that he heard the music being played once on an organ at a church concert. But it was a secret; he wanted it to be a surprise for her. So she sat down at the grand piano and played the opening theme of Largo for the children. The boy wanted all the notes written down and under each of them a syllable -do-re-mi-fa- and so on for singing.

The Duchess tried to explain, to teach him that the Largo was not meant to be sung, it was especially made for the piano or the organ. But it would have been just as easy to tell him not to eat green gooseberries. When that rascal got something into his head, he had to have it, whether it was good for him or not.

"I do need it for an organ," he cried. "For a singing organ!"

He pleaded for so long that grandmother finally shook her head, set down and wrote the syllables under the notes. Jan learned the theme on the piano, then Andrea needed to learn it too. She played it with her fingertips the best she could.

Over and over, all through the house they sang, "re-si-la-sol-sol-sol-fa-mi-re-re-mi-fa-sol-la-ri-la-sol-la-mi-mi-fa-sol-re-re-mi-mi-do-ri-si!"

Their howling echoed through the castle, finally the Duchess couldn't take it any more. It occurred to her that the Largo might have been originally created for an opera so she searched in her library, found Handel's opera Xerxes and wrote the lyrics out for the boy.

"What shaded green
Could be more refreshing,
Sweeter, enchanting
Than these sweet blossoms."

Jan thought "Shaded green" just wasn't right for his purpose so he changed it to:

"What lovely sounds
Could be more enchanting,
Purer, refreshing
Than this sweet meowing?"

"We must study this," he explained to Andrea and Katherine. "The cats will still do: do-re-mi. It suits them better."

He built a cage that stood up high on four posts. The front was wire screen but the bottom was made of wooden slats with large spaces between them. They put the cats inside of it.

Everything went very well up to that point, but then the task became very difficult. They had to thread the cat's tails through the slats and ties strings on them. They got lots of scratches and bits; there was no spot on their hands that wasn't torn and bloody. It seemed that the cats were not that interested in pursuing their musical education.

Finally it was ready. Fourteen beautiful cattails were pulled through the bars and provided with their own individual strings. They bandaged their hands, sat down in front of the cage and sang the Largo for the animals, re-si-la-sol-fa-mi-re, determining which cats would sing which notes.

The great performance was in the barn that afternoon. Grandmother had the place of honor. She had to pay a ten Mark entrance fee. Behind her crowded the household; the Lady's Maid, Fanny; both blond bumpkins, Katherine and her sister; the milkmaid, Stine; the limping old Griet; Pittje; Klaus and all the others.

Jan stood at the door. It cost five pennies to get inside. Everyone got a beautiful program that Katherine had copied until her fingers were sore.

!!!Today Only!!!

!!!For the First Time in the World!!!

Cat Organ

The Largo

Performing artists:

Tenors: Cats; Scratcher, Ratter, Mouser & Howler

Baritones: Cats; Slinker, Prankster & Stone Wetter

Bass: Cats; Lightfoot, Lizard Catcher & Floor Prowler

Sopranos: Cats; Sparrow Snapper, Miez & Mantz

Alto: Cat; Sour Milk

Jan and Andrea stepped in front of a large sackcloth curtain, with them Katherine and old Jupp. Jupp played his harmonica as the others sang:

"Is any gentle sound
More delightful
Purer and refreshing
Than sweet Meowing?

Tones so sweet
You can joyfully
Wander the earth to find
It's paradise
It's paradise!"

With a lot of imagination and good will you could recognize the melody of the Largo. But the following number was much easier to understand and recognize as they sang accompanied by the harmonica.

"Pull their tails!
Pull, but don't pull them off!
Leave a little stump
So they can still dance!"

The singers fell back. Jan stepped up and explained that he personally would now present to the gentle public Handel's renowned Largo performed for the first time ever on the Cat Organ.

He pushed the curtains back. You could see the cage hidden by a large sackcloth that hung down to the floor. Jan and Andrea crawled under it. He operated the eleven tomcats; Andrea took the three females. They pulled to their hearts content and the concert began.

Sadly the magnificent concert didn't last very long. Grandmother sprang up, tore the sackcloth away from the cage and saw everything. Saw her grandchildren playing the beautiful Cat Organ with high enthusiasm, pulling the strings with vigor and pleasure in close association with the four footed singers.

They hissed, bit and scratched each other, meowing dreadfully, especially the one-eyed cat, Sour Milk, whose contralto sounded prominently through the other surrounding beautiful voices. It mingled harmoniously with the tenor of the raven black Mouser.

The concert was broken up, much to the regret of the public, the cooks and stable hands that were enjoying it very much. The Duchess made the organizer bring her the riding whip, but it was more on general principle, she was not really angry and didn't feel sorry for the cats at all. This time the punishment was very mild.

Later the children went to old Jupp in the horse stables. He gave them some milk, and then they split the money with him.

"We are martyrs of art!" Jan declared.

He rubbed his sore bottom, that was all he got. But Andrea had gotten a nasty bite from the Soprano, Meiz, on her left hand. It had festered and swollen up. Jupp tried to treat it. First he sucked the wound out, then put a mixture of old chewing tobacco and horse manure on it as a poultice. That made it much worse.

When grandmother saw it she had the team hitched up and took her to the doctor in Kleve. There the flesh was cut away and cleaned up. It took four weeks to heal.

* *

*

That was the year Kotts suddenly appeared. He stayed for almost four years at Woyland. Kotts was a spirit and it was lucky that he was only active during the day and slept nights otherwise Katherine would have been long gone from Woyland. She suffered the most from him.

One beautiful day Katherine was washing Funvogel's neck. Fundvogel shouted at Katherine to be careful, couldn't she see Kotts standing there? Katherine looked and looked but didn't see anything.

In the beginning Kotts only tormented Katherine. Andrea had placed a plate of cherries on a footstool and Katherine went to pick them up. The girl called out to her that she better not take Kotts' meal away. The footstool belonged to Kotts. Sometimes Andrea would put a cup of water there, a piece of soap and a washcloth so he could wash up. The water stayed the way it was but Andrea said that Kotts was so clean he didn't get the water dirty.

Katherine didn't like it at all, spoke to all the other maids about it. They all laughed at her. Later they didn't laugh any more. Kotts became independent and ventured outside of Andrea's room.

Once at suppertime she led Klaus around as he waited on the table. She didn't want him to run Kotts over. The Duchess, whom old Griet had told about the spirit, asked how tall he was.

"This high," pointed Andrea. "He reaches up to my knee."

"And he is called Kotts?" Grandmother asked again. "And you can see him clearly?"

"Yes, Kotts!" Andrea nodded. "Can't you see him?"

Jan bent over the table, "Yes, there he is."

He laughed, "He looks a little foggy."

Grandmother said, "When you bring Kotts to the table you must also give him something to eat."

Fundvogel took a desert plate, put some mashed potatoes on it, stuck a pickle in it, then set it on the floor.

"That's his favorite food," she explained.

Klaus, the HouseMaster, made a funny face.

* *

*

Andrea gave Kotts riding lessons. Pittje had to take the pony around on the lead rope.

"Don't slouch so much Kotts, " she cried. "You must sit up straight! Press your legs tight against the body! Don't bounce, do you hear? Don't bounce!"

She turned to the groom, "Pittje, be more careful! You almost hit Kotts with your stupid whip!"

Pittje was very happy when the riding lesson was over, it was not fun to teach an invisible rider.

In the evenings the old coachman sat on the bench in front of the stables smoking his pipe. Andrea came by, cried out at him:

"Move over Jupp, you are sitting on Kotts!"

The elder looked at her, shook his head, spit on the ground. Then he said slow and deliberate, "Fundvogel is crazy!"

He took a couple of strong pulls but his pipe didn't taste right anymore. He looked to the side next to him. Was something really sitting next to him on the bench? He stood up, went across the yard looking for another place to sit.

It went that way for some time. Andrea would forget about Kotts for awhile and there would be peace at Woyland.

But every time Jan would come to visit he would always enquire, "How are things with Kotts?"

"Thank you for asking, " said Andrea. "He has the sniffles and had somewhat of a bad night."

"Give him some malt candy!" Her cousin cried.

Soon Kotts began to play various little pranks. Jan had been given horse dust from the coachman at Easter and he gave it to Andrea. That was the stuff you scratched off when you curried the horse. Katherine had found this filthy thing in her bed mixed with hedgehog hairs. She woke up in the middle of the night with such itching all over her body that she thought she would go crazy! She scratched herself bloody but it was useless. She ran to the Duchess the next morning to complain. The Duchess asked who had done it.

"The Young Miss said, " howled the large maid, "that it was Kotts. I would love to wring that fellow's neck!"

"Then do it, " laughed the Duchess, Roberta. "You have my permission."

But it didn't always go so well for Kotts. A beautiful vase was broken and the suspicion fell on Andrea.

"Did you do it?" Grandmother asked.

"No," said the little girl. "I didn't do it. Kotts did it."

"Now look," cried Grandmother. "That deserves punishment, don't you agree?"

The girl nodded and instantly her face burned from a resounding box on the ear.

"Give that to Kotts," laughed Grandmother. "And greet him for me."

Nevertheless the relationship between Kotts and Andrea continued to be very close. She would sit for hours on the floor conversing with him, telling him fairy tales and playing Piff-Paff-Poultrie. She was the drummer boy and Kotts was the beautiful Katrina. When it rained she went outside with him and came back soaking wet because she had held the umbrella over Kotts. She brought him earthworms, caterpillars and grubs, once she even brought him a fat maggot because he was such an animal lover.

Still, it is sad to say that Kotts came to an inglorious end because Katherine married and went back to Kalkar. Then a new nanny called Petronella came to care for Andrea. The people called her Nellie, which in Kleves was another way of saying Petronella.

Right on the first day they were arguing. Nellie refused to call Andrea "Young Miss" and forbid Andrea to call her "Nellie". She had come too far just to endure that!

Too far! She came- she came from the house in the forest, the Duchess' hunting lodge, where her father took care of the falcons. Grandmother was called, she suggested they mutually address each other as equals. Fundvogel was enraged. Hadn't she called Katherine, Katrina and Elizabeth?

In conclusion they both half agreed, Andrea would continue to be called Miss but without the "Young" or "Little" since she was now ten years old. In return she would be obliged to call Nellie by her beautiful proper name, Petronella. Scarcely was this peace established before a new war broke out in which Kotts played an important role on Andrea's side.

Namely both girls had absolutely different ideas over Petronella's position and duties. Andrea desired her as a true Lady's maid that would help her dress and undress, keep her things in order and always be there if she was needed- like a nimble chamber maid. Like Fanny was for her grandmother.

The flaxen haired Katherine, the large lazy bumpkin, had not been suited for that at all but Petronella, brown eyed, brown haired, slim, graceful, quick and intelligent would be excellent. She would only need a little training thought Andrea.

Petronella had an entirely different view. She had spent a few years in the Heart of Jesus Cloister, had been brought up properly and was also self-taught in many skills! She could honestly read, write, do sums, knew the catechism by heart and even did needlework for everyone ten miles around.

These were all things Andrea was very weak at. Read, yes she could read. Her cousin had brought his books with and she had quickly learned because she enjoyed it. But her writing was very bad. She could scarcely write her name legibly with great difficulty. As for sums, she had never gotten past one plus one. She didn't know a word of the catechism. In regards to sewing, she couldn't tell a crochet needle from a sewing needle.

Petronella said that she should be ashamed of herself. That didn't set well with Andrea at all. Could the educated creature, Petronella, ride? She was welcome to go along with to the stables, catch the pony and saddle it. Then she could prove her worth! Could she swim? Pah, she couldn't even tend the geese! That shamed Petronella and shut her up. There were no geese at the house in the forest.

Andrea grandly declared that she would gladly learn the catechism if Petronella would in return learn how to tend the geese. But if she could ride Goblin through the yard, then she would take lessons in darning socks.

Petronella took her on. It would really be something if she couldn't learn what this little stuck up kid could learn! Very early the next day Andrea woke Petronella up. She hung a sack around her neck and put bread in it explaining that it would be her noon meal. She didn't allow Petronella to put on any shoes. She had to tend geese barefoot. Then she took her along to catch the geese, informed her of where to take them and not to come back before dark.

Andrea was happy, for today at least Petronella would not torment her. Then it occurred to her that it would not be much use. Tending geese was not very difficult; she had learned it in one day when she was only five years old. She would have to learn the catechism in the morning! Wasn't there something that would make tending geese more difficult for Petronella? Suddenly she shouted with joy. Philipp! Where was Philipp? She searched around and found him in the hay by old Lene.

She called him, enticed him to go out of the stable with her. Petronella was still not out of the courtyard. She was having trouble keeping her little troop in order, which is not easy when you don't have a switch.

The maids laughed at her, but Pittje, who had fallen for the beautiful girl, took pity on her, cried out that he would bring her a switch. That was when Andrea came out from around back with the gander.

"Do you see that, Philipp?" She hissed at him exactly like he hissed at the others. She had learned how to a long time ago.

"Do you see that, she is stealing all of your geese! All of them! The goslings too! She is stealing them, stealing! Do you hear me Philipp?"

She hissed excitedly and the gander understood. He raged over the entire courtyard toward Petronella as if he were possessed. Petronella then did the dumbest thing she could have done; she hit back at him with her hand. Instantly Philipp had her arm caught, pecking at it with his large bill.

Petronella screamed loudly and ran away but the gander was faster than she was, quickly had her by the calf of the leg. Then he flew around and gripped her from the front, chased her around the courtyard. Petronella bellowed and the geese chattered. The farm hands and maids shook with laughter. It would have gone badly for her if Pittje hadn't quickly pushed her into the stable and shut the door after her.

Andrea got a big piece of bacon, cut a slice off and fed it to Philipp. Then he went alone with his flock across the pasture.

Petronella limped painfully back over the courtyard. The Duchess stood watching in the window above.

"What happened to you Nellie?" She cried.

Petronella miserably lamented her tale of grief and difficulty with the raging gander. Grandmother had seen her grandchild by the gander, feeding it and praising it for doing well. She cried out to Andrea:

"Tell me, who got Philipp to chase after Nellie?"

In her softest and most innocent voice Andrea said convincingly, "It must have been Kotts."

Grandmother laughed and warned, "Kotts shouldn't instigate so much mischief."

Then she decided over the controversy. Andrea didn't need to learn catechism or sewing but she must become fluent in sums and writing. She was to begin immediately that day.

That was when Kotts stepped in seriously and made many appearances. He sabotaged the lessons and did it so thoroughly that no day went by without some disturbance. He always broke the tips off the pencils and writing quills, put hair, water or flies in the ink bottle, hid all the writing tablets and school books so well that you could look all day and not find them.

He also did inexcusable things to Petronella. He stretched a wire over the stairs so she tripped over it and fell hurting her leg, making it bleed. One morning her hair was so full of burrs that she had to rip out hanks of it. She found dead rats and frogs in her shoes, an old hedgehog in the foot of her bed whose quills stabbed her toes as she stretched out her legs.

"It was Kotts," Andrea declared calmly when something would happen.

It didn't work. Things still didn't go the way Andrea wished because she was blamed for Kotts' behaviors and unreasonable demands were placed on her in return.

* *

*

Then came the time when the long cucumbers grew on the manure pile. She ate them passionately and greedily. One summer morning she was out for hours riding through the fields, came back in the burning heat of the sun for her noon meal. She was so thirsty her tongue was hanging out of her mouth.

She brought her pony to the stable. Jupp and Pittje were there and offered her a beer. It was Old Kleve beer, abominable stuff, but tasted delicious to the girl. She guzzled down three full glasses, then went to the cow's stall and got a large glass of milk. She took a knife, ran to the vegetable patch, cut up cucumbers, salted them, and ate them with her bread. She ate more and still more until she couldn't eat any more. Her noon bread had not tasted so delicious for a long time.

Unfortunately it didn't sit well, didn't sit well at all. The result was very explosive and immensely sudden. Green and pale, she ran to her room much too late. It was very bad.

Petronella picked her up, washed her and brought her to bed. Andrea felt very miserable and didn't want anyone to know what had happened. As she lay in bed she whispered:

"Please, don't tell grandmother!"

Petronella nodded, took her clothing and carried the mess out of the room.

She turned around in the doorway, called triumphantly, "What should I tell your grandmother? That Kotts did it?"

She swung the brown and green clothing like a flag. Grandmother never heard the story but everyone else did. Wherever Andrea went they giggled. When she went back to the stables Jupp, the old coachman, laughed and said just loud enough so she could hear:

"That Kotts sure can't hold his beer can he?"

Andrea flushed red-hot and without a word slumped out of the stable. That was the end of Kotts. No spirits can take such gossip, something always held over their head. That's why he disappeared from Woyland.

When Jan came for vacation and asked about Kotts, the answer she gave was so loud you could hear it both downstairs and upstairs.

"Kotts? He is too stupid for me. I chased him away!"

* *

*

Andrea was ten years old. She had been able to play chess for a long time, played the grand piano and reed organ very beautifully, had learned how from her grandmother.

Grandmother instructed her grand daughter in ice skating as well; it was the time just before Katherine left. The last winter had been a hard one and they skated for hours and entire days. Andrea learned figure skating on the castle moat. Grandmother showed her how it was done, and then she practiced. Sometimes old Jupp played the harmonica and they skated to the music.

Once some gypsies came by, three wagons full. The Duchess cleared an empty barn behind the park for them and they stayed there over the winter. They repaired all the frying pans and kettles, made baskets out of reeds and willow twigs.

There were two men that played the violin and a young woman that played the viola. Grandmother let them come up to the drawbridge in the afternoons to play. Down below on the frozen moat she skated to the waltz with her grandchild.

One evening they burned pitch in the frying pans and placed them on the drawbridge. It was a big festival for the servants, neighboring farmers and farmer's wives. There was dancing, glowing hot spiked punch, sausage and fancy deserts. Andrea was allowed to stay up until ten o'clock and Katherine was completely drunk when she brought the child to bed.

When she skated cross country Andrea needed to wear different skates, Hollander skates made out of wood with a very long thin steel keel that curved up in front like the runners on a sled.

They skated together, skated over the canal, brook and moat, then further over the flat ice flooded meadows down to the old branch of the Rhine. They went further, always further. It was as if the frozen world went on forever, willow bushes and alders and far in the distance the forest. There was an occasional windmill and always the thin snowflakes in the air. Hand in hand they skated through the still winter days. At noon they went into a nearby village, rested, sat in a warm guesthouse. Then they skated back and were home by sunset.

But St. Blaise's day of that year, the day after Maria Lichtmess came, was a day Andrea would never forget. They skated far out, almost to Kranenburg. They left very early that morning, at noon they rested in a village. This time they stayed longer. The Duchess met some farmers in the pub and spoke with them about some horses she wanted to buy. The heavy workhorses were produced and she examined them very thoroughly. It took a long time and was dusk already when they left.

As they skated back the Duchess stumbled over a piece of wood that was sticking up in the ice. She fell down, screamed out, and sat there grabbing her foot. Andrea came up to her.

"What's wrong grandmother?" She asked.

The Duchess shook her head.

"Nothing," she said.

She took her handkerchief, wrapped it tightly around her ankle. Andrea could tell how much it hurt. She helped her grandmother stand back up and slowly they skated further. Time and time again grandmother needed to stop and rest. It became very dark and hard to find their way. Then the old moon came up and they could see a little further. Hours passed and then more hours.

Andrea skated up ahead, now they were skating over the gloomy brook, then she came to the high reeds on the large fishpond. She skated back; told her grandmother they were almost home. She would skate ahead and get some help, some field hands and a sleigh.

The Duchess nodded and watched her chase off, then scarcely ten steps in front of her the little girl vanished without a sound. She rubbed her hands over her eyes, believed she must be dreaming.

"Andrea," she called. "Andrea!"

There was no answer. The Duchess ran over to the spot. There! A fishing hole four meters across was freshly cut into the ice. She, herself, had commanded that fish be caught early that morning before they left. She saw the tracks of the skates, here and there where her grand daughter had skated. Then she saw the tracks where she had fallen through the ice.

"Good God!" groaned the Duchess.

She didn't hesitate a moment, threw off her wool jacket onto the ice, unlaced her skates, pulled them off, sprang into the dead cold water and swam. She grabbed onto the edge on the other side, took a deep breath and dived under the ice.

When she told about it later, she didn't really know how it happened, only knew that suddenly she grabbed onto a skate, then a leg that was hanging there in the water. Then she was banging her head against the ice, pulling and tearing at it until she finally found her way out gasping for air in the freezing water.

She lifted Andrea onto the ice, tried getting out herself, slid back in, and tried again. She finally pushed the lifeless child out of the way, held onto the ice, used it like a beam, supported herself on it, lifted herself up, brought a knee up on it and threw herself forward.

She didn't stop to breath, undressed her grandchild, rolled the wet clothing together, shoved them under the girl's back so that her head hung back. Then she knelt down beside her, grasped her forearms and pressed with them against the girl's chest, then raised the arms quickly back over her head.

Again and again and still again, she worked until the sweat was running on her forehead even though the clothing was freezing on her body. She didn't stop, not for a moment, not until the little one was breathing, until she knew that her grand daughter lived!

She rubbed Andrea from head to foot, wrapped her in the dry wool coat, took her in her arms and carried her through the night. Her foot hurt so badly that she believed she would fall any minute but she bit her lip and kept walking, first over the fishpond, up the slope, then cross-country.

The moon went down, she got lost in the darkness. There were snowflakes all around, always snow flakes. At times she would call out but no one heard. She sat down to rest on a tree stump in the pasture, groaning with pain and grasping her swollen deformed foot. Then she continued, further, further, through an eternity.

She finally came to Woyland, came into the park and screamed for her people. They came with torches and lanterns. Fanny, her lady's maid, was the first to reach her and took the child. Klaus and Pittje wound their hands together so the Duchess could sit and carried her into the castle.

Andrea only needed to stay in bed a few days with some sniffles and a little cough. That was all. St. Blaise worked quickly. No one understood colds better than he did and this was especially right for him since the accident happened on his name day. Old Griet had prayed and explained everything to him.

Sadly grandmother was denied any help from St. Blaise and they needed to call in Dr. Peerenboom, the medical doctor from Kleeve. She had severe pneumonia in both lungs. It was weeks before she was out of danger. Then the entire left side of her face and throat swelled up from a tooth infection that abscessed and spread to her eye.

Old Griet solemnly promised that she would make the pilgrimage back to Kevelaer to honor the Virgin Mary if the Duchess would soon get better. She prayed five times a day to St. Blaise for the throat, to St. Apollonia for the tooth and to St.Odulia for the eye of her Duchess.

It was bewitched; it would not get better. The Duchess lay for months. Almost a year passed before her foot was completely well and that was only because Griet prayed to St. Judas Thaddeus. Was there anyone better for foot problems? She asked Jupp about it. The old coachman slowly shook his head.

"You can't beat St. Judas and his walking stick," he said.

* *

*

Andrea thought nothing was more fun than swimming in the Rhine. They rode over the rich meadows away from the castle. Andrea was on her pony; Jan on a powerful Irish jumper and behind him came Pittje. They descended down to the Rhine, undressed.

The red and yellow polka dot swimsuit was long gone, had scarcely lasted a week when it finally fit. Katherine should have known that you couldn't make a good swimsuit out of an old blouse! Andrea now had a real swimsuit, blue with a white belt, exactly like her cousin's. Only his had a little money pouch so they could take his money with. They would need money on this swim journey.

First they played awhile on the sandy beach between Krippen and Buhnen, rode the horses into the water. Then they left their horses and clothes under Pittje's care, swam together into the current. They needed to be careful of the steamers pulling long barges; the passing wake rose high over their heads and washed over them. But Andrea had not been afraid of the water for a long time, felt very safe with her cousin. When she got tired she swam up to him, laid her left hand on his shoulder, hung on and let him tow her.

They floated down the Rhine in the July sun until they saw the towers of Emmerrich, then they crossed to the other side where there was a little beach and waited. It was a place where the steamers and barges passed close to the shore. They wanted to climb on to a barge and catch a ride back up the river. Jan would go first and climb into the barge, get a rope and throw it to Andrea and then pull her up into the barge as well. She would be waiting a few meters away for the rope. It needed exact timing and kept going wrong. They needed to wait for a second, then a third steamer and try it again. Each time they got better at it.

The last time they made it and easily without effort climbed into the barge. Then they called the pilot and he pulled the barge closer so they could climb onto the steamer. The trip back upstream went slowly enough, they came to the spot where Pittje was waiting with the horses, waved to him and continued up a bit before diving head first into the river and swimming back to the shore.

The most beautiful part of the journey was when they sat close together on the deck of the steamer in the sun. Jan pulled his money out and paid their fare. The pilot brought them great slabs of white bread smothered in butter and topped with thick slices of glorious Holland cheese. Nothing in the world ever tasted more delicious than that food in the middle of the Rhine.

The sun laughed at them and everything was so young, so young!

They sat hand in hand, deeply quiet and contented staring out at the yellow-green waves and silver white combs or else they looked up at the light clouds in the blue sky circling around them.

Everything was so still. She heard her heart beating.

"Jan," said Andrea.

"What?" He asked.

She said, "When I grow up I want to marry you."

The youth laughed, "That could be a long wait Fundvogel! I don't want to get married. The girls all seem so dumb to me."

"Even me?" She asked.

"You," he considered. "You are still much to young."

She persisted, "But I will grow bigger. When I am grown up, then I will inherit all of Woyland. Grandmother told me. Then I will marry you and give it all to you. Do you hear me Jan?"

The youth gazed dreamily at the swiftly moving clouds.

"No," he said lightly. "I don't want Woyland. It is only good for the Holidays. I , I want to go out into the world."

The little girl sighed, yet her hand continued to hold tightly onto his.

Chapter 2