The Testament of Yves Gundron Read Online Free PDF Page B

Gate. It was a bitter chill, though thankfully without snow, and every moment’s delay made us more impatient. We had brought our tarpaulins to cover the ground before the church; noweach of us lay his on the hard ground, filled it with as many vegetables as he could hoist, and carried the load into town, just as it was in the days of our grandfathers’ grandfathers, who knew not how horses could be made to do a man’s labor. The Martin brothers, Heinrik and Jepho, were bent so far under the weight of their burdens that their spectacular height was reduced to that of ordinary men. The sun was well up when finally we set our goods out to market; the townsfolk quibbled over the freshness of the food, and we left with numb fingers, half our goods still in the carts, and light pockets.
    A while past dark, I reached Ydlbert’s home. The middle boys, who’d come with us, ran to the warm hearth; the smallest were strung up dreaming in their hammocks; and the elder two were not to be seen, though likely out lifting the skirts of Heinrik Martin’s and Desvres’s nubile daughters. Anya, weary-eyed, plunked bowls of porridge onto the table, then retired to her fireside chair, where she wound yarn from her distaff into a ball. At her feet an infant cat unwound yarn from another ball, but Anya worked more quickly, ensuring that the progress of the yarn was overall for the good.
    â€œWas it a good day at market?” she asked. Her thin lips scarcely moved when she spoke, so tired was she from her days of rearing sons.
    Ydlbert poured us milk from the bucket. “The new carts are too wide to fit through the city gates, and we had to carry the vegetables on our backs.”
    â€œMonkeys, all,” Anya said, though we knew monkeys only from my brother’s stories of abroad.
    â€œIt was dreadful, wife.”
    â€œNow you know what it’s like to trudge about with seven bairns inside you,” she said, and stood up to check the smaller children’s placement in their hammocks.
    Ydlbert ladled more porridge into our wooden bowls. “We have to do something about that gate, is all,” he said.
    â€œCast a spell?”
    â€œTalk to the Archduke.”
    When I arose the next morning at sunup, Ydlbert was crouched on my stoop, holding a baked potato, that miraculous and most nourishing food my brother so providentially brought back with him from the Beyond, for warmth. The dog eyed his provisions greedily. “For the sake of the Lord God,” I said, “you can come in, man.”
    â€œNo time,” he said.
    â€œWe’ve got hot porridge, and some fine pickles.”
    â€œAnd no time to eat it. This matter cannot wait.”
    I wrapped myself up in my warmest garments, and we detoured up the side path to fetch my brother from his simple hut. We found him cutting back the dead vines in his winter arbor. Mandrik was the only man in the village besides myself and Father Stanislaus who could write, and had a fairer hand than I for drafting a petition. Besides, if nothing else, good luck followed him like the stink follows a stuffed cabbage; and he brought along his psaltery, and sang a song of his own devising to while away the walking time and to ease our restless spirits.
    We can’t fit our carts
    Through the city gates .
    No, we can’t fit our carts
    Through the city gates .
    But we gone petition the Archduke
    Before it gets too late .
    Now, Ydlbert and Yves ,
    They don’t believe in what I write .
    â€œYes, we do, brother,” I interjected, to which Ydlbert appended, “Amen.”
    Yes, they doubt me like Thomas ,
    They don’t thinks I’m all right .
    Just wait until we reach the castle
    And everything’s gonna be out of sight .
    Despite Mandrik’s optimism, we knew we had no chance of being admitted to his Urbanity’s presence. What was he to do—accept petitions from every bumpkin farmer who came urgently to seek his