A Friend For Grace- Part TEN

Hand in hand, Wilhelm and I walked out of the barn and into the house looking for Papa. As we neared our wooden home I sent up a heartfelt prayer, hoping Papa would be in an agreeable mood. Sure, lately, he'd been a bit more approachable and slightly kind but he still wasn't the father I knew he could be to my sisters and I or even to Wilhelm. He was still distant and his face was always creased with unhappiness. It seemed that music was the only thing that could cheer him up. And having Wilhelm here also cheered him up. Maybe Wilhelm's arrival wasn't only a blessing for me but for Papa as well. Maybe Wilhelm was the son Papa never had but always wanted. Maybe, just maybe, this little German boy was the answer to prayers long petitioned and not yet answered. I hoped that this was the case

Wilhelm must have noticed the small tear that had escaped and now rolled down my face. 

"You a'right Miss Grace?"

I quickly swiped away a second tear with the back of my hand and answered, "You don't have to keep calling me Miss Grace, you know. I'm you're sister now okay? And yes Wilhelm, I'm fine. I was just thinking about how happy I am that you're here, living with us. I truly believe that God sent you because He knows that we need you.

Wilhelm's eyes clouded at the mention of God and the muscles in his jaw tightened, but before I could ask why, he quickly answered, "Really Miss Grace? You're glad I'm here?"

I raised and eyebrow at his using the term Miss again but let it go. He was trying to get used to having a loving family again. I understood that. "Yes I am Wilhelm. Your coming here has softened my Papa's calloused heart, if even only a bit. Seeing this change in him, as slight as it may be, I know that greater things are still to come of him and for our family and that includes you Wilhelm."

I smiled down at him and opened the door jamp. It was nigh mid day so Papa should be in washing up for lunch. I heard a rustle in the kitchen and knew that was him. In all honesty, my father was a frightening man of 6'2 with long, powerful strides. I could tell that once upon a time his now dim blue eyes sparkled with good humored mischief and fun. Now, his scowl alone could make any perfectly poised girl cry. I was used to it though.

I silently inched closer to him and said, "Excuse me Papa."

He grunted something along the lines of, "What do you want." while drying his hands on a checkered dishrag.

Instead of shrieking back in fear at his lack of enthusiasm, I held my head up high and asked, "Will you allow Wilhelm to play the violin for us tonight? He's very good and has even played under the teaching of Johannes Brahms, an accomplished violinist from Germany.

Papa's already deeply set scowl became even more feirce… if that were possible but his response shocked me. "Well, I don't see why not. He'd better be real careful with it though."

Though it wasn't the ecstatic response I hoped for, he had still given his permission. That was a big step in the right direction.

***

"Wilhelm, did you enjoy dinner tonight?" Mama asked with a smirk on her face as she began clearing the dishes. The boy had scarfed down his steak and onions and this plate was as shiny as a mirror. Mama's cooking was the best and she knew it. Hearing Wilhelm, muffled "Yes'm"confirmed what she already knew to be true. 

"Well Wilhelm, are you going to play or not. We're all waiting to hear what that fancy man taught you." Papa's comment, as rough as it sounded was surprisingly, an eager petition to begin the evening ritual of violin playing at our house.

Wilhelm nodded and got up to the where Papa kept his violin safely tucked away as we all gathered around him. He pulled the instrument out and caressed the shined wooden handle and horse hair strings. His hands moved to the tuning pegs and he rotated several of them until he smiled and said sheepishly, "This song, Hungarian Dance No. 1" was one of Mater's favorites.

He bagan playing. I held my breath hoping that the skills he told me has possessed were indeed as refined as I had imagined. He played a beautiful tune, one that was so alive! It lacked the melancholy I saw etched on Wilhelm face. Perhaps it was the unhappy memories this particular song brought to his mind. But as he reached the climax of this piece, I saw him smile and his eyes twinkled like never before. He was enjoying himself. I looked around the room, at the faces of my family members and saw that they too were genuinely enjoying themselves and Wilhelm's playing. I smiled at him as he began playing more rapidly; his chords sounding like a buzzing bumblebee. When he had finished, he took a bow and walked back the upper shelf where Papa kept the violin. As he faced us all again we clapped for him. I sat there amazed at what I had just witnessed. Wilhelm was a young boy, yes, but his talents were obvious. The boy was a prodigy! 

Papa congratulated him with neutral words, "That was pretty impressive boy. I liked it. Maybe you can play again tomorrow night." 

***

If you'd like to hear Johannes Brahms' "Hungarian Dance No. 1", the piece Wilhelm played in the story, just click here to hear the audio on YouTube.

Hiding From Royalty pt.6

Written by Kianna Rose

"Wake up men! Those grain fields won't harvest themselves." a task overseer shouted from the dungeon doorway.

The slaves dungeon was a pitiful sight to behold. Disease was common among the captives and filth caked the moss stone walls. The offensive stench of unbathed bodies carried itself from one catacomb to the next. Men of any social standing turned their noses up at the unfortunate creatures who were forced to reside in such a hovel.

Edward rolled over on the cot, groaning. He'd arrived a week before when trying to rescue his daughter Isabella. As he entered the pair of massive castle gates, a knight halted him.

"State your business."

"My name is Edward of Winchester Valley. I've come to take what has been stolen from me."

"You are a serf, are you not? You own nothing, for all that is in your possession belongs to King John."

With that, the knight commanded Edward to dismount and he was taken into castle custody.

Here he was a  week later, harvesting grain for the kings granaries.

A dimly lit candle was Edward's only source of light. He carefully worked his way up the winding stairs for fear he'd fall and break his neck. As he reached the top landing, he walked out into cool country air. Work had officially begun and Edward was eager to complete his tasks. Lately, his mind had been occupied with thoughts and worries of his daughter's safety. Guilt constantly overwhelmed him. How had he allowed this to happen? How had he lost his riches on such foolish investments? What pained him most were not the taunts his neighbors chanted, "Edward, Edward, was rich as a king. Edward, Edward, you now feel poor mans sting." but the terrible circumstances his family was now forced to endure.

"Dear Lord, have mercy on my family" Edward silently prayed. Feeling like a failure hurt his ego, but he was willing to do anything to right this wrong.

The sun shone brightly now. It's radiance overwhelmed him and it's precise location spelled out noon. Noon meant lunch time.

Today, the burden of an utter failure seemed heavier and the lunch line seemed endless. Who would stand in such a line for nothing more than slop. He would. He was desperate. Picking up his pace, Edward reached the end of the snake-like mass of people and waited. His gaze pulled away from the group of gentlemen in front of him to a young girl walking into the castle with baskets in her hands. Probably near Isabella's age he mused. She had on a gray work dress and hat, but a few stray blond curls had escaped. Oh, Isabella had blond curls just like that  his mind dared to press on. As if he'd lost control of himself, Edward walked off the line in hopes of reaching the little girl. It would put his mind to rest in knowing that she was not his daughter. He couldn't bare knowing that his little princess was slaving  over a hot stove, but he couldn't bare not knowing where Isabella was. He neared the entrance... he walked faster... he opened his mouth to call Isabella, but before he could speak, the heavy door slammed shut. He was left with his words in his mouth and pain in his heart.

Hiding From Royalty pt.2

Written by Kianna Rose


Through the thick country dust, I could see my father pursuing the knight who had kidnapped Isabella. The wind carried his desperate plea, "Please sir, release my daughter. Please!" The knight did not slow his horse's trot and I could hear my sister's cry for mercy.

***

"Hold still ma'lady." the knight ordered. The stench of horse manure carried itself up to Isabella's nostrils, causing her to gag.

Isabella remained still, though her body ached from the horses strong gallop. Thoughts of her family, her schooling and her life flashed before her. Could this really be the end of her young life? Would she really die as a slave?

"Sir, might I ask where you are taking me to?" she ventured.

"If you insist." the man grumbled. He cleared his throat and continued, "I am commanded to take you from this place to Winchester Castle by order of King John of England. Almost as an after thought he added, "Your father owes a large sum of money to the King and has refused to pay it. You will serve as a ransom. If he pays within thirty days, you will be released. It he fails to pay, you will become a slave.

Isabella nearly fell of the horse as she heard this terrible news. Father always had money. When the collection plate was passed around at Sunday services, he'd empty his pockets. Father also bought Isabella and Hannah new dresses for their birthdays. And who could forget his contribution to the orphanage fund?! How had a man who lived so comfortably sink so deeply into debt. And now his daughter was being held as a ransom! Isabella decided she would need to escape... but how? The knight had tightened his grip on her. Her immobility weakened her resolve to form a successful escape plan. She decided that the best thing was to stay put and escape when she gained strength.

Within the hour, Isabella could see the peak of the castle. Her heart thumped wildly as she thought of living life in such luxury. Then, as if the knight could read her mind, he agreed, "A beautiful castle, is it not?"

The thought of living in such a castle with mother and father and even Hannah pleased Isabella very much. Then she remembered that she was not invited to live in the castle, but forced to work in it. As they arrived, the knight entered the massive gates and dismounted. To the maid awaiting their arrival he called out, "Cecilia, take this young lady to the dungeon with the other slaves."

Slaves? The word sounded horrible, even more so when Isabella realized that she would become part of that group.

"Yes, sir" the woman obediently responded and took Isabella's hand.

The maid guided Isabella down a winding stair case and into a cell. With stale bread scraps in her stomach Isabella felt strength returning to her bones.

"I will escape tomorrow, for it is far to dark for me to travel by moon light tonight." she thought.

When the candles were blown out, Isabella knelled beside her cot pray.

"Our Father, who art in heaven, Hallowed be thy Name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done, On earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread, And forgive us our trespasses, As we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, But deliver us from evil. For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever and ever. Amen."

After her heartfelt prayer, Isabella rolled onto her cot. The dungeon was damp, cold, musty and terribly dark. She could hear the squeak of mice and with a glint of moonlight shining through the barred window, the glistening webs of spiders cast shadows onto her face.

Isabella's eyelids grew heavy. She closed them and drifted off to sleep.