RODE HEUVALS (PT.2)

They continue into the condensed streets. Here the houses are closer together and more of the villagers can be seen working near their homes. There is a pulse where the whole community is actively working in progress of the town. Victoria can see in almost every person a motivation that contributes to help the growth of all in the community. She recognized decisions were made without doubt. She knew that it wasn’t only her small village that moved like bees in a hive. She had seen this before in the greater cities of the Dutch republic during the late 1700’s when their trade market was among the richest in the world before Napoleonic rule transpired. Now trades were weak and growth was difficult in this era but within this village there was a prosperity of hope that drove its life.

Susanna energetically jumps, “You said earlier, I do not dwell in the realm of my villains, and I had a thought. I love stories of Villains. They are always so much more to me than stories of monsters.”

Now caught in confusion Victoria stops in her steps to reply, “Now it is you who must praytell, I see no separation of the two. How do you perceive such a notion? Art not both the antagonist?”

“Not to I.” Susanna says, “The story of little red riding hood, the wolf is clearly a monster to be feared. But all the story, he wants to convince her that he is not what she thinks. He is not the monster at all, he lies. So is the same for all tales of monsters. The baba yaga wants children. But, to steal them away to the woods the monster has to make the children believe it is not a monster. My father tells me the stories he learned in his schooling about the Greek mythos of Hercules. All who he faced and defeated were without doubt that he, the mighty Hercules, was their enemy. Villains make me excited because they can be told different ways. The great lion Hercules faces fought him because it was his nature to fight or eat. The cyclops, truly only protecting his small corner of the earth where it could live without bother. Most villains know they are the villain, some perceive they are the hero justifying wrong doing for the sake of the good. Then there are the ones that can not see they are doing villainy at all. It is quite evident to me that all monsters are the same. Always taking with no end to their evil. Wretchedly repeating their stories where they lie about not being a monster, but they really are. To which no means to ever be human. It’s boring!”

“You are quite a brilliant child.” Victoria says as they start to walk again. Susana continues, “I want to learn more about mythos. I have heard the Greek mythos and the Romans. Truly… truly I wish to learn of the Irish and Scottish mythos. What wonders lay waiting there.”

“I know of a few I gladly will tell of.” Victoria says to Susanna to which the child eagerly nods and says, “Yes! Please!”

“Well Susanna, I can tell you of a Goddess that Scottish peoples would say, we are in the presence of. Beira, the queen of winter, and to some the goddess of harvest. They say she made the mountains, carved the creeks, and drinks from a spring of youth to live young and free all year till she ages in winter. Tis then when she is pale as the fields snow. The winter is her power, what she was made from. She takes from the earth to harvest for herself for the coming year.”

They enter off the street through a short gate where a path leads to a small wooden home as Victoria continues, “When she makes her presence known then it is time to harvest. Lo’ she does not come without fear for there are people who call her by another name.”

As Victoria and Susanna reach the door of the small home the door is opened by its residence before either one can raise a hand to knock. The man who greets them is tall and slim. An Italian man with black hair where gray is coming in on one side. Appearing to be in his 50’s his skin is tight on his long face where he adorns a bushy peppered mustache. He smiles at them with his half draped eyelids and immovable eyes and begins to speak in Italian but quickly stops himself to continue to speak in English with an Italian accent.

“Victoria… Susanna. Victoria you warm me like the afternoon sun with your beauty. What do I owe the pleasure, if not for the act to say hello?”

“By me, be tis the first I hath seen of your heartfelt compliments Bernardo.”

“I trust, dear Victoria, they are well received.”

“In kind, when they will be, I assure you I will voice it.”

“I mean no harm of it. Truly”

“Nor do I feel harmed. Your company is still sought by me, dearest Bernardo. Be it understood we are in the presence of Susanna and she is a child who deserves to be acknowledged. I invite you to compliment me in other ways. In her presence or without. In kind of course.”

“Of course. My apologies Victoria-” Victoria is gesturing with her pointer finger down at Susanna, “My apologies… Young Susanna.”

Susanna nods her head to accept Bernardo’s apology and in the same instance she turns to Victoria befuddled, “Why is Mr. Bernardo apologizing to me?”

Victoria and Bernardo share a light laugh.

“Perhaps there is a difficulty in explaining. Rest assured, not knowing the reasoning of an apology is far better than to never receive the one you deserve.” Victoria turns her attention back to Bernardo.

“Bernardo we have come to retrieve the carrots you promised Geertrudia.”

“Yes, of course. I thought it so of being the true reason you were here but I enjoyed playing a fool shortly, I must admit.”

Bernardo steps away into his home to then return with a small burlap sack tied off with a hemp string. As he hands Victoria the sack he tells her there are five carrots just as Geertrudia asked for. It is just then that Bernardo, Victoria, and Susanna take notice to the romping of feet and noisy ruffling of high waist skirts. They all turn to see two teenage girls running through the street toward Bernardo’s home. They stop at the gate winded and gasping for air.

Bernardo hollers out to them, “Has something happened?”

“Yes Mr. Bernardo.” one of them says in between catching their breath. Victoria walks over to them, “Yvonne? Zoe? What hath transpired?” Yvonne a girl of nine-teen and her seven-teen year old sister Zoe are more than just out of breath. Their eyes red and wet from crying with tremors still in their voices. They go back and forth taking turns explaining what the matter is while speaking in English with Dutch accents.

They explain that their mother, Wilhelmina, is the mid wife for Ambroos. Her water had broken not an hour ago. After preparing Ambroos to deliver, Wilhelmina began to recognize that something was wrong. Soon Ambroos’s cries of pain would be the tell tale signs of birthing complications. The two girls look to each other before one of them says, “She didn’t know who to go to. You were the only one she could ask. Our father is there trying to convince Pepijn to rear their child into the world… to no avail.”

Victoria straightens up and for a moment stares above the homes into the sky. “Will you help her?” Yvonne asks as she wipes away at an endless stream of tears.

Victoria looks to them both and takes a few seconds to make eye contact with them one at a time and without making them wait for a reply any longer she responds, “Without a doubt.”

Victoria, still holding Susanna’s hand exits the yard gate. She hands Zoe the burlap sack of carrots, “Zoe, take Susanna home and tell Geertrudia what hath transpired. Hurry go along now.” Victoria then turns around to holler at Bernardo, “Mr. Bernardo! I need your assistance in this urgent matter, if you so oblige.”

He nods agreeing to be of assistance and Victoria continues, “Good. Please gather your carpentry tools along with any spirits you may have. Meet me at the home of Gerben as soon as humanly possible.”

He launches back into his home closing the door behind him.

“Yvonne,” Victoria says as she turns to the young girl again, “I need you to retrieve the root of a yam and the root of a cassava. Do you understand?”

She nods yes and Victoria commands, “Now tell me what I asked you to retrieve.”

“Miss. Victoria asked me to retrieve the root of a yam and the root of a cassava.”

“Brilliant Child. Now tell me what I asked you to retrieve again.”

“You asked me to retrieve the root of a yam and the root of a cassava.”

“Brilliant child! I need them as soon as humanly possible. Bring them straight to Ambroos’s home, now go!”

Yvonne goes off running and Victoria hurries in the opposite direction, heading further into town.

Inside Ambroos’s home a young dutch man named Gerben is raising a drenched towel from a bowl that he wrings out. He gently lays it over top Ambroos’ forehead as she lay in a bed that has been placed in the living room. The contractions put her in pain that make her eyes bulge and her hands shoot to her hips and stomach forcing a gut wrenching scream. Everyone in the room cringes at the sound. On the other side of the bed is Tessa, a fragile woman in her 30’s who is joined by the midwife Wilhelmina, her elder mother Anuschka, and two other elder woman in their eighties and nineties who reside at the foot of the bed in prayer. Their arms entwined while a fourth elderly woman in her sixties stands behind them. Across the room, Ignaas, a tall bulky man in a black leather apron with a bright blond beard is in a stern and rocky conversation with a slimmer man named Pepijn whom is dressed in a dirt coated farmers smauk. In Dutch Ignaas is working out how Pepijn can use his knowledge that he has in assisting the horses in birthing to help Ambroos with her birthing complications but Pepijn is not confident in rearing the birth of the child.

While they continue their heated discussion the front door to the house opens and enters a middle aged spanish man named Kasper. His hands still dirty from tending to the fields today. He is holding the hand of his wife, Jacintha. She has auburn hair pulled under her white bonnet and with her head slightly tilted downward she follows behind her husband. They give a nod to all and stand against the wall at the back of the room.