Daniel is beginning to wrap his mind around the ways of the world. Not the petty struggles he sees in the almshouses, in the taverns and on the streets. The true power at the heart of everything. God sits over all, of course, but there are ways to approach His hem, to carve a place for himself and his brothers, his sister. He can care for them all, if he cleaves close to Plater.

There is a dark thought though, in his throat. It crouches there like a tumour. Doubt. He tries to swallow it down, but it is difficult to ignore. The kicks his master aims at stray dogs. The delight he took in dragging his wife to the gaol. The way he has turned lately to drink, sending Daniel between mill and tavern to fetch beer and genever, stuff that smells strong enough to burn. The anger that glows in his misting-over eyes. Better not to think on it. Better to place his trust in Herr Plater, and so in God. It cannot be wrong if he says it is not.

How must it be, to be so anointed? Daniel feels a shiver of anticipation, of fear, that maybe he could be like Herr Plater one day. A shark swimming among fishes, a king bee.

His stings have ceased to itch thanks to Frau Wiler’s ministrations. He must not think on that, either. Herr Plater is expecting him with more beer, more news of the effigy. He says they do God’s work. And Daniel Lehmann, for whom life has been a warren of difficult choices, believes him.

Twenty-One

Lisbet wakes to the smell of smoke, as familiar as her own hands and as out of place as Eren’s arm across her. She lifts her head, remembering herself in that odd way she must each morning, her body larger and heavier, and more tired than she’d felt before sleep. A sharp pain lances up her side where the thin sheets Eren laid out have not offered enough protection from the rough wood of the platform.

She pushes herself up. She waits, a hand on her belly, the thin shell between her baby and the world, and waits for the shame to come. But she feels only joy.

She turns to look at Eren. He is childlike in sleep, the arm that had covered her now drawn up under his chin. His beautiful mouth is parted, and she resists the cumbersome action it would take to lean down and kiss it. There are decisions, not far off, decisions she never considered before last night but in her wildest, most dangerous imaginings. He will have her, she knows it, her and the baby both. He whispered it in her ear as he lay behind her, filling her, whispered that he loves her.

The dawn is only just broken, cracking through the scattering of leaves above them, the sky already a chaotic, unrelenting blue. The forest is noisy, crackling, expanding under the heat of another day of this endless summer. Ulf barks, and Lisbet is drawn back to why she woke in the first place. Smoke. She crawls slowly to the railing, to check the fire Eren had surely doused last night. Ulf is there, alert and facing into the forest. The fire is ash. He barks again.