<\/p>\n
Amelinda and Jurian sat by the hearth in silence. He looked at her, searching for a glimpse of the fr\u00e4ulein he had courted and married twenty years ago. Tightly braided, blonde hair, fading to white, crowned her head. Dull, grey eyes glared at him. Her lips were tightly pursed. \u201cIf you believe that Perchta will come\u201d he said, \u201cyou deceive yourself.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n \u201cAre you sure this Frau Verena is coming?\u201d she asked, ignoring his statement. Her brusque voice betrayed her impatience. \u201cPerhaps she has deceived you.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cNo, she will come.\u201d he said, rising from his chair and stoking the fire. Standing up, he brushed back the thinning hair from his forehead. \u201cBut this would have been easier had you let me go to her and bring the wool back with me instead of insisting she bring it for your inspection.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n Amelinda fixed a cold stare on her husband, a tall lanky man, slightly stooped from the constant burden of farm life. \u201cI do not know of this Frau Verena and can ill afford another foolish decision at this time. Did you not say it was the manservant who came to you?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cYes, I was asking in the village where anyone could be found who had extra wool and Rolf, Frau Verena\u2019s farmhand, approached me offering a trade. He said she is a Wohlgeboren noblewoman who lives to the north in the Shatten Forest.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cAn unusual place for a farm, I would think. And how strange that a noblewoman, even a Wohlgeboren of low station, would engage in barter with common folk.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cWho can understand the follies and whims of the rich?\u201d asked Jurian. \u201cAnd what does it matter to you as long as she brings good wool? The sample Rolf showed me was of exceptional quality.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cWho are you to judge wool? If you were deceived, once in hand it could not be returned. No, if she wants to trade, then she must come and I will determine its quality.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n Some time passed before they heard collar bells approaching. Jurian stood up and crossed to the window. \u201cThis must be Frau Verena\u2019s sledge. I see Rolf at the reigns.\u201c<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cGo and help them,\u201d she ordered. Jurian wrapped a long woolen shawl around his neck and stepped outside. <\/span><\/p>\n He waited at the gate while Rolf guided the horses up to the cottage. Even though he had just come from the comfort of his hearth, the bitter wind stung his ruddy cheeks. A passenger wrapped in a white cloak, face hidden by a large hood, sat beside Rolf. He pulled back on the reigns, stopping the sledge. \u201cWelcome,\u201d Jurian said, \u201cand thank you for coming out on such a bitter day.\u201d He could not see the passenger\u2019s face. \u201cIs this Frau . . .\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n \u201cPlease,\u201d said Rolf, cutting Jurian short, \u201ca favor for an old man, fetch the wolle sack if you will while I help Frau Verena down. \u201d A little gnome of a man, he nimbly hopped out of the sledge.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cYes, of course, go on to the door,\u201d said Jurian, walking to the rear of the sledge. He peeled back the cover and slung the large burlap sack over his shoulder. He caught up with Frau Verena and Rolf as they reached the door. He pushed it open with his free hand. \u201cPlease, go inside Frau Verena, and make yourself welcome at my hearth.\u201d He still had not seen her face.<\/span><\/p>\n Inside, Amelinda rose from her chair, waiting as the cloaked figure walked toward her. Rolf remained just inside the door. The figure held an ebony cane which tapped on the wooden floor with each step. \u201cWelcome, Frau Verena. Jurian says you have brought wool to trade.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n \u201cIndeed,\u201d Frau Verena replied. She drew back the hood of her cloak, revealing a finely featured face, skin the color of alabaster. Her flowing grey hair was gathered at the nape of her slender neck. She motioned for Jurian, keeping her eyes, the color of rust and gold, fixed on Amelinda. He quickly came forward, placing the wolle sack on the floor at her feet. <\/span><\/p>\n \u201cHow many?\u201d asked Amelinda.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cTwenty fleeces,\u201d said Frau Verena, \u201cwashed and ready for the wheel.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cLike I said, it\u2019s fine wool.\u201d Jurian pulled a handful from the sack. He offered it to his wife. She took it to the window, holding it up to the light that filtered through the dingy glass.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ll be the judge of that,\u201d she said, rubbing the wool between her bony fingers. She brought it close to her eyes. \u201cAverage at best,\u201d she said, tossing it back to him. She turned a dour face toward Frau Verena. \u201cJurian says you are willing to trade the wool for five klafters of wood, to be cut and split before Christmas. I think you get more wood than we get wool in this trade.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cFor fine wool, as your husband has acknowledged, it is a fair trade. However, if it does not suit you, Jurian can put the wolle sack back in the sledge and we will be off.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n Amelinda scowled at the woman, then turned to Jurian, \u201cIt\u2019s your back to be traded, take it to her.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n He hefted the sack on his shoulder. \u201cHer name is Ute.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n Frau Verena touched his arm, holding him still. She focused her eyes on Amelinda. \u201cJurian told Rolf you had brought a child into this house to do the spinning.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n Amelinda stiffened. \u201cJust an orphan from the waisenhaus at the Abby in Melk, brought here as a servant of this household. The nuns were not sad to see her go. Most likely a J\u00fcdisch mongrel, one less mouth for them to feed.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cI see, perhaps, a tainted soul in the eyes of the princes of Rome. No less tainted in your eyes by her misfortune of birth and circumstance. I shall see this child before I leave.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n \u201cWhy? Who I choose to bring to this house is no concern of yours.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cThat of course is true, but you shall not have the wool until I have seen the child.\u201d She turned to Rolf. \u201cGo turn the sledge around.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n Amelinda stared at the woman for a few moments, then said, \u201cGo on, if it is your wish, but be quick about it, she has much to do and little time to do it. There will be a price to pay if her work is not finished.\u201d She nodded to Jurian. <\/span><\/p>\n \u201cThis way,\u201d he said, leading Frau Verena into a narrow hallway. At the end, past the regular rooms, he drew aside a rough curtain revealing a small alcove. He motioned for her to enter. Too far from the hearth for warmth to find its way there, he could see his breath as he followed her in. The cramped space was just big enough to hold a spinning wheel and a straw tick. He felt sorry for the young girl. During the summer, she had been able to venture outside the cottage to perform her chores. Then, she could at least see the sun. As winter descended, however, Amelinda confined her to this tiny room, spinning wool with only an oil lamp for light and heat. The only time she was allowed to leave it was to perform her kitchen chores.<\/span><\/p>\n A delicate girl with dark wavy hair looked up from her spinning as he set the wolle sack down. \u201cMore wool?\u201d she asked. <\/span><\/p>\n \u201cYes, this is Frau Verena, Ute. She is a noblewoman and has asked to see you. The wool comes from her.\u201c<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cJurian, I would have a word with Ute in private,\u201d Frau Verena said.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cBut Amelinda. . .\u201d stammered Jurian, looking toward the curtain.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cI shall deal with her when the time comes. Now go,\u201d said Frau Verena. Jurian hesitated. She pointed to the curtain, \u201cGo!\u201d and waited until he disappeared before she moved. She reached into a pocket in her cloak, retrieving a pair of leggings. She held them out. \u201cThese are for you. They will keep you nice and warm.\u201d Ute paused, looking toward the curtain. \u201cDon\u2019t worry about her. These cost nothing; they are a gift.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n Smiling, Ute took the leggings, quickly placing them under the tick. \u201cThank you,\u201d she said, turning her deep brown eyes toward the floor, \u201cbut I must get back to my work. If I am not finished when Perchta comes, the mistress says I will be punished.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cAh,\u201d she paused looking into Ute\u2019s eyes. \u201cPerchta. What do you know of Perchta?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cAmelinda says she is coming and if my spinning is not done when she arrives then she will be angry and I will be punished. I think maybe she is a noblewoman. Do you know her?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cA noblewoman, perhaps. And yet there also is the Perchta of the Alpine legends. But, how would you know of those legends? The nuns at the waisenhaus surely would never speak of that Perchta. Not Christian enough to suit their purposes I would think. Shall I tell you?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cYes,\u201d said Ute.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cThe legends say that during midwinter, Perchta comes in her sledge made of ice, drawn by four white wolves. She wears a crimson cloak and carries an oak branch. It is said she rewards with wealth and abundance those who have behaved well and worked hard.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n Ute frowned, thinking of the wolle sack in front of her. \u201cWhat becomes of those who don\u2019t get their work done?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cThat is a different matter altogether. Perchta deals harshly with the idle and greedy.\u201d Frau Verena lifted Ute\u2019s chin with gentle fingers and looked into her eyes. \u201cBut after all, it is but a legend. For you, Perchta will most likely be a noblewoman. Have faith my little Ute, things will be better. I have one more gift for you before I take leave,\u201d she said, reaching into the pocket of her cloak. She pulled out a small parcel wrapped in parchment. It was tied with a bit of yarn. She handed it to Ute. \u201cOpen it.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n Ute placed it in her lap and untied the yarn, peeling back the paper. A broad smile appeared on her lips. Inside was a small poppy seed stollen. \u201cOh, thank you Frau,\u201d whispered Ute. She carefully wrapped it back up and retied the yarn. \u201cI shall save it for later, once my work is finished.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cGood mein kind. Now, I am afraid I must go.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cAuf Wiedersehen Frau.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n Jurian was waiting just outside the curtain when Frau Verena came out. He looked at her, but she gave no indication of what had transpired between she and Ute. She followed Jurian back down the hall and into the main room of the cottage. She stopped in front of Amelinda. \u201cUte says you await Perchta.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n \u201cWhat of it? This house has worked hard, and I am well overdue for my reward,\u201d said Amelinda.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cPerhaps you confuse Perchta with Sinterklaas, the bearded buffoon, handing out gifts from a sack. Not so for Perchta who, the legends say, spins the fates of human beings.\u201d Turning away, Frau Verena pulled up the hood of her cloak and left. <\/span><\/p>\n *****<\/span><\/p>\n It was suppertime of the second day since Frau Verena\u2019s visit. Ute set the table, laying out the sausage and cabbage soup, then returned to the spinning room. Earlier, Amelinda had ordered her to set out samples of the yarn by the hearth, believing Perchta would now come that the spinning had been completed. Jurian came in with wood for the fire. He laid a log on the embers and sat down at the table with Amelinda. \u201cUte has finished spinning the wool that Frau Verena brought. Perhaps she could come and sit with us to take her supper.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cYou are a fool to treat a foundling from the waisenhaus, and J\u00fcdisch besides, as if she were your own flesh and blood,\u201d said Amelinda. Her brow furrowed as it always did when she was angry.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cBut surely she\u2019s deserving of some small kindness. She\u2019s but a child and I had hoped that since we have no children she might. . .\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cMight what?\u201d Amelinda snapped. \u201cShe is a servant, bought and paid for. She can sup on leftovers while she washes the dishes. If you desire to eat with her, take your food to the spinning room.\u201d She turned her face away from Jurian, signaling the conversation was over. <\/span><\/p>\n \u201cAs you would have it!\u201d said Jurian. He went to the cupboard and retrieved another plate. \u201cYou believe that if you have worked us hard enough, Perchta will come and bestow gifts or good luck upon you. A cache of silver coins perhaps? But you do not see that in the process you have enslaved poor Ute and forsaken me. What will your Perchta think of that?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cIt is you that have forsaken me by resisting my efforts. As for the child, she is no worse off than being a slave to the nuns in the waisenhaus. I have been poor my entire life. Why can\u2019t I live in a fine house with servants? Why must I dig in the earth every day to eat? Why should I be poor? I have no reason to apologize for my actions.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cThere is nothing wrong with working hard to improve one\u2019s status. But to gain it at the expense of others? To fail to recognize the blessings you already have and could have can only lead to woe.\u201d Stuffing some utensils in his pocket, he stacked sausage on the plates, dipped some cabbage soup in the bowl and set off down the hall. <\/span><\/p>\n Amelinda finished her supper. She waited for Jurian to return. As the evening wore on, the fire burned down into a small mound of coals covered in grey ash, and her mind drifted, imagining the wealth that would be hers when Perchta came. <\/span><\/p>\n Amelinda roused from her dreams to find Jurian had not returned to stoke the fire and it was in danger of dying. Perturbed, she rose from her chair to get some wood. She had just taken a small branch from the kindling box when, she heard the soft crunch of sledge runners in the snow followed by the panting of large animals. As she moved to the window to look, there was a sharp rap at the door. <\/span><\/p>\n Before she could react, the door burst open. Gusting, bitter night air swirled snow around the room. Amelinda shivered. A woman, cloaked in crimson, entered. Her face was pale as frost. Raven hair floated about her shoulders in the midwinter\u2019s wind. Her fierce eyes, the color of rust and gold, fixed on Amelinda. \u201cI am Perchta and have come for reckoning.\u201d She struck the floor with her ebony staff. Immediately, The door behind her closed and the swirling snow fell still. The staff, long and straight, twisted into a gnarled oak branch. <\/span><\/p>\n Amelinda studied the woman. There was something familiar in her fine, chiseled features. She gazed into the woman\u2019s fierce eyes. \u201cI know you!\u201d cried Amelinda. \u201cFrau Verena? This can not be, but I fear it is. What manner of deception is this?\u201d She looked toward the hall, ready to call for Jurian. Perchta clenched her free hand and Amelinda immediately felt fingers gently tighten around her throat. <\/span><\/p>\n \u201cLeave them be. \u2018Tis you and I that have accounts to settle. And as for Frau Verena, I take whatever form suits my purpose, raven, grey haired, noblewoman, or she who stands before you. Perhaps it is you who seeks to deceive.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cForgive me, Perchta. I was startled and spoke foolishly. I seek not to deceive you,\u201d Amelinda pleaded. \u201cSee here,\u2019 she said pointing toward the yarn that Ute had set by the hearth. \u201cI have laid out these samples of the handiwork of this house so that you will recognize the work that has been performed in your honor.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n Perchta looked toward the hearth. \u201cThe bounty of this house has been wrought as a result of your tyranny and not of your industry.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cFine work, nonetheless, I think you would agree,\u201d said Amelinda. \u201cAnd would it have been accomplished had I not made it so?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cIndeed, and as such, you believe it demands a fitting reward?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cYes.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cThen you shall have it.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cPraise your kindness, Perchta,\u201d said Amelinda, smiling. \u201cAnd could you find it in your grace to provide some small reward for Jurian and the girl? I think it fitting they should have some small token.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cBut do you not think they will see your reward as their reward?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cYes, of course. You are indeed wise.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cThen it is settled. Come with me,\u201d said Perchta. She waved her hand, opening the door. Amelinda followed her into the bitter night. A great sledge made of ice rested before the cottage. Four white wolves, big as draft horses, waited in the traces. They snuffled as Amelinda approached. Behind the sledge, a rabble of specters stretched into the darkness. <\/span><\/p>\n Perchta climbed into the sledge. She took the reigns, looking at Amelinda. Using the oak branch, she pointed to the rabble. \u201cThey are my Perchten,\u201d she said, \u201cthe spirits and souls whose reward is to follow me ever in the midwinter night, as so shall you.\u201d Amelinda started to protest, but her mouth filled with twigs. Perchta raised her staff. It immediately transformed into a fiery whip which she cracked over the heads of her wolves. They bolted and the sledge lunged forward into the darkness. Amelinda watched as the specters followed, churning along like so many dead leaves in a storm. As the last one passed, Amelinda was drawn in behind and disappeared into the night. <\/span><\/p>\n In the morning, Jurian awoke to find a fragment of a twisted oak branch on the hearth. A single set of footprints, leading from the door, disappeared in the freshly fallen snow. In the years to come, he would raise and love Ute as his own daughter, but search as he might, he never found any trace of Amelinda.<\/span><\/p>\n END.<\/span><\/p>\n Paul Stansbury is a lifelong native of Kentucky. He is the author of Down By the Creek \u2013 Ripples and Reflections and a novelette: Little Green Men? His speculative fiction stories have appeared in a number of print anthologies as well as a variety of online publications. Now retired, he lives in Danville, Kentucky.<\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Amelinda and Jurian sat by the hearth in silence. He looked at her, searching for a glimpse of the fr\u00e4ulein he had courted and married twenty years ago. Tightly braided, blonde hair, fading to white, crowned her head. Dull, grey eyes glared at him. Her lips were tightly pursed. \u201cIf you believe that Perchta…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_kad_post_transparent":"","_kad_post_title":"","_kad_post_layout":"","_kad_post_sidebar_id":"","_kad_post_content_style":"","_kad_post_vertical_padding":"","_kad_post_feature":"","_kad_post_feature_position":"","_kad_post_header":false,"_kad_post_footer":false,"_kad_post_classname":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[9,2,10],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-476","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-archives","category-astounding-stories","category-ghosts-ghouls-and-grave-robbers"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/astoundingoutpost.com\/stories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/476","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/astoundingoutpost.com\/stories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/astoundingoutpost.com\/stories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/astoundingoutpost.com\/stories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/astoundingoutpost.com\/stories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=476"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/astoundingoutpost.com\/stories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/476\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/astoundingoutpost.com\/stories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=476"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/astoundingoutpost.com\/stories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=476"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/astoundingoutpost.com\/stories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=476"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}By Paul Stansbury<\/span><\/h2>\n