Sonntag, 18. Januar 2015

How the story begun...
Chapter 1
Wedding Buchenhof 1620

  "Thank you, sir," Roland bowed to the old man of Eden, relieved he is, "thank you, my Lotte and I will serve you faithfully and my children."
"My blessing you have," Gerulf of Eden pushes a brown leather bag towards him on the table.
"For the cradle."
He smiles, which is rare enough for him. He observes Roland, as his rough strong hand slowly reaches for the leather bag. How will my Lotte rejoice, thinks Roland, when the cradle is already secured for our little one. At the thought of Lotte and the child a warm feeling is all over him, he wishes  to go straight to her and feel her body, as she urges him on, loving and trusting.
"It will be enough for some other things that you will need, Roland, now go, let them not wait any longer."
A farmer like Roland is rare to see, I can rely on him, he shall pay tithes on time, even when the going gets rough. I give both my blessings.
He strokes his neatly trimmed gray beard and rises. His size is unusual, the men of Eden are all big and strong, and his son Arnulf comes after him. When the wedding is over, I will get Arnulf into my business. It is time that he will be incorporated. Unfortunately he likes women and horses too much, my boy, the seriousness of life he is yet to meet.
Roland throws back the brown hair, tucks the leather bag with the money carefully in his pocket. Once again, he bows.
"I expect you at the wedding on St. John, it will be my honor to proffer you my wine. The last summer has kindled my grapes wonderfully.”
"Until June 24, then, Roland, I'm happy for you. The better you manage your farm, the more we all have of it.”
As he is leaving the dark panelled room, steps on the aisle with the ancestral portraits, which leads to the hall, Hannah the cook rattles with her wooden shoes from the kitchen, winks her old eyes at Roland. He nods and smiles.
  "Give my love to Lotte", she exclaims, "she is such a good kid, you're lucky, Roland, hold it tight!"
  "I know, Hannah, the Lord God has sent her to me, I'll take good care of her."
Outside, Roland mounts his powerful fallow horse. He is warm under the rough linen shirt. He cannot wait to bring the good news to Lotte, galloping across the dirt road into the woods on the way to his farm. The midday sun is powerful, now that the solstice is imminent. He hears galloping horses. It must be Arnulf with his friends, who while away the day riding. Around the bend he can already see the three of Eden, of Hirzbach and Glasenapp, all the same useless, lazy landowner sons who steal God’s day and cannot appreciate enough the good of their fathers. They do not believe in hard work. He guides his horse to the side, greets with his hand.
  "Well, Roland, how far is it with Lotte?  You will soon see your  young, Lotte allowed you in, hahaha!” Arnulf calls to him in a grumpy mood. Lotte, who has always defied him, he had had  no chance with her, the beautiful red-haired daughter of the blacksmith.
Roland grits his teeth. If only I could stuff his mouth, this miserable wretch, but I have to stay calm, he will one day be my Lord.
"Your father has agreed to the wedding St. John's, you are invited."
"We’ll  come, Roland, the feast we cannot miss, the beautiful daughters who will serve us, where our eyes are feasting, and the bride …," he adds.
"Let my Lotte out of  the game, Mr. Arnulf, you know, she is not like the others."
He forces the boot into his horse’s  flanks and trots on. The presence of these men chasing him every time sends  shivers down his spine.  

"Roland has his pride, Arnulf, who has forgotten that the uproar of the farmers have changed nothing. We are still the masters ", Hirzbach goads him.
"Never mind, Ferdi, I know how I'll do it, even that my father still has everything in hand, he will soon give all to me, he has already announced."

Bright Johanni has come,  a beautiful day.  Just right for a wedding. Roland takes care of the volunteers who will serve the dishes. Here they come, on large boards they bear plates and bowls with porridge and huge roasts and chunks of meat. In the shady courtyard they can celebrate well. They relax at long tables and benches, the peasants  couples from the area. Children can play to their hearts content and leek out bowls without the adults paying attention to them. Laughter and toasts sound well, guests gobble down the wine, cut the meat into bite-sized pieces and toss the bones behind. So the dogs too have their feast.
Lotte is wearing a light brown linen dress, colorful flowers adorn her neckline, the rounded waist is hidden by the puffy skirt. The workers Hans and Gustav play the fiddle and accordion, cheerful sounds contribute to the celebration mood. Lotte turns her head, searching with her eyes  for Roland, she longs to feel him beside her. Where is he,  my Roland?  Tender bumps she is feeling deep inside her body. Loud voices suddenly from nowhere.

"Hey, are we late, from us the warmest congratulations," booms the deep voice of Arnulf. He jumps down from his horse, throws the reins to a servant.
"Bind him!" he shouts and rushes with long strides towards the guests. Behind him ride Hirzbach, Glasenapp, Gehlen and the young Dietrich von Traben. They jump off, tie the horses to the walled iron rings and follow Arnulf.
"Well, that's good times,  drinking  and eating, we will join you" shouts Glasenapp and takes a big piece of brisket out of a bowl.
"Ha,  there is more than enough because the ox is large and the pig is already browning."
He chews and washes down a cup of wine. The peasants make way on their benches. Nothing good will come out of this if they bully, they fear. Everyone knows the Junkers, who recklessly interfere everywhere and take what they can get. Lotte changes colours and just pales again. Where is Roland?

"Well, Lotte, you sure cannot not wait until you can be with Roland without all of us. But wilt thou not afford some company until the night is  ready?”

Arnulf approaches her and lifts her chin, kisses her on the mouth and strokes her chest. She recoils.
"Do not be shy, Lotte, you allowed your Roland, so do not deny us some pleasure.”
With a nod to his companions, he lifts up Lotte. They help him, she screams, Hirzbach keeps his hand over her mouth. All stand up, staring in horror at the scene. They take the kicking Lotte, hold her legs and arms firmly, then carry her to the barn, back to the hay bales.
Behind the hay bales lies the yellow cat with her newborn babies. Bastian, Roland's twelve year old brother, kneels beside them and watches as the mother nurses the babies. He hears the men trample into the barn with Lotte in their power. He crouches deeper, his heart beats. From his position he glances through a slit in the haystacks. Glasenapp kicks his boot against the open door to fall into the lock.
"Well, Lotte, now you will get to know some real men!" shouts Arnulf. He lays her down into the hay, tears open her skirt up, looses the buttons of his pants. With one knee he pushes her legs apart and shouts:
"I’ll catch on, then you all will follow," he fiddles with her petticoats, a sharp crack, he lies down on her,
" I'll break your thorns, red-haired witch" he shouts, and penetrates roughly.
Everyone comes off, grunting and groaning fills the air in the barn, no pleading, no tears help.
"To you, we will show who is proud, you  whore, we take what we need, you are ours!"
The  gate flies open. Roland crashes into the barn, crying desperately:
"My Lotte, Lotte, what do you do with her and our baby?"
"Go away, Farmer, out of the way, we want to taste the Lotte, we'll be done, then you can have her again."
With his heavy fist, Arnulf meets Roland’s head, he crashes hard on the barn’s floor, just where the pointed piece of metal sticks out of the ground where the door locks. Blood gushes from under his head. Hirzbach leaves Lotte, all run back to the yard, swing on to their horses and gallop off.
Bastian has observed all in his hiding, he runs screaming into the courtyard, guests flock to the barn, staring at the ever-growing pool of blood next to Roland's head. Lotte lies lifeless in the hay.

Keine Kommentare:

Kommentar veröffentlichen