A Soul Torn Apart – The Bavarian

The story of a man and the lessons he learns.

I wish I could tell Sebastian what had happened. I didn't disappear like he believed. I didn't get angry (well, I did, but I forgave) and leave him behind. Nor did I leave behind Hilda and the children; my boys little Nicholas and Daniel and my precious angel, Charlott.

Sebastian and I grew up together. Our families were serfs to the same Count and our homes and tilling grounds were neighboring. We also shared pasture for our families' cattle. Family lore tells us that several times in past generations our families have married into one another, so Sebastian was my cousin as well as my friend. We spent so much time together that friends and cousins doesn't cover it either. In our own way, we were brothers.

As a pair we were perfect. Where I was adventurous and, perhaps, reckless; Sebastian was the voice of reason. He didn't believe in upsetting things. I on the other hand couldn't help but find ways things were wrong. I constantly tried to push against the station of life to which I was born and find small ways in which I might gain an advantage.

A perfect example was wood. It was illegal to cut a tree in the Count's forest, but we could take the timber of fallen trees. Sebastian observed this rule strictly, but I believed a tree could sometimes fall with a little help. Sebastian told me this was the same as felling a tree, but I protested this because I used no tools. If I happen to lean against an older tree and it gave way than it had fallen due to God's will.

Sebastian would admonish me as being practically a thief as well as a blasphemer for calling it God's will, but I would always share my fortunes with him and he gladly accepted. It was hard living we suffered through all our lives, though with some good in it.

We were both only children and therefore able to inherit our families' farms entirely. These larger farms allowed us to work hard eek out enough extra crops, dairy, and meat to sell at market after the Count's share and what our small growing families required. That money in turn bought us our Freeman status. In fact, my precious angel, Charlott, was my first born given to Hilda and I the year I bought my family's freedom and that is why she was so named, because Charlott means " Free Man. "

Also in that year was the betrothal of Belinda to Sebastian. She was a temptress beauty if ever one existed. I loved my beautiful blond Hilda, but Belinda could draw my eye.

Belinda's family wanted the marriage to occur that summer, but Sebastian said he would marry her the following year when he was able to buy his freedom and she would then marry a Freeman. They were so proud of this good young man with ample lands and such convictions. And why would they not?

Yet, I saw the desire in Sebastian's eyes when I bought my freedom and when Hilda gave birth to Charlott. His family was not yet started and already mine was growing. Of course, he stood as God-Father to my baby girl when it came time to baptize her. Then, a few weeks later I stood as his best man, just as he had for me a few years earlier.

In our hard lives, things were looking up. Both of our wives gave us each two sons and, as is the case, both of our wives lost children in pregnancy. It was the natural order of things Sebastian would say, but I railed against it. Each loss of child, his or mine was like a part of my life stolen. Even Hilda said I took these things too personally and reminded me of what the priest at St. Ermengard would tell us, that it was God's will and not our place to question the Divine Plan.

One year, Belinda announced she was again with child. Sebastian was proud as always and he was hoping for a girl this time. He believed that a little girl, like my Charlott, could be a good help around the house for Belinda in years to come. This time though, something was different. Belinda was sick often during her pregnancy and she did not gain a figure as she had with the others. As harvest time approached and Belinda neared the term of her pregnancy she looked weak.

Finally, the time to deliver was at hand. Hilda was there with Charlott, now five years old, and the midwife. Sebastian and I were working the fields praying through the day that everything would be all right. When we returned at dusk, Belinda was still in the pains of labor. The baby did not want to come out and she was pushing with all of her strength, but it was no use. The baby did not want to come out and Belinda was failing. The vibrant light of the temptress and the loving free spirit whom Sebastian loved so dearly no longer radiated from her eyes.

After several more hours the baby finally came. It was a little girl, with ten fingers, ten toes and lips as blue as a winter sky. The cord from baby to mother had been wrapped around the neck of the child and it had died before it was born. Sebastian looked heartbroken and I seethed with anger at such a loss. Even I was beginning to understand how little ones perished before they had a chance to grow inside the mother's belly, but this was wrong. What plan could God possibly have for this?

It worsened when a few hours later the, now, frail Belinda gave no signs of getting better and, in fact, seemed to be getting weaker. Hilda tried to give her broths to keep her strength up and applied salves to fight her fever, but nothing took hold. Hilda pulled me aside and told me to fetch the priest because she feared that Belinda would not make it through the night.

I looked over at my friend and knew he felt powerless to the situations laid before him. Sebastian wanted that little girl more than anything in the world and she was taken from him before he could even know the joy a daughter would bring to his life. For a while he held the small body after it was born, but the midwife told him to turn the child over to her. When I was leaving to go to the priest Sebastian was still sitting on the same stool looking at his hands where the un-named girl had rested after her still-birth.

By the time I returned with the priest it was too late; Belinda has passed away and my friend was weeping quietly. His boys were next door with my boys and my mother, the last of Sebastian's and my parents still alive. She was the grandmother to all the children.

That day marked the beginning of a long winter we would suffer through. Sebastian, always the one to smile and bring a smile to the faces of others, simply wandered through his days. The loss of his wife and daughter in one day was too much for him to handle. The thought of raising his family without help crushed him. He would have to learn to prepare the meals and tend to the boys he cried to me just days after Belinda passed. I reminded him that he wasn't alone. My door was just a short walk away and Hilda and I would do all that we could to help.

Soon Hilda was mother to Sebastian's boys as well as our own brood. Daily she was taking care of five children and preparing the supper for both families. Sebastian would bring his vegetables and foods to our home in the morning when he dropped the children and we went off to the fields for the harvest.

Almost without warning, winter was upon us. The long days were spent huddled together telling stories, praying, and repeating tales of the Bible from all the sermons the priest had told us over the years. Most days, when the snows didn't stop them, Sebastian's family would spend time with mine. His boys and mine got along as well as we did when we were growing up. Charlott, the oldest, acted almost as if she was the little mother of the family, taking her cues from Hilda.

The days passed slowly and the snows were harsh several times throughout the winter. Sometimes we would not see Sebastian for a week at a time because of the blinding snows. We watched as our food stores dwindled and knew that the thaws should be happening soon. The air told a different story altogether. The air told us it was still deep winter. The crispness of the air, the cold that bit at your nose just walking out of the house told a story of winter to last at least a month more than was normal.

Sebastian, Hilda and I discussed this with Mother and decided to ration out the remainder of the food based on one extra month needed. We four adults would have to suffer the biggest loss because our children needed the food to grow and keep strength. It was difficult and the rations continued to dwindle as the winter continued to show no signs of stopping.

I made a decision not to let our two families starve. Sebastian and I foraged the woods for berries and other plants that might be used to supplement our meager food stores. Sebastian would search one part of the forest while I searched another. I came upon the tracks of a rabbit and followed them knowing that if the small animal were to survive he too needed something to sustain him. I was hoping the tracks would lead me to berries or other edibles, but pleasantly I found the rabbit not far off. I had a bow and arrows with me, but it was considered poaching for me to take this rabbit in the Count's forest. I could hear Sebastian's admonishment in my head already, but this meat could help our families a lot.

I took aim and released the arrow, striking the animal dead. I rushed to its little body and placed it in the gathering sack I had brought. A small stain of blood in the snow is all that remained of the animal and I covered that up quickly. When I joined Sebastian for home he asked what sort of luck I had. I explained that I found but a few berries. The animals had already started to pick the forest clean. Sebastian claimed the same.

At home I took some time in the barn to skin the animal. Perhaps I could do something with the pelt if the tanner was interested in some trade later in the year. But more importantly, I had the meat. I brought it into Hilda and told her to prepare it and make sure not a vein of meat went unused. Her look was shocked, but she quickly saw to preparing the rabbit.

Later, when Sebastian joined us for supper, he was shocked and asked me about the rabbit meat. I told him the story and the cautionary words and admonishments I had imagined began for real.

The winter continued to stretch and the needs of my family dictated that I needed to find opportunity where I could. I poached several more rabbits and hares in the coming weeks and even speared a fox. I had far too much fur to be able to do anything with the tanner quietly. Perhaps I could buy his silence with most of the pelts.

Finally, spring started to emerge. It was nearly two months late and the growing season would be short, which meant that our winter stores next year would be smaller as well. We had to give our Count his due no matter how poor the season looked.

Our harvest and yields were poor that year. Sebastian and I both had smaller herds due to cattle being killed by the extended winter. The amount of dairy products produced by the remaining herd was even smaller than expected because those cattle that did survive took all summer to regain their full strength. Our gardens did not grow so big because we planted late. Then, my mother passed during the summer months. Her last words to me were, "One less mouth to worry about this winter." She was so practical.

How could she be so practical? It was infuriating. All of these setbacks angered me to no end. I thought the winter had upset me, but I was fully enraged at this year.

In the mean time, Sebastian continued to worry about his boys and miss his wife. I often found Hilda and him talking quietly. It was as if all the support and bonds between us were not enough. I was his brother in spirit, he could tell me anything. What could he possibly say to Hilda that he could not tell me? I felt, almost, betrayed. But I could not tell which one I felt betrayed by.

When winter hit we saw less of Sebastian. I asked him about this and he said that his stores were sufficient to his family and he knew mine would do for my family, but since I had the wife and daughter he did not than he didn't want our mixing stores to possibly take from my family. I told him that was not a worry. We were brothers, we shared as needed. But he was worried that he might endanger my family's available supplies.

The truth was that I knew his fields, slightly lower than mine, yielded less because they were more saturated with spring runoff and rain. Therefore, after tithing the manor and the church, he had smaller stores of food left for him, his family and his livestock. I also knew that even though I had more in store, even considering the two extra mouths, that I would probably find myself in the forest with an arrow again throughout the winter, so I wanted to help Sebastian. However, he was persistent in not receiving help.

The boys were growing and they talked this year, telling their stories and reciting their memories on the days we all stayed huddled inside. Sadly, they would ask me where the rabbit was, like the year before. We were not suffering at all in those early weeks, but how could I disappoint my boys. I disappeared several times throughout the winter into the forest and returned home to gleeful faces. On these occasions we always made sure Sebastian and his boys would be there with us. Their faces getting more gaunt than our own as the weeks rolled on.

The last time I crept into the forest was nearing spring. The air was speaking to me and it promised a normal year. This trip into the forest was not for my own family, but for Sebastian and his family. They had nearly run out of food and I planned on getting them two full-grown rabbits. I shot one and hid it under some brush. Then, I went in search of another. It was a long while and the sun had shifted quite a bit when I finally had aim at another. I reached in my quiver, pulled back upon the arrow and took careful aim. Just as I was to release a voice boomed out across the forest: "You there! What do you think you're doing?" Surprised, I released my arrow and it veered off in the wrong direction, the rabbit scared by the loud voice also ran away.

I realized immediately I had been caught by the Forester. "I said, 'What do you think you are doing?'"

I turned to the Count's man and faced him as he sat astride a horse. Having no answer but the truth I said, "I am sorry good sir, but my family did not have stores enough to make it through the winter after last year's long winter and short season which yielded so little for us."

"So, you believed poaching in the Count's protected forest would help?"

"Indeed, Sir, I hoped that his Lordship would not miss a rabbit or two."

"…Or a dozen."

"Sir?"

"You are the one that started killing hare and rabbit last year, are you not?

"I ride this forest constantly and I saw the small signs. Blood covered up here and there, patches of fur nearby where your arrow stuck. I counted nearly a dozen conies lost these two winters and I think you even found a fox. By the way, the tanner made a lovely stole which her Ladyship adores."

I was silenced by the truth of what he said. Then I heard the other riders. Soon it was the Count himself with two others.

"What have you here, Heinrich," asked the Count.

The Forester explained all that he had discovered and what I said.

"Is this true," the Count asked of me.

"Yes, my Lord, it is."

"And are you serf or freeman."

"I am a freeman, my Lord."

"Do you know the punishment for poaching in my forest; especially for poaching on multiple occasions?"

"No, my Lord, I do not."

"Death."

"Death, my Lord? But I only tried to keep my family from starving so we could serve you faithfully."

"Death . . ." The word hung in the air as a long pause ensued, "If you are a serf."

My relief was audible as I let out a sigh.

"Were you born free or did you purchase it?"

"I purchased it several years ago, my Lord."

"I see . . . and which hand do you hold your arrow?"

"This hand, my Lord," I said as I held up my right hand."

"Very well, since you are a resourceful man and you are successful enough to by your freedom and that of your descendants you will have the following punishment," I hung on his every word. "You will give me these next three years 25% more than usual." I felt crushed. Such a blow to my family, I already prayed for bountiful harvests. "Further," continued the Count, "you will do so without the use of your right hand."

I hadn't noticed that the Forester was right behind me or that the other two gentlemen were near as well. As his Lordship finished speaking the Forester grabbed me from behind and pushed me down upon a fallen tree. One of the other gentlemen grabbed my hand and pulled it extending my arm the length of the log. I struggled but these men were too strong for me. The Count pulled his sword from its scabbard and held it aloft his head. I watched in terror as the blade came crashing down upon my wrist severing my hand forever. The scream that came from my mouth was inhuman.

"Can you hear me," the Count spoke softly in my ear. Through grunts and screams and whimpers I nodded. "Good.

"Now, tie your arm tightly, as close to your wrist as you can, to stop the bleeding. Then, run home and stick your stump in the fire to close the wound. Otherwise you'll die and your family will have to fulfill your new annual quota or lose the land.

"By the way, what is your name?"

"Nicholas. Nicholas of Schweinfurt."

"Very good. Tie that tight Nicholas of Schweinfurt, I don't want you dying on me just yet."

I did the best I could and made my way home. Hilda was hysterical when I walked through the door; even more so when I shoved my stumped wrist into the fire. It burned like Hell, but I could feel the different wounds fusing. Then to remove all the ash and soot I shoved my arm into a pot of boiling water. It was then I passed out and slipped in and out of sleep for five days.

When I finally awoke I thought it had all been a fevered dream, but then I looked down and saw my wrist, bandaged and oozing. I started to whimper and cry. Later that day I told Sebastian and Hilda what had happened. I told Sebastian to go look for the first rabbit, but he refused. He said it would cost him a wrist too, and that some animal took off with it by now anyways. He was probably right on both counts.

Recovery was slow and learning to be one-armed and left-handed took even more time. But the years passed and I succeeded in paying off the extra debt. My daughter grew as did my and Sebastian's boys. Every day I remembered the calmness with which everything happened, the calmness with which the Count spoke with me. Every day I built up more and more anger at the Count for taking so much from me when he had so much that went to waste.

It wasn't right. It wasn't natural or the natural order of things for men to do this to each other. Hilda told me to speak with the priest, but that didn't help. I didn't believe Christ the Saviour would allow a world be ordered like this. After several sit downs with the priest and some angry confessions I stopped going to church. Hilda would only convince me to go on special holidays, like Easter, Pentecost, Whitsuntide, Michaelmas, Candlemas, and Christmas. Sebastian and his children would go each week with her in my stead.

Sebastian and Hilda continued to grow closer and I figured out which one I was jealous of. I was jealous of both of them. I was jealous of Sebastian because he shared a part of who he was with someone other than me. I was jealous of Hilda because she was that someone else. Sebastian and I had shared everything before his our marriages. We even knew each other in a way that neither of us would experience until the marriage bed. Even after our respective marriages there were no secrets, nothing off limits to each other, but with the death of Belinda that changed and I hated it.

Between my jealousy of them and anger towards my lost limb I knew that sometimes I just needed to be alone. Hilda and Sebastian knew that I needed time alone as well. They were both so understanding, even if they thought it was only because of the hand, that I couldn't be jealous of them sometimes. Yet, I found myself wandering the forest contemplating everything.

As time moved on Sebastian and Hilda saw my jealous side. Perhaps they had seen it from the beginning but did not confront me with it. I was called irrational and silly. I was assured by both that nothing improper existed in their friendship. Of that, I never suspected. Both Sebastian and Hilda were too good to subject a person to that experience. It was the mere fact that their friendship had grown so strong that bothered me. It was as if to have friendship between the two of them meant that I lost a piece of my relationship with each of them.

Having it out in the open didn't make it better or worse. But I did feel better when either or both reminded me what I meant to each of them. Those times were not as plentiful as I hoped, but they eased the soul; as did my forest walks.

It was upon discovering Sebastian and Hilda in deep conversation one Sunday when I boiled over and decided to take one of my walks. It was a warm spring day and I walked far and winding through the forest. Finally, I was exhausted having walked so far and talked to myself for hours. I decided to lay against a stump and take a small nap.

I dozed heavily and I started to dream. I dreamed of being caught by the Forester and being chased by the Count through the forest. I couldn't see them; only hear their shouts and hoof-beats all around me. Every time I changed direction, I could hear someone in front and others in back. The forest changed with every step I took and once familiar land became confusing and unsteady. Finally, I felt a rope around me and I was pulled back to the ground.

I awoke with a start and heard the hoof-beats and shouting still ringing in my ears. I shook my head to clear the noises from my memory. Then, a hart rounded a corner and made directly for me. I realized that the hoof-beats and shouts were real, that the Count was hunting this animal that was about to run me down. The hart saw me just as it was upon me and raised itself upon its hind legs, its front hooves flailing wildly. I knew when it came down I would be trampled beneath it so I grabbed a sharpened strip of the fallen tree and plunged it upward as the hart came down. One of its hooves struck me in the face and I was knocked out. I felt a crushing weight land upon me in my last moment awake.

"Nicholas of Schweinfurt, wake up," I heard the call from deep in the blackness. I felt a splash of water upon my face, then something inside of me feared I would drown and I quickly rose with a start.

I shook the water from my face and rubbed it with my hand. I took a moment to remember where I was and then looked around. I was face-to-face with the Count, the Forester, and three other gentlemen; next to me was the dead body of the hart that nearly crushed me. It's blood was upon my tunic and my hand.

"Nicholas," the Count asked, "What am I going to do with you? Why will you not stop killing my animals?"

"For true your Lordship," I replied, "I did not hunt this animal down. I was sleeping here against this log and when I awoke the animal rushed at me. It rose on its hind legs against me and I grabbed the first stick I could to poke it with so it would run away from me. It came crashing down into the stick and struck me in the head. I can feel the mark right here," I indicated an area by my eye and forehead, "Where you must be able to see a mark.

"Honest, my Lord, I have poached not one insect in your forest since that day seven years ago when I received this punishment," I raised my stumped wrist.

"Yet," continued the Count slowly, softly, "There lies the animal next to you. There upon your clothing and hand is it's blood. Your own account says that you struck the animal down."

"In self-defense, my Lord," I gasped.

"You are unruly, Nicholas of Schweinfurt. I fear there is no change in you."

The anger I felt all these years could no longer be contained. The Count became the target of my rage; not only for the wrongs he had done to me; not only for his quiet, controlled and cold manner; but for the other wrongs life had doled out. He was the target of my jealously of Sebastian and Hilda, the anger over every death I had seen in my life, the fines I faced, and even the harsh winters or failed crops.

"I fear," I spoke, "There is no change in you, Sir." I stood up facing the count directly, "I fear that you are as cold as ever, that you have no care for those who support you and this land." I stepped closer and he stepped slowly back as I continued, "I fear that your whimsical decisions don't mean a damn thing and that you will rot in Hell with all the other sinner's, myself included. The only difference is that when I turn and look at your suffering I will laugh." I started to laugh and then in a final act of defiance I spat upon the Count.

His face was ashen at my speech, for I do not think anyone below him or equal to him had ever spoken in such a manner before. But when I spat upon him, his color returned. It was quicker than I could see that he drew his sword once again and plunged it into my stomach.

"That is for killing my hart which I had hunted all day," he spoke quietly, but with anger. He pulled the sword from me and I dropped to my knees clutching at the wound.

Quickly, his sword entered me one again, this time below the left shoulder.

"That is for daring to speak to me in such a way," his voice grew louder. The sword pulled from my body once again. My left hand was unable to clutch at the wound in my stomach and my wrist no help to the wound in my shoulder. A taste, like metal began to form in my mouth, and red trickled from my lips.

A last plunge of the sword found the center of my chest.

"And that," the Count roared, "Is so that you will never spit upon another gentleman again!"

The blood rose in my mouth and I knew I was a dead man who had not yet closed his eyes. I waited for the sword to be released and then gasped out my last words, quietly, calmly, while I looked directly at the Count, "Sie sind falsch (You are wrong)." With those words I spat my mouth's fullness of blood upon him. Some landed on his clothes, some upon his face, and some upon his hands. Then, I dropped dead.

Heaven, nor Hell, opened immediately to me. I watched from beyond the veil as the gentlemen asked the Count what they should do. Apparently, as a freeman, I should not have been killed. The decision was made to bury my body there in the forest and hide any evidence of the encounter.

No angel or demon had come to take me into the next realm and so I wandered for a while. I watched over my home and Sebastian's home. I listened as they worried over my disappearance. They believed that I simply got angry and walked away forever. How could they think that? I always stayed by their sides.

I watched as they consoled each other and as Sebastian became a father to my boys. I watched and watched and understood, finally, the need that Sebastian and Hilda had for each other. It was never something I should have been jealous of. They simply held different perspectives than I did. When I realized that my soul cried and forgiveness came easily.

Sebastian and Hilda went to the priest after a year so that I might be declared dead and that my boys could inherit the farm. They were still minors, but they were old enough to help Sebastian in the fields and he now took it upon himself to till both our lands. It was hard work, but the boys helped where they could and Hilda hired a cousin of hers to work beside Sebastian.

Sebastian and Hilda married two springs after I was declared dead. The two families united as one. I was there with them that day in the church and Hilda was worried that I would be furious; Sebastian wondered how I felt as well. I tried to give them signs that would calm them and tell them I approved.

Eventually, Charlott would be engaged to Sebastian's son, Karl and the two families would be united once again.

I watched as all of this occurred and I still saw no glimpse of Heaven or Hell. I saw no other spirits as well. Then again, I never saw any spirits when I was alive, why would I see them when I was dead?

When I was alive . . .

It was a curious phrase that struck me. I knew that I was no longer alive; that my life was over and I was not sure what I had done in it. So I thought over my life going backwards. I recalled my death, the hart, the jealous times, the wrist, the poaching, the family I had, the loved I shared with Hilda and Sebastian, my parents, the farm, my need to push a little more, my childhood growing up, and all the happy times almost always mixed with some form of ire below the surface be it pride, indignation or a lack of understanding.

Then I remembered something else, an angry man who loved to dance. He was the color of charcoal and he didn't even know why he was angry. Who was that man? Where was that place? It surely wasn't here in Bavaria.

It was when I remembered all that I was given a chance to stand at the side of Christ. One moment I was remembering my life standing over the spot of the forest where my body was buried and the next moment I was bathed in Holy Light.

Words were never spoken, but I heard my command: "Try again. Be better. Even if you can't remember how this time went."

Author's Note

Second in a series. Constructive criticism always appreciated; both positive and negative. However, no flames please. All other comments and thoughts welcome.

Reviews

[Juan]

This story had such a struggling and sad tone to it but in the end it actually had a semi-happy ending in where the families grew together as one and he was given a second chance. You really know how to keep the readers attention, and the details in this story were fantastic.

I really felt for the protagonist and could even identify with him as I am sure most of your readers will also agree. I even found myself a little angry with his situation,so thanks for soliciting such emotions from me lol. Another great story