A Small Investment

In his inspection tour of Jablunka, the overseer Herr Radek meets Josef and decikdes to buy him.

                          Chapter Two

        A Small Investment                                    

 

Every jolt on the rutted road leading into Jablunka confirmed Radek’s belief that the revolution would come soon.  A revolution in Austria, rioting in the cities, the burning of a few estates, could serve him well.  He could squeeze little more out of the stunted crops and crumbling huts, not that it mattered. He had enough hoarded away in London.  The problem lay in getting Frederick to leave Austria.  The image of tumbrels carrying aristocrats to the guillotine could persuade him to flee to a safer place, such as London, or New York. Besides, Frederick felt bored again. Travel might amuse him. 

The coach jerked to a sudden stop, rocking Radek forward. He reached out a hand to keep Katrina from tumbling out of her seat.. Outside he could hear cursing, some of it from his coachman Franz Leuger, and from Franz’s twin Ferdinand. Some of it, in Czech, sounded from a more distant source.  Radek could also hear considerable squealing and grunting. Hanging over all of the noise was a distinct porcine smell. As Katrina placed a scented handkerchief next to her nose, Radek thumped the side of his door with the silver knob of his walking stick.   He demanded to know the reason for the stop.

“I’m sorry, your Excellency” replied Franz. “I have to wait for these pigs to pass.”

“Damn.”

“Don’t get upset, Karl,” murmured Katrina, patting the back of his left hand. “It’s bad for your digestion.”

Radek opened the coach’s door and stepped down to the ground.  Forty black porkers, long-legged, squealing, were crossing the road from a trail leading out of the forest.   He looked about for the swine herder. A ragged boy, his bare feet smeared with the muck from the pigs, stood at the head of the column, holding a short stick. The swine herder’s son, Radek surmised, but where was the father? He  spotted him at the end of the herd. 

A beard covered the swineherd’s blackened face matted with dirt and crumbs of food. A scar from an old knife wound ran from above the top of his right eyebrow down across the cheek. His few surviving teeth were yellow and rotting. The swine herder wore filthy woolen trousers, a soiled sheepskin jacket and a torn, woolen cap. Pig dung caked his boots.  In his right hand he held a long staff of ash with which he prodded the animals. He had slung a leather haversack, well worn from years of usage, across his back.  Noticing the gentleman watching him, Milos pulled off his cap and bowed.

Radek wondered who smelled worse, the man or the pigs. He remembered Katrina’s advice. In a quiet, clear tone he told the man, “Get those pigs out of my way before I have you flogged.”

“Yes your Excellency. Sorry, your Excellency,” Milos mumbled. Die Eule. He had seen the Von Kraunitz arms, the white horse reared against a mountain, emblazoned on the coach’s door. Lowly as he was in the affairs of the estate, even Milos had heard of this great man. Only when Herr Radek turned away did Milos feel it safe to stand upright. He bawled at the boy standing at the front of the column.

“Useless b*****d. Faster. Can’t you see that the gentleman’s waiting? S**t face.”

Radek, wanting only to remove himself from the man’s stench was about to re-enter the coach. Prodded by Milos’s voice; he first took a careful look at the boy. Josef, ogling the coach, did not notice four pigs breaking away from the column, aiming for the cover of a grove of fir trees.  He did his best to drive them back, but the animals were too many for him. They would break away once they saw him chasing after others. A waste of resources, Radek thought. Dombrowki should have appointed someone older to help the swine herder. He reminded himself to mention it to the overseer. He looked on as the swine herder, instead of going after the pigs ran up the boy screaming curses at him. The swine herder began clubbing him with his staff.  The boy crouched in the dust of the trail, arms covering his head from the blows. 

“Stop it!”

Radek’s voice caught the peasant’s staff before it could strike again.  Puzzled Milos gaped at the overseer.  Even Die Eule had no right to come between a father and his son. Besides, he was only following instructions.

“I’m just trying to teach him your Excellency. He should have been working instead of lazing about. His fault.”

“It’s not his fault,” Radek snapped. “It’s yours. You should have gotten someone older for this job.  Now get those damn pigs out of my way.”

Milos scraped out a protest. “I was doing this when I was younger than him. Did me no harm. Just too soft, that’s what he is.”

A look from Radek caused Milos to hurry off after the pigs. As he choked back the nausea in his throat, Radek bent over the child, still kneeling in the dirt, arms still above his head. “Look at me boy.”

The boy, still expecting more blows, did not move.

“No one will hit you. Do you understand?”

Radek was careful to keep his voice soft. One did not shout at a small animal.

The child dropped its arms away, but remained kneeling, unwilling to look up. Taking hold of the boy’s right arm, Radek helped him to his feet. The boy stared up at him. Through the stringy mass of lice-ridden hair, Radek saw a thin, filthy face. A thick stream of whitish-green mucus streaked the boy’s upper lip. Pulling out a blue, silk, handkerchief, Radek wiped the boy’s face. He pushed the cloth into the child’s hand. The boy stared down at it, entranced with the smooth feel of the material. Leaving the boy admiring his new possession, Radek turned his attention back to the swine herder who had finished driving the runaway pigs back into the herd.

“What’s your name?”

“Milos Krivanek, your Excellency.” Milos bowed with every syllable.

“Your boy?”

“God only knows your Excellency. His mother was a w***e. Burning in hell almost a year now. I claimed him as mine. Act of Christian charity, not that the b*****d cares. Has he offended you?”

“Be quiet. What’s his name?”

“Josef, your Excellency.”

“From Jablunka?”

“Yes, your Excellency.”

Radek grunted.  He watched the boy driving the pigs along the trail. he then turned back to the swine herder.

“You know Pan Dombrowski’s house?”

“Of course, your Excellency. Everyone does.”

“See me there tomorrow morning, at c**k’s crow. Bring the boy. Have a wash first.”

He tossed the man a two thaler coin. Milos caught it in mid-bow. As Radek turned away, Milos placed the coin between his teeth.

Radek settled back in his seat. Leaning back against the leather padding, he looked out the window at the path winding between the trees, down which the boy had disappeared. He remained deep in thought as the coach moved on leaving behind both the Krivaneks and the pigs.  That evening, as he and Pan Dombrowski went over the account books, Radek mentioned the meeting with the swine herder. He asked Dombrowski what he knew of Krivanek’s character.

“Filthy b*****d,” Dombrowski grunted.  

“He claimed that he adopted the boy, that the boy’s mother had been a w***e.”

Dombrowski nodded   “That’s true enough.  Crazy Maria. Died of typhus.  Baron Albrecht tried her once. Years ago, that was.”

Radek looked up from his ledger book.  “Do you think that Milos is the boy’s father?”

Dombrowski shrugged. “I could think of twenty men who could be its father.”

“Why Milos?”

Dombrowski chuckled. The whole village had a good laugh about the affair.  “Drunken b*****d needed someone to help take care of the pigs. No one wanted to work with him. He’s already beaten one wife to death. Not much likelihood of finding a second. No surviving children. Kept coming to me asking for an assistant. Told him that if he wanted to claim the boy as his son, he could have him. Solved his problem. Solved mine.”

Radek permitted himself an appreciative smile. He did admire initiative. “Isn’t he rather young?”

“He’ll grow into the trade. He’ll take over from Milos in a few years, if he lives that long.”

Radek closed the book and wiped his spectacles. “I think that I can find young Krivanek something else to do. Does he have any family,  apart from Milos?”

“Mother had an aunt and an uncle both deceased. Of course, if you do hire him, sir, I’ll still need an assistant for Milos.”

Radek tried to keep from yawning “That, my dear Ignaz, is your problem, not mine. I think that will be all for tonight.”

He left Dombrowski to put away the books. Tomorrow would be another long day. Best now to rest. Dombrowski and he would examine the second set of books tomorrow. The set that they had examined was for the benefit of Frederick, on the off chance that he would want to look at it, which he never would. The other was for himself and Dombrowski. It took hours to go through each, checking every entry. Not an easy life, but one had to make sacrifices. America would make it worthwhile. Dombrowski could have his house in Krakow. Radek would have America.

***

Milos went off to the village tavern to celebrate his good fortune. The two thalers would go into schnapps and into a w***e. Milos would show everyone that he was a man deserving of respect. The coin put him into a jovial mood. He only struck Josef once during the rest of the day for failing to be quick enough in closing the gate of the sty. He had grunted over the stew that the boy had cooked for him, but otherwise had left him alone. The two had formed an unspoken understanding during the months since Josef had been placed with the pig keeper. If Josef did not anger him, Milos was content to ignore him.  Before he left for the tavern Milos told Josef not to bar the door.

When Milos was away at the tavern, Josef sat in the corner of the hut farthest away from the sty.   During the first days of his staying with Milos, he had expected that Father Tomisek, realizing that there had been a mistake, would come for him and take him away. The priest never came. When Milos had not gone to the church on Sunday, he thought that the priest would do something. Nothing had been done. Unlike Maminka’s, no one ever came here.

In almost every way the hut was identical to Maminka’s, the only difference being the stench permeating it from the adjacent sty.   The furnishings were the same as in any other hut, a table, some stools, a few pieces of crockery, and some cooking utensils.   A flock mattress lay above the hearth for Milos. A straw pallet lay on the floor for Josef.  He had more food to eat, bread, porridge, salt pork and potatoes. The extra food came with extra beatings. Every day he would have beatings. Josef could not do anything right. He fed the pigs too much or too little and drove them too quick or too slow.  He overcooked the food or undercooked it. Every mistake would result in a beating. Josef knew why the beatings were necessary. Milos had told him. Josef was stupid, not even as smart as the pigs.

Josef asked Milos once if it was true that he was his father. Milos laughed until he fell into a choking fit. Once he had caught his breath, he struck Josef across the face, telling him not to ask that again.  Somewhere Josef knew that someone had made a mistake. He thought of going back to the priest’s house to ask him, but Milos always kept him too busy with the pigs.  Josef knew that if he ran and was caught by Milos that the resulting beating would be worse than all the others. Another reason also held him back. What if he went and Father Tomisek told him that Milos was his father? It had to be true. Milos had to be his father.  The priest would not have lied.

Josef wondered about the man that he had met.  He had been such a kind man. Josef wished that Milos had allowed him to keep the present that the man had given him but Milos had snatched it away, telling him that it was too good for something like him.  Maybe, if the man liked him, he would want to take him away from here, from the pigs, from the dirt, from the beatings.  Even as he thought it, Josef knew that it would not happen. He would stay in this hut, Josef, the son of the pig keeper, the son of the w***e.  Through all the years to come, he would remain here. When Milos died, if he did not die first, Josef would become Milos.                                   ***

Milos cursed as he reeled into the room. His trip to the tavern had been a disappointment. No one had been overwhelmed with Milos’ good fortune. The tavern keeper cheated him on his score. The w***e he hired and had given the handkerchief to as her fee complained about his smell. He beat her just enough to remind her that she should show him some courtesy. The stupid b***h started screaming. Ignoring his protests and demands for the return of the handkerchief, the tavern keeper and his customers tossed him out.

His last kreuzer spent, Milos staggered off home, blaspheming loud enough for the entire village to hear.  He lamented that Crazy Maria was not alive; a real woman that one not stuck up like the others. As Milos stumbled through the doorway of his hut, he banged his chin on a bench. Enraged, he picked up the bench and threw it against the opposite wall of the hut waking Josef.  When Josef uttered a feeble protest, Milos seized him by his hair and dragged him off his mattress onto the pounded earth of the floor.  He began to beat and kick him.  Why had Josef forgotten to bar the door?  Josef attempted to tell him that Milos had told him to leave it unbarred. That only made Milos angrier.

He did not like liars. A son should never lie to his father.  A lazy, good-for-nothing liar. Pulling off  his belt, he flailed away at Josef, at his shoulders, arms, legs, back, at every part that he could reach. At last, too tired to hit him anymore, Milos released him, allowing him to crawl back to his pallet. Then Josef sinned again. His whimpering kept Milos awake.   Rising from his mattress he grabbed Josef by his shirt collar and dragged him out of the hut telling him to sleep with the pigs. Milos then barred the door.  At peace with himself, the pig keeper fell into a sound sleep.

Josef spent the night huddled on the doorstep of the hut. After a while he put aside the pain, and listened to the sounds of the pigs. Their breathing and soft grunting gave him some comfort, as did the crickets chirruping among the trees. He heard an owl hooting far off in the forest. He imagined it to be the jezenky, creatures with women’s faces, the bodies of sows and the legs of horses. Maminka had said that they treated children well. He nodded off to sleep, dreaming of the jezenky, of the strange man with the spectacles, and of the beautiful soft piece of blue cloth.

***

 Radek sipped his morning coffee. Ferdinand announced that the Krivanek family had been waiting an hour to see him.  Radek told him to keep them waiting.  He would see them in Pan Dombrowski’s office, after his coffee.  He allowed no one, except Frederick who never rose before nine, to interrupt his morning coffee.  A weakness, Radek admitted, but he comforted himself with the thought that Napoleon had also had a passion for it.  He could hardly term it a vice. Coffee stimulated the mind and improved the digestion. It pleased him to know that Americans were coffee drinkers. That would help make him feel at home.

A half-hour later Radek sat at Pan Dombrowski’s desk.  Having opened the first ledger of the morning, he told Ferdinand to allow Milos and Josef to enter.  Through experience, Radek had found it wise, when meeting with inferiors, to emphasize their unimportance.  Keep them waiting and waiting.  Having consented to see them, act as if he had other, more important matters to deal with.  They would feel defensive making them easier to manage.

He listened to the room door opening, and to wooden soles scrapping against the hardwood floor. Glancing up from the ledger, he peered through his spectacles at the bowing figures of Milos and Josef.  They were, he sniffed, not much cleaner than when he had first seen them. Still, they had tried.  Milos, wearing the cleanest of his two shirts, had trimmed his beard and had scrubbed away at least two days’ worth of the past month’s accumulation of grime.  Josef’s clothes were the same rags that Radek had seen him wearing, probably, Radek suspected, because he had no others.  His face was a little cleaner.  He wore an old pair of wooden clogs, usually reserved for the summer rains.

        Radek picked up a small brass bell.  At the sound of the bell, the door behind the Krivaneks opened.  The Leuger brothers and Katrina entered the room.  Katrina took her accustomed place behind her brothers.  A small figure in a drab gray dress, decorated only by the tiny silver crucifix at her throat,  she stood at the edge of the room.

Milos, aware of people standing behind him, wanted to turn his head but he was too aware of Die Eule’s eyes to risk moving.   Josef, less affected, gawked at the furnishings.  He marveled at the carpet and at the curtains.  He pondered the strange rectangular objects lined up alone the back wall.  Books?  He had heard of those.  Father Tomisek had carried one.  Josef recognized the man sitting at the table.  Die Eule; Milos called him, a very great man.  It might mean that something important would happen to him.  Josef remembered not to look excited.  In front of the gentry, one kept one’s eyes lowered, one’s thoughts shuttered.

Radek picked up a thin folder. “I have been making some inquiries about you, Krivanek.”

Milos licked his lips.  “It’s all a lie, your Excellency.”

Radek grunted.  The stench from the pair was giving him a headache.  “If you interrupt me again I’ll have you flogged.”

Milos twisted his cap between his blackened fingers.  “Yes, your Excellency.”

Several sheets of paper lay in the folder that Radek held.  Radek took out the top sheet.  “This is a letter from Father Tomisek. The good father does not think very highly of you, Krivanek. He seems to believe that you are one of the damned.  Why is that?”

Milos swallowed.  “I don’t know, your Excellency.”

Radek picked up the second sheet.  “This is a much longer letter from Pan Dombrowski.  According to him, you fathered three children, legally.  Only one survived until the age of six.  One died of pneumonia, the other two from fractured skulls the result of falls.  Your wife died three years ago from the same cause.”

Milos tried to look pathetic.  “I’m an unfortunate man, your Excellency.”

“Your children and wife seem to have been the unfortunate ones. According to Pan Dombrowski, the police charged you with assault on two different occasions.  The first was against a Nathan Tegelbaum, a peddler. . . .”

“Filthy Yid.”

Radek closed his eyes.  “Franz, take him outside. Twenty lashes.”

Before Franz could take him, Milos had fallen to his knees, dragging Josef down with him.  “Mercy, your Excellency. Mercy.  I’ll be quiet. I swear it.”

Looking down at the man’s bent, shaking shoulders, Radek began a silent count.  When he reached ten, he beckoned to Franz.  “All right, Franz.  Next time, Krivanek.  Now, stand up.” Bowing, Milos scrambled up as quickly as he could.

“I have a report of another incident, two months ago I believe.  It involved the beating of a woman in the tavern.  You’re not a pleasant man, are you Krivanek?”

“It’s not my place to say, your Excellency,” Milos whimpered.

Radek removed the last sheet of paper from the file.  “That’s the first sensible thing that you’ve said to me.”

The tone of Radek’s voice changed, becoming less formal, almost friendly.  “Perhaps you have, as you said, been unfortunate in the past.  I am prepared to change that.  I will do you a service, Krivanek.  In return you will do me one.”

Milos began to brighten.  “Sir?”

“I wish to employ your son in the baron’s household at Marienberg.”

Stunned, Milos could only gape.  Why would his Excellency, the baron, wish the services of such a useless piece of vykal as Josef?   Milos imagined himself riding off in Herr Radek’s coach to a life of unimaginable luxury.  He began to stammer out his thanks when Radek cut him off. 

“I am prepared to offer you fifty thalers now, and five thalers a month as long as we need him there. His Excellency is a kind man.  He takes into consideration a father’s feelings.”

“Fifty thalers, your Excellency?”

Radek dropped a small brown pouch onto the desk. From inside it came the soft chink of metal.  Milos found it difficult to imagine his possessing such a vast sum.  It would keep him in schnapps and w****s for . . . for at least a month. He hesitated.  What was the trick?

Josef, who had been busy staring at the floor, looked up.  Had Herr Radek said that . . . ?

Sensing Milos’ hesitation, Radek shrugged.  “I can see that you’re not interested.  Very well, Franz, show them out.”

Radek returned the pouch to his pocket and turned back to the ledger.  Milos, watching the pouch disappear, stuttered out “N  . . . No your Excellency . . .  I mean, yes your Excellency.”

Radek nodded and picked up a steel-nibbed pen.  He signed the final sheet of paper that he had removed from the folder.  He marked the spot where Krivanek was to sign and handed him the pen.  Milos placed his X upon the paper.  Franz signed as a witness.  Radek sanded the signatures and blew on them.  Satisfied, he tossed Milos the pouch.  “Fifty thalers, Milos.”

For the first time since the meeting began, Radek smiled. “You see.  I have done you a good service.  Now the time has come for you to do me one.”

Milos longed for a drink.  The weight of the coins comforted him, as did the thought of his journeying into a new life.  “Yes, your Excellency.”

Radek’s smile disappeared.  “Leave.”

“Sir?”

“Once a month I will send Father Tomisek five thalers. He will give them to you.”

Milos placed a protective arm around Josef’s shoulders.  Puzzled, Josef looked at the great hand pressing against him.  “A son needs his father, your Excellency.  I should go. . . .”

Radek shook his head.  “No, Herr Krivanek.  You will remain here.  If you ever attempt to contact me, your son, or Baron Von Kraunitz, Pan Dombrowski has instructions to have you arrested as a thief and imprisoned.”

Milos, dropping his arm away from Josef, bowed.  “Yes, your Excellency.”

“After all, I could hardly deprive Pan Dombrowski of his pig keeper, could I?  Franz, Ferdinand.  Please show Herr Krivanek the way out.”

The brothers took Milos by his arms and marched him out of the room.  Puzzled, Josef watched them remove Milos.  He followed his father.  The strange woman stopped him.  He struggled, a little, to get by her.

“Tata?”  Josef had no great love for Milos, but the man was his father. He represented the world to which the boy belonged. Milos never looked back.  The Leuger twins shoved him out of the overseer’s house.  The great iron bolt slid into place, locking the door behind him. 

From a drawer of his desk, Radek took out a green ceramic bowl and placed it before him.  In the bowl were small black lumps, the like of which Josef had never seen before, but their smell was familiar. It resembled that magical substance that he had once tasted, a long time before, in Pan Dombrowski’s kitchen.

Radek smiled.  “Would you like some chocolates, Josef?”

Alone and confused, Josef focused on the candies.  He remembered the wonderful taste that he had discovered in Pane Tiso’s pot.

Amused, Radek looked on as Josef reached out and snatched a candy.  He smiled as the child took an experimental nibble.  Josef jammed the rest of  the candy into his mouth.  As he watched, Radek told himself that it was all a matter of exercising the proper degree of control, stick and carrot. It was so simple, a small gift to show his pleasure, a beating to show his anger.  They trained dogs in the same way.  Of course, with human beings one had to be more aware of their feelings.  As Josef finished devouring the chocolates, Radek began issuing orders to Katrina. He had explained it all to her before, but it did not hurt to remind her.

“Give him a bath and shave off his hair.  Wash his scalp, twice.  Brush his teeth.  Have Franz burn his clothes.  Take his measurements and get him new ones.” 

Katrina nodded.  She had already ordered the water for the bath.

Since Josef had finished, Radek decided that he should now inform the boy of his new position, at least, as much of it as he could understand.  Closing his ledger, Radek folded his hands.  He peered over them at the chocolate smeared face.  “Josef.”

The boy looked at the desk, hoping for more chocolates.

“You are a very fortunate child, Josef.  Soon you will have as many chocolates as you wish.  You are now under the care of a very great man, your lord, Baron Frederick Von Kraunitz.  He owns the land upon which you live.  He owns you.  Do you know that Josef?”

Josef bowed.  “Yes, your Excellency.”

“The baron is an important man.  He is a close friend of our beloved emperor Ferdinand.”

Frederick had never met the emperor and had no desire to do so, regarding him as an incompetent dolt.  However, Radek saw little point in mentioning that to the child.

“It is a great honor to serve in such a household.  I trust that you will prove yourself worthy of such an honor.”

No more beatings, Josef told himself. No more Milos.  “Yes, your Excellency.”

“Now, as to conditions of service; you will have three meals a day, as much as you want to eat.  We will give you your own room.  We will even teach you to read and write.  If you are good, every day you will have chocolates. You will have fine clothes to wear.  The baron is a generous man.  You may expect many presents . . . if you do your work well.  Do you understand?”

Josef bowed. “Yes, your Excellency.”

Just like Milos, Radek thought.  He continued.  “In return, all that you have to do is whatever the baron should ask of you.  Go with Fraulein Leuger.  I will inspect you after you have had your bath.”  Radek waved him away.  Katrina shooed the boy out leaving Radek alone with his ledgers and with his thoughts.

Bathing Josef was a more complicated affair than Katrina had expected.  The bruises that covered the boy’s back, shoulders, arms and legs made scrubbing him slow and painful.  She did not ask him from where the bruises came.  From what she had seen of Milos, she knew the answer.  As she and one of Dombrowski’s kitchen maids scrubbed away at Josef’s wriggling frame, Katrina told herself that Karl had been right.  The child could be considered fortunate.  He would no longer know hunger or cold.  They could have left him with the swine herder.  It was important, Karl had told her, to think of what the boy had come from.  She was grateful that Josef was too overwhelmed by the bath to speak to her. 

After two hours, Katrina returned with Josef. The boy, bathed and shorn, wore only a towel.  Katrina had cut away the long filthy mop of hair leaving short stubble capping his skull.  It was not very attractive Radek thought, but necessary.  Within two months the hair would have grown back to a reasonable length.  Josef would need fattening up.  He would have time for that. 

Radek closed his ledger.  “Remove the towel, Katrina.”

“Karl . . .”

“Remove it.” What was wrong with the woman?  Why was she using his Christian name in public?

Katrina pulled the towel away from Josef’s protesting fingers.  Folding it in her arms, she stepped back.  Josef, standing alone in the center of the room, shivered.  Feeling Radek’s eyes studying him, he bowed his head and looked down at the floor.  Radek examined the bruises on the upper part of the boy’s arms and shoulders.  Perhaps

Milos had been instructing him on how to behave?  There was nothing permanent about them.  Good.  It would have been embarrassing to have to return him. “Open your mouth, Josef.”

He poked at the boy’s teeth with an ivory letter opener.  Not enough to hurt him; just enough to test their firmness.  Strong teeth meant a strong constitution.  “Turn around, Josef.”

More bruises formed mottled streaks on his lower back, buttocks and legs.  Radek patted Josef on the head.

“Give him back his towel, Katrina.  He may have some lunch.  You may have some more chocolates.  You would like that wouldn’t you Josef?” 

“Yes, your Excellency.”

As Josef wrapped the towel around his waist, Radek placed his hands on the boy’s shoulders.  He had another point to discuss.  He would have to choose his words well to ensure that Krivanek could grasp at least part of what he had to say. “If it should happen, Josef, that you are unable to do your duties to your lord’s satisfaction, we will return you to Jablunka, to your father.  If you should prefer to return, you may do so.  Do you understand?”

“Yes, your Excellency.”  Josef knew that he would never want to return to Milos.

“Dobre. Good.  You must work hard to please your lord.”

“Yes, your Excellency.  I will try.”

“I am certain that you will. Tomorrow, I will be returning to Bohemia.  You will remain here in Pan Dombrowski’s house. Fraulein Leuger will look after you until you are ready to travel to Marienberg.  She will teach you what you will need to know.  Listen to everything that she has to tell you.  Obey her in all things.”

“Yes, your Excellency.”

“Fine.  Wait outside for Fraulein Leuger.  She will be with you in a minute.”

                Katrina opened the door, remaining beside it as Radek saw the boy out.  He told Josef to wait in the hallway and closed the door.  Radek turned and smacked the woman across her mouth with the back of his hand. “Don’t ever call me Karl in front of anyone.”

Seasons  Amazon Press

Author's Note

Some use of German and Czech.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

You are a amazing writer. I liked the detail of every scene. You allow the reader to understand and grasp each situation. It seem a better life for Josef. Thank you for sharing the excellent chapter.
Coyote