Eifelheim

White Jürgen, the vogt, presented his tally sticks and knotted strings and gave an accounting of the lord’s salland for the past harvest year. The free tenants attended this recital with keen interest, comparing the Herr’s increases to their own with the sort of subtle arithmetic available to those who owned no numbers beyond their fingers. Wilimer, the Herr’s clerk of accounts, himself but a few years removed from haying and mowing, transcribed everything in neat miniscule onto a parchment roll of sheets glued together side-to-side. He cast his sums on an abacus and a

Afterward, old Friedrich, the steward’s clerk, took account of fines and dues. Like Wilimer, he cast his sums in Fibonacci’s Arabic numbers, but he translated the results into the Roman sort for his fair copy. This introduced grave chance of error, since old Friedrich’s grasp of Latin numbers was little better than his grasp of Latin grammar, where he frequently confused the ablative with the dative. “If I write the words in Latin,” the man had explained one time, “I must write the numbers in Latin also.”

The first fine was buteil for old Rudolf from Pforzheim, who had died on Sixtus Day. The Herr took possession of his “best beast,” a breeding sow called Isabella — and naturally all the men debated whether this was in fact Rudolf’s “best beast,” rendering a variety of opinions, no two of which were compatible.

Felix Ackerma

Trude Metzger astonished everyone by paying merchet on herself for the lord’s permission “to marry at will.” This set all the women’s tongues a-wagging and cast a pall of apprehension upon all the single men. The Herr, greatly amused, granted the boon.

And so it went while the sun climbed high. Heinrich Altenbach was fined four pfe

Oliver Becker had raised the hue-and-cry against Bertram Unterbaum on May Day past, in malice over the affections of A

Manfred himself brought suit against twelve gärtners who during the July hay harvest had refused to load the hay cocks into the carts. Nickel Langerma

At this, the court recessed for a board of bread and ale at the Herr’s expense.

“Langerma

“Enough such findings,” Dietrich said, “and no one will hire him, since then he won’t work at all.”

Max Schweitzer appeared and led him a little distance from the others. “The Herr bade me inquire about the black powder,” he murmured.

“Their alchemist recognized charcoal from the specimens,” Dietrich told him, “and sulfur by its properties and appearance; but the Heinzelmä

“Perhaps it smells sweeter,” Max suggested. “And if we give him a specimen? Of niter, I mean. Alchemists can identify unknown materials, nay?”

“Ja, but the Krenken seem disinclined to make the effort.”

Max cocked his head. “I wouldn’t think their inclinations mattered.”

“They have angst to repair their ship and return to their own country.” Dietrich looked off to where Manfred stood with his retinue. The men were laughing over some matter and Kunigund, her gown wrapped in a white girdle embroidered in orfrois with scenes of stag hunting and hares, was torn between a lady-like dignity in Eugen’s company and the desire to chase her younger sister, who had just tugged Kunigund’s cap loose. Manfred thought to hold the Krenken against their will so he could learn their occult secrets. “The Herr would be wise not to press the matter,” he said.

“On his own land? Why not?”

“Because the strong arm should be gently used on folk you suspect of having black powder.”

In the afternoon, the villagers elected beer-tasters, jurors, wardens, and other ministers for the coming harvest-year. White Jürgen declined the honor — and potential expense — of another term as vogt, so Volkmar Bauer was elected in his stead. Klaus was chosen again as maier.

Seppl’ Bauer shyly cast his first vote, raising his hand for Klaus along with the other householders. Or with almost all, for Trude Metzger loudly dissented and, as she was householder for her manse, cast a lone vote for Gregor. “The mason may be a dim-wit,” she declared, “but he is not a thief who damps the meal.”

Gregor, turning to Dietrich, said, “She sweet-talks me to win my affections.”

Lorenz on the other side wagged his finger. “Remember, Gregor, should you ever seek to remarry, that she has already paid merchet on herself, so she would be a cheap catch.”

“And worth every pfe

“The body is but a mantle,” said Theresia Gresch, breaking a silence she had held throughout the day, “which shines if true beauty lies within. So she seems plainer than she is.”

“Perhaps you are one to light her lamp,” Lorenz told Gregor.

Gregor scowled, now more than half-worried that his friends were plotting his remarriage. “A man would need a bonfire for that undertaking,” he grumbled.

Dietrich named his nocturnal visitor Joha

Some worked diligently on the ship. Dietrich watched them play fire across certain seams and spray fluids and spread colored earths upon its surfaces. Air, no doubt, also figured in the repairs, for he sometimes heard the hissing of gasses deep within the nether regions of the structure.

Others occupied themselves in natural philosophy, in bizarre and patternless leaping, or in solitary walks and idleness. Some perched in trees like birds! As the autumn forest became a blaze of color, they used wonderful instruments — fotografia - to capture miniature “light drawings” of the leaves. Once, Dietrich recognized the alchemist by his more particular clothing, squatting in that peculiar knees-above-head posture, overlooking the stream where it tumbled over an escarpment. He hailed him, but the creature, absorbed in some contemplation, made no response and, thinking him in prayer, Dietrich quietly withdrew.

Dietrich felt a growing frustration with krenkish laggardness. “I have seen your carpenters taken from their tasks,” he told the Kratzer on one visit, “to collect beetles or flowers for your philosophers. Others, I have seen playing with a ball, or leaping up and down to no apparent purpose, indeed, sporting themselves naked. Your most urgent task is the repair of your ship, not why our trees change color.”