Chapter 1: How Pelle the Collier Gets Free Ale

Pelle, the collier of Lemdalen, stopped the donkey cart in front of the bloomery.

“Hello, Pelle!” the smith’s wife greeted him friendly.

Rudlo the Smith was one of the oldest customers of the collier; the relationship even predated Pelle’s apprenticeship with his stepfather. Hedwig, the Smith’s wife, always made sure to welcome him, and oftentimes she would offer him to join the family for the noon meal.

“Greetings, Hedwig! I have the two dozen bushel Rudlo wanted. You want I fill them into your bunker?”

Hedwig smiled gratefully. The young collier always did that so nobody else would end up covered in coal dust. In that he was far more considerate than his stepfather had been.

“Yes, please. Will you join us for the meal afterwards? We’re having pea soup.”

“Love to!” the young man laughed.

He was always hungry as Hedwig knew. Not because he was so poor he could not afford food, but because he lived alone in the forest and he was always too busy with his trade and working so hard.

“Remember to wash up before you come in!” Hedwig mocked him, knowing full well that Pelle always washed off the coal dust before he sat at their table. His mother, poor Nele, had raised him well.

When the noon bell sounded from the half finished bell tower in the village, the Smith and his family and helpers assembled around the large table. He had two sons of fifteen and twelve years, and a daughter of ten. Of course, the sons were already learning the craft and helping their father whilst the daughter helped Hedwig in the kitchen. Little Lisa was probably the only girl in the village who did not fear “the Black Man” as the collier was oftentimes called.

Pelle was always welcome in their house even though Rudlo was one of the most respected villagers. Perhaps it was because he himself was often covered in soot from his work, but perhaps it was also because the good quality of the coal which Pelle delivered. Rudlo held that it was partly responsible for the high quality wrought iron that he could produce in his bloomery.

Other villagers did not hold Pelle in such high regard. His birth father had been burnt at the stake as a heretic forcing his mother to work in the tavern, if only for a day. Most importantly, however, Pelle was a collier. He was the “Black Man” whose mentioning by the mothers scared children into obedience. He lived alone in the forest away from the eyes of the villagers, and only the Good Lord knew what and who ended up being charred in his piles. The Baron’s reeve also held that he was a poacher too, killing more than his allotment, but then again, the reeve Markward had no say over the forest

Pelle knew of those rumours. It was bitter for him to be an outcast. Only Rudlo and the other smith, Tymo, would talk to him. Fortunately, things were better around Birkenhain castle where he delivered the bulk of his product. The men at the forge and even some of the Jewish traders treated him with the respect due to somebody who mastered a difficult craft. It was for this reason that he held no prejudice against the Jews in general whilst many other villagers and townspeople harboured a deep sitting distrust against them that was fostered in no small part by the preachings from Tosdalen Abbey.

Perhaps the fathers in Lemdalen would have encouraged their daughters to see the Collier on friendly terms if they had known about the leather bag filled with silver Groschen that was buried safely under the floor boards of his cabin. It might have changed their view had they known that the baron himself held a protective hand over the colliers. The Baron Sigfrid held a lively interest in his forge which produced good quality knives, tools and weapons. The trade with these goods was a main source of income for the Baron. The ore miners and the colliers were thus treated with favour in his lands. He did not charge the latter overly much for the use of his forests, and he even allowed each of them to hunt six deer every year.

It would not have helped Pelle had the villagers known that he was a silent partner in a money lending business. The Jew Levy was an important man for all the trading in Birkenhain with his connections to other money lenders far and wide, but like all money lenders he was disdained by his clients. Thus, Pelle wisely kept his partnership in Levy’s business a secret, as did most of the people who enjoyed the interest Levy paid them for their gold. It was Levy who held the bulk of Pelle’s savings, against a healthy interest paid, of course.

The collier also supervised the drivers whenever the Baron invited other nobles to a hunt in Lemdalen Forest. That was profitable for Pelle, for the nobles took only the choice meats from the animals they hunted, and a good part of the meat was left for Pelle and the other drivers. This was not counted against the six roe deer he was allowed to hunt every year. Moreover, many noble hunters could not be bothered to recover their arrows, and thus Pelle’s quiver was well filled with perfectly straight, iron-tipped shafts.

“Did you hear the latest of Ingeburg?”

The question from Hedwig tore Pelle from his thoughts. Ingeburg was the daughter of Hunold, the richest freeholder in Lemdalen, and his wife Greta. The villagers called the girl ‘the princess’ in what was only partly jest. She was said to be the bastard child of the late baron. Her mother had certainly pampered the pretty girl from earliest childhood and groomed her to better herself someday, meaning to marry somebody above her peasant stand.

Pelle had seen her many times and she was so pretty that she made his heart ache. Of good hight, she had a finely developed body with long legs. Her face under the braided blonde hair was that of an angel, with large, impossibly blue eyes and shaded by dark blonde lashes. Her fine nose and her kissable mouth were in the dreams of Lemdalen’s men, and the younger men soiled their beddings at night thinking of those long legs and what lay between them.

Alas, her beauty and her rumoured noble pedigree had gone straight to her head, and at best she was aloof. On bad days, she was one of the worst shrews for miles around, second only to her mother Greta. For both of them Pelle was a target of ridicule and contempt, and he knew to keep his distance from them whenever he could.

“No, what did she do this time?” Pelle asked.

“She has been sparking with both Bartel and Nithart at the same time!” Hedwig said with a shake of her head. “The lads found out and fought. Bartel lost two front teeth and Nithart broke his hand. They say it may not heal well.”

Pelle flinched. One boy toothless and the other possibly crippled, that was a bad outcome of Ingeburg’s latest stupidity. He shook his head.

“Why would they even fight over her? Her mother will never allow either of them to court her precious daughter,” he asked the table at large.

“So true,” Rudlo agreed. “I spoke to Hunold yesterday. He claims that her mother puts all that foolishness into her head, and he’s afraid she’ll go too far one day and be in trouble. He maintains she’s not a bad girl but there’s nothing he can do with her mother supporting her every whim.”

“Did you know the Baron will be coming to dedicate the new church?” Hedwig changed the subject.