Chapter 5: How Pelle and Ingeburg Learn to Live With the Other

“Holla, Collier, wake! It’s Hunold! Wake up!”

The shouting from outside woke them both. One heartbeat, Ingeburg lay snuggled in her blanket, in the next, she was sitting up. She protested, still sleepy.

“I don’t want to see him. He’ll be angry with me.”

“He can’t spank you anymore,” Pelle yawned. “That’s my right now.”

He was already slipping into his pants. Pulling a tunic over his head, he climbed down the ladder and opened the door.

“What brings you here so early, Hunold?” Ingeburg heard him ask.

“The worry over my daughter, what else?” Hunold answered sharply. “How is she?”

Pelle looked up to the loft where Ingeburg sat on her bed wearing only a shirt.

“You woke us, Hunold. Let her dress and I’ll send her out to talk to you. Will you break fast with us?”

“Let me talk to her first.”

“Dress, Ingeburg! Your father wants to speak to you!”

Hastily, Ingeburg pulled the dress over her head. Still not wearing shoes, she climbed down from the platform and stood in the door, her hair tousled from sleep.

“Good morning, Father,” she greeted him.

“Ingeburg, how are you feeling?”

A warm feeling spread over her. Her stepfather had been harsh with her all those last years. The more her mother doted on her the more her stepfather seemed to resent her. But now his voice was full of caring.

“I’m still dazed. So much happened yesterday.”

“Your husband, did he treat you well?” Hunold asked in a whisper.

Ingeburg smirked. “I cannot complain about him.”

“Did he...?”

Ingeburg shook her head. “He does not covet me it seems. I fear he still resents me. Aren’t you coming in, Father?”

“I think I will. Let me pick up some things from the wagon first. I brought you your dresses, your cloak, and sturdy shoes. I also picked up some of the things left from your grandmother.”

“Oh, thank you, Father! That means so much to me!”

In a flash she hugged her father and he let her, gently patting her back. She let him go and looked into his face.

“I missed those hugs, Father. We did not get along well those last years. Was it because Mother always made a fuss over me?”

“I was fearing that she spoiled you, Ingeburg, and she did.”

Ingeburg nodded solemnly. “I know. How is Mother?”

Hunold sighed. “Don’t hold your breath waiting for her visit. She is beside herself, although I don’t know what she thought she was doing. After all, it was the Baron who forced his father to throw her from the castle. It was so foolish! Had I known about it, I would have prevented it.”

“Mayhap it was meant to happen. This craziness had to stop.”

“I see you did some thinking, Daughter. Let us sit for breakfast. I brought milk and a dozen eggs. Has your husband a fire going?”

Pelle had and they fried eggs with bacon for a filling breakfast. When they were finished, Pelle wanted to clear the table but Ingeburg was up already and made him sit down. She was the woman of the house now.

“She’s not a bad girl, you know,” Hunold spoke to Pelle. “I know, I know. She taunted you all the time, but she really meant it when she asked forgiveness. If you treat her right I’ll make it worth for you.”

“We’ll have to wait,” Pelle answered heavily. “I wasn’t planning on marriage yet and I wouldn’t have thought of Ingeburg even if I was. She’s been keeping her tongue in check. Let’s see for how long. I’ll not stand for it if she starts to follow her mother’s example.”

“Fair enough. Will you come visit us after church next Sunday? There’s still the question of Ingeburg’s dowry. She’s only my stepdaughter, but no daughter of mine joins a man without a dowry. Think of something you will need, and we’ll talk it over after noon meal.”

Pelle nodded. “We can do that. It’s good that you brought her clothes. I won’t find the time this week to visit Lemdalen. I have to start the next kiln. She’ll have to help with that. She can’t cook anyway, and I need a helper more than a housekeeper.”

“Just don’t work her to death. She isn’t used to hard work, my fault really, so please be easy on the girl.”

“I’m no taskmaster, Hunold, and I’ll do all the heavy lifting and the chopping. She can do the legwork.”

Hunold nodded. “That she can and she will. She isn’t bad, really. She was a sweet girl before her mother filled her head with those foolish ideas. It’s better I was on my way. You have work to do, and so have I.”

Hunold gave Ingeburg a short hug for farewell and left on his one horse wagon. Ingeburg hurried to stow away her clothes and the other things Hunold had brought. Then she dressed for work and followed Pelle outside. Pelle loaded the donkey cart with his axes, wedges, hammers, and other tools, and then they started out across the clearing.

Over the years, the windbreak had been cleared of dead wood. Now Pelle built his kilns along the fringes of the forest, and he roamed the woods for small trees and fallen branches. Since he was alone, he could not fell and drag larger trees. Instead, he built his piles with the wastes of the forest and with smaller saplings.

For the next hour, he dragged small logs and large branches to the clearing. Ingeburg was given the task of breaking up the dry deadwood into short logs, and to fill the bed of the donkey cart. Pelle cut the larger branches and small tree trunks to size with his big saw, and Ingeburg loaded those on the cart, too.

Once the cart was filled, Pelle let the donkey pull it to where he had started a new kiln a week ago. Whilst Ingeburg brought the logs from the wagon bed, Pelle piled them up in the pattern Enewalt had taught him many years ago. Soon they returned to the forest and loaded the cart a second time and a third time. When the sun stood high above the clearing, Pelle opened a basket that held buttered rye bread, smoked sausages, and an earthen bottle with light ale. The two young people sat on a tree trunk and wolfed down the frugal meal.

Ingeburg was dead tired already from the unaccustomed work, but the food and drink gave her new strength. Much to his surprise, Pelle felt fatigue as well. It took a while for him to reason that with Ingeburg doing the legwork, he spent more time doing the heavy lifting, chopping, and sawing. On the other hand, they had already piled up three cartloads by noon. Normally, he barely managed two. Grudgingly, he admitted to himself that Ingeburg was helping.

After their break, Ingeburg had problems getting up. Her sore muscles, now cold from the break, protested against any movement and it took her some time before she was able to move without a limp. Still, getting increasingly used to working together, they were able to bring three more cartloads of wood to the pile, and Pelle felt satisfaction at the amount of work they had accomplished for one day. It was easily more than half as much again as he usually got done on a good day.

On the way back to the cabin, he told Ingeburg as much and she managed a tired smile in response. They worked together to prepare a supper. Ingeburg was ravenous. She ate three helpings and she had two mugs of thin ale to wash the food down. She almost fell asleep at the table, but Pelle had her help with cleaning until the sun sank below the treetops. Then, when she looked at him with drooping eyelids, he told her to go to bed. Pelle cleared away a few things and locked up, but when he climbed the ladder up to the platform, Ingeburg’s exhausted snoring already filled the cabin. He chuckled at first, amused at the thought that the spoiled princess had worked herself dog tired, but then he checked himself. Ingeburg had really worked hard and she had not complained once.

Looking at her in the flickering light of the tallow candle he had to admit that she looked like a sleeping angel, that is if angels ever slept snoring with an open mouth. Her opened hair framed her head like a golden halo and he could see the swell of her proud breasts under the linen shirt, rising gently with each snoring breath. For a moment he was sorely tempted to touch her, but he knew that if he ever touched her he would not be able to stop. And of that he was afraid. He knew that once he let her touch his heart he would be at her mercy. With an effort, he turned away and undressed. He briefly contemplated to relief his needs with his hand, but then he forced himself away from that train of thought. The physical exertion of the day helped and soon Pelle was asleep, too.

The next day brought a repeat of the Monday, only they were done a little earlier. That evening, Ingeburg was even more exhausted and Pelle found her lying on her cot fully clothed and dead to the world when he climbed the ladder after lock-up. Against his better judgement, he gently undressed her. She never woke up but Pelle got his first feel of her enticing body. He had to relieve himself afterwards, and he had Ingeburg’s body before his inner eye when his member erupted in a geyser of seed.

On Wednesday, Pelle had them work on the kiln until noon time only, and they had their noon meal at the cabin. Whilst Pelle cleaned his tools and sharpened his axes and his wood saw, Ingeburg readied a sourdough for baking — she had started it the evening before — and fired the oven. Kneading the dough with her tired arms almost made her scream, but once the loaves were in the oven, the heavenly smell of fresh bread made her mouth water.

Whilst the bread was baking, Ingeburg ground some more grains to prepare a pastry, using carrots, onions, and the meat of a rabbit that Pelle had caught in one of his snares. To her amazement, Ingeburg found spicy herbs in Pelle’s food locker. She did not know half of them, but using her sense of smell she selected one to season the rabbit pastry. That evening at supper, Pelle could not help but smile broadly when he took the first bite of the pastry.

“Why Ingeburg, didn’t you claim you never learned to cook? This is delicious!”

Ingeburg blushed hearing the unexpected praise. “I-I just tried a few things,” she mumbled.

“You can try as much as you like if this is what comes out of it,” Pelle returned.

“I will,” Ingeburg promised. “You have many herbs in the locker. I didn’t know most of them. Where are they from?”

“I bought them from the Jew Avraham, in Birkenhain. I have dealings with Levy the Jew, the money lender, and Avraham is his uncle.”

“Oh, are you in debt?” Ingeburg asked in a worried tone. She had heard of people owing money to the Jews and that they ended up paying back more than once again of what they owed.