I knew that my father was anxious to speak to Flügel. He did not let the pastor out of his sight all afternoon, and I imagined that he wanted to learn as much as he could about Neu Klemzig. Papa was a farmer, after all: if he had any earthly appetite in his body, it was lust for good, friable soil. I was surprised, then, when Papa sat beside Flügel in the pitiful shade and spoke not of Neu Klemzig, but of me.
‘Pastor, I ask for forgiveness. I hope you will pray for me.’
‘What is it, Heinrich?’
Papa turned his hat in his hands. ‘My daughter Hanne – Johanne – died on the journey here.’
‘I am sorry.’
I crept closer until I was kneeling by his side. Tears were flowing from my father’s good eye. He wiped them from his face. ‘Forgive me.’
‘Your grief is understandable.’
‘I know that our Lord is just. But there is such . . . anger. There is such anger in my heart.’
‘This is the second child you have lost?’
At this my father broke down and I felt my own chest crack open. ‘Papa,’ I said. ‘Papa!’ I wrapped my arms around him.
‘Great afflictions are great instruments, Heinrich. They open the hidden treasures of God’s mercies.’
My father nodded, weeping still.
Flügel placed a steadying hand on his shoulder. ‘I shall pray for your daughter.’
‘Don’t bother,’ I snapped. I wanted to bite him on the knuckle. ‘I’m right here.’
‘Thank you,’ Papa said.
‘How is Frau Nussbaum?’
‘She is well, thank you.’
‘And Matthias?’
‘Healthy, thanks be to God.’
Pastor Flügel squeezed Papa’s shoulder. ‘How old is he now?’
‘Seventeen. A man.’
Flügel glanced over to where Matthias sat next to Hans, both laughing at the cat as she chased the flowering head of a reed they were dragging along the ground.
‘There is a great need for labour here,’ Flügel said. ‘When we arrived, we were swamped with visitors looking for workmen, farmhands. No doubt Matthias will be invited to go out to the stations. You too, I suspect. Women will be invited to leave and work as servants. Now, I understand that all of you are anxious to repay your debts and avoid further interest, and Matthias, I am sure, will be eager to do his part. But it is my sore hope and prayer that we do not give in to fear of poverty and disband. We cannot disperse. Do not let our young men be tempted by such offers – we cannot know anything of the character of employers, cannot be assured they will permit our people to worship and rest on Sundays. There will be work and opportunity enough when we settle.’
‘At Neu Klemzig? Is there land enough there for us?’
I saw the pastor hesitate briefly before he nodded. My father noticed it also.
‘I have spoken to the captain,’ Papa ventured. He looked uncomfortable, was still wiping his cheeks with the heel of his hand. ‘He has advised us to go there and form our own opinion of the land.’
‘Yes, go, form your own judgement, Heinrich. But remember, we have all emigrated for the sake of our faith.’
My father smiled. ‘Faith. Yes. But, as the captain said, “God has given us bodies as well as souls.” He is concerned that the settlement at Neu Klemzig will expose us to hunger and worry.’
Pastor Flügel looked over to where the captain stood, conferring with his first mate. ‘It is the land provided to us by Herr Angas. I have secured a loan of twelve hundred sterling so that we at Neu Klemzig might buy cattle.’
‘With interest.’
Flügel smiled. ‘Ten per cent. “Render unto Caesar . . .”’
‘But cattle must be fed. The earth must be able to produce something for us.’ Papa lowered his voice. ‘The land is not good. Pastor Flügel, we know. We have been warned not to go there. How might we live as an independent community, if we are unable to pay our debts? If we are unable to feed ourselves? Would it not be better for those at Neu Klemzig to remain there, and for us who have come on the Kristi to form our own village? We would remain your congregation. You could move between several congregations, several communities. As it was in the old country?’
‘As I said, Heinrich, you are welcome to assess the land in question and form your own opinion.’ Flügel reached for my father’s hand, shaking it firmly. ‘I remember your daughter. I shall pray that the Lord eases your suffering.’ He pulled my father in closer. ‘“And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away.”’
‘Thank you, Pastor.’
A greasy-fingered light was setting across the mudflats when Pastor Flügel approached Anna Maria. She and Thea were cooking rice over an open fire in the sand behind the tents. They looked up at the sight of the pastor squeezing between the canvas walls.
‘Good evening,’ he said. He gestured to their fire. ‘May I sit?’
‘It is a pleasure to meet you, Pastor Flügel,’ Anna Maria said, dipping her head. ‘The congregation of Kay have been exceptionally kind to us.’
The pastor opened his hands in a gesture of appreciation. ‘We are pleased to welcome all believers of the true faith. It is one of the reasons I would like to speak to you, Frau Eichenwald.’
I noticed Thea glance at her mother.
‘You would like to speak to me?’
‘Frau Eichenwald, it has come to my attention that, on the journey here, you engaged in homeopathic medicine. Is that true?’
Anna Maria straightened her back. ‘I am a midwife and a healer. There is no shame in that.’
‘No, I understand.’ Pastor Flügel placed a hand on his chest. ‘I, too, put great store by homeopathy. I have benefitted enormously from its wisdom. I recognise, however, that amongst herbal crafts there is variance, and that such things can – if one is not careful – descend into immoral practices.’
Anna Maria did not take her eyes off the pastor. A smile stretched across her face.
‘Frau Eichenwald, I will ask you outright, and I urge you to answer in truth. Should your answer be affirmative, it would bring me great joy to pray for you, to hear your confession, and to facilitate steps towards public contrition so that the congregation may trust and commune with you and your family. Grace is for all.’
‘What is your question, Pastor Flügel?’
The wind dragged at the flames beneath the pot. Unsteady light shone across Anna Maria’s face.
‘Do you have in your possession a book of the occult?’
‘No.’ Anna Maria’s answer was swift and sure.
Pastor Flügel paused, blinking, then sat back. ‘What do you say to those who believe they saw one in your possession?’
Anna Maria picked up her spoon and stirred the rice, eyebrows raised in an expression of tired forbearance. ‘I would ask that they remember the six things the Lord doth hate, yea, seven are an abomination unto him.’
The pastor’s mouth twitched in uncertainty as Anna Maria continued, gaze level, spoon stirring. ‘“A proud look, a lying tongue, and hands that shed innocent blood, a heart that deviseth wicked imagination, feet that be swift in running to mischief, a false witness that speaketh lies, and”’ – she smiled at the pastor – ‘“he that soweth discord amongst brethren.”’