‘I think of Hanne all the time,’ Thea said quickly. ‘I am so sorry. I am so . . .’ She brought a hand to her cheek, eyes swimming.
My mother took a deep breath. ‘“For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory. While we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen: for the things which are seen are temporal; but the things which are not seen are eternal.” I have been dwelling on this scripture. I pray on it.’ Then, as if afraid she had said too much, Mama stood and lifted Hermine onto her hip and left Thea and Anna Maria staring after her.
The next evening I followed Thea like a shadow. The young women were silent as they set out near midnight, neat braids wound over their heads, dark gowns covered with Sunday aprons, bare feet stepping noiselessly on the track.
Each bore a heavy basket or yoke on her back, and as the moon rose vast and orange in the sky, I listened to them breathe, falling in behind Thea as the track narrowed. The girls walked in single file up the slope away from the valley.
It was only when the glow of Heiligendorf ’s fires were hidden from view and the incline levelled out that the women began to talk.
‘Elize?’ Henriette tapped her on the shoulder.
‘Hm?’
‘What’s the stick for?’
Elize glanced behind her. ‘Reinhardt said we’re to be watchful of Tiersmen.’ She considered the heavy stick in her hand. ‘He made me take it.’
‘Tiersmen?’
‘Men living in the Tiers. The stringybark forest. He’s worked with them, sawing, stripping bark, out on the station, and says some are scoundrels.’
‘What do you mean, “scoundrels”?’ asked Augusta.
‘Convicts from the east. Escaped maybe. Released? I don’t know. But he saw one man’s back and it bore scars of flogging. He said they gamble and drink and live rough in the forest.’
‘You’re going to protect us all with a stick, then?’ Christiana’s voice piped out behind me. I turned and saw her peer into the dark bush on either side of the track. ‘Some use that will be.’
‘Oh, Reinhardt is just like that. He’s protective.’
‘God save us,’ Augusta muttered.
There was a crack of branch. Henriette yelped.
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake,’ Elize breathed. ‘Forget I said anything.’
Silence fell again as the track wound up a rocky incline and the girls took it in turns to help each other up the slope, their burdens threatening to send them off balance.
‘Shall we sing?’ ventured Elizabeth Volkmann.
‘Save that until we’re going downhill at least,’ replied Elsa Pfeiffer, catching her breath.
‘It’s too quiet,’ Elizabeth replied.
‘Well, let’s talk, then. Christiana, any news?’
‘Why me?’
Elize laughed. ‘You know all the stories.’
‘No, I don’t.’
‘Yes, you do,’ everyone chorused.
The track widened again and those at the rear ran awkwardly to join Elize, Thea and Henriette at the front.
‘I don’t,’ Christiana protested. ‘There’s nothing to say. Ask Augusta.’
‘What?’ Henriette glanced sideways at her friend, frowning. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘Ja, Christiana, you make me think you do know some news.’
‘Well, it’s not my news,’ Christiana said. ‘Go on, Augusta. Tell them.’
The girls slowed. Each head turned to Augusta.
‘Well,’ she said, glaring at Christiana. ‘It isn’t really . . . Christiana, you shouldn’t have . . .’
Christiana shrugged. She was smiling, but there was a hardness in her mouth.
‘You can’t say a word.’
‘Oh, Augusta, out with it,’ exclaimed Elize.
‘Matthias Nussbaum and I shall marry.’
The footfall ceased.
I felt my skin tighten. My brother. My twin. This is what my mother had been speaking of. I thought of all the mornings Matthias had left Hermine with Augusta. The small pieces of ship biscuit he had saved for Wilhelm.
‘Oh, Augusta.’ Elize’s voice was warm. She clasped Augusta’s fingers.
‘Pastor Flügel will read the banns this Sunday, when he returns from Neu Klemzig,’ Augusta continued, face sober.
‘I didn’t know you were sweethearts,’ Amalie said.
‘We’re not.’
The women were silent.
‘I mean . . .’ Augusta hesitated. ‘I mean, what with Karl . . .’
Elize patted her on the shoulder. ‘You don’t need to explain.’
The women circled Augusta and congratulated her, setting their packs down so that they might embrace. A dark fluke of jealousy wormed in me as Thea gently pressed her lips to Augusta’s cheek. ‘Go well,’ she said gently.
‘I know it’s soon,’ Augusta said to no one in particular.
‘It will be good to have someone to help you farm your land. With Karl gone. I mean, you needn’t go into service,’ Elize reassured her. ‘You can stay.’
‘Yes . . . That is what Matthias said.’
‘And your son.’
‘Ja, he will need a man to look up to.’
The women shouldered their baskets and continued walking in companionable silence.
‘How do you feel?’ Thea’s voice was a feather in the night.
‘Relieved,’ Augusta admitted, steadying the yoke on her shoulders. ‘The allotment is too much work for me alone.’
‘Yes, and now Matthias will live next door to his parents. He shall have much land, combined.’
Augusta shrugged. ‘I think of my future, Christiana. As must you.’
In the greying hours before dawn, the women reached a stream in the foothills and paused to rest and soothe their feet in the water. Then, as the sun slipped over the horizon, they walked down into the foothills. The inhabitants were pleased to see them, and although none of the Heiligendorf women spoke English, I was relieved for Thea’s sake to see that the prices for their eggs and butter and produce – conveyed by holding up fingers, pointing to coins offered in an open palm – were accepted without question. There were happy exclamations over the fresh vegetables, with even the gruffest speculators eagerly paying a shilling for two carrots, a shilling sixpence for three onions. By mid-morning, the yokes and baskets had been emptied of every item and, under Elize’s guidance, the girls exchanged some of the unfamiliar currency for sewing thread and needles and sugar. After tobacco had been found and bought for Gottfried Volkmann – ‘He insists upon it,’ Henriette apologised – Elize directed them to the brickworks on the banks of the river, where she purchased a small number of bricks.
‘They’re for the church,’ Elize said, passing them two apiece. ‘Elder Pasche has asked us to bring some back each time we come here. The pastor suggested it.’
‘Small church,’ muttered Amalie, hoisting her basket up onto her back.
Elize rolled her eyes. ‘In time we will have enough.’
‘How many bricks will it take?’ asked Elsa Pfeiffer.
Elize shrugged. ‘It’s not for me to question Pastor Flügel.’
‘In the meantime,’ Thea mused, weighing the heavy bricks in her hands, ‘we stand a better chance against the Tiersmen.’