The Flower Shop (Die Samenh?ndlerin-Saga #2)
Petra Durst-Benning
The Nymph of the Pond
The meadows surrounding the shimmering blue-green waters of the pond were more lush than most in the region, and a favorite among the goatherds who took their goats there to graze. The animals tugged sedately at the fragrant grasses and plants, and none were tempted to run away.
Satisfied with his choice of pasture, a young herder began to play his shawm, devoting himself to a pensive melody. But other sounds—far lovelier and finer—seemed to come from the pond itself and soon mixed with his dreamy tune.
Curious, the youth made his way down to the water’s edge, and was surprised to spy, on a rock in the small pond, a beautiful water nymph with rippling black hair and sparkling green eyes. She plucked a golden harp and sang to it in a voice as clear as well water, a song the goatherd did not know, but which captivated him instantly. The nymph, with a gentle smile on her lips, glanced at the boy just once but did not interrupt her singing.
The goatherd had neither seen nor heard anything as lovely in his life. He felt as if he could sit there forever, and only when it began to grow dark did he return to his goats. After that, he visited the pond evening after evening to listen to the enchanted sounds.
One day, the nymph revealed to the youth that her name was Merline. But she told him he must never speak to her by that name, or call it aloud if he did not find her there, for if he did, something terrible would happen.
The goatherd nodded, but he was mystified.
One day, on his way to the pond, he came across an old pitch-burner who had been traveling in the region for as long as anyone could remember. The old man warned the goatherd to be on his guard. Many a young man had found his eternal grave in that pond because he could not resist the nymph’s beguiling song.
The pitch-burner’s warning fell on deaf ears, for the young goatherd had long ago fallen for Merline’s charms. One evening, when he did not find the nymph atop her usual rock, he could do nothing other than call her name.
“Merline!”
Instead of seeing the nymph, the youth spied a blood-red rose that grew from the surface of the water and drifted to the bank. When he bent to pluck it, he tumbled into the water and was caught in the twining vines. In fear, he flailed his arms and kicked with his legs, but the pond did not release him, and instead pulled him down to its depths.
That night and the morning after, the goats bleated for their goatherd, to no avail. Then they wandered into the woods around the pond and were never seen again.
Chapter One
January 1871
“Baden-Baden! I already know I’m not going to like this place.” Flora gazed grumpily out of the train window. The black coal smoke billowing from the locomotive mixed with the silently falling snow, creating an ugly, blurry veil that made everything gray and shadowy. The few people she saw had their noses hidden inside their overcoat collars or behind handkerchiefs to protect them from the bad air.
Flora pointed beyond the station building to a huge banner hanging from a hotel window. “Bayerischer Hof—look how they go on about their food and drink!”
“Don’t worry. Our hotel is much closer to the center of town, and I can tell you now that it’s far less exclusive.” Hannah Kerner, who was sitting beside Flora, sighed. The last thing she needed was her daughter’s carping.
“Well, that’s one thing to be thankful for. Ugh! Everything looks so grim. And deserted. How are we supposed to do good business here?” Flora seemed unaware that her own countenance was at least as grim and unwelcoming as the face of Baden-Baden on that winter’s day.
Hannah also peered dubiously at the snowed-in town. There were no soldiers in sight, although she was not sure if that was a good or bad sign. France had not yet officially surrendered, and the Franco-Prussian War continued despite the newspapers’ exaggerated reports of a German victory. Apparently, King Wilhelm had had himself declared emperor just a few days earlier in the Hall of Mirrors at the palace in Versailles, and the papers were talking about it as a gesture of “complete subjugation.” A German emperor in Versailles—that was something! Hannah’s husband, Helmut, and the other men in the village had already lifted many glasses of beer and schnapps to the new emperor.
What if the French did not feel themselves to be “completely subjugated” after all? Was France perhaps on the cusp of a counterattack? And if it was, then Baden-Baden was a particularly unsafe place to be.
Although Hannah loved the town and knew it very well from earlier visits, she had an uneasy feeling. There had been far better times to visit Baden-Baden, and there certainly would be again, which only made Hannah even more resolved to put on a confident, carefree face for Flora’s sake. She did not want fear added to her daughter’s rancor and discontent.
Before their departure, Helmut had questioned everyone he knew who had been anywhere near Baden-Baden about the political situation. None of the travelers reported any fighting or dangerous situations, so Helmut felt it would also be safe enough for his wife and daughter, and Hannah had not said anything to contradict him. What could she have said? They could not afford to sit at home and wait for better times.
And now it fell to Hannah, in these extraordinary days, to instill in her daughter a taste for travel and trade. But until then, she had not had much success.
The train stopped. It was time to see what was waiting for them.
“Stop sulking!” said Hannah, with a glance at Flora. “You take the bag with the food and gifts, and I’ll carry the seed sack and the traveling case.” As she spoke, she wrapped her warm wool shawl around her shoulders and looked critically at her reflection in the filmy window. She straightened her felt hat and was satisfied with what she saw. She knew that the dark green of the matching hat and shawl showed off her nearly black hair and eyes to best advantage. The shawl and the small hat also marked her as a G?nningen seed dealer, who earned her living from the trade in flower and vegetable seeds and tulip bulbs. Not all the women in Hannah’s village looked as good as she did in that attire: at thirty-nine, Hannah was still a very attractive woman.
Flora, too, wore G?nningen’s dark green, although she wore the shawl as if it weighed on her shoulders like a half-ton yoke.
Oh, my girl, a seed woman’s life is not so bad, Hannah thought.
A few minutes later, the two women were sitting in a coach and being driven toward the center of Baden-Baden. Hannah wanted to drop their luggage at the guesthouse before they visited their first customers.
As the coach rolled over the hard-packed snow that covered the long street, Hannah pointed out stately homes, mansions, and hotels—all residences of her esteemed Baden-Baden customers. Flora kept up her deliberately indifferent facade. Behind her sullen silence, Hannah could hear Flora loud and clear—she had no interest whatsoever in the “esteemed customers.” But instead of being upset at Flora’s behavior, Hannah felt as though her heart would break to see her daughter so unhappy.
How she loved her daughter! Of course, the twins—two years younger than Flora—were just as close to her heart. But her daughter was simply . . . her daughter.
Her Flora.