The Dove and the Rose by Ethel Herr

Author:Ethel Herr [Herr, Ethel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781441262516
Publisher: Baker Publishing Group
Published: 2012-11-23T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

East Frisia (Friesland), near border of Lowlands and Germany

Late in Wine Month (October), 1566

Afierce wind howled and drove the sleety rain in relentless sheets against the rickety horse-drawn coach. How many days Aletta’s family had shared this journey with Oom Johannes and Tante Neetlje, Cousin Anneke, and Giles, their orphan servant boy, a weary Aletta could only guess. It seemed like forever and ever….

She shivered at the sound of the angry pricks of ice pelting the side of the coach and sank back deeper into the tiny space allotted to her on the huge chest of books. She wrapped her woolen cape closer to her body, pulled its fur-lined hood tighter under her chin, and snuggled closer to her moeder.

If only she had cared better for Moeder Gretta, the way Tante Lysbet always did, they never would have had to leave Antwerp. No matter that Vader insisted they were part of a whole train of refugees fleeing the Golden City on the Scheldt River for “other reasons”—reasons which he refused to explain. She knew they had something to do with the fact that Prince Willem’s men and the papists were at each other’s throats.

But why would that uproot her family? Vader and Oom Johannes had nothing to do with all the hubbub. Good and faithful Christians they were, both of them—and respected businessmen. They had no enemies.

More important, it was no mere coincidence that the night before Vader announced they were going to leave, Moeder had somehow escaped out into the alley. She traipsed off in her nightdress, barefooted and bareheaded. Aletta had been aware, in her dreams, of the familiar sounds of her moeder wailing and crying out as she always did when the headaches possessed her. The woman had nearly reached the Kammerstraat before Vader found her and brought her back to Oom Johannes’ printshop.

“Vader,” the anxious daughter pleaded with her vader the next morning, “Tante Lysbet said that if Moeder ever wailed out in a public place, we must take her to Oudewater immediately.”

“Nay, my child,” he said with an aloofness that neither invited nor allowed for discussion. “Your moeder will be more than safe in Emden, far from here and far from Oudewater.”

Once more, her vader treated her as the empty-headed procession doll. Aletta knew better. Her moeder’s escapade had to be the real reason for this endless journey into the wilderness of Friesland. A barrage of accusing inner voices filled her guilt-ridden heart with torments:

“You disobeyed your vader!”

“You let Moeder Kaatje’s baby die!”

“You didn’t keep your own moeder safe!”

“God’s eye is watching, and you must pay!”

She closed her eyes and longed for sleep. Instead, she heard Oom Johannes shouting from up ahead.

“Our destination, at last,” his piping voice sounded like a thin reed, barely audible through the wind and sleet. “We’ll reach the city before dark.” He raised a cloaked arm and pointed ahead. Aletta peered out through the peephole between Oom Johannes and Vader Dirck, where they sat in the front of the coach.

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