good care of you. There is nothing to fear.” He reached behind the seat back and produced a heavy woollen blanket, which he passed to her. “Here, your clothes are wet and it is getting cold. Wrap yourself in this. You will feel better, ja?”
Accepting the blanket, she brushed at the tears with the heels of her hands. Schnuckel-it was what her grandmother had always called her, the same grandmother, in fact, whose German she spoke and whose name she bore. “Vielen Dank.” She sniffed, gathering the travel robe around her. As the warmth began to seep into her, she did feel a little better for his reassurance. Keep it together, girl, she told herself. You’ve got to keep a clear head. Think!
Her first thought was that without a doubt her current predicament was all her low rat of a boyfriend’s fault. All that talk about laying lines, or whatever it was, and crossing thresholds into other worlds and all that malarkey. It was so… she searched for a word. Impossible. So utterly impossible. No rational and sane person would have, could have believed him.
Yet, here she was.
But where was that?
“Excuse me, Herr Stifflebeam-”
“Etzel,” he corrected her with a smile.
“Excuse me, Etzel,” she said, “but where are we exactly?”
“Well, now,” he said, sucking his teeth as he considered, “we are a little way from the village of Hodyn in the province of Bohemia, which is part of the great empire of Austria.” He gave her a sideways glance. “Where did you think we might be, if I may ask?”
“I hardly know,” she replied. At least she was growing more comfortable with the language as, like a rusty pump that only required priming, the words began to flow more easily. “I was travelling with someone who has gone missing. There was a storm, you see, and I seem to have become a little confused.”
Englebert greeted this explanation with placid acceptance. “Travel can be very confusing, I find. And yes, the storm-it was very strong, ja?”
“Jawohl!” she agreed. You have no idea.
They continued along in silence. Mina gazed out at the drab countryside, all brown and grey beneath dark October skies-if it was still October; she assumed it was, but couldn’t be sure. The fields were small, and neatly kept behind their stone and wicker fences. Wooded hills clothed in the gold and brown of autumn rose to either side of the cobbled road and, here and there, she saw small slat-board houses, weathered grey, with shake shingles covered with moss, and whitewashed houses with low thatched roofs. It all looked so very old-timey…
“What is the time?” she asked suddenly. “I mean, what year?”
“It is the thirtieth year of Emperor Rudolf ’s reign,” answered Etzel promptly. He seemed to sense that the confusion surrounding his hitchhiking companion encompassed not only place but time as well. “It is the Year of Our Lord 1606.”
“I see.” Wilhelmina’s brow lowered. It was bad enough when she had imagined she was in Cornwall. This was worse. But if anything was to be done about it, she failed to see what it might be. Don’t panic, she told herself. Something will come to you. Until then, you’ve got no choice but to roll with it.
“Are you hungry?” asked Etzel.
“A little,” Mina admitted.
“I myself am always hungry,” he proclaimed, as if it was a singular achievement. “Behind the seat you will find a Tasche, ja?”
Mina swivelled around in the seat, parted the cloth that covered the wagon and formed an entrance to the wagon box, and saw barrels and casks and large bags of what looked like flour, or maybe sugar. “Do you see it?”
“Here it is!” She spied a lumpy hopsack bag and snatched it up.
Placing it in her lap, she loosened the drawstring and folded down the sides to reveal half a loaf of heavy dark bread, a muslin-wrapped wedge of cheese, a scrag end of sausage, three small apples, and a crockery flask of something that appeared to be wine.
“Take whatever you wish,” Etzel invited. He reached over and broke off a chunk of bread. “Like so, ja?”
Mina followed his example, broke off some bread, and popped it into her mouth. It was chewy and flavoured with caraway-just like her mother and grandmother used to make. “All those barrels and bags in the back,” she said, speaking around a second mouthful. “Are you a travelling salesman?”
“Nein, Fraulein,” he replied, helping himself to an apple. “Try some cheese,” he urged. “To tell the truth, I have never before travelled outside Bavaria.”
“You are Bavarian?”
“Ja, I am from Rosenheim. It is a small town not far from Munchen. You will not have heard of it.” He raised the apple to his lips, nipping it neatly in half in a single bite. “Do you like the bread?”
“Yes, very-it is delicious,” she replied.
“I made it,” Etzel confessed, a touch of shyness shading his tone. “I am a baker.”
“Really?” wondered Wilhelmina. “What a coincidence-I am a baker too.”
Etzel turned on his seat and regarded her, his blue eyes wide with surprise above his chubby pink cheeks. “There is no such thing as coincidence, Fraulein. I do not believe so. This,” he announced grandly, “is a most fortuitous meeting.”
“Fortuitous?” She puzzled over the word. “Fate, you mean?”
“Fate!” He said it as if the word itself was sour. His round cheerful face scrunched up in thought. “It is…” He paused, then declared with a shout of triumph, “Providence! Ja, it is Providence that has brought us together. You see, I am a baker who is in need of a helper.” He placed a hand on his chest. “And you are a baker in need of a friend, I think-and perhaps more, ja?”
It was, Mina had to admit, true.
He then revealed the reason for his trip to Prague. “Times are hard in Bavaria just now-all over Germany, too, I think. Very difficult. In Rosenheim I am a baker with my father and brother, but there is not enough business to support all of us anymore. My brother, Albrecht, has a family, ja, and what little trade we have, he needs it more than I do. I am second-born,” he said sadly, “and I have no wife, no children.” He paused, nodding to himself as if confirming that this was, in fact, the case. “Last month we sat down together the three of us and after many beers we made a plan. So! They are sending me to Prague to see if I can start a new business there.”
“Well, I hope it works out for you.”
“Werks aus?” The meaning escaped him. “Arbeitet aus, klappen?”
“Ah, gelang-succeeds, I mean.”
He nodded. “Do you know what they are saying?”
“No,” Mina admitted, liking his gentle manner. “What are they saying?”
“They are saying that in Prague just now, the streets are paved with gold.” He laughed. “I believe no such thing, of course. It is just a way of saying that things are better there.” He offered an amiable shrug. “I don’t say so myself. I only know things cannot be worse than they are in Rosenheim.” He nodded. “Things must be better there.”
“I hope you’re right,” she said.
The wagon bumped along, and as the dull day began to fade at last, they began to see a few more farms and houses scattered around the hillsides and beside the road and, finally, Hodyn : a dishevelled little farming town. “We will see if there is an inn, ja?”
“All right,” agreed Wilhelmina doubtfully. “But I should warn you, I don’t have any money.”
“Not to worry,” replied Etzel. “In a town like this it will not cost much. I have a little silver.” He smiled reassuringly. “God willing, it is enough.”
CHAPTER 8
In Which Wilhelmina Proves Her Mettle
