CHAPTER lV

16 1 0
                                    


Early this morning, the landlady’s cow gave birth, and as a result, the neighboring women gathered in the barn, blossoming with gossip.

“How sturdy it is,” the lady from upstairs exclaimed as she stroked the calf, sucking its mother’s milk through the fence.

“They say calves in the villages near the Argen River are dropping like flies when they’re born.”

The Argen River served as the border between our Hyland and the enemy Falkland.

Just a few months ago, the Falkland forces had occupied the entire northwest of Hyland. The city where Johann and I lived was also in the northwest. But now, with most of the territory restored to its original borders, the Argen River became the front line.

“Mrs. Baiant from the lower village is from there. From her hometown, everything from cattle to people is suffering and dying. Turnips are turning black and withering to their deaths.”

“Those devils from Falkland must have spread poison on our land before retreating.”

“It’s not quite like that,” the lady from upstairs shook her head.

“Rumor has it that an outsider posing as a laborer in the village was a spy for the Falkland, and he contaminated the wells and river with poison, isn’t that right?”

Could turnips really wither and die from poison in the river? I thought to myself, stirring the milk vigorously in the churn. Then I felt someone’s gaze.

‘Why is she looking at me like that?’

The landlady subtly gestured with her eyes toward the lady from upstairs. It was as if she was hinting that I was also an outsider.

‘Oh, I’m an outsider too.’

The lady from upstairs realized belatedly, closing her mouth. The atmosphere immediately became awkward.

Oh no. I wasn’t offended, but if I look offended, will they really suspect me of being a spy?

I also felt the awkwardness. I tried to lighten the mood by smiling brightly and making a joke.

“If I were a spy for the Falkland, history would record me as the most foolish spy ever. Poisoning the water that my husband and I drink, imagine that.”

“Oh my, where in the world would we find such a pretty and lovely spy?”

“That’s right, that’s right. The demons from the Falkland aren’t as pretty and lovely as Rize.”

As the stiffness in the atmosphere broke, I steered the conversation back to its original track.

“So what happened to that spy?”

“They say they caught him and hanged him in the village square.”

“Tsk, a scoundrel who deserved to die. I hope he’s burning in the fires of hell now.”

“If he shows up in our village, I’ll impale him on a stake and set him on fire.”

These were people who had lost their families or feared losing them to the hands of the Falkland forces. It was only natural for the ladies to harbor hatred toward the Falkland.

I, too, had lost my home and memories to their bombings, so it was only natural for me to despise the Falkland.

“I just hope these demons don’t show up in this village, that’s all.”

I didn’t want to lose the sanctuary I had finally found after fleeing from the war.

“You there, now get out of here.”

Amidst the chatter, the topic shifted as the well-fed calf detached from its mother’s teat. The landlady placed a low stool next to the mother cow and started milking it into a large bucket.

The milk poured in a steady stream, creating a soothing rhythm. I watched in bewilderment as she continued to milk and I make butter.

“Why is the milk yellow like custard cream?”

“That’s because it’s colostrum.”

“Colostrum?”

“It’s the first milk that comes out after giving birth.”

“Ah…”

“Colostrum is much thicker and more nutritious. It’s packed with all the nutrients a newborn baby needs.”

“But if you’re squeezing out all this precious milk…”

The old lady continued to squeeze the milk until she filled two buckets to the brim, and she didn’t stop there. This time, she grasped another teat and brought a third bucket underneath.

“There won’t be any for the calf to feed on?”

However, my question seemed to amuse the ladies gathered around. They chuckled as I asked.

“Rize wouldn’t know, as she doesn’t have a child yet.”

“You have to milk it, or the milk won’t come in as much.”

“Plus, you have to open the teats with your hands for the calf to suckle comfortably.”

“I see.”

“Wasn’t I right? Rize must have been a rich girl who only ever gave orders to the maids with her chin.”

“Oh no. I was never a rich girl.”

Once again, the villagers were curious about my past, who knew nothing of farm work, perhaps due to the memory loss that had wiped my mind clean.

“No, you must have grown up quite gracefully. Just look at your face and hands, so delicate. You couldn’t have weed grass in the sun like that, with hands as soft as milk.”

“She’s a city girl. Where would she weed?”

There was an air of disdain in Brigitta’s tone. Brigitta looked down not only on me but on other city girls as well.

According to the landlady, leaving for the city had been her lifelong dream, but she had ended up marrying a bachelor in the village and never fulfilled that dream. So why was she taking out her frustrations on someone else who had achieved their dream, rather than her own family who had crushed her dream?

“She doesn’t seem like a rich girl.”

Brigitta grabbed my hand without asking for permission and examined it closely.

“Your skin isn’t that smooth. It looks like the hand of someone who’s done hard work, right? Johann’s hands are even smoother.”

With a dismissive flick, Brigitta dropped my hand and brought up my husband. At that moment, her tone softened.

“Because Johann was a teacher.”

IPTYFMWhere stories live. Discover now