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Till der Fuchs[1] laughed as the chicken he had stolen cooked over his little fire (though he would say that he had won them through his wit). He had finished the other two off the night before. Till had feasted viciously only the juiciest bits and thrown the rest into the fire. He delighted that he had food to waste without a day’s work, while stuffy men who toiled day and night with barely enough crumbs to fill their bowls. Tonight though, he would have to eat some of the dry white meat and pick the bones, till he found another mark. He had heard there was a famine in Dinklesbuhl, tragedy always made for easy marks. Some beer to wash down his meat would be a happy treat. Till laughed again as he thought of the foolish woman.
She had been selling four chickens at a market. Till had promised her an outrageous price, but said he had to go and fetch the money. The woman had fretted that she could not trust him, but Till had agreed to leave a deposit, one of her own chickens, to ensure his return. The fool had gladly agreed. She had had a strange accent, maybe Schwäbisch? You could also count on a Swabe for an easy mark. She’d been a strangely attractive woman too, the simple ones always were. Till began to wish he’d taken time to pluck her for more than just her chickens.
He was musing over the women he had coerced and beguiled into bed over the years and stripping the last meat from the chicken bones when he was suddenly interrupted by a voice near at hand. It gave him a start and he turned around staring into woods to see from where the voice had come. It had been a soft, feminine, and teasing voice, foreign, and recently familiar. She had said, “12 hours walking and still you have not fetched your wallet. You Germans do measure a league oddly.”
Till stared into the woods. He called for the person to show themselves, but no one appeared. Perhaps his mind had played tricks on him. Even if the woman from the market had realized her mistake, she had no way to have found him. He turned back to the fire and the woman from the market place was seated on a log across from him. Only now she was not wearing a rough farmer’s clothing, but a gown of some iridescent material. Till tried to regain his composure. She was one simple girl in the woods, a mere nuisance compared to some of the people that had chased him out of towns. Besides in that dress, his earlier thoughts of plucking her feathers returned quickly.
Till laughed, “Oh, my dear. You didn’t have to come all this way. I would have gotten your money to you soon. But I think I see the trouble. This is not your mother tongue and you must have misunderstood me. Languages can be so slippery sometimes. You must have heard me say “wegstunde”[2] and you were expecting me to return in two hours with your money. What I said, was “wegs stande”[3]. An easy mistake, nothing to feel embarrassed about. You see this road is quite safe and so is a reasonably civil journey to fetch my wealth. But even on a reasonably civil road, it’s not safe for a young woman to be traveling along at night. Perhaps you’d like to join my camp for the evening. I’ve already pitched a tent.”
“A clever ruse, you show some promise, but too late to save you now,” The woman smiled coldly and Till’s burgeoning boner withered. She said, “Till, we have made a deal and I have upheld my end of the bargain. You have eaten my fowl and used their fat to feed your fire. Do you have what you owe me?”
The woman locked eyes with him and it shook him to his core. Till felt fear like he had never felt in the face of a hundred cheated fools or in the face of a hundred more angry fathers and husbands or in the face of a hundred mobs crying for his blood. But he could not look away and worst still, he could think of nothing to say. And finally with reluctance, each word dragged out of him by the stare, Till did something he hated worst of all in the world, he told the truth to someone who would believe him, “No, I don’t.”
The woman smiled again, “Then you are in my debt.”
* * * * *
Till sat sullenly in a carriage of some alien construction. He would have sworn that it was being pulled by a team of eight crickets, though that was patently absurd. His quickest twit, best tricks, and even his finest mis-directions had all failed him. And then he had tried that old great stand-by of con men the world over and run like hell away. He might have gone with that other great stand-by, murder, but what he had seen in those eyes had taken the fight right out of him. Besides, Till had always considered himself a lover. Exhausted and dirty he had emerged from the woods a little while later onto a road. The lady’s carriage stood before him.
The lady had issued a peel of delighted laughter, “Excellent, I appreciate a punctual servant. You have arrived just in time for our departure. Be a good boy and get the door.”
Till had still not fully realized the level of his predicament and so had fled once more, this time searching the woods for a place to hide. He had burrowed into a hollow beneath a tree and come tumbling out into the moonlit carriage. The lady was seated opposite him. She shook her head in mocking disappointment, “You have much to learn about being a foot man if you ever wish to repay your debt.” But then she brightened, “But at least you had the manners to use the servant’s entrance. A servant must always know his place.”
Till had briefly considered leaping from the carriage, but the trees streamed by so quickly that even the thought of it was dizzying. Finally, he gathered his wits and tried again, but the negotiations had proven hopeless. It seemed he would still have to do something to repay the lady. A totally unfair and miserable situation. Till crossed his arm and glared at the lady, while avoiding eye contact as best as possible.
“Fine, I’ll work for you to repay my debt, but you must provide me housing and food and other necessities to during that time,” Till said.
The lady nodded, “I knew you would see reason, not that it mattered. Here are the terms of your labor, I will pay you a daily wage until you have paid precisely what you owe me. Until that time you shall be under my care.”
“A fair wage, what you pay- what an average craftsman would make in a day. My skills are beyond those of a mere laborer,” Till declared.
“As you say,” the lady agreed. Till chuckled to himself, he might have to work, but she would quickly learn how much his room and board could cost. And four chickens cost barely three days wages. He would still come out of this ahead. He just hoped that it wasn’t honest work the lady had in mind.
“Oh, and I get my last chicken too.”
The lady smiled, “Of course. It was after all just a deposit.”
Till settled back into the seat more contentedly. He had never ridden in a carriage before, but like many things in life it was something he’d always felt entitled to. The opportunity had just never come up. He liked it. Once he was done with the witch, he’d have to see about getting one from a prince or king or something. He wondered where would be a good place to go for that sort of mark. A question came to mind, “Where are we going?”
The lady smiled, “To my isles of course.”
* * * * *
Till was sweating and exhausted. He grunted and let the plow fall to the ground. He had never been worked so hard in his whole life. The lady had found the thought of him tilling soil amusing, he had not understood the joke. Perhaps she just found the thought of him suffering amusing. Besides, he was certain that the horse? had instantly taken a dislike to him and was purposefully not doing its share. Probably the lady’s doing as well.
But after hours of backbreaking labor, surely he must almost be finished. He asked the cruel slave driver next to him when they would stop for lunch. The man looked up from his own plow and growled, “Just till the damn soil and quit your bitchen, the sun’s still in our eyes. We’ve got the whole day ahead of us.”
Till was too tired to think of a good retort, so he issued a nasty noise and struggled to get the plow back up-right, “Did that witch enchant the land so that it was always uphill?”
Through some strange magic of this place, Till could understand the man even though they spoke an odd and mushed up language here. His cruel tormentor taunted sadistically, “You idiot. You haven’t even finished one row. It’s downhill in the opposite direction. You’re not going to even make it one week.”
Till finally saw some small triumph and spat, “Ha, well I’ll be done in three days so I guess it doesn’t matter.”
This just made the twisted old man laugh bitterly.
“Yeah, laugh it up. Who’ll be laughing when I’m out of here and you’re still stuck as a witch’s farmhand,” Till called out.
The man shook his head and said, “You just don’t get it do you? Once she has you . . . You’ll see.”
Till ignored the man and struggled through the rest of the day. Finally, the end of the day came. The lady appeared just as the sun was setting. Till stumbled to the water bucket and gulped down water. The lady smiled at him, “And how did you enjoy your time on in my garden?”
Till said hoarsely, “Where are my wages?”
“You still think I am a common cheat or a highway brigand Till? I keep my word. Your wages, what an average craftsman earns in these lands. Though judging by the erratic pattern you have made of my garden, I think you have perhaps exaggerated your talents,” the lady handed him several coins that Till did not recognize.
Till asked, “What are these?”
“Just what we agreed to. Now if you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to where you’ll be staying until your debt is paid,” the lady turned to walk away.
“But how much are they worth? How many will I need to pay off my debt?” Till demanded.
The lady asked perplexed, “What do you mean Till? Those are shillings. You must pay me exactly what you owe me, three marks of gold[4].”
Then Till slowly understood, “But if I can’t use these to pay my debt, where will I trade these for German marks?!”
The lady smiled her cold smile, “Till my dear, I very generously allowed you to work off your debt, when I could have taken it by other means, and then I pushed my generosity further in allowing you to set your own wage. Do not push my patience yet further by demanding that I answer your questions or supply solutions to your problems. If you are unable to uphold our bargain after such boundless benevolence on my part, you have no one to blame but yourself.”
* * * * *
Till languished another week in the garden. Small sprites and brownies gathered at dawn to laugh at his struggles. He could hear them whispering amongst themselves. He called to them promising them piles of money if they would return with German marks. They merely flitted away when he tried to approach them. At the end of the week, the lady declared that he was too distracting to her people in the garden and she assigned him to shoveling shit in her stables. The stable master was a man of indeterminate height and very fair skin who would hum oats into the animals feed bins and sing their coats clean. Till cursed at him and swore and stole every chance he got to sleep in an empty hay filled stall. This frequently ended in him waking up just as he dropped into a horse trough.
One day the stable master indulged in one of his endless lectures on the horses and atomies and deer and pooka the stables held. Till usually nodded along happy for the break from work, but then a detail caught his attention. The stable master regularly exercised the animals. Riding them over oceans and mountain ranges. Many of the animals were very fast and strong, though not so fast as the Elfking’s steeds opined the stable master. Those animals, the stable master said dreamily, could hunt a man wearing 40 league boots and catch him.
Till perked up, he knew of the Elf king. The Elf king, or der Erlkönig as he was properly called, was from his homeland and occasionally stole children or pulled other such fairy pranks. If the stable master knew of the elf king, perhaps he could get Till home to trade for money. Till immediately set his mind to ingratiating himself to the stable master. For several days he spent more time flattering and questioning the stable master than on his work than he did sleeping in empty stalls.
Finally, he felt that he had lured the stable master into trusting so much that he could trick him into helping Till. Till suggested a close familiarity to the Elf King and suggested that perhaps he could assist the stable master in acquiring some of his fine horses. But he would need the stable master to take his shillings and exchange them for German money if they were to have any hope of striking a deal with the Elf King. But first the stable master would have to bring the money back to Till, to make sure they had enough. Till almost became frustrated and let his façade slip as he explained things to the simple minded stable master again. The fool kept mispronouncing the German word for money[5] and Till worried that he would be taken by some unscrupulous money changer if he showed his stupidity and not return with enough for Till to purchase his freedom. Finally, the stable master set off on one of the Lady’s fastest steeds so that it could stretch its legs.
Till waited anxiously. It took much longer than usual for the stable master to return. Till worried that perhaps the fool had gotten lost or worse. If something had happened to the stable master, Till would have to work even longer and even another day in the stables was too much for him. Finally, he saw the stable master coming towards him with several horses in tow. The stable master smiled triumphantly.
Till asked, “What took you so long?”
The stable master seemed perplexed by the question, “Why, I had to take the long way around to return with our treasure of course.”
Till’s heart leaped, the stable master had gotten the money. He was free! “Well, where is it?”
“Right here Till, I have gotten us as many German geldings as I could. Is this enough for the Elf King to trade for one of his steeds, do you think?” The stable master asked hopefully.
Till cursed and thrashed. He insulted the stable master with every word he knew and created some on the spot. He kicked and wailed. But it did no good, his money was gone. And his bitter tongue lashing had lost the stable master as an ally. It was readily apparent that Till had cared nothing for the Elf King’s steeds and was only using the stable master’s friendship for his own ends. Till’s time in the stables were much worse from there on out. Every little task he had left undone or cut corners on, now needed done in full and to such exacting standards that his back ached from shoveling horseshit and scrubbing stalls.
That night, Till returned to the small room he had been given to find it crowded with horses and a single donkey. They occupied every inch of the room, standing on his bedding, stamping on his chamberpot, rooting through his belongings. A familiar voice said, “I had my servants bring your property to your quarters. I agreed to provide for your needs, not the needs of your chattel. If you wish to house them in my stables, we can reach another arrangement. Though I would have thought it more prudent for you to repay what you owe than invest in livestock.”
Till screamed, “You stupid cow! If your moron stable boy could string two thoughts together, you’d have your damn money. I don’t want the damn horses, I want to go home! I’ve worked more than enough to pay for some damn chickens you bitch!”
Till dove at the lady and tried to grab her by the throat to throttle the life out of her. He found himself face first on the ground beneath the horses. He struggled around thrashing and flailing, kicking trying to connect violently in whatever way he could. The Lady was never where he expected her to be. Finally, he collapsed to the ground panting. He waited, breathing heavy and listening.
The lady asked with what sounded like genuine curiosity, “How long do you think it will take before I let my guard down? Do you think you can pretend to be exhausted that long?” Then she seemed to be whispering in his ear, “Do you think you’ll still be alive when my patience runs out?”
Till rose screaming and swinging at nothing but air. And kicked one of the horses. He let out a whelp of pain and fell to the floor rocking back and forth.
“Just take the horses and leave me alone,” Till pleaded.
The lady smiled, “A present? How thoughtful Till and so unique. My palace is filled with the finest treasures from many realms, but no one ever thinks to get me something so common. Perhaps, I’ll let them run with the cursed princes.”
As she was turning to leave she called over her shoulder, “Oh, and you’ve been reassigned. Tomorrow morning report to the kitchens.”
“What about the . . .” Till had been going to ask about the horses, but the Lady was gone and with her the horses. The lone donkey however still stood in a corner chewing on his bed. Till snatched away the bedding and then shooed the donkey away. He fell into the bed ignoring the pile of horseshit sitting on the floor nearby.
* * * * *
The smells from the kitchen turned Tills stomach. There were pots of bubbling bog water and disturbing looking animals turning on spits. He was directed towards a pile of cast iron pots that were coated with a mixture of rust and green slime that stared at him maliciously the whole day. His clothing was soaking wet and his hands thoroughly wrinkly by the time he retired. He managed to sneak away several handfuls of oats in his pouches throughout the day. Not because he was hungry, but just on principle, he would take whatever he could get. He deserved it after all.
He slunk back to his room and then fell quickly to sleep. Ignoring the braying of the Donkey. He had tied it to the window frame and for all he cared it could stay there until it died. By morning the donkey had found and eaten all of the oats from his pockets. Till cursed the stupid animal. And went off to eat his breakfast at one of the Lady’s tables. Till stuffed his face greedily.
He stole even more oats from the kitchen and one of the cook’s books just to prove he could. The pots hissed at him as he worked and the kettles sizzled when he tried to wash them out. Till just spat at them and continued scrubbing. That night he shoved the oats into the book and bound it shut with a belt. He made a face at the donkey and then fell into bed. But the donkey worked the book open and gobbled down the oats again. Till cursed at the donkey. He rushed out of the room to find the Lady and demand that she remove the damn animal. He turned round and round in the halls of the massive mansion. His first night here he had attempted to escape, but found that every passage seemed to lead back to his own room. But he had been here longer, surely he would know the place well enough to make off in the dead of night now. With money he could get some place to get the coins he needed and then he would throw them into the lady’s face. After the tenth time reappearing at this room, he finally gave up and sat in a huff.
It did not take long for his petty thefts to be discovered. The creatures that manned the kitchen did not report him however. The lady did not take kindly to theft and her punishments tended to be somewhat indiscriminate. Till learned very quickly, that making trouble for the low people did not end well. The pots were dirtier than ever and the green slime didn’t just look at him now, it also bit and stung him when he wasn’t looking. He constantly found himself getting splashed with hot water or getting hit by a foul smelling bit of entrails. His attempts at retaliation only led to more harsh treatment. And the donkey took to braying, until he hid more oats around his room.
* * * * *
Relief did not come until the lady finally decided to put him to work in a mill. He had to move bags of grain and flour about all day while cackling goblins skittered about the floor. The goblins worked filling bags, tying them off, and shuffling grain into the mill and collecting the flour. The mill stone was not driven by a donkey or a horse or a stream, but by a scaly skinned giant. The giant did not seem too bright and ignored Till’s unflattering noises. The goblins ignored the giant too and did not share their whispered jokes.
This was his favorite assignment of the whole terrible experience so far. Though the moving the sacks made him sore all over, the goblins at least appreciated a good joke. When he bagged up one of the little things and tossed it in flour so that it emerged white and coughing, the other goblins would all applaud and laugh hysterically. Till continued with his antics until all of the goblins gave him a wide berth. He gloried in their fear almost as much as he had their attention. But then he found himself alone carrying heavy bags dawn to dusk. He tried to grab them up to make them pay attention, but now that they had gotten use to his tricks they were too quick for him.
One day as he put down a heavy load of rye, he found himself snatched up in heavy burlap. He was tumbled about fiercely and when he emerged he was white from head to toe. He coughed and sneezed and the goblins howled with laughter. Thereafter, the goblins made threatening imitations of the giant at Till and when he chased them they would skitter away to hide behind the giant. Till was coated several more times in the following days. His donkey appreciated this fact greatly.
“You fool creatures! Without someone to shake me up, you wouldn’t be so brave! You wouldn’t dare stand-up to me without your hero! I’m the one that came up with the flour game!” Till screamed, he did not like being made to look like a fool. The goblins just laughed more at his outrage.
Eventually, one of the Lady’s butler’s came to investigate why so much of the flour was being ruined. Till pointed at the giant, but the goblins whispered to the butler. The butler nodded as the goblins chittered. Till fumed, “Are you really going to believe them? Of course they’re going to take that things side! They’re part of it.”
“Perhaps they are part of this unpleasant business, but it seems you are the root cause. I will bring the matter to the lady of the house for her judgment,” the Butler said.
Till was dragged by invisible bonds into a grand thrown room where the lady was sitting playing a game that vaguely resembled something like chess against a woman in white with a sun patterned dress. The Lady sighed, “Titania, dear, I must deal with some domestic matters, may we continue our match at a later date?”
“Of course,” the woman said and curtsied out of existence.
The Lady turned on Till obviously angry, “You fool. Even orphans learn their lesson after the third time. Do you think for a moment that I do not know everything that happens in my household? Everywhere you go you turn my loyal servants against you. What justification do you have for yourself?”
“Those little goblins set me up. I am innocent. They were the ones causing trouble, they were trying to steal flour and making it look like it was me. You should punish them! Or just send me away,” Till exclaimed.
The Lady frowned, it was even more disturbing and threatening than her smile, “Till, why do you always resort to lies? Lies are the resort of the simple minded. They have no place here. I will hear no more of them from you.”
The last words were spoken in a way that made the whole room seem to tilt. Till exploded, “That’s fair. I mean, you have every right -. But I did do something wrong. I gah! What did you do to me?”
“I have given you an order my servant. You will have to be more creative if you wish to deceive in the future. Now begone,” the Lady ordered.
Till screamed, “Change it back, now! Do you think that I’ve caused trouble so far, just you wait!”
The Lady’s voice became very calm, “You dare to threaten me? You are a mere rodent, let me demonstrate so you’ll understand.”
Till tried to voice an insult, working quickly to find one that was at least in some way the truth, but before he could, he blinked and was in a field. The grass was very tall and thick here. Almost entirely obscuring his vision. His screamed insult came out as a squeak. Then his brain caught up to his body and everything felt like it was in the wrong place. He looked down at his paws. He did not have much time to ponder this however, he heard a dog bark. Some other part of his brain took over and he ran, knowing instinctively to flee. For the next half-hour he fled for his life, scrambling over roots and under bushes. Finally, exhausted he collapsed and he felt the jaws close around him.
He was in his chamber again. The dog that had been chasing him had ahold of his knee. The Lady disinterestedly inspected the back of her hand, “Do you understand now Till? I do not want to hear any more complaints about your service. And as with your donkey, you will be responsible for the care of your dog.”
Till’s heart was still racing, but he bit back the angry retort. Instead he said, “It’s not my dog.”
“You are his by right of the hunt,” the Lady said.
Till groaned.
* * * * *
In the months that followed, Till rotated through a variety of jobs: cobbler, butcher, librarian, beekeeper, carpenter, baker, and many others. He struggled with having to tell the truth all the time and many of his attempts to get free or to abuse his fellow servants were foiled by this impediment. In time though, he learned that he could obey the letter of the Lady’s order while still causing trouble. He replicated the confusion he and the stable master had experienced, but on purpose and twisted words until they were practically doing backflips on themselves. He also, learned from his experience in the kitchens and in the mill, angering the other servants by causing trouble for them was sure to cause trouble for him and here he had no place to run to. Instead, he let the others cause trouble for themselves or he found the one that made everyone else miserable, usually the one in charge, and targeted them. He was not summoned before the lady again, except when he was being reassigned.
* * * * *
The Lady had called Till to see her in the menagerie. It was filled with more animals than Till new existed and after his time in the library, stables, and the slaughterhouse he would have thought himself well versed in the ways of the world. The small brick and glass building was of course too small to house the animals and today Till found it outside the kitchens rather than in its customary place of being on the hill top opposite whichever one he found himself standing on. But things like that had long since ceased to bother him. The lady was petting a cat with eyes that made Till shiver and she beckoned for him to approach.
“Tell me, Till Nirgendwo[6]. Do you like animals?” The lady asked.
Till shrugged, “I like eating them.”
The lady nodded knowingly, “And there are none that are close to your heart?”
Till shrugged his shoulders again. The lady frequently questioned him on inane topics. It was best, he knew from experience, to just answer and get on with his miserable existence. “I like foxes.”
“Ah yes. Till the Fox is what you use to style yourself, is it not? Though I can’t see you ever being handy enough with a blade to carve your initials into anything, there is some resemblance. Foxes are strong and cunning, but solitary and without discretion or any real wit. Often too clever and greedy for their own good,” the Lady said pointedly.
Till gritted his teeth, but did not rise to the bait, “It is as you say my lady.”
The Lady nodded approvingly, “Foxes anger the common folk by snatching up whatever they can. They’re like vultures without the good sense to wait. Wolves at least run in packs, which is why they are not hunted for sport like foxes or dispatched so easily by lone farmers. Perhaps you will find yourself some companions and you shall become Till der Wolffen.”
Till gritted his teeth and with a tilt of his head he said “Perhaps, do you prefer wolves then my lady?”
The lady laughed her cold mocking laugh, “Not at all. They’re hardly any better than foxes. Eventually they take too much and even their pack can’t save them. Unlike dogs, they don’t know their place. I prefer my animals to think. My servants too, but that’s often asking too much.”
An owl fluttered down to perch on one shoulder and a raven on the other.
“These beautiful creatures don’t let their tongues run away with their wits. They think before they act, watching carefully for their opening. And they choose their prey wisely. The owl knows that if it only preys upon the fat rats and other vermin, it has nothing to fear from the farmers. The raven knows that if it chooses prey that is corrupted and rotten no one but the maggots will complain. Even then they wait, letting other birds go in first so that they don’t end up as an opportunistic raccoons lunch. The birds care not what the rich and powerful do, they just have to stay on good side of the lowest of the low and they are free to fly where they will.”
Till said, “Birds are weak and pathetic. Even a child can crush them in their hand.”
“As I could you. But enough of this idle chatter, I have a new assignment for you. There is a Christian priest in a village nearby, a well-known scholar. You are to go there and pretend to be a new acolyte. Report everything you see there. Steal nothing. Harm nothing. Practice patience. If you have nothing to report by nightfall, you will not have earned your day’s wages or your keep,” the Lady commanded.
* * * * *
Till went to the village and was unsurprised to find he could easily decipher the horrible twisted tongue of these people. More of the lady’s meddling. Till strode forward confidently into the village church, a rough stone building. Till declared loudly to the first person who would listen, “I am here to be the new acolyte, where is the priest?”
Till had never been very devout, but he was confident that he could fake being an acolyte, after faking so many other trades. Several thin paled skinned people pointed to a rotund man sleeping on a cushioned chair. Even Till could tell that the man was not properly attired. He turned to question the villagers.
“If that’s a priest than I’m the son of a donkey, where’s the priest really?” Till asked.
A little boy shushed Till, “Don’t wake the father when he’s sleeping, it makes him angry.”
“Oh does it?” Till said, “And what does the Priest do when he’s angry?”
The little boy answered, “He shouts a lot and then everyone has to do a lot of penance or you go to hell.”
“Ah, and what’s his name?”
The other villagers tried to silence the boy, but he answered, “Father Morsh. Alber Morsh[7]”
Till scurried up the stone walls and quickly positioned himself in the support beams of the roof. He called out, “Morsh! Awake, it is I from on high calling to you!”
The priest jumped, or at least rolled, to his feet and looked around wildly. He was already starting to turn red. “Who dares to disturb me in the midst of my midday office! I will compel demons into your soul to drag you screaming into the midst of hell.”
“Silence! I am the one that speaks to you from on high, sent by one mightier than myself. Bow before the messenger,” Till screamed.
The villagers had fled when the priest had awoken. The priest searched the church for the source of the voice. The priest looked under benches and around the church, even glancing up, but not seeing Till. The priest called, “Angel, if an angel you be, show yourself so that I may know in which direction to genuflect.”
Till countered, “I am but a mouthpiece delivering tidings of great joy, your God is all around you, bow where you will.”
The priest cocked his head and tried to find where Till was. The fat man called back, “Will you not give me some sign to show that you are truly from the Lord Almighty and not a minion of the devil come to lead his faithful servant astray.”
The priest was persistent. Till gritted his teeth. “Could not the devil work wonders to deceive you and befuddle your faith? Even now he drives the demons of doubt to prey upon your mind. Your lack of faith is your undoing, I shall bring my tidings of the great saint’s arrival to those more worthy.”
Till shimmied into the thatched roof and was off into the woods like a shot. He could hear the priest screaming. He rested a while in the woods. Surely he had acquired enough information for today. He finished his nap in time to rise and head to the lady’s home for dinner. He had finally gotten the hang of walking all the way around the tree twice to get to the path that lead to the Lady’s home. The lady joined him on the path as he walked.
“And did you learn anything useful today?” the Lady asked.
Till nodded, “The priest is a large suspicious man. He is easily angered and not overly fond of divine messengers. He screeches like a cat in a bag when you get him going.”
“And of what use is this information?” the Lady asked.
Till shrugged, “It’s entertaining.”
The Lady shook her head, “You will not eat this night.”
Till rounded a bend in the path and found himself at the tree where the path started. Try as he might he could not reach his room that evening and so he went to bed hungry and cold on the forest floor.
* * * * *
In the morning Till again entered the town and he strolled confidently to the church, but he entered with a show of deference. Now the priest was feasting on a meal of venison as he directed several laborers who were working on the church. Till approached and bowed before the Priest, “Sir, a voice directed me to come here and become your acolyte.” This was all true of course, the voice just happened to belong to the Lady.
The priest stared at him for a full minute. Till could see the tricky gears turning and moving in his mind. Maybe the voice had been real? Maybe Till was the promised saint? Was it worth the risk if the whole God thing turned out to be more than just the best meal ticket of his life? Finally the priest extended a hand to Till. Till shook the hand enthusiastically.
“Are you holy beacon which the voice of my great lord has sent me to learn from?” Till asked, feigning great admiration for the man.
The priest nodded, “Yes, I am. Come with me. You must take your vows immediately and begin your service to the lord. I am Father Alber, the faithful shepherd to this village and the surrounding hamlets. Tell me your name my boy.”
The priest ushered him to the altar. It was Till’s turn to be suspicious, he had not expected such enthusiasm. Till said, “My name is Till. Most holy Alber, I have traveled a long distance from home and have had little to eat, may I have a crust of bread to rest and recover my strength with before we begin?”
“He is the bread of life, Till my boy, you shall eat of him and never hunger again. Let not the demands of the flesh deter you from his path. Now have you been baptized?” The priest asked.
Till hid his irritation, “Yes, father. Three times in fact.”
Till suspected from the look of disappointment that he had narrowly missed a dunking. Alber said, “Good, good, we can skip that. But there are other things we must do to prepare you.”
For the next hour, Alber devised cruel or ridiculous rituals and oaths to prepare Till for holy service. Till dodged them whenever he could. But he still found himself coughing on smoke with oil rubbed on his face and kneeling while repeating things in mispronounced Latin (which he knew quite well thanks to the Lady’s meddling).
When he had finally finished the last of the oaths, Alber said, “And now you are an acolyte and your training may begin.”
Till nodded, not liking where this was heading, Alber continued, “First, to learn to serve the lord, you must learn to serve your fellow man.”
Till spent the rest of the afternoon fetching things, cleaning things, and generally being at the priest’s beck and call. As evening approached, the priest announced that he must go say his daily prayers. Before he left he asked Till, “Have you learned to be a faithful servant today?”
Till nodded, “Yes, Father Alber.”
Alber shook his head, “To think you have master the lessons of the lord is the sin of pride. For penance you will refrain from dinner tonight. Retire to your chamber to contemplate the wonders of the lord.”
Till gritted his teeth, “Of course, Father Alber.”
* * * * *
In the shed behind the church, Till rested in his “chamber” and tried to sleep as his stomach growled. The lady appeared sitting on a long wooden bench that had not previously been there. She asked, “And have you learned anything?”
“Alber is a self-righteous bastard,” Till said.
"And of what use is that information,” the Lady asked.
Till growled, “It means he deserves what’s coming.”
“Perhaps, but you have not earned your wages today.”
* * * * *
The next day went much the same, but Till managed to steal some of Father Alber’s lunch. With his stomach somewhat appeased, he set to giving Father Alber hell. He cleaned the priest’s robes and hung them to dry as ordered, but he hung them on poison ivy vines. He polished all of the church paraphernalia and the priest’s fine silverware, but he did so using a rag he had found discarded in the chicken coup. He meticulously transcribed bible passages from the bible Father Alber was being paid to copy, but he left out several key words and phrases, like all of the nots in the 10 commandments.
At the end of the day, Father Alber asked him again, “So Till, have you learned to be a faithful servant of the lord today?”
Till answered, “No, Father Alber, I am ever questing in that direction.”
“Two days and you have not gained God’s grace? You must have been idle in your study, go and chop firewood as penance for your laziness,” Father Alber ordered.
Till gritted his teeth, “Of course, most holy Alber.”
He did not receive any food that evening from the Lady either and his stomach was grumbling again as he went to bed.
* * * * *
The following day was Sunday and Till had to rise early to prepare the church. Then Father Alber sent him about town with a verger’s stick to gather up the drunks, elderly, and sick to make sure that no one’s soul would suffer because a weakness of the flesh kept them from attending Church. The mass was unlike any Till had been to before. There were readings in Latin, but as far as Till could determine they were more random phrases containing the word’s God, mercy, etc. repeated over and over until Father Alber had tired of hearing himself talk. Then the priest began his homily.
The priest started with a long list of all the sins that each person in the town had committed that week, some in graphic details, especially the sexy ones, this was followed by condemnations from the priest. Afterwards, the priest began talking about the Grand Cathedral that was being built and of the Bishop’s great need for the generosity of the people in building this house of God.
“When the Cathedral is finished, God will have a place to dwell in this land that befits him and with his presence he will bring great blessings. Crops will flourish. Illnesses will be cured. The lame shall walk and the blind see. Every coin you give will be returned to you seven times seven. Let not greed or fear still your hand,” the priest said.
At this point he ordered Till to bar the doors and informed the people that they could not leave until they had reached the required donation amount for the cathedral. The people coughed and sniffled. Pale children sat listless around the church. Each person dutifully dropped their coins into the basket. The priest began a rant, “I see that not even a small request from our reverend bishop can thaw your greedy hearts. You could not even give half of what is required of you. There is no halfway to heaven. There is only all the way to hell. Just once, I want to be able to go before the bishop and say that my flock has come to him in his hour of need, but-“ Till cleared his throat, “Damn it Till, I am trying to save their souls!”
“But Father, they have met the Bishops requested amount,” Till explained, though it had been with some assistance from the sack of coins Father Alber secreted away under a stone beneath the altar.
“Oh. Well, you blackhearts should have been more generous sooner. The Lord God will not give you treasures in heaven for have a life’s good works, you must be ever generous. That you could answered the Bishops call this time just shows your past transgressions!” the Priest called.
Till unbarred the doors and set to work preparing for communion. By the time the priest had calmed down, he found himself halfway through the Eucharist. The people quickly came up to receive the bread and wine, then fled the Church. Till heard one child whisper, “Do we really get to leave now? The sun’s still up.”
Father Alber did not like having his service cut short. Till paid for this by hauling water for the rest of the afternoon and evening. Hauling it to where he was not sure.
That night when the Lady came and asked Till if he had learned anything, he replied, “The people are accept the abuses of this petty tyrant, held in check by fear of being shamed or facing some eternal torment and their blind faith. I think they’d do anything if someone told them it was holy.”
The Lady smiled, “That at least is useful.”
Till ate his first real meal in days with great gusto. As he stuffed his face a plan began to form. He couldn’t cause too much trouble for the Priest because of the Lady’s command, but the village people could and he knew how to manipulate them.
* * * * *
Till let slip a story about how the devil tempted innocent people to damnation with Judas’s 30 pieces of silver. The devil would scatter the coins about for good people to find, as if they were gifts from God. But anything bought with the silver would turn against the good people and the coins would spread corruption through the whole village until eventually the people turned on each other and the whole town was hanging dead in trees, damned to hell, just like the traitor Judas Iscariot. The only way to save one’s self was to take these coins when they were found and cast them against the walls of a holy place that God might purify them. Then when the devil saw that his bribe had done no good, he would send his servant to collect the coins and the village would be saved.
Till had started spreading the coins a few days before he told the story to the frightened villagers. Several came forward fearfully saying they had found such coins. Soon the whole town was in a frenzy and anyone who had received a silver coin as payment wanted to get rid of it. The villagers went to the church and threw their coins against the wall. Many more than 30 pieces. They turned to Till for guidance.
“Did it work? Are we safe?” A frightened child asked.
A woman asked, “How will we know the evil is banished?”
Till spoke firmly, “Soon the devil’s servant will come to collect his evil wages.”
The people waited. Eventually Father Alber emerged from the church to see what all the commotion was. He instantly saw the piles of coins all around the church and in delight declared, “A miracle from God.”
He stooped to gather up the coins and a voice cried out, “He’s the devil’s servant!” And we all know whose voice it was.
“What? Who is?” the priest asked in confusion.
But now that the idea had been planted the mod quickly caught hold of it and all their seething anger over Father Alber’s years of abuse rose to the surface. Father Alber fled for his life. The mob knocked in the door and chased Father Alber to his chambers at the back of the church. Till followed to watch the fun and games. Father Alber grabbed whatever he could to throw at his attackers and keep them at bay. More coins he had hidden in his room and golden chalices and years of donations for the grand Cathedral all went flying, but it did him no good. He was caught up and soundly beaten. The people stripped him of his priestly garb and drove him from the town with nothing.
Amidst all the confusion, a gold chalice had sailed through the air and struck Till upside the head. He woke after most of the fun had already happened. A woman standing over him said, “Well, it looks like it didn’t leave a mark at least. You okay sonny?”
Till shot up, “A mark?! Of course, brilliant, how did I not see it before.”
The woman gave him a strange look, but Till ignored her. He grabbed a gold coin and slipped it into his pocket, then dashed away.
* * * * *
Till rose early, the prospect of freedom driving him to uncharacteristic wakefulness. He had finally found the loop in this cursed language to uncover the key to his salvation. He took the gold coin he had acquired and struck it on the anvil until it was thin. Then he broke it into three parts and then drove those into a plank of wood. Holding his board triumphantly, he entered the Lady’s great hall.
Till cried out, “Mab! I have come to repay my debt. Here are your three marks of gold.”
The lady looked up from where she reclined at her table and smiled, “I see. Three marks of gold, just as we agreed. Then you are free.”
She clapped her hands and the world reeled, Till found himself standing in the woods by the remains of a months old fire. The lady was standing there, as she had first appeared to him. She smiled triumphantly. He had expected an argument, renegotiation, maneuvering and a redefining of the terms of their agreement. His ploy had just been the first step that he hoped would better position him to finally escape.
Till asked suspiciously, “You’re going to let me go? No tricks?”
“A deal is a deal Till. I always honor mine,” the lady explained feigning insult, as if the mere suggestion that she might abuse or mislead someone was unfathomable.
Till said, “But you always get the upper hand. Where’s the trap? What do you want?”
The lady smiled, “Who said I’m not getting what I want? Maybe you’re more useful to me here than wasting space in my kitchen or garden.”
Till asked, “Then we’re through? That’s the end?” He finally let himself begin to hope.
“Well there is one more matter. Your livestock,” the lady snapped her fingers and the donkey and the dog that had plagued him appeared, along with the last chicken that he had placed as a deposit.
“What am I supposed to do with them?” Till asked.
The lady shrugged, “Acquire a cat and start a band? I care not what you do with your property. Farewell Till.”
Then the lady was gone.
THE END
Bonus Deleted Scene (during the careers montage )
Till was called before the lady. He knew the routine quite well by now. He would be transferred to another miserable back breaking position, where he would languish until she inflicted some other cruel fate on him. He entered and bowed.
“Yes, my lady?”
The lady said, “Ah, Till. I have a new assignment for you. We have an honored guest and his companion staying with us. He’s from near where I picked you up. You are to see to his every need while he is here.”
Till rolled his eyes. The lady frequently had “honored guests”, often some petty hero or lost traveler or a group of actors and love struck teens who the Lady had chosen to make the night’s entertainment. He did not look forward to being ordered about by such people. But he had learned the hard way what arguing got him and he did not wish to spend any more time as something other than himself.
“Of course my lady. Which room shall I prepare for him?” Till asked. Till would make sure to prepare the room exactly to the ladies specifications, that usually left plenty of room for vengeance on these petty visiting tyrants.
The lady said, “No room. He and his companion will be occupying one of the stalls in the stables; I trust you remember where those are? Prepare it as if for my finest stallions. Hood the lanterns to keep the lights low. Lay-out fresh apples and a bucket of mead. Also, he has specifically requested that you inspect the barn for snakes, he has a strong dislike for them. When you have finished and seen to all of their needs, give them privacy and wait until you are called. He has come to me specifically because he does not want to be witnessed by a wandering eye. Understood?”
“Yes, my lady,” Till nodded.
“This visit is to be low key. Do not mention our guest to any of the other servants and maintain discretion,” the Lady said.
“Of course my lady,” Till said, that part at least would be easy to comply with. Who would he tell?
“And Till, the pranks you are envisioning now, rest assured that he can and will do far worse if you antagonize him,” the Lady said.
[1] German for “the fox”. The name change will make sense later.
[2] German for a league, distance.
[3] German for reasonably civil.
[4] Here a mark of gold would refer to the Cologne Mark, a unit of measure for metals, not the more modern German currency. This amounts to more than a pound of gold, more than the price of a horse.
[5] Geld
[6] German “nowhere”
[7] A pun of “All about rotten”. In German, “Alle ber morsch”.