The Dark before Dawn

Mary was woken by the sounds of the neighborhood waking up. Mary stayed in her bed and enjoyed the warmth of it. The room was dark but the embers in the fireplace gave it enough light for her to see the outlines of her parents’ bed on the other side of the room. She could see the wardrobe where they kept the clothes, the small stool Mary had brought up from the kitchen and her mother’s spinning wheel. For a moment Mary allowed herself to pretend everything was as it should be, like it had always been. A dry cough took away her illusion and she hurried out of her bed into the chilly air in the room. Winter was coming fast. Her bare feet scurried over the cold floor to her parents’ bed. Her mother was on her side, curled into herself, coughing.

“Mom? Are you okay? Do you need water?” Mary asked, feeling her mother’s forehead. It was just as hot as it had been for over a week. Mary looked at her father. He was sleeping. He had stopped coughing the day before. But she could hear the strain of his breath and the strange noise that rattled in his chest. But if he wasn’t coughing and that had to be a good sign, right? “I’ll be back soon; I’ll just go and get breakfast. You sleep a little longer, okay?” she said to her parents. She didn’t get a reply, but it felt better to talk to them. Mary went over to the fireplace, stoked it and added new wood. She watched until she saw the fire catch and then she pulled on her dress. The fabric felt cold against her skin, but it would warm up. She put her shoes on and hurried downstairs to the kitchen. She started a fire in the fireplace and tried to collect her thoughts as she watched it. Fire had been a natural part of Mary’s life for as long as she could remember. Her mother used it to cook food, her father used it in the smithy where he turned raw silver into beautiful pieces of art, and they used it to keep warm. But never had she realised how much work it took to keep the fire going until her parents had become sick. They had been sick for almost two weeks now and Mary felt the fatigue of taking care of the household on her own. She missed playing with her friends in the streets of the city, she missed Erik, and she missed her parents. Mary snapped out of her thoughts. She didn’t have time to think about things like that. She needed to make breakfast and take care of her parents. Besides, she didn’t need to cry. She wasn’t a baby anymore. Mary went outside and took the wooden bucket they used to milk the goats. She made sure the goats were fed and then she milked them. She took the milk inside and then got a bucket of water from the big wooden tub in the garden they kept the water in. She started making porridge. Mary wasn’t good at making porridge, not like her mother. When her mother made it, it always was smooth and when you poured milk on it, it looked like an island in a sea of milk. When Mary made it, it either became sticky and lumpy and was hard to get out of the pot. Or, like today, it became too runny and when Mary poured milk over it, the porridge mixed with it, and it ended up being a grey soup. She sighed, added a little honey on top of the porridge and sat down at the kitchen table to eat. It tasted okay at least. At ten years old, she should be able to do things like this, Mary thought. She sighed, washed her bowl and spoon before she took another bowl and filled with porridge, honey and milk and walked up to her parents. They both were asleep. She put the bowl on the stool next the bed.

“Mom, you need to wake up,” Mary said, gently shaking her mother. She got no reaction. “Please mom, you need to wake up to eat,” she insisted. Her mother didn’t react at all. Mary bent over her and shook her father. “Dad?” To Mary’s relief her father opened his eyes. It looked like he had a problem with focusing them. “Dad!” she exclaimed and gently climbed over her mother so she could sit between her parents.

“Mary?” her father asked in a thin voice.

“I’m here dad. I have made porridge for you. You need to eat so you can get better. Can you sit up?” she asked. Her father didn’t seem to listen. Mary tried to pull and push him and finally she got him to sit up. She bent over her mother and got the bowl of porridge. “Just a couple of spoonsful, dad,” she told him as she started to feed him. Between two spoons, her father placed a shaky hand on her leg.

“My Mary, my brilliant, beautiful Mary. I’m so proud of you,” he said in a voice that didn’t sound like his.

“I’m scared dad. I don’t know what to do,” Mary told him as she felt the tears welling up in her eyes.

“My special daughter,” he said.

“We are almost out of food, but we only have a few coins left and everything is so expensive. I don’t know what to do. Please, dad, I need your help,” she sobbed.

“My brave daughter.”

“Please, dad,” Mary pleaded. But her father had fallen back to sleep and no matter how much she shook him, he didn’t wake up. Mary climbed gently over her mother and down on the floor. She was alone again, she had to do this on her own. Mary wiped her eyes on her sleeve. She took the bowl of half-eaten porridge and went down into the kitchen. After cleaning up the breakfast, she opened the door to the small shop. Mary’s father sold his silver work in the shop at the front of their small house in the artisan quarters of the city. There was a thin layer of dust on the bench and the air felt old. Mary started to clean the shop. Her father would never open the shop if it wasn’t clean and tidy, and she wouldn’t either. It was a matter of pride, Mary thought. She had never opened the shop by herself before, but they needed money to buy food, and this was the only way Mary knew how to get money. If things had been as they used to be, she might have asked their neighbors for help. Erik’s parents wouldn’t have let them go hungry. But everyone in the city was afraid of the sickness that spread. Since Mary’s mother became ill, everyone had shunned the family. When the little shop looked clean and nice, she went upstairs again. She put new firewood on the fire and picked up the stool and placed it by one of the walls. She stood on it and reached up. Her hand felt along the wall, it felt cool and smooth. Her fingers felt their way until they found the little notch. There was the key to the chest that stood under the bench in the kitchen. Mary took the key and went downstairs and opened the chest. Wrapped in fabric and straw were her father’s finished works. Carefully she carried the items out to the shop and placed them as her father used to do. When she was satisfied, she walked up to the door and opened it and stepped out into the street in front of the shop. She opened the shutters that covered the windows and let the sunshine in. Mary went back inside and sat on the stool behind the counter and waited for her first customer. She was nervous that no one would come, they were perhaps too afraid of the sickness that her parents had. Everyone knew that not many people survived when they got sick. Her parents would be fine, Mary knew that. They had her taking care of them. All those other people who hadn’t made it must have been alone, or maybe the whole family had got sick. Mary was convinced that was the case. What bothered her the most was that she hadn’t been to church for two Sundays. She couldn’t leave her parents alone for that long. This was something she often worried about. The priest used to say God took care of those who loved him, he had also said those who didn’t go to church on Sundays did not love God. What if God thought Mary didn’t love him and didn’t help her? Mary needed God’s help to make her parents healthy, she knew that. But Mary had held a little worship service at home, not as nice as the one in the church, but a small one. Mary didn’t know the old language, so she couldn’t say any of the nice things the priests always said when they were up in the pulpit at church. But she had prayed to God for a long time, and she had told Him all the things she had done which were sinful, and in the end, she had asked God to save her parents. But Mary was still afraid God would not understand, perhaps God didn’t even hear prayers when one was small and insignificant. Perhaps God only heard prayers from the rich and the important. Mary’s thoughts were interrupted when a man came through the door. He blocked the sun shining through the doorway and seemed hesitant to enter. Although Mary only saw him as a black silhouette, she knew who he was.

“Good morning, Mr. Sansi,” she hurried to say, rising from the stool. She just reached over the high counter and thought for a moment about standing on the stool. She changed her mind and instead chose to approach the man who was standing just inside the door. “Can I help you?” she asked, stopping a short distance from him. She had a good upbringing and knew how to treat customers who were in the upper classes of society. Mr. Sansi was a regular customer of her father, and she was happy he had arrived today, he rarely left the shop without buying anything.

“Where’s your father?” he asked, looking at Mary.

“He’s been sick and are resting, Mr. Sansi.” Mary replied.

“And your mother?”

“She too has been sick Mr. Sansi. But they are both on the mend.” Mary hurried to add.

“I understand. So, you’re in charge of the shop today?” Mr. Sansi asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ve been here a couple of times in the last few weeks hoping it would be open. I was pleased when I saw that it was today. But I don’t know if I should do business with you, you’re just a child.” he said, looking around the store. Mary thought he was looking extra closely at a beer stein with a beautifully decorated lid. If she sold it, she would be able to buy both meat and vegetables, Mary thought.

“The gentleman is absolutely right, I’m just a child, but it’s not me you would do business with it’s my father,” she said cautiously. “I will just be the one to accept the payment. All the items are still made by my father, it’s his craftsmanship sir”. Mr. Sansi looked at her again.

“How long have you been taking care of your parents?” he asked.

“For two weeks, sir,” she replied.

“For two weeks, you say?“ He seemed to think for a while. “I might buy one of your father’s pieces, but I don’t feel like going further into the shop and exposing myself more to the risk of contracting the sickness. What do you recommend I buy from your father?” Mary felt her heart take a leap. She turned around and walked towards the objects. She knew he wanted the beer stein. But it was one of the most expensive items in the shop, would it seem desperate if she showed it to him, should she choose something else? She hesitated for a moment before taking up a piece of cloth and wrapping around the stein before heading back towards Mr. Sansi.

“This is a very well-made beer stein,” she said, unfolding the fabric so he could see it. She made sure the object caught the sunlight falling through the windows.

“As Mr. Sansi can see, it’s decorated with leaves and at the sides it has beautiful hunting scenes,” she said, tilting and turning the top before reaching it toward him. Mr. Sansi carefully received the top and scrutinized it carefully. Mary was terribly nervous he would give back the beer stein and leave. She needed the money, she had to sell at least some small item to Mr. Sansi. After reviewing it, he turned to Mary.

“How much?” Her heart stopped beating; her brain worked feverishly.

“12 kresi sir,” she replied. “12 kresi, that’s not cheap,” he said earnestly.

“I can give you 7 kresi.” It was a lot of money, but the stein was worth more, Mary knew that. Her father had written 10 kresi in the logbook, that could be enough for almost two kilos of meat. But she also knew this was how it was done. To do business, her father had taught her, whoever sold something always asked for too much and the one who bought always offered too little. In the end, a reasonable price was reached. Mary entered the haggling with enthusiasm. In the end, she said.

“Sir is very kind, but I can’t lower the price anymore, maybe I could lower your price to 10 kresi and 5 vorm. Just because it’s you sir, and because I know my father appreciates your business.”

“10 kresi and 5 vorm, yes that’s a price I can live with. It’s settled,” Mr. Sansi said, reaching out his hand to her. Mary smiled and shook his it.

“Do you want me to wrap the stein sir?” she asked.

“Yes, thank you,” he replied, waiting in his place in the door while Mary walked up to the counter and picked up a small wooden box. She put some straw in the wooden box, wrapped the beer stain in the piece of cloth she was holding it in and put it in the straw. After, she nailed the lid to the box. Mary picked up 5 vorm to be able to give back change. When she took the 5 vorm out of the money purse, there were only 7 vorm left. But soon, she thought, there would be more money there. She went up to Mr. Sansi and gave him the wooden box.

“That will be 10 kresi and 5 vorm sir,” she said. Mr. Sansi smiled down at her and put 11 kresi in her hand before taking the box from her. “One moment, you’ll get your 5 vorm, sir” she said, shoving her hand in her pocket to pick up the coins.

“Keep them my friend, I have received a beautiful beer stein that will spread envy among my friends, and I have had the pleasure of doing business with a very wise little girl. You’ve earned a little extra,” he replied, smiling. “Give my regards to your father and tell him I hope to do business with him in person soon.”

“Thank you very much sir,” said Mary, and curtsied as nicely as she could. “I will relay your greetings to him.” “It’s time for me to go, I hope we meet again my friend,” Mr. Sansi said, turning around and walking out the door.

“Goodbye sir and God bless you,” said Mary and curtsied once again. She went back into the counter and put the money in the money bag. It felt heavier and pleasantly full when she closed it again. She quickly went out into the kitchen and picked up the small stool they used to milk their goats. It was just high enough for Mary to use behind the counter. If she was standing on the small stool, she reached over the counter and yet it was not so high she needed to climb on to it. She when back into the shop and took up her father’s logbook and looked up the beer stein in there. It said he expected to be able to sell it for 10 kresi. Mary took out the ink and pen and wrote down the money received was 11 kresi. She was very proud when she closed the book. Not everyone could read and write. Her friends couldn’t, not even Erik, who was two years older than her and who was better than her at almost everything. But Mary’s father could, and he had taught her. He said it was important if she was to help out in the shop. Mary’s mother could neither read nor write, both Mary and her father had tried to teach her, but she had never learned. Mary sat on the high stool behind the counter again and waited.