Undermajordomo Minor

VI. LUCY & KLARA IN LOVE

The days were growing warmer, and Adolphus was away on his campaign. Lucy and Klara took hours-long afternoon walks through the forest, their fingers twining together. They spoke of small things; or of things which seemed small when spoken but which afterwards remained fixed in Lucy’s mind. One day Klara commented that when the snow melted away, the exposed grasses looked like the fur of a newborn foal or calf.

“But the earth is not an animal,” Lucy said.

“Yes it is,” Klara told him, and she gripped his fingers ever tighter.

Now Lucy was spending his nights in Klara’s bed. He found it in his ability to make her laugh, and this was so pleasing to him that he sometimes overdid it, and the next day she would complain of a tender stomach. Typically he awoke at dawn, while she and Memel still slept, and repaired to the castle. His suit had arrived from Listen, and his flesh was greatly contented as he eased into this dashing ensemble each morning.

Rose sometimes accompanied him on his rounds, but just as often she would loiter at the door of the shanty as he was leaving, and he knew this meant she wished to stay behind, to play with her brothers and sisters and mother. Whenever this happened, Lucy felt a mild betrayal; but Rose was too large to rest in his pocket any longer, and he knew he had to allot her a life apart from his own.

Upon completing his work, Lucy would change back into his old suit and sheepskin cap and return to the village. Some nights he and Klara would socialize with Memel and Mewe; some nights they were alone. Time passed in this way, and life was but one comfort after another. It was all so natural. Later, and Lucy would wonder how many days this phase had been made of.

A week of ceaseless rain, this followed by baking heat, and all at once it was spring, and the chirping insects trilled in the valley. Lucy and Klara lay in the tall grasses above the village. He was leaning back on his elbows, a sleepy expression on his face. Klara was curled at his side, watching the daffodils bowing to the ground when a bee would light upon them. She put her hand on Lucy’s bare stomach and he looked down at her.

“Have you ever done that with anyone else?” he asked.

She nodded. “Have you?”

He nodded. Stroking her hair, he asked her what was to be done about Adolphus.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Do you want me to fight him?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

She wasn’t certain how to put it. “It would be unwise.”

“You think he would win, you mean?”

She touched his face. “Yes.”

“I suppose he would, after all.”

“You mustn’t ever try.”

“I don’t know that I’ll have a choice, when he comes back.”

She shook her head. “I’ll speak with him. He’ll be hurt. But he’s not a bad man.”

Lucy thought of it. “What does he want, exactly?” he said.

“To be a hero,” Klara said. “That’s actually all.”

“And what are you meant to do?”

“I believe I’m meant to coo.”

Lucy laughed. He said, “I feel I could fight him, though, do you know? I’d only have to think of you two, together, like this.”

Klara sat up, startled. “Adolphus and I … It never came to that. And I’m not sorry, either.”

Lucy experienced a great relief, this followed by a greater curiosity, which he wished to ignore, but could not, and so did not. “Who was it, then, if not Adolphus?”

“It was only once,” said Klara. “And it didn’t mean anything.” She lay back down. “I’ll tell you about it, if you really want to know.”

“I really want to know.”

“All right, then.”