Free The Silver Cup by Constance Leeds Page A

and a bit of grain. Often people ate nothing but nettles and bark. And there were rumors of much worse, families where the weak would disappear, unspeakable tales, unspeakable meals.
    â€œHow will these men buy weapons? They cannot even buy food,” said Anna.
    â€œTrue. A sword costs as much as two sheep. But they’ll join an army that will provide them with food and some means to fight. Don’t listen to Lukas. The holy land is filled with riches, and this is God’s war. I wish I had your noble blood, the blood of knights. I want to be a soldier, maybe a hero. I’ll fight my way into heaven. I’ll become a knight of Christ.”
    Anna was grating a white piece of horseradish root into a bowl. The root was pungent. She coughed, and her eyes began to tear.
    â€œAre those tears because you are going to miss me when I go to war? ” Martin asked, patting her shoulder.
    â€œI’d miss you as much as I’d miss a blister,” replied Anna as she wiped her eyes on her sleeve. “You won’t go, Martin. Your brothers aren’t going.”
    â€œNot Lukas, of course. And my brothers in the forge are craftsmen—the very best. Their work is known throughout the land, but what am I? I’ve no craft like my brothers,” said Martin with pride and regret.
    â€œYou’ll be merchant, like Father. His trade is good, Martin. He needs you.”
    â€œHis trade is good because my father is so skilled.”
    â€œYou trade more than iron.”
    â€œYes,” replied Martin beginning to brighten. “This time we have furs and leather and even wine. Your father will soon trade Flemish woolen cloth as well.”
    â€œIsn’t that as good as being a smith? ”
    Martin shrugged, “There’s no glory in either.”
    When Gunther returned, Anna and Martin sat down with him to eat herring once again. Still, this time, Anna had skinned it to cut the salt and then simmered the fish with mustard greens and dried beans and bread crumbs. She served the stew on a trencher of coarse bread with a dollop of very strong mustard mixed with horseradish.
    â€œNot bad,” said Martin reaching into the pot for a second helping.
    â€œThanks,” said Anna, surprised. “But I would so love a bit of butter.”
    â€œThat you must not have, but I have a treat for us,” said Gunther. “This morning I was paid in lenten currency.”
    â€œWhat do you mean, Father? ”
    â€œA barrel of live eels!”
    â€œWe shall dine well tomorrow,” said Martin using bread to sop up every bit of his stew.
    Eels! thought Anna. Father expects me to rejoice, and I might, if only someone else would do the skinning! Martin always disappears when there are eels.
    The next morning, as Anna predicted, Martin escaped to the forge, so she sighed and set about the unavoidable morning chore. As she lifted their limp gray-green bodies from the water-filled barrel, two eels appeared more dead than alive. She skinned them easily and quickly, but the third and largest eel was hard to catch and twisted in her hands as she lifted it from the water. Anna quickly smashed its head on a hearthstone. Even with a crushed skull, the eel wriggled and writhed, and she cut crookedly along its length and began to peel the skin away from the body. Now, although dead and skinned, the eel still twitched in her hands. Anna cut a deeper gash along the length of its white belly and removed the guts. The sticky blood smelled horribly sweet and disgusting. Anna breathed through her mouth and held her stomach down with prayers and with curses at Martin, as she cut the snakelike carcass into chunks. When she lobbed the head to the floor, Smudge snatched it up and retreated to a dark corner with his prize.
    Anna stirred the oily pieces of eel in a pot with chopped onion, shredded cabbage, and ale, set the pot on the hearth, and left the house while the morning meal simmered. She had wiped the