The Silver Cup by Constance Leeds Read Free Book Online

at the flames. A tall young man, knotted up by sorrow and confusion, he rested his chin on his knees.
    â€œFather is terribly sad. But mother?” He shook his head. “Lord forgive me. Thomas has been gone how many days? ”
    Anna stared at Lukas’s feet and bit her lip. She could picture Thomas, see his smile, hear his laughter. “Six days.”
    â€œNot even a week? Mother’s already stripped our house of all signs of him. His toy—the little wooden dog that Father carved to look like Gray, his cup, his blanket—everything of Thomas’s is gone—put away or burned. Gone,” he said.
    â€œIt’s as though he never was.”
    â€œAnd now her family is perfect,” said Lukas. “God forgive my mother.”
    â€œWe mustn’t think that , Lukas.”
    â€œThink what?”
    â€œThat your mother did something to Thomas?”
    Lukas’s face was gray when he looked at Anna. “I--I hadn’t thought anything like that. Only that Mother didn’t mourn, but you don’t think—”
    â€œI don’t know what to think,” said Anna covering her face with her hands. “It’s too awful.”
    â€œGod forgive us,” said Lukas.
    But not your mother, thought Anna.

WINTER

8
    CHRISTMAS
    December 25, 1095
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Christmas had always been a time of light and celebration, interrupting the cold dark loneliness of winter. But now it was sorrowful, especially for Lukas and Anna. Thomas was gone.
    Christmas preparation began with the Ember Days of fasting; though the meals were meatless, most cupboards were still full, and there was fresh fish and sometimes even whale meat from the north. To forget the gray and leafless world, houses were filled with bright evergreen branches. Elisabeth and Margarete wove boughs of fir and spruce, lacing sprigs of red berry-covered holly through the softer fronds. The greens were tied about the large vertical beams nearest the hearth, and the house was fragrant with the scent of pine. The fasting gave way to feasting beginning on Christmas Day and lasting for twelve days, until the Epiphany.
    On the morning before Christmas, Martin cheerfully wrung the necks of two plump geese, and his sisters plucked and readied them for roasting. Elisabeth and Margarete made pies and sausages of the organ meats, and Agnes stuffed the emptied fowl with chopped chestnuts, milk-soaked chunks of bread, pieces of dried apple, and raisins. She sewed up each bird and impaled it for roasting over her spit fire. A leg of mutton simmered in a pot of ale with onions, parsnips, and sage. Pine, roasting meats, and a whiff of cinnamon filled the house. Anna thought that although Agnes and her daughters had prepared the house and the wonderful meals, they could not put joy into the holiday. We have everything but happiness this year , Anna realized. The Christmas table is so quiet; though no one mentions Thomas, his absence is more a presence than he had ever been.
    At least Martin had more stories than ever, and his tales usually distracted and entertained everyone. In early December, he and Gunther had traveled south along the Rhine to the city of Strasbourg, carrying their iron goods and salted fish from Mainz to trade for wine and pottery. On this journey, they found the city possessed by a speech Pope Urban had spoken a week earlier in the city of Clermont.
    Sitting near a generous log fire that Gunther had built, Anna was fascinated by Martin’s tales of the holy battle for the sacred city of Jerusalem. She had never seen Martin so excited, pacing about the hearth, tossing his yellow mane, waving his hands, and telling all that he heard.
    â€œIn a field outside the walls of Clermont, a glorious golden platform was built, draped with banners of red, white, and gold.”
    â€œI heard that neither the cathedral nor the city itself could contain the vast crowds who came to hear the Pope,” said Gunther.
    Martin nodded.