Eve Of The Harvest Celebration

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A Story of Essalonia

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It had been a long day for the boys working in the field. Vati had need of extra hands, for the harvest season had made the field heavy with fat heads of fletcher's wheat, so while the men flailed at the wheat stalks, the boys sifted the kernels from the piles of grain that accumulated on the threshing floor. The town had completed its work insomuch that each farmhand was rewarded a bagful of grain, ready to be ground at the gristmill the following day, and so all the workers headed home – with the glimmering, cut wheat stalks to their backs – to food, fun, and sleep, in anticipation of the following day's celebration.

When they arrived home, Vati and the boys lay five heavy wheat sacks in the cellar before running back to the cabin. When Diederic opened the door to the Smit family house, four stinky, sweaty boys rushed into the home in a cloud of dust and chaff. They might have been stilled by the aroma of dinner waiting on the kitchen stove had they not been so eager to rid themselves of their filth, for no one could touch the table lest their hands were clean, and so Vati and the four boys lined up at the backyard wash pot to wipe themselves down with a rag and change their dirty linens.

When the boys entered the house once more, as clean as river stones, a presentation of warm mush, succotash, and roasted rabbits greeted them at the table. It was time for the blessing of the meal, and the family took their seats.

"Please, Diederic…", Yolente invited her husband with a nod and a folding of her hands. All the children followed their mother's lead in folding their hands and bowing their heads like a troop of solemn little soldiers.

"O Spirit," began Diederic in a baritone voice that rumbled with conviction, "We thank you this day for the food you have provided, for the health to prepare it, for the bountiful harvest ahead of us. I thank you for our four handsome boys and two beautiful daughters," said Diederic as he looked around the table at his family, earning a lovely smile from Yolente.

"We pray, Great Spirit, that you protect us from the beasts of the wilderness, a wilderness which you, by your divine hand, established, that we may see each other again tomorrow to walk in the light of your Great Way in honor and love. So, in the names of Heron Barton and Heron Reginald, we pray." And with the release, eyes opened, and heads lifted to welcome each other's company and the food.

They made quick work of dishing out servings to the eight plates and bowls set out around the table. First the parents, then the children, a scoop of wheat mush lightly seasoned with cloves and cinnamon, a medley of buttered beans and vegetables, and strips of roasted rabbit which produced a tiny puddle of savory grease on each plate. An otherwise bland meal, this was a feast for most families in the Colonies, and the Smits savored it greatly.

"So tell me my dears," Diederic addressed his daughters before wiping a speck of mush from his beard. "What have you and Mama been doing while I and the boys have been out?" The girls were excited to relay the day's events to their father. Doortje rattled on about their mother helping Eilene and her sew a sampler, and how the two got to beat the dust out of the floor mats, and how they brought home the dead rabbits from mama's traps, but especially how Eilene had accidentally scared the chickens in the coop while she was getting their eggs and fell on her bum amidst the flurry.

Eilene looked up bashfully to her father, for the flapping and clucking had scared her quite badly. "I got chicken poo on my dress," she admitted, "but mama cleaned it up for me." When she looked at her mother, she beamed, and her mother rubbed her little head in turn.

"I want to hear how the boys' day in the field went," said Yolente, turning attentively to her sons. "How was our day, boys?" asked Diederic to his four sons, arousing several cheers. "I caught a mole while we were working", Dulf spoke up. "He was big and black and didn't stop squirming until I let him go!" Then he pointed at Kurt, "Oh, and Kurt was doing really good with the winnowing tray! Me or Lars never sifted the wheat so good!" Diederic lightly slapped Dulf's pointing hand, for he had told Dulf plenty of proverbs regarding pointing at others and did not look kindly upon it. Diederic shrugged resolutely and stated, "He did do a good job. All the boys did a good job."

Yolente turned to Lars, the eldest of the boys, who had been sitting respectfully upright and quiet during his brother's rambling but now glanced sweetly at his mother. "And what of you, Lars? How was your day?"

"Well, I had a good time. While we were flailing –"

Their conversation was cut short by a sharp wail that raced across the open plateau. The family sat in heavy silence, with only the ebb and flow of fearful breaths to indicate any life in the house. Diederic's eyes turned dark as he rose slowly from the table. "Yolente", Diederic coughed, a weak sound which was immediately replaced by a baritone waver. "Watch the house. You know what to do."

All the children scrambled from their seats to cling to their mother's apron, which was already stained with their tears, save for Lars, who stood solemnly beside his father. Diederic swung toward the door, empowered by his sense of duty, and as calmly as he could fastened a quiver to his waist, which had hung delicately alongside his bow. "Father," sputtered Lars, who reached out to tug the soft cotton of his father's shirt. Diederic turned to his son, eyes holding back tears, and embraced him strongly in a moment that silently emboldened his heart.

"I love you all", said Diederic to the room, eliciting a few tears from the strong-willed Yolente. He slowly opened the door, the light of the candles spilling out onto the dirt like blood.

"Pray for me." And with that he walked out, a series of quick steps fading into the quiet night.