Chapter One -- The Apple Thief
Danka Siluckt woke up before sunrise, as always. She carefully got out of her bed to avoid disturbing her younger sister, Katrínckta. She cast her sibling a resentful look, irritated that Katrínckta got to sleep in most days, a privilege she couldn't ever remember having.
Danka stumbled around in the dark, trying to grope for her work outfit. The first item she located was her peasant's vest, hanging from a wooden peg that had been wedged between two logs in the wall. She slipped the flimsy garment over her shoulders. The vest was not a top that would have been considered appropriate for a young woman in most European countries at that time: it was sleeveless and completely open in the front. It's only function was to protect the wearer's back from the sun: it was not designed for modesty or fashion.
Danka felt around the wall before placing her hand on the second part of her work outfit, a worn and very dirty brown skirt. She pulled the skirt up over her hips and tied the drawstring. The skirt, never an attractive piece of clothing to begin with, most definitely had seen better days. Threadbare, torn, and tattered, it was little more than a rag. It was in such poor condition that Danka thought about taking it off again and not bothering with it. If she were to just stay home and work around her parents' homestead, she would not have worried about the skirt. However, on this day her duties would force her to leave home and work closer to town, so she figured it needed to stay on. The next item she put on was her work boots. The boots were the only part of her outfit that had any value at all: if nothing else, at least Danka's father saw to it that all of his children's feet were properly protected against their harsh living conditions.
Finally, she retrieved her mother's hat. Danka would be working outside all day, so her mother had given her permission to use it. The hat was a typical peasant's hat, with a broad brim designed to completely protect the wearer's head and neck from the sun. Danka had heard that in other countries men and women wore different work hats, but in Danubia a peasant's hat was a peasant's hat. The sun in the fields was as harsh on women as it was on men, so there was no reason a woman's hat should be any different from one worn by a man.
Danka cast another resentful glance at Katrínckta, as the younger girl stretched in her sleep and sighed with the satisfaction of the luxury of now having the bed to herself. Dishonored little brat...I ought to grab her hair, drag her out of bed, and make her come to work with me. But no...Danka didn't dare do such a thing. She would dutifully go off and work, while Katrínckta would sleep in and then spend her day at the pond pretending to feed the family's ducks, but in reality just soaking her feet in the water and staring at the flowers falling from the trees or the birds flying in the sky. Katrínckta was worthless, but if Danka dared lay a hand on her, their mother would immediately take the younger girl's side and brutally punish Danka.
Oh yes...lovely Katrínckta ...delicate Katrínckta ...sweet Katrínckta ...always Mother's favorite. Danka quietly picked up her shovel. She resisted the urge to raise it over her head and slam it against her sister's sleeping face. That would be nice...I wonder if she'd be so pretty after a hit to her teeth with this shovel...if she didn't have her teeth, then they'd all think I'm the pretty one...
Danka struggled to open the rough heavy door that led outside. She decided to leave it open and let the daylight wake her family. It was just starting to become light, a clear early summer dawn that promised a hot day. The young peasant then unlatched the door to the chicken coop. As the fowl squawked and filed down the ramp, Danka walked behind the dilapidated structure to check on an important secret she was keeping from her parents.
Buried, in a broken cup, she kept a stash of copper coins. She had saved 15 coins so far...and hopefully by the end of the day she'd add a couple more to her collection. She knew that what she was doing was risky, but she needed a decent dress if she could hope to get married. If her parents ever could afford a dress, Danka knew that Katrínckta would be the daughter to receive it. Katrínckta would be the one to get married, while Danka would be expected to just keep working. No, that wasn't going to happen. Danka would have her own dress, regardless of her parents' wishes, and she would get married first. She grabbed a feed bucket before leaving for work. The feed bucket would be needed for her plan to get a couple more copper coins.
Danka emerged onto the muddy path that connected her family's homestead to the outside world. She passed the duck pond her parents shared with another family of peasants; then passed several other dilapidated cottages. They were all the same: hovels made from stones and logs, hidden under trees and bushes, and surrounded by flocks of ducks and chickens. Some had vegetable gardens, but none of the properties was large enough to support a real farm. These were the dwellings of the lowest class in Danubian society...the day laborers.
Carrying her shovel and bucket, Danka followed a somewhat better road that was roughly paved with flat stones, passing larger properties. There were several orchards and wheat fields, all neatly kept and surrounded by fences or stone walls. The houses were attractive, and instead of duck sheds, rabbit hutches, or chicken coops, the farmers had built real barns.
Danka came up to an apple orchard and jumped the fence. She looked around for the best apple, which would be her breakfast. She was not worried about the orchard owner, because Danubian protocol allowed a poor person to take a single piece of fruit or a vegetable from a rich person's property per day. The tradition was ancient, based on the Church teaching that the poor have the right to sustenance.
Danka hid the apple core under some leaves and took a second apple. Now, she did have to be concerned about the owner. She looked around before committing herself to the second piece of fruit, because protocol only allowed her to take one apple, not two. One apple was sustenance, but the second one was theft. Well, thought Danka...that's just too bad. There will be more theft from this orchard when I come back...a lot more.
When she finished her second apple and had hidden its remains, Danka resumed her trek to work. She walked along a tree-lined road towards the provincial town of Rika Heckt-nemat. By Danubian standards the town was large, boasting a population of nearly 20,000 people. Only the capitol, Danúbikt Móskt, and the eastern city of Rika Chorna were bigger. The city was built on a hill, with its medieval walls still standing, a relic of an age before cannons. On the south side of the town there was another irrelevant relic of the town's past: a stone pier and row of docks that at one time serviced river barges, but now faced nothing but an open field. For centuries Rika Heckt-nemat had been a major river port, but four decades ago, when the Rika Chorna river flooded and changed its course to the north, the city was left landlocked. What had been a riverbed now was a series of swamps that were gradually being drained and converted to farmland. Hence the city's new name: Rika Heckt-nemat, which translated to "the river doesn't flow here anymore."
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