By the time Karolina left Maraček's Dairy, the mid-afternoon sun beat down on her scarved head. Eva and Josef had already gone home, but Karolina had stayed to make up for the milk Moucha had kicked over. And then some. Mr. Maraček had been impressed with how many cows she'd milked that day. He'd given her a pat on the back, but he didn't give her an extra coin or a bite to eat. He gave her only her regular wages, which her mother counted on. She knew her only hope for a good meal was to take the coin home and hope her mother had procured something filling for supper.
But as she passed the bakery, she breathed deeply. Each inhale brought warm smells of bread that made her stomach feel emptier and emptier. She walked into the bakery.
"Good day, Mrs. Sopiak," she said in her perkiest voice. "Do you need any work done? I'd be happy to run some errands for you or sweeping or anything else you need in exchange for a loaf of bread."
Mrs. Sopiak, kind-hearted beneath her permanent wrinkly scowl, sighed. "Oh, all right," she said. "But I only have a small loaf left. Do you still want it?"
"Yes," Karolina said.
After sweeping out the bakery, preparing the pans for the following morning, and delivering a basket of rolls to a cottage on the other side of the dairy, Karolina received her small loaf. It was crusty and cool, but it was all hers.
Before starting for home, Karolina stopped under a tree to rest and eat her bread. She leaned against the wide tree trunk and closed her eyes, savoring the taste and texture of the bread. After four satisfying bites a shadow blocked the sun above her.
She put an arm over her forehead to shield her eyes and looked up to see Marcus standing above her waving a piece of paper back and forth.
"Having a nice time?" he asked.
Karolina took another bite of bread and didn't answer him.
"Listen," he said, squatting down next to her, "I'm sorry about the milk getting spilled. Really." Karolina thought he did look a little bit sorry, but she wasn't ready to forgive him.
"You could have told Mr. Maraček it was your fault, you know," she said as she chewed.
"I know," Marcus said, "but I really need that job. You're right. I should have told him."
"I worked almost two hours extra today and didn't get paid for it," Karolina said.
"I know," Marcus said.
"What is that?" Karolina asked, pointing to the piece of paper he held in front of him.
"Oh, this?" Marcus said. "Your sister Eva said you might want it."
"What is it?" she asked again.
"Just something I found," Marcus said. She snatched it out of his hands, turned it right side up, and tried to read it.
"It's a letter!" Karolina said, sitting up straight. Marcus snatched it right back.
"Hey!" she said. She tried to grab it, but he stood up and held it over his head. It might as well have been on the moon; Karolina knew she could never reach it.
"I'll make a trade for it," Marcus said. "I'll let you keep it if you give me some of that bread."
Karolina looked at the half-eaten loaf of bread and then she looked at the letter, all crisp and intriguing up there against the blue sky.
"Very well. Fine," she said, breaking the loaf in half. She gave Marcus the smaller piece, and he gave her the letter. He started eating it immediately. Karolina had never considered that Marcus might be hungry, too.
After a couple of large bites, Marcus said, "What do you want with that letter anyway? It's not to you."
"I've been learning to read," Karolina said.
Marcus laughed and almost choked on the bread in his mouth. Karolina glared at him. When Marcus saw her serious expression, he stopped laughing.
"Seriously?" he asked. She nodded. "Why?"
"Because I'm sick of being hungry, that's why," she said, looking at the last chunk of bread in Marcus's hand.
"How will reading get you more food?" Marcus asked. He split the last piece of bread in half and gave her one of the pieces. She took it from him and popped it in her mouth.
"Do you really want to know?" she asked.
"Yes," he said.
"I'm not sure I can trust you," Karolina said. "You ratted me out this morning."
"I said I was sorry," Marcus said.
"Well," Karolina began, "okay. But you have to promise me you won't talk about this. To anyone."
"I promise," Marcus said. He swallowed the last bit of bread and sat down on the grass in front of her.
She leaned forward, tucking her knees up under her dingy skirt. "It won't be enough to just learn to read Czech," she said. "I've got to learn German, too. That's why this letter you found is such a treasure. It has German and Czech in it, and it's not often I find any written words."
"Whoa," Marcus said. "You're going to learn to read in two languages. What in the world for?"
"Hapsburgs, you half-wit," Karolina said.
"What do Hapsburgs have to do with us?" Marcus asked.
"Everything," Karolina said. "They're in charge of everything. Did you know that up in Brno, they're making all the nobles learn German? Here in the countryside everyone still speaks Czech, but if you want to get anywhere, if you want to be somebody, you're going to have to know German."
Marcus lifted an eyebrow and looked at Karolina skeptically. "Where did you get that idea?" he asked.
"I just pay attention," Karolina said. Marcus looked at her steadily, trying to decide whether or not to take her seriously. He knew that under that diminutive exterior were nerves of steel. He had a bruise on his shin from the whack of her milking bucket this morning. "For instance," Karolina went on. She moved up to her knees. "I saw this man who spoke Czech and German easily. He just switched back and forth between the two languages, and everybody treated him like a prince or something. He talked with Hapsburg soldiers and Czech businessmen—anybody he wanted to. Don't you see the value of that? The Hapsburgs need people who can talk to the Czechs for them, and the Czechs need people who can find out what the Hapsburgs are up to."
Just then Karolina noticed that the sun was lowering in the sky, and she jumped up. "Blast!" she said. "I have chores to finish before dinner." She rolled the letter up into a tight scroll and jumped to her feet. She had run three or four steps before she called over her shoulder to Marcus, who was still sitting on the grass under the tree. "Thanks for the letter, Marcus. You better not give me Moucha in the morning or I'll kill you." She was already so far up the road that she barely heard him laugh.
Karolina went straight to the shed when she got home to get feed for the chickens. As she was dipping the scoop into the feed bucket, she heard her father hobble up behind her.
"I already took care of the chickens, Little Gold," he said.
She turned around and saw her father there, leaning his crutch.
"Sorry, Papa," she said. "I was just about to do it."
"I know you were," he said. "I wanted to save you some time because you still need to go down to the river and get some water."
"Okay, Papa," she said. She retrieved the water buckets from the shelf in the shed and attached them to the neck yoke to make them easier to carry. As she walked away from the house and toward the river, she looked back and saw that her papa had only made it halfway from the shed to the house before having to sit down and rub his lame foot.
The river sparkled in the late afternoon light, and Karolina said hello to an old woman who was washing her linens in the water. Karolina dipped her buckets into the dappled water and heaved the yoke over her scrawny neck. Someday, she thought, I won't have to do this anymore.
After chores and supper, Karolina was too tired to think of trekking to the tavern again. The sun had gone down, so she couldn't read the letter. She lay in the loft on her straw mattress next to Eva, whose body breathed up and down with the calm rhythm of sleep. The younger children were also sleeping on their mattresses on the other side of the loft, and she could hear her youngest brother restlessly fussing in her parents' bed downstairs.
Karolina drifted off to sleep and was dreaming about Marcus standing on the counter at the bakery ordering the bread loaves to milk cows when she heard the front door close gently. A glowing light appeared at the entrance to the loft, and Josef climbed up with his little oil lamp.
"Josef," Karolina whispered, "Can I use your lamp after you're in bed?"
"Karolina, go back to sleep," Josef said.
"Please?"
Josef sighed. He was pulling off his hole-riddled boots. "Fine, I guess," he said, sliding the little lamp her directions, "but just for a few minutes. Oil's expensive, you know."
"Thank you," Karolina said. She pulled the precious letter out from under the bed and held it close to the light.
March 1674
Most Eminent Margrave of Moravia, Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire,
In an effort to further the integration of Hapsburgs and Czechs in thy most illustrious jurisdiction of Moravia, and more specifically in the city of Brno, we, your humble servants, propose an ambassadorial gesture that will strengthen ties between the two populations as well as care for the poor and fatherless. As you know, on the corner of Koblizna Street stands an elegant building that was constructed by the former Margrave to be a university but which has never served its purpose and now stands empty. We would like to see the building fulfill a great purpose which is to serve as a school for the upbringing of orphaned daughters of noblemen, Hapsburgs, and peasants from the surrounding areas. In the school, we will teach the young ladies both Czech and German, so they will be able to communicate with one another. We will also teach them music, art, and every other skill accomplished ladies should have so they can be an example to the rest of the city. The city will see in these young ladies that Czech culture can be enhanced by Hapsburg influence. These young ladies will be a credit to thee, Most Honorable and Magnificent One and to Your Empire. We propose that the school begin with four carefully chosen Hapsburg girls, four Czech noble girls, and four poor girls from the surrounding countryside. We will be most selective in choosing instructors and chaperones for the girls that they will be surrounded by only the best influences. We can secure most of the funding through private donors from the city of Brno, so we would require only minimal financial backing from thee, Most Eminent Margrave of Moravia.
Thou would not need to be involved in any of the organizational affairs, but thy presence at ceremonies would be most welcome, and in seeing thee at such ceremonies, citizens of Brno would know that thou art most concerned for the welfare of the city's most humble and dependent citizens. We eagerly await thy reply.
Most humbly,
Dr. Gustav Richter,
Dr. Georgius Palacký
This is just a draft, Gustav. Of course, you'll need to proofread my atrocious German before we send it to the Margrave. Outside of "Good Day," and "I'm flattered," I don't think he speaks a word of Czech. What do you think of the part about having him come to ceremonial affairs? Do you think we should expand on that? You know how he loves to show up in his embroidery and silk. We may as well play to his weaknesses. I'll be around on Thursday to make rounds with you. I'm sure we'll be going to the Loboda estate. Have you managed to get round there and talk with Susana? The sooner the better. Yours, Palacký
Only the last part of the letter was in Czech, and Karolina didn't know what to make of it. Having learned to read from gravestones, confiscated letters, and the Bible, Karolina's reading vocabulary was limited.
"Karolina, the oil!" Josef whispered.
Karolina extinguished the lamp, put the letter back under her mattress, and tried to devise a way to get the letter translated. She thought of the white-haired man at the tavern. Maybe he could help her, she thought as she dropped off to sleep.