Breath (9781439132227) by Donna Jo Napoli Page B

wanted to get well fast so that I wouldn’t miss the boat that’s supposed to take me to Höxter in only a handful of days. But then I got worse, and I didn’t think about my lessons anymore. My belly bloated and was tender to the touch. When that passed, my chest got so hot and heavy it could barely move. All I thought about was air. Life is getting another breath.
    Großmutter says she’s too old to climb the stairs a dozen times a day to care for me. So I’m lying in the common room, close to the kitchen. It’s good, because this way I can see who goes in or out. Großmutter says it’s important that I take an interest in what’s going on, that I don’t get lost in the delirium.
    So I try to pay attention to everything and everyone. No one else pays any attention to me but her, though. They’re so used to my being sick all the time and then pulling through that they don’t waste energy on worry. They simply go about life without me; I’ve disappeared for the time being.
    Kuh is curled on my chest, eyes closed, purring. My hand is closed over his small head. Every now and then I move my fourth finger to pet his ear, and his purring gets louder. Sometimes I pet just a little harder, and he bites me affectionately. I’m concentrating on not coughing. My throat is raw from coughing, and every cough makes my gut ache.
    Melis puts the buckets on the floor and takes a seat at the table. Breakfast is later than usual so that Melis can eat with everyone and they can all go out to the fields together. He pushes his bowl toward Großmutter for her to fill.
    â€œFinish the job first,” says Father.
    â€œI have,” says Melis.
    â€œTwo buckets?” Father slaps his hand on the table beside his bowl.
    â€œThat’s all they’ll give.”
    Father gets up and stands over the milk buckets. Then he swears and goes out the door.
    Breakfast is sausages and lard spread on black bread. My favorite—when I have an appetite, that is. And Melis’s favorite. He looks at Großmutter. “I’m hungry.”
    She fills his bowl. Then her eyes meet mine. We’ve been fearing this would happen. Cows on other farms have been giving less milk for the past month. People have come knocking at the door, talking obliquely of this and that, hesitant to come right out and ask the coven for help. She bites the side of her thumb anxiously. Then she, too, goes out the door.
    â€œGive me your hand,” says Ludolf, reaching across the table to Melis.
    â€œNo,” says Melis. “I’m a good milker. I’ve got strong hands. I don’t have to wrestle you to prove it. The cows are sick. Whatever’s been going around has finally hit them.”
    â€œIt’s the planets,” says Bertram.
    Everyone looks at him.
    â€œThey’re lined up wrong. That’s the problem withthe milk. The folk in Hameln town know it. Johannah tells me.”
    â€œDon’t talk like that,” says Melis. “Pater Michael warned against astrology. It’s hocus-pocus.”
    â€œNo, it’s not,” says Bertram. “It’s as much a science as astronomy is. The only reason Pater Michael doesn’t like it is ‘cause he’s nearly blind. Much worse than Großmutter. He can’t see the stars and planets, and he doesn’t want anyone talking about what he can’t see.”
    â€œNo,” says Melis. “It’s because the pope condemns it.”
    â€œThe pope?” Bertram laughs. “Germany has never really loved any pope. Our emperor Frederick was actually excommunicated little more than a century ago.”
    â€œI don’t care about the past,” says Melis. “Germany’s emperor obeys the pope now, and the pope now condemns astrology.”
    â€œThe pope condemns witchcraft, too,” says Bertram, “but you don’t see Pater Michael doing anything to stop Großmutter’s