The Silver Cup by Constance Leeds

girl, you are speckled and freckled,” said Martin.
    Well, at least I am not smelly and mean like you , thought Anna with a lump in her throat.

14
    EASTER
    April 13, 1096
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When she opened the door to go to church on Easter morning, Anna found a lavender dawn sky, streaked with orange. Across the way, a stork was building a man-sized nest in the thatch of a cottage. Anna loved these grand white-and-black birds with their dark red beaks and long red legs. Though mute, they made a joyful clatter, clacking and tapping their bills with their mates. Each day she checked her roof, hoping to find the start of a nest, because a stork’s nest in the roof brought luck and the certainty that winter had finally come to an end. Easter. Winter was over, as was Lent—so filled with boredom and herring.
    After the festive Easter mass, Anna and Gunther walked to Agnes’s in the warmth of the morning. Anna could feel the sun’s balmy breath on her head. Trees were budding, puffed with new leaves. The migratory songbirds, splashed with yellow and blue, brightened the flocks of dun-feathered sparrows who had shared with her the bleakness of winter. Color and music had returned to Anna’s world.
    Gunther and Martin were back from a long journey north to Cologne, and Anna was happy to have them home. On Holy Saturday her favorite hen had hatched twelve chicks, a blessed number, all butter-tinted and perfect. Her father said it was a very good sign. Everyone and everything had been scrubbed, and winter was cast out from each person and home. Anna breathed deeply, and her chest filled with sweetness.
    They gathered at her aunt’s table to celebrate with capon stuffed with buttered bread and a spit-roasted new lamb. They ate leeks and borage and new cress. And eggs—so many eggs, boiled and soft and cooked with tansy leaves, and they had oatcakes slathered with butter and honey.
    â€œI think I’m going to burst. I’ve eaten more than anyone else,” declared Anna. “I can’t remember Lent ever lasting so long.”
    â€œDear Anna! Patience just isn’t one of your virtues,” said Lukas with a kind smile.
    â€œI know. I know that all too well. But I love Easter. Good Friday was all dark and serious. Father Rupert seemed so angry.”
    â€œOf course he was angry. Didn’t you listen? The Jews still go unpunished for the most despicable crime ever committed,” said Martin. “In Worms, people throw stones at Jews during Lent, because the Jews stoned Jesus. Even old Father Rupert says we ought to stone them during this holy time.”
    â€œHow many people in this town have ever seen a Jew? ” asked Lukas. “We may have three score houses, but there’s not one Jew.”
    â€œWell in Worms there are many. There are streets in the north quarter with only Jewish houses. No Christian would live among them. They all smell like goats,” added Martin pinching his nose.
    â€œThat’s not true! When Father took me to Worms last fall, I saw this Jewish family—” began Anna.
    Agnes interrupted, “I have heard that Jews kidnap Christian children. Do you think the Jews stole Thomas?”
    â€œThe Jews? Mother, there are no Jews here,” replied Lukas.
    â€œThey are only a morning’s walk away,” said Agnes.
    â€œMother, have you ever even seen a Jew? ”
    â€œOf course.”
    â€œHere? ” asked Lukas.
    â€œNo, but in Worms.”
    â€œAnd of course, they were in our woods that very day when Thomas was lost,” added Anna under her breath.
    â€œWas I speaking to you?” asked Agnes, slamming her fist on the table. “You see, Gunther? You see how impossible she is?”
    Gunther looked disapprovingly at Anna. She said nothing, embarrassed that Agnes had overheard her remark. Only Anna noticed as Karl left the table.
    â€œLet me tell you about Cologne,” said Martin changing the subject.