Good morning and Happy Hump Day! If it's Wednesday, then it must be time for more flash fiction from the Wednesday Briefers! We're a group of authors who bring you our finest flash fiction every week, 500 to 1000 words, inspired by one of our prompts.
Avram goes to the local alehouse and spends time with his friend, the priest, but mostly he is keeping an eye on the blacksmith and worrying about what Dracula is doing. See what's happening in this week's chapter of Dracula. Don't forget to visit the other Briefers and see what's up with them. Their links follow my tale! Enjoy!
Despite
his light-hearted words, Avram knew his friend was troubled by the defection of
so many of his parishioners, but he never betrayed those feelings, either by
word or manner, when he encountered those people as he went about the village.
He treated them as he always had—with kindness and patience—and was always
ready and willing to lend a helping hand to someone in need. If they felt
guilty or disloyal in any way, that was a matter for their conscience, not his.
Still, fewer church members meant fewer tithes, which made maintaining the
church difficult. Avram (with the consent of Dracula) helped when he could, but
when times were lean, such as they were now, money was difficult to find. Yet another
reason to curb Dracula’s spending, although that was easier said than done. And
attempting to explain economics to the man was well-nigh impossible.
“I have
your bread, Father.”
Avram startled
at the unexpected approach, nearly spilling his ale, before he recognized the
newcomer as one of the young men from the village. Dracula’s behavior had him
more on edge than he’d realized, he really needed to pay better attention to
his surroundings. A quick inspection of the far corner assured him that the
blacksmith was still there. Gunther gave
him an appraising glance but said nothing as the young man set a covered
serving platter on the table. The enticing fragrance of freshly baked lipie
bread wafted from beneath a bright red cloth. “Can I get you anything else,
Father?”
“No, my
son. Thank you.”
“You’re
welcome, Father.” For a moment, Avram thought he was going to genuflect, but
the moment passed. Instead, the man’s hand flew to the silver cross that hung
on a chain about his neck, his eyes refusing to meet Avram’s. If the child only
knew that symbol of Christianity was useless when it came to either vampires or
Jews.
“I’m
good, thanks for asking,” Avram quipped.
The
server visibly flinched but made no reply as he backed away from the table and
was quickly lost to view.
“Care to
break bread with me, Avram?” Gunther made no comment on the boy’s behavior, but
none was really needed. Not everyone loved Avram, both because of his employer
as well as his religions. The priest lifted the cloth to reveal a loaf of
golden-brown bread as well as a generous portion of the sheep’s milk bryndza
cheese much loved by the villagers. Avram didn’t dare to keep this type of
cheese at the castle for Dracula disliked its strong smell, being very
sensitive to such things. But Avram had eaten it often, growing up, and
appreciated the tanginess of this white cheese, as well as the slightly salty
finish. It served as a wonderful accompaniment to the bread.
The
smell of the bread was quite tempting. Only then did Avram realize he’d not
eaten recently, too concerned with what Dracula intended to do to have an
appetite. The priest used his knife to cut a hunk of bread and a piece of the
crumbly cheese and handed them to Avram before taking some for himself.
“Eat up,
eat up.” Gunther waved a piece of bread and cheese in the air before he popped
it into his mouth. “So good, so good,” he mumbled before washing everything
down with ale. He dabbed at his face with a cloth and emitted a loud belch of
satisfaction before turning his shrewd eyes to Aram. “Is everything well with
you, my friend? You seem a little
uneasy. Is there some problem with your employer? Is he not well?”
Avram took
a bite to forestall an immediate response. The slightly salty white cheese
almost melted on his tongue. As a boy, he’d considered this to be a treat
whenever he visited Gunther and his family. They had always been good to him
and allowed him to stay in their home as long as he wanted. He suspected it was
only fear of the nobleman that prevented them from offering him a permanent
home. Dracula had been a surprisingly lenient guardian and encouraged Avram in
his studies. He’d received no formal education, as he couldn’t very well attend
the church school due to his religion, but Dracula made sure he had access to
the vast library at the castle. Avram had availed himself of that generosity
and became a voracious reader.
But he
could avoid the question for only so long. “We may have to go abroad again
soon,” he said obliquely.
“Business
reasons?”
Avram
nodded. Maybe strictly speaking that was not the whole truth, but it was close
enough. As close as he felt comfortable speaking, anyway. It wasn’t exactly a
lie either. The way things were currently going, they might actually need to
leave the country, at least long enough for each of them to do what he did best
in order to earn money. Unconventional? Perhaps, but also necessary.
His
people had a saying: Di kats hot lib fish, nor zi vil di fis nit ayn-netsn.
The cat loves fish but doesn’t want to get her feet wet.
Sometimes
you just had to get your feet wet if you wanted to survive.
to be continued
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