The Contempt Of All

I had fallen into a shallow doze when a faint rustling woke me, the sound of someone stirring in the dark.

“Mmm.”

There was no time even to take in what was happening.

“Franz…?”

The child was huddled in the corner of the bed, snivelling, and I hurriedly lit the gas lamp at the bedside.

“Goodness, what are you crying for? Did you have a frightful dream?”

I pressed a hand to the soft bedding and moved toward him, and in that instant my palm was soaking wet.

Surely not…

Hastily I brought the gas lamp over and looked at the bed, and at Franz. His trousers were soaked clean through with urine.

“S-sorry…”

Franz apologized, trembling all over.

“The privy. I didn’t know where…”

He was a child of three or four, no more. To see him weeping with his hands clasped together, as though he had committed a crime punishable by death, turned my heart cold.

“It’s all right, Franz. It’s all right, so hush now.”

I said it hastily, patting his back. But I had no gift for soothing children, it seemed, for Franz only wept the louder.

“Shh. It’s all right, I told you.”

Left with no choice, I gathered him up into my arms, wishing only that he would stop. In truth I had no notion what else there was to do. Franz gulped his sorrow down in little hitching sobs, and having wept his fill, he stopped at last and began, instead, to hiccup.

“Have you finished crying?”
“Hic.”
“…And now it’s the hiccups.”
“Hic.”

After that I went on stroking that small back, willing the hiccups away. But the smell was rising by degrees, and the state of the bedding was past all bearing; neither would leave me alone.

And how am I meant to clean that up?

I could hardly leave the child sitting in wet clothes. Nor could I very well rouse the maids from a sound sleep to clean up after a child branded a bastard.

There’s nothing else for it.

Once I had made certain his hiccups had stopped, I whispered to him softly.

“We shall have to wash you. You can’t sleep like this.”

I lifted Franz up in my arms, and he made not the smallest protest, only rubbed at his sleepy eyes.

Are children always as light as this, I wonder.

A child is small all over, so his weighing little was nothing strange in itself. Even so, Franz was uncommonly light.

I left the bedchamber at once and carried him to the bathing room. There I lit the gas lamp against the pitch dark and set him down inside the copper tub.

“Mnn. No.”

But he shook his head hard and would not be parted from me for so much as a moment.

“Franz, you must let go if I’m to wash you.”
“…”
“I’m not angry. So will you let go of my hand, just for a moment?”

Franz took fright at even a flat, level voice, and I had to work at keeping mine as quiet and gentle as I could.

“There. Good boy.”

Slowly the grip of his little fist loosened. I seized the moment to knead my aching shoulder and let out a small breath. Even at so slight a movement as that, he shrank in on himself, terrified.

How in the world did that old woman raise this child?

It grieved me; it moved me to such pity that I was near to fury. No child flinched as readily as that unless he had been badly used indeed.

“It’s all right. Let’s get your clothes off.”

Before I knew it, ‘it’s all right’ had become a phrase I repeated like a habit.

Perhaps my efforts had been worth something, for he cautiously raised his arms above his head. I took the chance and slowly undressed him.

“…”

But once his body lay bare before me, I could no longer say that anything was all right.

Bruises and cuts on his short little arms and legs. Ribs standing out of a body far too thin. Skin chapped raw in patches, and a big toenail torn half away.

I could not say a word; I only rolled my lips in and bit down on them. What lay before my eyes was more than cruel. It was enough to make me feel I had sinned.

Only then did I think I understood why Franz had stood frozen stiff among all those grown-ups.

That old woman. Barbara. I’ll see her answer for this, this very…

What manner of time had he endured, in this small body? No. Could I even presume to picture such a time? How deep the pain and the loneliness this child had borne, I could not begin to imagine. Merely to think of it wrung my heart.

In one corner of my heart a vow settled itself firmly. I would find that old woman, and I would make her pay for what she had done.

“Franz.”

He had no notion why, and only went on looking uneasy. I took his hands and held them tight.

“I’m never going to—”

So much came surging up in me that I could scarcely get the words out properly.

“—let you be hurt. Not ever. I promise you that: never again will you have cause to hurt.”

I had meant never to make a promise I could not answer for. But in the moment I saw the body of that abused child, I could not help declaring it outright, without weighing a single consequence.

Whether he had understood me or not I could not tell. He only gazed blankly up at me, pursed his lips, and fidgeted with his fingers. I brushed his cheek lightly and turned on the water.

“One moment.”

The water came gushing out, cold as ice. I had seen the maids turn the tap and draw hot water, and I had supposed I need only do the same, but nothing came out of the spout except cold.

“This, that is to say. Is this not how it’s done?”

After several fumbling attempts I managed at last to shut off the tap that gave nothing but cold water. With the stream stopped, a brief silence fell, and as I realized what I had done wrong I hurriedly lifted the child out of the tub.

“I’m sorry, Franz. The water was cold — you must have been freezing. One moment, there must be a cloth here somewhere…”

He had not made a peep, standing there ankle-deep in that cold water, and he did not move now either; he only stood where he was and gazed steadily up at me. What if he should catch a chill? In my haste I rummaged through the shelves and at last turned up a dry cotton cloth.

And it was just then, as I hurriedly bundled that gaunt little body up in it.

“Excuse me — is something the matter?”

One of the maids opened the door and came in. She must have noticed the light burning in the bathing room.

“…”
“…”

Her face went stiff on the instant and her brows drew together. It had plainly never crossed her mind that the person inside might be me.

“The— the child had an accident in his clothes, so it seemed he ought to be washed, and I brought him along.”

But I had no leisure to spare for the look on the maid’s face.

“Only, somehow or other, no hot water will come.”

I was in desperate need of someone’s help, and so glad merely at her appearance that the words came out in a rush.

But the maid’s face stayed hard. She threw one sidelong glare at Franz and spoke flatly.

“There’s no hot water kept in the tank at this hour. It’s night; there’s no call to be using it.”
“Then is there no other way of getting hot water?”

I asked, drawing the finely trembling Franz in against me.

“Enough for a bath would mean hauling the hot water over in the great vat some five times, and everyone’s asleep just now, so there’ll be no other way of it.”
“In that case…”
“You could simply wet a towel and wipe the child down, I should think.”

I was not blind to the look in the maid’s eyes as they ran down over Franz.

It cannot be ten minutes since I promised he would never be hurt.

The child had done nothing to deserve so sharp a look from anyone. And yet the maid’s veiled contempt was aimed squarely at Franz.

I drew his head in tight against my breast and nodded to show I understood.

“We shall do that, then. And while I am washing him, will you see to the bedclothes in the bedchamber? Ah — and I should like you to bring something the child can wear.”
“I’m sorry, but there are no clothes here that would fit a child. There hasn’t been a child living in the ducal castle for a very long time.”

With Franz fidgeting there in my arms, I had to be careful even about sighing. I closed my eyes, opened them again, and asked her once more.

“Then bring one of my nightgowns, at least. And as soon as it’s light, go and buy a few changes of clothes for the child.”
“I can fetch my lady’s nightgown, but as for buying changes of clothes for the child, that’s rather…”

I thought I had asked kindly enough, but the maid was as obstinate as ever.

“I know well enough that none of you think kindly of me.”

It was not that I wished to quarrel with a maid. But I had to make my meaning plain, more firmly than I ever had before.

“But you cannot go on refusing the work that is yours to do because of private feeling.”

The maid stood there blankly, put out, and after a moment she nodded, as though there were nothing else for it.

“Very well. I’ll bring it directly.”

Once the maid had gone, I could at last set the child down out of my arms. Then I wet a towel in the cold water and wiped Franz down, carefully, inch by inch.

It’s all right. It’s all right, Marienne.

Wiping that small body down again and again, I went on soothing my own heart, just as I had soothed Franz.

For that was the only thing left that I could do.