After they passed another church, Aladdin caught glimpses of water between the buildings to his right. Was that a river?
Herr Kaufmann touched his arm and his face split with a huge smile. “We are home at last.”
While Herr Kaufmann gave instructions to his men about the goods in their care, Aladdin took in the large house before them. It was made of a dull red brick, four stories high and in a row of other houses, with only a small space on either side of it. The long roof rose to a point. Tiny windows, bare of any ornament, studded its upper floors, while the lowest floor was a solid row of square windowpanes with a plain door in the middle. Though not decorative, it was obviously the home of someone quite prosperous.
Before they could knock, the door opened, revealing an aproned woman with a white linen wimple covering her graying hair.
“Herr Kaufmann! At last you have come!” Her round face was beaming, her cheeks pink.
“Yes, Hilde, I am come. The men will return from the storehouse shortly, and we all are famished.”
“I have a fresh pot of stew, enough for everyone, but I can fry some pork and cabbage and—”
“Stew is all we need, besides bread and butter.” As they made their way into the house, Herr Kaufmann added, “I have brought a new assistant. His name is Aladdin.”
Hilde, whom Aladdin guessed was the head house servant, looked him full in the face. “A tall, dark, handsome fellow, if I may say so.”
She smiled, but Aladdin could see from the wariness in her eyes that he would have to earn her trust. What was the reason she felt the need to protect her master? Aladdin had been called a Saracen and scorned by a few of the boys at the orphanage because of his dark skin and hair. But he sensed her caution had less to do with him and more to do with Herr Kaufmann’s troubles with his wayward son.
Aladdin awoke to the early-morning sun filtering through the thin silk curtains. It was the first time he had slept in a room alone since before he came to live in the orphanage. With no other boys stirring in their beds or the snoring of other male servants, he’d slept all night without waking once.
Throwing back the coverlet, he walked to the window, unlatched it, and opened the glass panes. He leaned out.
The river lay below, its waters lapping against the foundation stones of the house.
A small boat manned only by a boy of about seven or eight years floated by. The boy stared up at Aladdin. He used his oar to slow the boat. His mouth hanging open, he looked as if he wanted to ask a question.
“Greetings,” Aladdin called.
“Who are you?” The boy squinted up at him.
“Aladdin of Hagenheim.”
“Are you a Saracen like me?”
The boy’s black hair and dark skin were very similar to his own. Aladdin’s heart quickened at the kinship he felt for this boy, the first Saracen he had met outside of his homeland.
“I am from the Holy Land,” Aladdin said, “but I was raised a Christian since I was little.” He took in the boy’s ragged gray shirt and loose gray hose. “What is your name?”
“Abu. Does Herr Kaufmann know you are in his house? He is to return very soon.”
“Indeed. He has already returned, just last night, and brought me with him.”
Abu’s mouth formed an O and he nodded.
He reminded Aladdin of himself when he had been a poor orphan with no one to care for him—a child who hardly understood what it meant to be a child. Aladdin couldn’t help simultaneously admiring Abu’s happy, lively spirit and wanting to take him in and feed him.
“I shall come round soon, then. Farewell, Saracen Aladdin of Hagenheim.”
Aladdin wanted to ask Abu how he came to be in Lüneburg in the German regions of the Holy Roman Empire, where he was going, and what he was doing, but he was already floating down the river, steering his boat with the oar.
Aladdin dressed quickly and left his room, making his way down the stairs. When he was nearly to the ground floor, he met a servant girl coming up.
“Are you . . . Aladdin?” She pronounced his name hesitantly.
“I am.”
“Herr Kaufmann is waiting for you in the dining hall. I’ll show you the way.”
“Thank you.”
They weaved their way through a few short corridors to a large room with a long table and several chairs. One long side of the room was lined with windows facing the river. Herr Kaufmann sat at the head of the table, and beside him was a young woman.
“Guten Tag.”
“Aladdin! Come and greet my daughter, Grethel. Come, Aladdin. Sit.”
A servant set a cup of steaming, frothy milk in front of him, along with fruit pasties and bread, with plenty of butter and sugared berries to spread on the bread.
“How did you sleep? I hope the bed was to your liking.”
“The most comfortable bed I’ve ever slept on,” Aladdin said. “Thank you, Herr Kaufmann. It is very kind of you to—”
“Nonsense! Nothing is too good. Grethel, this dear boy saved me and my men and my entire shipment of goods, saved us all from evil robbers. What do you think? Shall we not kill the fatted calf and put a robe on him and rings on his fingers?”
Grethel smiled and patted her father’s arm. “He certainly deserves to be rewarded for his kindness and bravery.” She met Aladdin’s gaze before glancing away as Herr Kaufmann patted her cheek.
“She worries about me when I’m away.” Herr Kaufmann focused again on Aladdin. “I cannot turn my business affairs over to Cedric. He refuses to grow up. No responsibility, no integrity, no—”
“Father, please don’t upset yourself.” Grethel’s admonishment held an edge, as if they’d had this conversation many times.
Herr Kaufmann’s face slowly grew less red, and Grethel and Aladdin began to eat.
The older man sighed. He suddenly sat up straighter, as if trying to change his mood along with his posture. “Those gooseberry preserves are heavenly, are they not? Hilde makes the best fruit pasties and the best boiled fruit. How do you like the bread? It’s made from the finest wheat in Germany.”
“It’s the tastiest bread and gooseberry preserves I have eaten. My best compliments to Hilde and the cooks.” Aladdin had always eaten very well in Hagenheim, but he sensed that few kings in the world ate as well as Herr Kaufmann.
“Do you see that vase over there?” His host pointed to a large, intricately painted vase with fantastical scenes in red and black in the corner. “That was once owned by the Yongle emperor of China. And do you see that tapestry? It once hung in the palace of an Ottoman sultan.”
He turned to his daughter. “Grethel, did I tell you that Duke Wilhelm was grooming Aladdin to take over as steward, but he wished to see the world?” Once again he faced Aladdin. “Tell us about the duke and his family. Did you know his oldest son, the Earl of Hamlin?”
“Yes.” Aladdin thought back on the interactions he’d had with Valten. “He is a quiet man, very brave and confident, but when I asked him, he trained me to fight with a sword. Duke Wilhelm relies on him very much, especially in matters of safety and security. I have no doubt he will be a great leader, just as his father has been. The people of Hagenheim are greatly blessed in them.”
“That is fortunate. As you know, Lüneburg forced out our princes, who were not so full of integrity as the Duke of Hagenheim, and several years ago we were granted the status of free imperial town. This has allowed our citizens to reap the benefits of our rich saltworks. One result has been our newest church, St. Nicholas’ Church, which was just finished, oh . . .” He tilted his white head and stared up at the colorful fresco on the ceiling of his dining hall. “Seven years ago. Grethel and I shall take you there on Sunday.”
Aladdin chanced a glance at Herr Kaufmann’s daughter. She was pretty, he supposed, but not as beautiful as Kirstyn. Her hair was brown and smooth, her brown eyes and mouth rather small and delicate. He couldn’t help comparing her to Kirstyn’s pale-blonde hair, full lips, and large blue
eyes. Kirstyn was also taller than Grethel.
An ache stabbed his chest. When would he see Kirstyn again? But he could not dwell on that. He would have to endure the ache a few years, at least.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Aladdin followed Herr Kaufmann around for the first week. He met the clerks and the sellers, the carters and the guards. He met the men who worked at the warehouse and the market. Herr Kaufmann taught him the way he had always accounted for the buying and selling. He also showed him around the Lüneburg Saltworks, explaining that he was the owner of two salt pans, which made him part of the Sülzbegüterte.
“It cost me nearly everything I had to buy out the previous owners, but I knew it was a great opportunity to buy into the salt gentry. In turn, I lease the pans to those who have boiling rights, and I receive 50 percent of the revenue.”
“That is a very good percentage of profit for you.”
“Indeed it is. Having salt to trade with merchants from other lands is a great source of wealth for our town. All other countries must have salt to preserve their food, their fish, their meat. Salt is as valuable as gold.” He smiled, showing off a full set of front teeth, with only one chipped one.
Aladdin taught Herr Kaufmann a better way of accounting for his buying and selling and the remainder of goods in his warehouse, which he had learned in Hagenheim.
“My dear boy! Is there no end to your talents and education? With you here, I shall prosper like King Solomon.”
Soon Herr Kaufmann put Aladdin in charge of his finances. Within two months, all the sellers were answering to Aladdin and bringing him their numbers and inventory at the end of each day. Aladdin also put in order the household accounts, setting up a system for Hilde to give him the lists of items bought and consumed. Each night he discussed with Herr Kaufmann the risks and potential benefits of trading with various ports and regions. Of course, being members of the Hanseatic League made travel and trade safer, but they discussed how to increase profits.
“Our items of greatest value are the expensive silks and manufactured goods shipped to England, but lately I’ve lost whole shipments due to foul weather.”
“We should look at the profit margins. Perhaps less expensive goods—flax, wheat, honey, and resin—traded in greater bulk will bring in more revenue.”
So they looked at the numbers and came up with more profitable plans.
“Are there ever any more salt pans available for you to buy?” Aladdin asked. “If so, I encourage you to buy them. The salt pans afford you the greatest profit margins by far.”
Herr Kaufmann began asking around and found that one owner, who had previously owned four salt pans, had died and had no heirs. Herr Kaufmann quickly made arrangements to buy the four salt pans, thus making him a “master salter.”
“How fortunate that you suggested that, Aladdin. If you had not, I would have missed a great chance to increase our revenues. You are brilliant. Blessed indeed.”
Herr Kaufmann showered him with praise, calling him “dear boy” and “my godsend, Aladdin” and “my right hand.”
One evening Aladdin was up late and came to the kitchen for a small repast. When he had finished his bread and cheese, he stood from his stool at the rustic wooden table. As he walked through the kitchen doorway, Grethel met him coming in and nearly bumped into him.
“Still awake?” she asked. “I couldn’t sleep either.”
“I was just going up to bed.”
“Stay a moment.” She leaned against the door frame.“I wanted to tell you how much I appreciate how you’ve rejuvenated my father. He’s more joyous and content than I have ever seen him.”
“I’m pleased to hear that.”
“He trusts you, and he is elated you are so interested in the business and increasing its success.”
Unsure how to reply, Aladdin shifted his feet and leaned against the support beam beside him.
“He is so fond of you—the way he was once fond of Cedric and other stewards and clerks in the past, many of whom ended up taking advantage of him. That is why Hilde and I were a bit wary of you in the beginning. I hope you will forgive me for that.”
“There is nothing to forgive. I was a stranger your father encountered on the road and brought home. I would have felt the same way in your position.”
“But I want you to know that I realize I was wrong about you. You are a good man.” She met his gaze, then looked away, staring down at her clasped hands.
“I am pleased to have gained your trust. It is an honor to serve your father, and I enjoy the work.”
“Thank you for dealing honestly with him.” She smiled up at Aladdin, and he realized . . . she was standing quite close. She placed her hand on his arm, stood on tiptoes, and kissed his cheek.
Aladdin tried to step away from her, but he stumbled into the large beam he had propped his shoulder against.
She smiled as though amused. “Gute Nacht, Aladdin.” She moved past him into the kitchen, and he went up the stairs.
His blood pounded through his veins and made a rushing sound in his ears. He couldn’t stop remembering Kirstyn, the look in her eyes the last day he saw her, when she wanted him to stay with her in Hagenheim, when she kissed his cheek just as Grethel had done. He stumbled into his bedchamber. He shut the door and went down onto his knees.
A knife seemed to stab his chest. Oh Kirstyn, I miss you so much.
She was the closest thing to family he’d had when he lived in the orphanage. It hurt so much to think of her marrying and forgetting about him.
He could never forget her. She was the only person who seemed to understand him. Once when they had planned to go for a walk, she waited for him while he finished his French language lesson with Margaretha. Kirstyn crossed her arms and said, “Aren’t you finished yet?”
When they were finally passing through the town gate on their way to the forest, Kirstyn had said, “Sometimes I envy you.”
“Me?” He raised his brows at her.
“Because you are so clever. You do all your lessons well—I’ve heard Frau Litzer and Master Alfred tell Mother many times. You know what you want to do, and you’re very talented. Sometimes I think everyone is talented in my family except me.”
“Why would you ever think that?”
“It’s true. All my brothers and sisters are good at something. And they’re all louder than me too.”
“Louder?”
“Yes, and I’m so quiet.” Kirstyn gazed at the ground. “Sometimes I think you are the only person who listens to me.”
Aladdin’s heart had thumped hard against his chest.
“I will always listen to you, whenever you need me. And I like quiet people. They are my favorite.”
“Truly? You always say the nicest things. Sometimes I think you are too serious and that you’re always trying so hard to be perfect and to make everyone like you.”
The truth of her words struck him. It felt good to be understood—that she saw how hard he was trying—but it also hurt that he had fallen so short of the mark. He had done bad things in the past when he was with Mustapha, and he often thought wrong thoughts, but he didn’t like anyone to know about those.
“What is it?”
He hesitated, then said, “I’m not perfect. But I wish I was.”
Aladdin and Herr Kaufmann walked toward the office in the warehouse. The early-morning sun glinted off the water of the River Ilmenau alongside them.
It was late November and the first snow had fallen the night before. A light dusting of white covered the ground.
“Well, my boy,” Herr Kaufmann said as they crossed the bridge that spanned the river, “you have now been in Lüneburg for six months. Did you know it had been that long?”
Aladdin smiled and nodded. “I was thinking about that last night.” He had received a letter from Kirstyn a few days before. She had filled him in on all her family’s news: Her brother Gabe’s wife, Sophie, was having another baby, as was Valten’s wife, Gisela, and Gabe and
Sophie had visited Hagenheim Castle on their way from visiting their sister Rapunzel and her husband, Sir Gerek.
But it was the ending he liked the most, the part where she mentioned her little brother Toby. She’d written, I’ve had to take Toby and one of the servants walking with me. He enjoys it, but I miss my dearest friend. I miss the talks we used to have among the trees, climbing up the rock to see the stork and her nest, which has been empty ever since you left. Please tell me all your news.
Aladdin had begun a letter to her. Tonight he would finish it, though doing so would be difficult. He almost felt as if he were lying by writing insipid things about his work and life in Lüneburg. At times he considered writing her that he feared that making his fortune would not make him happy, that he missed her and loved her too much.
But of course he could not tell her that. Besides, loving her was foolish. He’d only be devastated when he discovered she’d married someone else, the son of a duke or an earl.
His mind traveled back to a couple of years before. Aladdin had been studying with Kirstyn and Margaretha and their tutor, Herr Vortmann, in the castle. But when the day’s lessons were over, Kirstyn grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the door.
“Aladdin and I are going for a walk,” she said over her shoulder.
They made their way through the castle corridor, then suddenly encountered the duke leading several strangers, one of whom was dressed in a silver-and-gold-stitched cloak.
The duke glanced at Kirstyn and then said to the richly dressed man, “You may meet Margaretha’s younger sister. Kirstyn, this is the Duke of Sandziwogia’s son, Lord Gregor. Lord Gregor, this is Lady Kirstyn.”
She curtsied to the whey-faced man with pale-blond hair. The young lord bowed to her, his eyes very keen on her face.
“And this is Aladdin, my assistant steward.”
Lord Gregor gave Aladdin a disdainful glance and moved past him.
Kirstyn glared at the duke’s son, even as Aladdin felt the sting as his face grew warm.
“One of Margaretha’s stuffy suitors.” Kirstyn wrinkled her nose as they continued down the steps. “Your dark skin and black hair are much more appealing than these men with their pale skin and blond hair.”