“Don’t make me say it twice,” he says.
“Lem?”
He bends down, lifts up his pant leg, and checks that the bottle inside his boot is safe. Then, he stands up.
“Come on. I’ll help you up.”
Lem holds out his hands and offers me help. I put my hands in his and he easily pulls me to my feet.
“It’ll be okay,” he says.
“You hungry?” he asks.
“No,” I lie.
“Me neither,” he lies too.
He takes my hand once again. We walk up the hill, past the bridge, and onto the road above. I expect him to let go of my hand but he does not. Instead, he uses it to navigate me through the streets.
He walks us to the steps of the church in the center of the city.
The church is magnificent. There are huge arches of colorful stained glass within the cold gray stones. At one end of the church stand two turrets with octagonal tops. We stand at the front of the church where there is a huge wooden door with black metal bolts. The door is as wide as three or four men standing shoulder to shoulder. At the other end of the church is the magnificent bell tower.
A heavy metal chain with a padlock is wrapped around the door handles. It is very unwelcoming indeed.
“Good. We are the first ones here,” Lem declares.
“For what?”
He hesitates for a moment.
“We need money to buy food. To pay back my debt. Begging is the only way …”
“Beg? Lem. We can’t!” I reply in astonishment. Beggars are dirty, rumpled men Mother says to ignore when we walk past them.
“I don’t want to beg either. Honest, Rose. But we have no choice.”
“Father’s oil! If we use his oil as he directed …”
“Rose, Father put me in charge. And I’m not going to put you or me in danger by using some old spice oil.”
“It will work. It will!”
Lem stands close to me and whispers. “The Plague kills, Rose. This is not a game. It’s real. We are in real trouble now. I promise I will look after you. But you have to do what I say. Look sad. Ask for coins. Put your hand out,” he instructs. “When you see a man or woman walk by … beg.”
I sit paralyzed on the cold steps. I am angry. Humiliated. And helpless.
“Why would you gamble our money away?” I say through my teeth.
“I thought I could double it,” he says, looking away.
“Well, you didn’t, did you?”
“I know! I lost it! I can’t get it back now!” he yells.
He sits beside me. After a while, he puts his arm around my shoulder. I lean my head into his body.
No morning tea. No bread with butter and sage. No Mother. No Father.
I put my hands around my knees and rock back and forth. Back and forth. This must be a bad dream, I think to myself. A terrible dream.
As the morning awakes, people come out from their houses and apartments. Fishermen walk in the direction of the docks. Shopkeepers walk with the keys to their stores dangling in their hands. Workers push wheelbarrows filled with goods.
“Some money, sir? A coin for the girl’s breakfast, my lady?” Lem asks as people walk by.
I start to feel hungry. The emptiness of my stomach shakes something inside of me. I raise my head from my folded knees.
“Please sir …” I whisper.
Lem looks at me. We are in this together.
I stretch out my hand. “Please …” I say a little louder.
The grown-ups walking by do not take notice of us.
“Please sir … some money for food?” I say over and over. Two, four, six men pass without even looking at us. Perhaps their mothers told them to ignore beggars.
“Please?” I reach out my hand as far as it goes.
Hours go by. People go by. We are invisible.
My mind is muddled, my eyes stare blankly, and emptiness sits at the bottom of my tummy where my breakfast should be.
I lay my head on Lem’s lap. He puts one hand over my forehead while the other stays outstretched begging.
Finally, someone throws one coin into his outstretched hand as they walk past us. Like when I saw the butcher throwing a bone at a dog in the back alley. The kindness jolts me back into myself.
“Thank you. Thank you!” Lem exclaims.
“Thank you!” I whisper.
Lem looks pleased.
“Can we pay back the gang? Is one coin enough?” I ask.
“It’s a start,” Lem replies.
I sit up.
“Please sir … Please Madam ….” I beg for a new life. Hours drag by throughout the afternoon. We manage to earn another two coins. We have had nothing to eat or drink since last night.
When I cannot hold it any longer … I go behind the church and squat by a tree to relieve myself. Mother would have been mortified. I am mortified.
At dusk, Lem stands up. He stretches his back.
He counts the coins we have earned from begging.
“C’mon Rose. I’ll buy you supper!” he says.
He walks me to a tavern where he orders a supper of pottage and bread. One bowl to split between us.
“We can’t afford this,” I say in a low voice.
“The bakery is closed by now. This is the only place we can buy food,” he replies.
The tavern is lit by candlelight. It is crowded with people. There is a long wooden table in the center of the room with long benches on either side of it. The air is filled with the smell of beer. It is noisy with laughter and shouts.
When the food arrives, for a brief moment, I forget my grief. We have two spoons and one bowl of supper. The hot food fills the emptiness of my stomach. I eat slowly, as Mother taught me. Lem eats quickly.
When he finishes, he lets out a big burp. Right there in the middle of the tavern. Mother would have scolded him for it.
“The gang is going to be looking for me. For us. We need to pay them,” says Lem.
“Where do we find them?” I ask.
“They are always on the same corner,” Lem says.
We leave the tavern and walk. But not in the direction of the gang of boys.
Instead, Lem takes us back to our bridge. We walk down the hill. Directly under the bridge where its gray stone becomes our roof. And the rocky ground becomes our beds. I clear a spot for myself this time. And lie down.
“You good?” Lem asks.
“I guess.”
“I’m going to go now. I just wanted to get you settled first,” he answers.
“Don’t leave me,” I say, sitting up quickly.
“You are safe here. No one knows about this place. And, I can go faster on my own. I’ll run there. Pay the gang. And run back.”
“Please don’t go.”
Lem looks at me hard, then takes my hand in his.
“Sleep.”
“Lem?”
“Uh-huh …”
“What will we do?”
He gives my hand a double squeeze. It’s a hug without words.
“I’ll stay until you fall asleep, Rose.”
I feel the comfort of my brother beside me. My mind floats back in time to the vision of my mother. Her hugs smell like cinnamon. She is shorter than Father but taller than me. I drift off to sleep with her image on my mind. There is a beautiful grief in remembering her.