CHAPTER 83: Many Full Moons Ago

CHAPTER 83: Many Full Moons Ago

Mid-17th century, on the outskirts of a small village in old Germany, life moved with the calm rhythm of the seasons. Ben Roger, a man weathered by years and labor, still worked in the fields, though his back no longer had the strength of yesteryear. By his side, his son Karolus Roger, a young man of just over thirty, helped him with the hardest tasks: plowing the land, carrying firewood, gathering tools.

The day had been long, and as the sun began to set behind the village rooftops, Karolus left his father sitting in the shade of an old oak tree. Ben, his forehead beaded with sweat and his gray beard disheveled, saw him off with a tired smile.

"Go on, son. Buy bread before the shop closes. I'll wait here a while; the evening air is the only thing that soothes these bones of mine."

Karolus nodded and headed towards the heart of the village. His walk was firm, dressed in a rolled-up linen shirt, work pants, and somewhat worn boots, but his bearing was that of a man everyone recognized.

The cobblestone streets buzzed with the life of the community: children chasing a rag ball, women chatting by the well, and the smell of freshly baked bread floating in the air. Karolus entered the bakery, and the baker, a burly man with a thick mustache, greeted him enthusiastically.

"Karolus! Just in time, I still have warm loaves."

"Perfect, Hans," he replied, shaking his hand. "My father has been waiting for them since this morning."

As he left with the bread under his arm, he ran into two of his lifelong friends: Matthias and Otto, who were chatting leaning against a barrel next to the tavern.

"Look at him, always in a hurry, good Karolus," said Matthias with a frank laugh.

"Your father must still be working you harder than a farmhand," added Otto, giving him a slap on the back.

Karolus smiled, accustomed to the jokes.

"He's done his part in this life. I don't mind helping him."

They talked for a while, speaking of the fields, the animals, and the small village news. Finally, Matthias gave him a mischievous look.

"Karolus, tell me the truth… How long are you going to play the oblivious one?"

"What do you mean?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Elizabeth, the midwife's daughter," interjected Otto with a knowing smile. "Everyone knows you two get along, and you're not exactly a boy anymore."

Karolus shrugged, though he couldn't help blushing slightly.

"Elizabeth is a good woman, I won't deny that. But I haven't thought about settling down yet."

"Well, you should!" laughed Matthias. "That girl is smart, hardworking, and pretty. Someone like her would be good for you at home, before you end up old and stubborn like your father."

The three laughed together as the sky turned shades of gold and crimson.

The path back home was peaceful. The chirping of crickets filled the air, and the orange twilight light faded slowly over the fields. Karolus walked with the bread under his arm, still thinking about his friends' jokes, when the silhouette of the old cottage appeared among the trees.

The wooden door was ajar, and a familiar scent escaped from within: a hot stew, prepared with the little they had, but enough to comfort the body after a long day.

Upon entering, Karolus found his father, Ben Roger, sitting at the rustic wooden table, already set with two served plates. An oil lamp cast trembling shadows on the walls.

"You took your time, son," said Ben in a deep but calm voice, though his lips hinted at a smile.

Karolus placed the bread on the table and sat opposite him. The old man served a portion of stew onto his plate, then onto Karolus's, and for a few minutes, both ate in silence, enjoying the warmth of home.

It was Ben who broke the silence, setting down his spoon and looking at him seriously.

"Karolus…" he began, with that paternal tone that brooked no evasion. "You're not a young man anymore."

His son looked up, raising an eyebrow, intrigued.

"What brings this on, Father?"

Ben rested his elbows on the table, interlacing his fingers.

"The years fly by, believe me. You blink, and before you know it, your youth has slipped through your fingers. Look at the state I'm in now… I can barely hold the plow like I used to. You still have strength, and a life ahead of you. Don't waste it just working the fields."

Karolus sighed, bringing a piece of bread to his mouth to avoid answering immediately.

"Are you saying I should look for a wife?" he finally asked, with a hint of irony, though deep down he already knew where the conversation was heading.

Ben smiled faintly, with that tired but wise expression.

"Exactly. You should think about settling down. Having someone to accompany you, to share your days. Don't let loneliness take hold of you like it did with me after your mother's death. Life is hard, son, but less so when you have someone by your side."

Karolus looked down, stirring the stew with his spoon. His friends' words in the village came back to his mind, repeating insistently: Elizabeth.

Ben watched him for another moment, as if reading his thoughts.

"Don't let opportunities pass you by, Karolus. Time is a river that doesn't stop."

The candle flickered strongly, as if underlining those words.

The stew was slowly cooling, but the silence at the table weighed heavier than hunger. Ben set his spoon aside and leaned back a little in his chair, observing his son with tired but firm eyes.

"Karolus…" he said in a grave voice, stroking his white beard. "I'm not going to lie to you. I don't have much time left."

Karolus looked up sharply, surprised.

"Don't say that, Father. You still have strength. You worked in the field with me just today."

Ben let out a low, hoarse laugh, almost bitter.

"Strength, yes… but not as much as before. The body doesn't lie, son. The bones creak, the back hurts, and the days feel longer to me. The earth is slowly reclaiming me, as it will reclaim everyone someday."