Eric Flint's 1632 & Beyond: Alternate History Stories

Previous

A Krampus Christmas

Joy Ward

Nuremberg November 25, 1633

“I hate Christmas!”

The tall, lanky man stood in the wooden doorway into the Koch’s evergreen bedecked confectionary as he scuffed his brown leather shoes on the tiled floor. He had his hands stuck in his brown cotton pants. Both the hems on his too-short pants and old blue shirt sleeve hems had definitely seen better days. The young man was clean, even though he had spent all day making deliveries for the Kochs.

Frau Koch looked up from the tray of brightly colored hard sweets she had been slipping in the glass case that took up most of the store. “Jürgen, what is the matter?” She wiped her hands on her embroidered apron.

“It’s Christmas, that’s all.” He scuffed his shoe again and raised dark, brown eyes to the plump, middle-aged woman standing behind the counter.

Snow fell lightly behind him in the November afternoon. Shoppers bundled in coats and cloaks passed the doorway on the way to holiday shopping. The afternoon light reflected across the shop with its selection of sweets and holiday decorations. Gingerbread in shapes from houses to little men spread its delicious odor. Marzipan and other candies lined the counter shelves. The store was getting ready for the start of the Christmas shopping.

“Jürgen, what is the matter?” Fredericka Koch closed the case door and walked to the end of the counter. Jürgen had been working for the Kochs since he turned fifteen four months previously.

Jürgen walked toward her, stopping short of the counter’s edge. “This time reminds me Mama is gone.” He fought back tears. He rubbed one faded sleeve across his face.

Frau Koch moved to stand in front of the young man. She knew his mother had passed during the spring from a sickness. He lived with his father.

Jürgen glanced back at the door to make sure no one else could hear them. Shoppers sporadically passed the confectionary.

“Do you want to talk, Jürgen?” Fredericka put a hand on the young man’s arm.

“Frau Koch, Papa tries but he is not Mama. She used to bake and make holiday treats. She used to make sure both of us, Papa and me, felt Christmas. Without her I just don’t know…” His eyes cast down, at his dusty shoes. “I want to share the Christmas spirit, but I just don’t feel it. I feel empty and sad. Is that bad? Is that selfish?” He glanced up, his dark brown eyes meeting her green ones.

With one hand, she pushed back a lock of dark blonde hair that had fallen out of the big braid wrapped around her head. With the other hand she patted his arm. She had known Jürgen’s mother. She had been a kind woman and left a void in Jürgen’s family. Fredericka had heard that Jürgen’s father had been seen often at the beer garden after work at the flour mill.

“I was fine until I saw all the happy people, mothers and children, getting ready for Christmas. I just feel so, so left out…” His voice trailed off.

“I am sorry. Is there anything Herr Koch and I can do?”

Jürgen ran a hand through his dark, curly hair. “I don’t think so, Frau Koch. I just wish I could stop feeling so bad. Mama wouldn’t want me to be such a wet blanket.”

Fredericka heard a few voices outside the shop. She glanced at the brightly decorated picture window lined with treats and green boughs and shiny glass ornaments. She could see three children’s noses pressed against the glass. The oldest looked to be about ten. The other two were a few years younger. She could not see much of them but from their chins up. They each had on yarn caps.

She turned back to Jürgen. She started to say something but the voices outside got louder. Fredericka realized the first three children had been joined by a small mob of children, mainly boys slightly older than the first three. The voices got louder. The older children were harassing the smaller children.

One boy was particularly rude, pointing at the first three children’s clothing. When Fredericka moved to the doorway, she could recognize all the children. Being a confectionary, children spent a lot of time at the Koch’s store. The first three children belonged to a rather poor family and their clothes reflected it with patches and too-short pants. The five children in the mob surrounding them were well dressed with shiny new boots, jerkins with silver buttons, heavy winter coats, and thick trousers.

The first three children had turned around to face the bullies. The oldest child, a girl with almost white blonde braided hair stood between the other two, holding a hand of each one. The two younger children also had very blonde hair. One was a little boy with shoulder length hair over a patched jacket. The other appeared to be their younger sister. Her blonde hair hung loosely down her back, over a tattered plaid shawl. She was in tears, and the little boy was not far behind.

The bullies were dressed in new clothes in good fabrics and rich leather boots. “You can’t have those treats! They aren’t for beggars like you. Go away.” Then Fredericka recognized the lead boy as belonging to one of Nuremberg’s wealthy families.

He should know better! She had to say something! “Jürgen, would you mind staying here while I take care of this problem outside? It will only be a few minutes.” Frau Koch patted Jürgen’s sleeve, rolled down her broad red sleeves and stepped to the doorway and into the afternoon sun.

Jürgen nodded. “Ja, Frau Koch. Let me know if you need help with those ruffians.”

But Fredericka was already out the door, facing down the overprivileged boys. “Who are you to tell these children anything, Gerhardt? And you, Franz? Or the rest of you?” She struck her best matron pose with feet spread on a fighting stance and hands on her skirted hips.

The boys backed down and looked at the road stones on the street. It was obvious they had not factored Frau Koch in their bullying activities. It crossed Fredericka’s mind to wonder who or if anyone ever corrected these wildlings.

“All of you, what would your parents say if I told them you were picking on younger children?” She glared at each of the boys in turn. “Or Father Christmas? Better still, Krampus? Do you think he would take an interest?”

The oldest bully, Gerhardt looked up at Frau Koch. “That’s not fair, Frau Koch! They are just beggars and not even from Nuremberg!” He stuck out his hairless chin.

A few adult shoppers had noticed the discussion. They stopped and listened to Frau Koch, grasping their packages and bags as the snow floated around them. Two of the women turned toward each other, passing a few words Fredericka could not hear.

“Gerhardt, who made you the mayor of Nuremberg, or even on the City Council that you have the right to judge others? These children may not have your fine clothes, but they have a right to live here. I suggest that you leave now and stay away from here until you can behave better. Now, go!” With that the older boys scattered.

Frau Koch turned toward the three younger children who still stood backed up against the brightly decorated window. She softened her expression into a warm smile. “Now they are gone. Are you all right? Did they hurt you? Come inside.” She tried to usher them into the store, but they backed away.

“Thank you, Frau, but we have no money. We won’t dirty your floor. But thank you for running off those boys.” The oldest girl maintained her hold on her silent siblings.

“If you won’t come in, wait here a moment.” Fredericka ran back into the store and grabbed three pieces of the fruity hard candy. She brought the candy out and offered a piece to each child. The two smaller children tried to reach for them but their elder sister held them back. “Thank you, but our parents would not want us to beg.” She shook her head, first at her brother and sisters then at Frau Koch.

“It would not be begging. These are extra pieces. Please take them. You would honor me.” She smiled and offered the candies again.

The youngest girl looked at her older sister with jade green eyes. “Please, Gisela, we will be good. And it has been ever so long since we had candy. Please…” She grabbed Gisela’s hands with both of her smaller, dirtied ones.

Gisela, her big sister looked back and forth between the two siblings, both begging with their big, green eyes. Finally, she reached a decision and turned back to Frau Koch. “I and many thanks. You are very kind.”

Frau Koch gave each child a candy and a hug. She had no children but loved them. It broke her heart to only give each child a single candy, but it was obvious their sister would not allow much more. Then the eldest gave Frau Koch a simple curtsy and led her siblings away. The little boy turned around as his sister took him away and gave Frau Koch a shy smile and a wave. Then the children disappeared down the street between holiday shoppers.

Jürgen was standing by the doorway when Fredericka returned. He was frowning as he watched the bad boys fade into the distance. “Those boys are trouble. I have seen them taunting other children. Someone should teach them a lesson.”

Frau Koch walked back into the confectionary where Jürgen waited for her. She closed the door behind her and turned back to the teenager. “Well, that is taken care of.” Fredericka looked up at the tall young man. “Jürgen, I have an idea. I must talk with Herr Koch when he gets back, but are you game for a challenge?”

Jürgen looked confused but nodded. “Ja, Frau Koch. I am, as you say, game for a challenge but what…?”

Fredericka grinned. “Nein, nein, not now. Herr Koch will be home tomorrow. Let me talk with him first. Ja?” Her eyes sparkled with gentle humor.

Ja, Frau Koch. I will wait.”

“So go home now, Jürgen. Tomorrow will be different. I will see you in the morning. We have a lot of deliveries then.” She patted him on the back, noticing that his old weskit could use replacing. She told herself to deal with that later.

Guten abend, Frau Koch. Thank you for listening to me. I hope I was not out of order.”

“Of course not, Jürgen. You are like part of our family. Let us see what tomorrow brings. Get some rest.” Fredericka thought she would have liked to have a son like Jürgen if they had been blessed with a child. But that was not to be…

She watched the young man leave the store, closing the door carefully behind him.

The next morning

“Fredericka!” Egon Koch strode into the front of the confectionary he and his wife Fredericka ran in Nuremberg. She emerged from the back of the business where the production area was arranged. Her face was split by a huge grin as her sturdy husband wrapped her in his muscular arms.

Once she could breathe again (her Egon’s hugs were stricter than the tightest bodice!) she enquired as to his trip. “How was your time in Grantville this time, my love? No strange women tried to steal you away?” Fredericka teased her husband with a gentle poke in his side.

In answer he kissed her thoroughly. “Does that answer you, my vixen?” His grin was even bigger than hers.

She grinned back at him. “It looks like you brought half the dirt that was on the road home with you.” She started dusting off his leather vest and his deep blue cotton shirt.

Egon laughed and fended her off. “Never mind that, Fredericka. Tell me how things went here while I was gone.” He playfully grabbed her hand and kissed it.

“Silly man! What if a customer would come in?” She laughed at him but continued to hold his hand. “All was well while you were gone. Citizens are getting ready for Christmas. We even sold out of lebkuchen a few days ago! And every home in Nuremberg must have marzipan for Christmas! I am so glad you are back. I missed you, but I really missed your help in the store.” She hugged him again.

“Was Jürgen of help?” Egon looked around him in the store, noticing that some counters looked a bit bare.

“Oh, yes. Jürgen is a fine young man but he is best at delivery. He has never been taught how to bake or form candies. But he is very trustworthy with deliveries and such things.” She glanced toward the door to the already busy street. “He should be here soon. But I have something to discuss with you…”

She led her husband behind the counter where they could watch for customers while talking. Fredericka told Egon about her conversation with Jürgen and the bullying boys in front of the store. When she was done, Egon shook his head.

“I know you well enough to know you told me all this for a purpose. What, pray tell, is that purpose?” A slight smile played across his blue eyes and generous mouth.

“Are you planning on playing Father Christmas again this year?” Fredericka looked intently in his eyes.

Herr Koch scratched his clean-shaven chin and nodded. “I guess so. I could. Why do you ask?” He leaned lightly on the counter.

Fredericka gave him a toothy smile. She leaned in toward Egon and in a quiet voice she began to unfurl her idea. Egon listened intently, nodding occasionally. When she was done, he stood up a little straighter. “Do you think this will work, on all counts? Will the boy go with this plan?”

His wife nodded solemnly. “I think he will, and I think it will help straighten out a few young attitudes. Are you ready to talk with Jürgen? He should be in soon.”

December 5

Early evening settled over the street in front of the Koch Confectionary. The doors had been closed on any more customer traffic but those inside were still very busy readying for the night’s adventure.

The snow had stopped for the evening but not Nurembergers. Many still hastened past the shop in search of last-minute holiday treasures for their children. Tonight was the night for Father Christmas to visit homes across the region, bringing treats to good girls and boys. And then there was the Krampus…

The Koch’s busily worked away on costumes for both Egon and Jürgen. Egon delighted in climbing into Father Christmas’ huge coat of red velvet and fur, pasting on a great white beard and rewarding good children with gingerbread, apples, and candies. Herr Koch had done this for several years.

But this year, he would have a companion. He and Fredericka had asked Jürgen to wear the fearsome visage of the Krampus. The Krampus was the nightmare feared by all children because, unlike Father Christmas, he did not bring treats. Instead, he was rumored to throw bad children in a big sack and carry them away. Of course, Jürgen could not actually do that but he could scare unruly children.

Egon Koch looked resplendent in Father Christmas’ red velvet robe and newly-acquired white beard. The matching red velvet hat was attached to a magnificent white wig. As he stood in the back workroom of the confectionary adjusting the padding around his waist, Fredericka watched Egon, smiling fondly at his efforts. She impulsively reached over to hug him. Then she reached up to her taller husband and kissed him quite firmly.

“What was that for?” Egon asked her, with a big smile wrapped across his half-hidden visage. “Not complaining, mind you, just a bit sudden.”

Fredericka stepped back a step and fiddled with the lace on the cuffs of her rich blue gown. She was dressed for the celebration, even if she was not accompanying her husband on his rounds. He would not visit all the homes with children in Nuremberg. He could only visit so many homes, and most of the local parents already had presents for their children. Egon had identified those children who were too poor to have parents who could afford presents. These are the children he would visit.

Every other year Herr Koch had played Father Christmas, he had gone alone and unknown. No one, other than Fredericka, knew who he was. And Egon liked it that way. But this year he would have a helper, Jürgen.

Jürgen would join him as Krampus, the horned and goat-footed creature who threatened evil children. Fredericka had designed a marvelous costume which would hide his identity. As the couple stood in the candlelit workroom surrounded by the smell of candies and fresh gingerbread, Jürgen emerged from a small room off to the side.

The Krampus outfit gave them both a start. They had seen it before Jürgen put it on but actually seeing it with someone enlivening it was completely different! The complete body was coated in what appeared to be black goat hair. The stacked shoes lifted the normally tall young man another four inches or so higher. But the most fearsome aspect of the costume was the over the head mask which completely covered his head. It, too, was covered in black goat hair. Four spiral horns rose from the top of his head. The mouth was surrounded by jagged teeth and a very long red forked tongue emerged from the front of the mouth. A thin, bristled tail stuck out over a foot behind him. Every inch of Jürgen was covered with the fearsome costume.

Fredericka gasped when Jürgen entered. “Jürgen, is that really you?”

Egon laughed merrily. “Of course it is, goose.” He reached over and kissed the top of her head. “He will be our Krampus for only a short time. He turned back to the furry apparition. “Jürgen, are you comfortable in the suit?”

Jürgen nodded his horned head.

“Then let us be off to reward the good and punish the wicked!” With that Egon swung a large red bag full of smaller bags filled with gingerbread, candies, and fruit over his shoulder. Jürgen followed suit, swinging a much dirtier black bag over his shoulder. But instead of treats, he carried small hunks of coal and switches for those he would visit.

Fredericka ran to the front door to check for late shoppers who might see the pair leave. She stepped out the doorway, then quickly returned. “Now, out the door. No one is in the street to see you!” She rushed them out the door, careful not to let the Krampus’ filthy sack dirty her fine clothes.

The men rushed out the door and around the closest corner into darkness. The falling snow seemed to fall even faster to cover their tracks.

When Father Christmas and Krampus got to the home of a good child or children, Krampus would hold back in the shadows so he would not scare the children. Father Christmas went to the door, set out a small bag of treats for each child in the home, rapped gently on the door, and walked away. Most times those within did not hear the quiet knock. They would get their gifts in the morning light.

At one small home on the edge of Nuremberg, Father Christmas pulled out three bags and set them on the small doorstep. Then he pulled out three warm, new woolen cloaks. All were sized for children. He laid one on each bag. Then he made his light knock on the old wooden door and turned to leave. But before he could get a few feet away the door creaked open, and a small, very blonde boy peered around it. His eyes widened.

“Father Christmas! It’s Father Christmas! Gisela! Dori! It’s Father Christmas!” He was wrapped in an old, threadbare brown blanket against the cold with no slippers on his thin, bare feet. “You came, you really, truly came, Father Christmas!” Tears streamed down his dirty face.

Two figures appeared behind him, a taller girl and a shorter one. From the small light behind them and the moonlight, Jürgen could see all three had very blonde hair. As he watched them from the darkness at the side of the house where he waited for Egon, Jürgen realized these were the children who had been outside the confectionary that day. Then he felt tears coming to his eyes. He knew the pain of a cold Christmas when no one would come.

Egon stepped up beside Jürgen, putting a hand on his shoulder.

After a few more stops to deliver bags of treats to poor homes, Father Christmas and Krampus moved into the wealthier area of Nuremberg. These homes were larger with beautifully carved doors, brightly-lit windows showing well-appointed homes and healthy children excitedly waiting for the man in red.

The men approached the first home, a sumptuously decorated two-story stone home. Evergreen boughs draped across the door and the broad porch. Occasionally, the smell of roasting pork and mulling spices would waft out of a briefly opened door.

Egon and Jürgen stood in the darkness outside the range of the warm light spilling from the house. “Are you ready for this, Jürgen?” Egon turned to look at the younger man standing on his right. With the snow dusting his fur-covered suit and the long, twirled horns rising above, Jürgen looked the very picture of a German Krampus. Even Egon felt a chill not caused by wind reaching through his luxurious red robe.

Jürgen nodded, causing the long, snakelike tongue to wobble threateningly. The mask turned his usually light voice into a devilish grumble. “Yes! It is time to bring some correction to a few wicked children.”

Jürgen clomped up the front stairs and dropped the big, black sack on the porch. Then he pulled out what this child would get. No gingerbread and hard candies. Instead, the burlap sack had a few small pieces of coal. To that, Jürgen extracted several bare alder switches from a bundle he carried. These he laid across the small filthy burlap bag. He swung the bag and switch bundle back across his furry back. As he reached to knock, a small dog began to bark inside. Jürgen could hear a boy’s voice calling, “Papa! Father Christmas is here!”

Jürgen navigated the snowy steps with his cloven Krampus feet. Behind him, he could hear the door open, hear from a roaring hearth fire rolled down the steps with light from the many lit candles inside the impressive home. A child gasped.

Jürgen turned around to see the same bad boy who had taunted Gisela and her siblings in front of the store. The boy’s eyes doubled in size, and the chin that had jutted fiercely now dropped to his chest. His warm, woolen clothes and woolen slippers could not keep his very white face from going whiter. “Krampus!” He seemed almost unable to croak out the one word. “Where is Father Christmas?” He looked from side to side and even stood on his toes trying to look past Jürgen.

As Jürgen looked on the entryway in his Krampus suit the moonlight and house light reflected on the snow giving Krampus an eerie glow. The light even reflected in Jürgen’s eyes making them glow. The boy who had been so full of himself a few days before fell silent.

But Jürgen found his voice. “Father Christmas is not visiting you this year. He sent me to give you a warning. This year I leave you a few reminders but next year…” He turned to leave but called back over his left shoulder. “Do not tease or otherwise harm those younger than you or who have less.” The light shone off his long, wiry tail as he moved down the path into darkness.

The boy continued to stand in the backlit doorway until he saw the burlap bag and switches. He looked at them, backed away, and shut the door.

Jürgen and Egon watched the boy close the door from the darkness of the old trees

“Well done, Krampus. A few more stops, then home to Fredericka and roast and warm wine.” Egon turned, and Jürgen followed.

Another hour or so, tired but happy Father Christmas and Krampus entered the Koch home, a warm cottage with evergreen wreaths on the door and windows. Fredericka waited inside, dressed in her dark blue velvet gown as she oversaw a well laden table with roasted vegetables, fresh bread and butter, honeyed fruit, and a large place for a roast.

The men stripped off their costumes while Fredericka completed the tableau. “Did everything do well?” Her eyes danced as she watched Egon and Jürgen emerge.

As the three were sitting down to the feast Fredericka watched Jürgen. His eyes were huge with wonder at the bounty in front of him. Fredericka smiled, the smile reaching her whole face. Egon, seated at the top of the wood table, smiled at her, giving her a knowing wink. Fredericka encouraged Jürgen to eat his fill. “I knew we would have an extra hungry Krampus so I made extra. In fact, I already have two extra plates for you to take home. One for you and one for your father.

Jürgen was speechless at first, then he found his voice. “Danke, danke schön! I have never seen so much food like this! You are both too kind!” He looked almost afraid to reach for anything.

Fredericka picked up a plate of roast meat, pushing it toward the young man sitting across from her. “Take some. And tell me how you liked your time as Krampus.”

Jürgen took the blue stoneware plate holding the meat. He looked at it for a moment then back up at Fredericka. “Frau Koch, it was marvelous!” Jürgen’s eyes shone in the reflected candlelight.

Fredericka returned his smile. “Do you still hate Christmas?”

Jürgen shook his head, dark curls floating around his wide eyes. “No. I still miss Mama. But I felt her with me as I helped Father Christmas. I felt her. Christmas is different but I can still honor Mama.” He had put the meat platter to the side of his plate. “Danke schön, Frau and Herr Koch.”

The Kochs shared a loving smile then both reached for one of Jürgen’s hands, each giving a short but warm squeeze. Egon spoke. “Danke schön, Jürgen. You remind us also what Christmas is about. May we always remember.”

Previous

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *