Amish -- Fiction; Science fiction; Short stories; Space colonies -- Fiction
"Love, _Ich bin sorry_," Aaron said. "The Book, though, says just what
our neighbors told me: Ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall set
you free. I have found the truth, the truth of our dark-skinned friends.
I did not want to wound the ears of _da Oppel fuun mein Awk_,
apple-of-mine-eye sweet Martha; but I must speak out the truth."
"It is not good enough," Martha sobbed, "that you accept this
brown-skinned, jewel-bedizzened woman-god; but you must make love to
her; and I, wed to you by the Book, nine months gone with _Kinndt_, am
to make no fuss."
"I loved the Mother-god with the plow, and accidentally," Aaron
bellowed. "_Haagott!_ woman; have you no funny?"
"I will birth our child in my lap from laughing," Martha said, weeping.
"Aaron, do what you will. I can hardly walk home to my Mem to bear a son
in my girlhood bedroom. We are like _Awduum uuu Ayf_, like you said; but
the serpent in this Eden pleases me not."
"When I spoke of colts, and the borning of them," Aaron said, "I forgot
me that mares are more sensible than human women. Martha, _liebe_
Martha, you wed a man when you married me. All your vapors are naught
against my having seen the light. If to stay here, on this land already
watered with my hard sweat, I had to slaughter cattle in sacrifice to
the Mother, I'd pick up the knife gladly, and feel it no blasphemy
against our God."
"Aaron Stoltz," Martha said, "I forbid you to lend honor to this god!"
Aaron sat. He unlaced his shoes and tugged them off. "Woman," he asked
softly, "you forbid me? Martha, for all the love I bear you, there is
one rule of our folk that's as holy as worship; and that's that the man
is master in his house." He pulled off his black stockings and stood,
barefoot, with callouses won on the black earth of his father's farm;
dressed otherwise meetly as a deacon. "I will walk to Datura on my naked
feet to show our friends I know my wrong-doing, that I have hurt the
belly of the pregnant earth. I will tell Sarki Kazunzumi that I have
seen his light; that my horses will be unshod as I am, that the Mother
will not feel my plow again until the grasses spring, when her time will
be accomplished."
Martha crossed her hands about her middle. "Ach, Stoltz," she said. "Our
_Buu iss reddi far geh_, I think. Today will be his birthday. Don't let
your tenderness to the earth keep you from walking swiftly to Datura;
and when you return, come in a wagon with the Sarki's ladies, who
understand midwifery. I think they will find work here."
"I will hurry, Mother," Aaron promised.
The End.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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