chapter 4 draft

Chapter 4 Alexander Maika

Georg Maika fared well in his position of financial clerk in de Catholic Church of Haarlem. Originally from the Portugese city of Porto, Georg had the task to keep books according to the Dutch laws. And then of course he had to keep the books according to the Catholic Church. The end balances were never suppose to balance. Once a year the head of the city clergy came down to the office and Georg had to show him the books. Georg made sure enough money was reserved for 'education and food for the poor' and the remainder was distributed among building and maintenance. And when the city clerk announced it was four o' clock Georg left the room. The next morning he would put the book back on the shelf making sure the money on the last page was gone.

Georg Maika's son, Richard, was not interested in politics and church. His mind was on a daily spin figuring out how to get through work with the least effort. He loved working at the farm behind his house where the farmer put him in charge of the chickens, approximately 300 of them. Wooden barns with wide open doors housed the animals. It took a while for the chickens to get used to Richard. But after a while they didn't care anymore that Richard grabbed their eggs underneath their warm bottoms.

In the beginning they had bitten him and Richard tried to be more careful. It was a careful job. Egg shells were thin at times and the farmer invested in rich food for the chicken. The eggs were sold locally and the best customer was probably the church and the restaurant in the city. In the second barn Richard kept the chickens that had to be slaughtered and the chicks. He felt he had it under control. He made sure hay was spread richly across the floor and fed the chickens enough. The inside of the barn was covered with chicken wire that Richard had dug into the ground for about three feet. A job that had cost him three weeks but foxes decided that digging a hole more than two feet was not up their alley.

The cook of the city restaurant, Christopher Ranzou, of the restaurant visited twice a week and Richard picked out the best chickens for him. The cook liked the chickens plucked and slaughtered, something Richard didn't like and he postponed the killing part to the end, sometimes even the morning. The other customer was the lady from town hall. She didn't pay directly but told him time after time farmer Jan would pick up the money every week. And Richard bought it. So he never saw a penny for the eggs of the chickens.

It was hard to get a chicken plucked and killed and keep it fresh after so sometimes he would get up early in the morning and do it before sunrise. Then one day he decided to kill the quantity in the evening so he would have to do it in the morning.

Richard got into accounting when he found out that the restaurant and town hall not quite the amount Richard thought was correct. So one day he started a small list of how much eggs the lady took with her. And chickens. And the day after he made a second list for Ranzou. He trusted Ranzou more but he wanted to make sure. When he went over to farmer Jan to ask how much money they had paid farmer Jan looked at him. "Thought they'd pay you" was the only thing he said.

"What do you mean I need to pay first?" she snapped.

The lady from town hall looked angry at Richard the next morning. Her extra bags were for extra eggs, the town guard was celebrating his ten years of service and she was going to make 12 cakes and snacks with chicken.

"We haven't seen any money..."
"Your boss was suppose to come and get it. If he didn't than that is his problem. Now boy, you better give me what I need or I'll have your business shut down"

But Richard didn't budge. "You bring me the money. Last week you had about 40 eggs and 17 chickens. I need at least 20 weeks that amount. You pay me what you owe me and I'll get you what you need."

"Well the bloody outrage! I need to get baking here son. And I Need To Get It Going Soon. Soon!" she said fuming.

But Richard kept his cool. "Well then you better hurry lady. The guard will be very dissapointed if his favorite cook wasn't able to satisfy him.

Ranzou had been watching at the scene from a distance as the lady passed him by. "Well you better go somewhere else Ranzou, farmer Jan doesn't want your business. I. Will. Never. Come. Back!" Her yelling made even the chickens stop chucking.

Ranzou held his hat in his hands. Richard looked at him and then studied the paper he kept in his hand.

"I don't have any money on me Richard" he said full of guilt. He wasn't even going to deny it. But most of the time he had forgotten, the darn restaurant was so busy and he had intended to pay Richard. Richard was a good kid. His father kept the books of the restaurant.

Then Richard turned around and handed Ranzou the chickens. "I'll give you half Ranzou. You pay me daily from now on. You owe me."

"Big time" Ranzou said guilty. He took the chickens. At least he could make a start with that and then come back to pay.

And so Richard got into business. Ranzou returned with money that afternoon. It was quite an big amount of coins and paper money. And when the town clerk came with a bag of money it was even more. Farmer Jan came to check on him.

"Holy Smokes, what are you going to do with all that money?" Farmer Jan asked him.

Richard looked at his employer. "Well Farmer Jan, this is all yours!" The eyes in the rimply skull of the old man looked at him.

"Mine?" he said and chuckled. "You made it."

"Yes I did but you paid me and this money should pay for the hay and the food and all the other stuff Jan. You can buy new equipment. Invest it!"

The chickens were chucking in the back ground and a dog was barking on the neighbouring land.

"How do you do that?" Farmer Jan asked.

"I don't know. My father told me once."

Richard sat with his father in the evening. Georg was proud that Richard was so interested in setting up a balance with a credit and a debit side with numbers taken from the working trial balance. (Now I'm a painter so you might state that in the seventeenth Dutch century accountability wasn't done from a trial balance but Georg sat with Richard the day after as well.) Georg was genuinily happy to see a bill from his son when he was working on the books of the restaurant. And he made sure the bill got paid.

"Are we not going to go over the books?" Richard asked one evening.

"Not this evening. I'm going to tell you what my father taught me and it's called ethics." Richard look at his father.

"What are ethics"

"Ethics are rules that you need to stick no matter what everyone tells you. And tonight I only have the one and only rule I have lived by. Not only in accounting. But in life"

"Sounds creepy"

Georg explained to his son Richard the rule he lived by that evening. Richard looked at his father and asked if that was it. And Georg assured him: that was it. And he got up and started smoking his pipe.

"I can't understand why farmer Jan let you have so much hay".

Richard laughed. "Me neither" he said when a new bale of hay dropped in front of him. He picked it up and put it on the stack. "Well my chickens have the best eggs in the village and Ranzou likes to buy quite a few chickens a week. So there must be a business. You know farmr Jan and money"

Erwin who was waiting for Richard to throw the next bale down agreed. "Wonder if bookkeeping is the only thing he can do, he ain't much of a farmer."

"Nope" Richard agreed. Farmer Jan only had a few businesses side by side but somehow they made their money. Work on the land was done by labourers who slept in the building on the side of OverSchie. Delft was growing and much of the farmland was bought up by the government.

"So how's your father doing" Erwin asked.

Richard kept stacking the bales. His father... he missed him. He was in jail. Van Amerongen, the damn Lutherian had convicted his father for fraud in the Catholic church. Van Amerongen read the sentence out loud in the townbuilding. Everybody knew Richards father Georg Maika and people were shocked. The Protestants had called Van Amerongen out. Van Amerongen was supposed to be impartial as the 'Ambachtsbewearder' of the Schepenbank. The Schepenbank kept an eye on the finances in the local businesses and after the 80 year old war with Spain had formed itself as a strict governmental institution. Religion was permitted. But under control. And Van Amerongen wanted to make that clear. Richard wasn't even sure if his father had been wrong. He was accused of keeping two accounting books, one that was for The Schepenbank and one original for the Catholic church. And the latter had a balance triple the number of the other.

"I haven't seen him in a while" Richard said

"I'm heading there this afternoon." Erwin said. 'Want a ride?"

When Richard Maika climbed on the high seat to sit next to Erwin on the horse and wagon he made sure the eggs he had in a bag for his father were safe and wouldn't break. It would take them about 2 hours to drive to the city and to the Westhaven jailhouse where his father was senteced to sit for 5 years.

Richard had gone to school with Erwin when he was younger. School was a luxury and at the time primarily given in the buildings of the Catholic church. Erwin's father was a salesman in the harbour and their family made a decent living. Richard didn't think they liked going to church a lot or for that matter even read the bible as much as he had been ordered. But Richard like Erwin. Erwin had a good sense of humour and Richard wasn't that fond of religion after the Reformation had made a lot of changes in the area after the Spanish had left.

"Did you see Anthonia last night? Man, she makes me hungry."

Richard grinned. Anthonia...

"Friend Erwin, Anthonia is no where near your league. Myself on the other hand..."

Erwin laughed loud. The horses pulled the wagon closer to the city. "You will see who is going to the mother of my children Friend Richard. Her name is going to be Anthonia!"

"Yeah well probably a different Anthonia. I'm afraid your looks don't help you. Myself on the other hand..." Richard said. He heard Erwin laugh. Erwin pulled the wagon to the right to have someone pass in the opposite direction. He talked to the other driver about the bad quality of the road. The driver complained the roads should be kept up better, it was already the third time he drove up and down. He was carrying shipbuilders wood and he had to get off four times already to pick up what he had lost.

Richard looked at the city that emerged in front of him. Delft was getting bigger. The war was over and he was glad the Reformation seemed to settle down. Anthonia's father, Johan Michielz, built a stone fabrication factory close to the harbour. It started small but his business went well. They were catholic just as him and he remembered seeing the family in church on Wednesdays and Sundays. The new church on the side of the city was built from stone and marble delivered by Michielz factory. The Michiels would ignore the Maika's now his father was in jail. Richard was sure of that. He was glad farmer Jan let him keep his job. Richard's pay was the only money coming in and farmer Jan allowed him to keep the tip money he received.

"Hey Richard!" From the side of the road pastor Stuijvesant called.

Erwin halted the horses. "Hello Pastor, how are you doing?" Richard asked.

"On you your way to your father eh?" Stuijvesant asked.

"Trying to"

"Well they'll let you in, don't worry about it." Stuijvesant looked around. Two horses and carriages were behind Erwins and they were blocking the way. No time for a long conversation so Stuijvesant cut it short "Come by tonight. I need to talk to you" he said.

Erwin let the horses walk again. Richard turned around. "You went to see my father?"

"Yes, he's fine! Come by tonight Richard!" Stuijvesant called back and stuck up his hand. Richard waived back.

"Must be something important" Erwin laughed.

part II

The guard took the bag and Richard heard eggs brake. The guard looked inside. "Well these are mine, thank you very much." More eggs broke when he put the bag on the table. "You didn't bring anyting else son?"

"No sir" Richard said. They stood in the brick room of the Delft Ward where his father had a cell. It looked half decent. Richard had expected a worn down building. Maybe this wasn't so bad after all. He followed the guard down the hall. He had lost the eggs but it seemed they'd most likely taken care of his dad.

"I'm going to have to lock you in, so bang on the door and shout when you want to get out" the guard said.

Richard stared at the eyes of a man sitting on a bed. It was probably the biggest man Richard had ever seen. The light through the little window on the side was bright and it took him a couple of minutes to get used to the light. The stench was unbearable and as if by confirmation the heavy man lifted his right leg and farted and smiled.

"Com'on Smiths we'll leave father and son alone"

The big guy stood up and looked down on Richard. His elbow hit Richards jaw in a painfull way when Smiths passed him. "Damn Catholic" Smiths said. The man sitting on a small stool in a corner stood up in defence and the guard yelled "SIT DOWN MAIKA!" The whole scene scared Richard and took away the comfortable feeling he had earlier on. Then there was silent. The door locked and Richard looked up to the man.

"You okay son?" the man asked

"Where is my father?" Richard asked. They must have tricked him. Would Stuijvesant have set him up?

"Come here Richard, I broke my leg. I can't walk"

Richard stood up and walked over to the man. It was his father Georg. Georg,with a small beard and hollow eyes stared at him.

"What have they done?" Richard almost wispered. He was horrified to see his father like this.

"They are angry at us Richard. But don't mind that, don't mind me." Richard held his fathers head in his arms.

"Was Stuijvesant here yesterday?" Richard asked.

"Yes, he tried to talk to Van Amerongen but Van Amerongen wouldn' budge. Said it was a judges decision."

Richard felt tears streaming down his cheeks. The smell in this room was unbearable and Richard saw a bucket near the bunk where swarms of flies fighted over the poop. In a corner a black spot seemed to move around a certain spot and it didn't take much of Richards imagination to find out someone had been taking his morning piss there. Flies moved over the liquid making it look like a moving corner.

"You need to get out of here. I'll talk to Van Amerongen"

"No, don't get involved in this. Van Amerongen and all the other Protestants are going after the churches. Stay away from this. You need to do something for me."

The door opened. The guard appeared and the fat guy was behind him.

"Already?!" Richard jumped up and the guard stepped into cell to hold him. "Yes already. It's time for your fathers bath"

The fat guy stepped in. He was naked. Obviously he had gotten 'his bath' as well. His shoulders and back showed red stripes and bruises. Richard stared at him and the fat guy stopped and turned his head. His fist hit Richard right on the nose, and by the time Richard became aware of his surrounding he was lying an a corner. People were shouting. A second guard held the fat guy with his head stuck under a stick.

His father sat in the corner where all the flies were. The flies were now on him as well. His jaw seemed dislocated somehow, bone stuck out to the left where Richard had not seen it before.

"Father?" Richard heard his own voice. It sounded more like 'Fazzah'

The eyes of his father turned to Richard. But his head remained in the same position. Then Richard stood up and a third guard held his arm. "Let's go buddy" the guard said. His father was pulled out of the cell as well, there was no need to help him on his feet. Angrily Richard shook himself loose and ran to his father.

"I'm going with you" he tried to say. Blood spatters sprayed on his father's cheek.

"Stuijvesant" his father said. It sounded like "Fpuiveffant"

"You want me to go to Stuijvesant?" Gyou fant e da gah fa Stuijvesant?

His father's eyes cleared. Yes. That's what he meant.

"Come on old guy" the guard said and pulled his father on his feet. Richard jumped up and held his fathers body, the head twisted to the right, the jaw bone sticking out. The eyes stared at him.

"Painting" his fathers mouth said, slowly but very carefully. "Pfainting"

Richard got it. And let go of his father's body. "Bye father"

part III

Erwin noticed Richards silence right away. Even from the outside he had heard the screaming. The 'You are gonna die old fool! You are gonna die!' was very clear. And then another voice telling to stop. And then 'No way, look at the old Catholic idiot' and the silence. 'Looked at what you did!' Someone laughed. "I broke his skull! I broke his skull" the angry voice had shouted in joy. As if the guy was dancing. It sounded as Crazy Henry Smith who had worked at the butcher. Crazy Henry would slam the skulls of the pigs. Or he wouldn't hit hard enough so the pig would walk around in a daze, Henry laughing in a corner. At one time he had three of the pigs walking into each other blood dripping over their eyes, biting at each other. Henry discovered alcohol. The butcher got a few warnings but the day that Henry couldn't distinguis the difference between the pigs and the farmer came four weeks ago when they found Henry dancing naked in the wintery street in the pulp he had made out of the brains of the butcher. It was on the corner of Hoecks backery and the road to the harbour. People were still trying to walk around the mess and the smell was terrible. Hoecks had complained with Van Amerongen a couple of times but Van Amerongen said that the snow and the freezing weather made the clean up only more miserable.

"Was it bad?"

But Richard didn't answer. Tears ran down his cheeks. It hurt Erwin as well to see his friend as well. He guided the horses across the road. He was going to load up new haybales for delivery the next morning.

"Mother Murmel, your.. your mouth, it's all crooked" Erwin's face showed the horror when he saw the blue and yellow spots and the bone sticking out.

"I'm going to jump off at the Old Church" Richard said.

Erwin looked in Richards eyes. "Don't go do something foolish" His friend turned his head onto the road again. The drove back to the city.

Stuyvesant's room looked much bigger than Richard had imagined. It was not even a room, it was more like a house. With separate rooms and a living room with a huge table in the middle. It didn't seem that big on the outside. Stuyvesant had three book cases filled with books and on a separate stand there was a huge book, Richard guessed that must be a Testament or so. What did he know about religion. Tears kept rolling down his eyes and the scenes from the prison kept repeating themselves in his mind. His world had changed this morning. Indefinitely.

Stuyvesant looked at Georg's son and guided him to a room. He got word from the prison that Georg had passed away from his injuries this morning but Stuyvesant had decided that it might be better to let the boy get some rest. He made the bed in the guest room, Richard was going to stay there. In the evening the Church Medicin (church doctor) came by. Stuyvesant left the room until he heard a loud scream coming from the room followed by silence. Ten minutes later de Medicin stepped out and looked at Stuyvesant. Medicin was a small man with a hunch, he was probably the ugliest person Stuyvesant had ever encountered. But Medicin knew exactly what to do. Their eyes looked at each other.

"Did he pass out?" Medicin nodded.

"It's going to be sore for quite a while, they hurt him bad but he'll be fine. It's a strong lad" and the man left Stuyvesant's home.

But totally unexpected Richard was up the next morning. Still with the bandage around his head and cotton on the spot where the jaw was broken.

"You want breakfast son?" Stuyvesant asked.

"Dad said about coming to you. What can I do? I will kill that fat guy, how do I do that?" And then Richard started to cry, he couldn't contol himself, his body was shaking from anger and it seemed that crying was the only thing that seemed right. Stuyvesant sat there with Richard.

"Was there something else that your dad said to you perhaps?" Stuyvesant tried

Teary eyes looked at him. 'No he told me to go to you and this guard just dragged him along. It was my father Stuyvesant not a bloody bag of corn, it was my father!" And crying seemed to be the only thing that seemed right.

It took Richard a week before he decided to go back to farmer Jan. The morning walk to the farm kept his brain in order, Richard loved the walk along through the city. He waived at the washing ladies at the Van Leeuwenhoeck drapery and passed the Delft Blue factory where always a lot of activity was going on. Outside of the city grass had turned into a brighter green and birds chirped. Richards anger was gone but his determination to end the life of a certain individual had grown. He had to be careful about it though, he needed a strategy. But he had time, he decided.

The funeral was sad. A lot of people had loved Georg Maika and the church was filled with people. Farmer Jan was there, said he needed Richard back. And other people brought him clothes and food, all of which Richard gave to Stuyvesant for the church. Stuyvesant would give the food to the poor and dress the beggar children with the clothes. Richard didn't need them, he made enough money with his job. Then, at the end of the day, when Georg's grave casket had sunk into the ground the cemetery was empty. Except for one man.

"He was exceptional with numbers. You know why?".

Richard wasn't sure if he'd recognize the voice but he stared at the lid of his fathers casket. Birds sang in a tree, it was the end of the day. Nothing else mattered more now.

"No, I just know him as my father" Richard said.

"Your father Richard, was a bookkeeper but most of all..." and the deep voice paused here. "He was inventive, he was an entrepeneur. That is why the church owes him so much."

Richard now turned to the individual. The young man was dressed in a suite, black and well taken care of. Not what Richard had expected with the deep dark voice. "The church owed to my father? What has the church got to do with my father's dead? Maybe 'The Church' could have kept my father out of jail?"

The man laughed carefully and stepped toward Richard. He held out his hand but Richard didn't shake it. "Well it's more of a figure of speech Richard. Your father knew the trouble the church could get into. The Protestants have been on our neck for a long time. We have to be careful. We had to survive with the new rules from the government and your father made it happen. He was inventive, he... made it work. As a church we are very grateful for that. We owe him."

Richard straightened his back. It was getting time to go home. He would be going back to farmer Jan the next day. He looked around him, the houses of the city in the far and cows on the next field. Was he ever going to enjoy it again as he did before? He realized he would never. It would never be the same. As he stared over the land he saw it's past as his own past. The city was changing and Richard had enjoyed it, but he realized that life had changes that would change the direction of your life and that had happened in the prison. Without him being prepared for it. Flashes of the fight and the fat man hitting his father flared up again and tears rolled down Richards cheek.

"You going back to farmer Jan?" the man asked.

"Yes, tomorrow" Richard said and walked away.

"I'll be at Stuyvesant tomorrow. We can talk more" the man said.

Farmer Jan was happy to see Richard on the farm. He stood waiting with Henry on the side of the farm, he kept his hat in his hand not sure how to behave. He was quite shy. "Tell me what needs to be done and I'll help you" farmer Jan said finally. "We asked Erwin to bring a load of hay but you have a lot already!"

Richard laughed. It felt good to be back. Just a week ago Erwin had unloaded the hay from the wagon. Was it only a week ago?

"We need to get the eggs from the chickens first Jan" Richard said and he handed Jan and Henry a bucket. They collected quite a few of them and Richard selected the ones that were too old to be sold. He tried to put the other ones back but knew they would be rejected if the chicken figured out it wasn't her egg. He would clean up the broken eggs the day after he decided. The smell of the hay and the sound of the chicken coup worked very well for Richard. He was glad he was there. And he was glad to have the help of Jan and Henry. They cleaned out the dirty hay and spread fresh in thick layers. The chickens enjoyed it very much, their clucking sounded happy.

"Did Ranzou come by?"

"Couple of times" Jan said

"How many does he need?"

"About 30. He had to dissappoint his customers so he's not too happy. I told him I would make it up to him. You know he prepares the meals for town hall and..."
That struck Richard. Town hall. Van Amerongen. He had been keeping and slaughtering chickens for the murderers of his father.

Farmer Jan realized what he had said "I didn't mean it that way Richard" Jan said. He took his cap of his head and scratched it. Richard now saw how old Jan actually looked.

"It's okay Jan" Richard said and started picking out the chickens that had to be slaughtered. The three of them worked all day long and into the evening. Jan's wife, Deborah came by with lunch and supper and by the end of they day she collected thirty chickens which she would prepare and deliver to Christopher's Ranzou restaurant. For free. He was a good customer and Jan and Deborah wanted to keep it that way.

Sure enough. The man was there the next day when Richard came home at Stuyvesant's house. He sat at the table and looked a little less black than the day he buried his father. In the back room was a woman who Richard hadn't seen before. She was young. And definitely not ugly. He tried to straighten his hair after he took of his hat. Stuyvesant noticed that the visitors made Richard uncomfortable. It wasn't uncommon in the church to put up visitors in the various apartments but two people at once might have been a bit too much for Richard.

"I think you have met Mr Medon already?"Stuyvesant asked.

"Richard, it's a pleasure to meet you again." the man in black said. The lady walked in. Richard hadn't mistaken about her looks. He tried not to stare.

"We want to start organizing the Comptability tomorrow. This is Sara, Richard. Sara travelled here from Rotterdam where she works in the comptability apartment of her church. She is going to help us organize."

Sara looked at Richard. Her dimples. That's what did it. "Nice to meet you Richard" she said. She had a rough harsch voice but Richard loved it right away.

They ate. In silence at first untill Stuyvesant and Medon engaged in a conversation about the bishop and how the church was trying to keep it's mandate helping the pour and teaching the unfortunate. Richard had heard the conversation over and over again while he lived at the Stuyvesant residence and at one point he had decided it was time to move back home. Although he would have to face the empty house. And his father's belongings. Something he wasn't too eager to face. Or, at least not this time. Erwin had offered to help him and the both of them had been out in the town quite often in the evenings.

"I'm sorry to hear about your father. It was such a unfortunate event" Sara said.

Richard didn't know what to say.

"I hear you keep quite an interesting business at a farm?"

Shyness creeped into mind. "Well it's not a business. I just work there" he heard himself saying. He tried to tone down his role but he wasn't sure how it had sounded. Sara was definitely from a different town.

"You going to stay long?" he asked and he swore at himself for being so blunt. Sara laughed.

"We want to start a line with food for the poor. And we need to organize your father's work. He was a meticulous man and that makes a lot of the work easy. There are a few loose ends though. Maybe you want to help us with that?"

"I don't know nothing about numbers' Richard lied, "Papa talked about it sometimes but I'm not like him. More like my mom." He felt ashamed. Why would he say something about that. He spent all these evenings with his father and it felt like he was ungrateful. Sara seemed on to him. Although her next question sounded innocent enough.

"Where is your mom now?" she asked

"Don't know. Think she is in Portugal somewhere."

"Do you ever want to go back to Portugal. I hear you where born there?"

"Yes in Porto. My father took me here when I was young. I grew up close to the farm. I don't remember much about Porto honestly."

"Do you think your father had some of his work at home Richard?"

Richard noticed that Stuyvesant and the man in black now listened. "I don't think so." There was a silence. This must have been important to them. There was something they were trying to figure out Richard noticed.

"Well it's been a long day Richard, you want more bread? I have plenty in the kitchen. Sara brought it from Rotterdam!"

"Oh and I brought fruit!" Sara said.

The man in black, Medon sat straight. "I love some fruit" he said. But Richard wasn't sure it sounded very genuine. The pears and apples they ate were very sweet and Richard ate quite a bit of it. He was going to turn in early this night, he felt satisfied. And tired. The first time since his father's funeral.

The desk where Georg had worked was not entirely neat. But it was organized. Richard stood on the side of the desk. He recognized his father's agenda and in a corner there where the notes he had written for the restaurant to pay. Georg's father had kept them separate to make payments. Georg was there. Richard felt how his father would have been working there. He looked around. Stuyvesant sat down in Georg Maika's chair. 'We haven't touched anything yet, we only knew he was trying to catch up'

"you behind much?"

"Only a couple of weeks." Stuyvesant scratched his balled head. "Sara is going to work on it tomorrow and maybe you want to help her?"

"I'm don't know anything about his book keeping for the church"

But Stuyvesant didn't look up. 'You know enough Richard. You would do us an enourmous favour getting things organized. I'm gonna get the books from the orderly, you stick around okay." The man left the room and Richard sat down. The seat was warm. The ethical rule came up in Richard's mind 'never tell what you know, not even your master, always weigh your answer when asked and even then only reveal what is asked for and nothing more...' That's what his father told him. There was sound of footsteps in the hall way but when they died down Richard looked up. It was an almost empty room. In the corner was a stand. The same as Stuvessant had, with the Scripture on it, open. Bet his father didn't touch it much. On the side was a small painting. Richard looked at it. The lady on it smiled at him. The frame was almost a dark blue and then it struck him. He knew this woman. It was his mother, the flashes of memories almost made him dizzy. It was his mother, he had seen this painting before, his father had it in his room in Porto. The woman, Richards memories made him choke up, he could smell her kitchen. Stuyvesant was still in the hallway. "Hello mr Medon, what brings you here"

"Hello Stuyvesant, I was curious, honestly. Just snooping around."

They both laughed and walked into the room.

"Sara will be excited to work with your tomorrow Richard" Medon said.

"I need to go to the farm first, I'm not sure..."

Stuyvesant interrupted him. "Yes we know Richard. You'll have to be back by the strike of the clock tower ten all right?"

Richard stared at Stuyvesant. Was there a deal here once of a sudden? He felt insulted.