The Long Awaited Day

The Long Awaited Day



         For the city of White Hill it was a day of celebration. This was the day all of the citizens had been waiting for. It was Rebuilding Day. A vast mob of people, from the most wealthy merchants to the lowest labors, were gathered in the town square waiting for the speech by the mayor to officially start the party that had been going on unofficially all day long. The podium however, was empty, and the mayor was late. Finally as the crowd grew tiered of waiting, a tall, thin shouldered man with a thick mustache and a receding hairline approached the podium. Once the crowd had quieted to the point where he could be heard, he began to speak.
         “Citizens of White Hill. If you will allow me to introduce myself, I am the mayor's aid, Martin Krutz. I know you are all waiting for our esteemed Mayor Litzinger's to make his speech today. I hope you will bear with me instead. I have a letter from our beloved Mayor to the people of our great city. I am to read it to you now. Please, if you could, grant me but two things. Listen well, as if our eloquent Mayor himself were speaking, and not a fumbling orator like myself, and also listen to the end, for all of it needs to be heard.” With no more introduction, and only the silence of the crowd as his answer Martin took the letter from his pocket and began to read.
         “On this day 40 years ago the city of White Hill suffered a great calamity. It's treasures were sacked, it's goods pillaged, it's buildings burned to the ground, and I believe there is not one person who lived in White Hill that did lose a family member or loved one. Many left this town and moved elsewhere, but those that stayed, through hard work and determination have rebuilt our city. In order to turn that day of despair into a day of triumph we now celebrate Rebuilding Day. Everyone here has looked forward to this day. No one as much as I. For the last ten years I have served as your Mayor, before that as a member of your city council. Still farther back as an investor, trader, and builder. Before that day 40 years ago I fought in the army for this city. On the streets I hear songs of my deeds in the war, they call me a brave man and a hero. In the markets I am meet with smiles and thanks  because of the loans I have given to business's there, and because I have not allowed them to be repaid. They call me a generous man, and a giver. And in the City Council room because of my tireless work for this city I am called a wise man and a great leader. Every one of those words is like a thorn in my heart. I am not a great leader, I am not a giver, and I am certainly not a hero. On this day when our city has finally surpassed it's former glory, now that the wounds of that foul day 40 years ago have been mended. Finally it is time for you to hear my story.”

         Georg Litzinger at the age of 20 was not a man of action or ambition. He wanted little from the world other than the comfort of a nice home and the love of a faithful wife. The first, while he did not have it yet, he was sure he could get. After all he was a fast learner and possessed a sharp mind with a good memory. Even if, by some chance, a career with his mind failed him, a career with his hands would do just as well. His strong back and quick hands would see to that. It was the second part that was the trouble. He had always assumed it would be easy. Once he had a secure place in society he would find a charming lass, an average girl for his average life, and they would be married. That all disappeared when he feel in love. That he was in love wasn't really the problem. The problem was who he was in love with, and how much he loved her. She was the daughter of the town's Mayor, and he was so totally, completely, hopelessly, stupidly in love it made him almost sick to think about it.
         He had meet her by accident. They were both on their way to the market when she had stopped him to ask for his help. He had spent an hour with her, talking as he helped her with her shopping. The next day he found himself walking to the market at the same time, hoping to meet her. To his surprise she was there again, and the next day too and the day after that. For two whole weeks they had meet and walked together. More than once Georg would return home only to realize he had completely forgotten to do any shopping at all. For the first time in his life Georg had found something that moved him to action. He resolved to tell her how he felt.
         “My father doesn't like me shopping,” she was saying as they walked through the market. “He doesn't think I should do work that the servants can do for me. That's not right though. Just because he's the Mayor, just because we have a little more money than some other people, doesn't mean we can't do anything for ourselves.” A little more money? Georg smiled. What an understatement. They were by far the richest family in White Hill. Richer than the next three richest put together. And she was the only daughter, indeed the only child of that family. It was ridiculous, what he was thinking. He knew there was no way for him to be with someone like her. Even if he never touched so much as a single coin of her family fortune, he would always be the lower class man trying to marry into wealth. Her father would never allow that. Still he wanted to tell her anyway. At worst she would simply avoid him, and then at least he would be spared the torture of being so close to someone he could never have.
         “Isn't it strange,” she was saying, “That we've never seen each other before, but we've meet almost every day for the past few weeks”
         “It's not strange Ms. Kiessel,” Georg said. She was giving him a chance to turn the conversation to what he wanted to tell her, he wasn't going to pass it up. “After that first day I have been coming to the market at the same time and place everyday so that I can meet you.”
         The young lady blushed and she stopped walking. Georg could not read the look on her face.
         “I know you are a great lady so far above me, I have no right to feel this way, and I know I don't deserve you but... but...” He paused finding the words hard to get out even after coming so far. “I love you.”
         “What are you talking about?” She asked tilting her head to one side, “Above you? Rights? What does that have to do with anything? You're a fool.” Georg was stunned. His first impulse was to turn and walk away right then. Perhaps that would have been for the best, but before he could move the young Ms. Kiessel reached out and grabbed a hold of his sleeve. “I'm the only one that decides if you deserve to love me, and if I didn't think you did, I wouldn't have come here every day to meet you too.”
         “Ms. Kiessel, do you mean... do you mean to say...”
         “Call me Luana.” And when she embraced him he knew what she had meant, and for a short moment all in the life of Georg Litzinger was well.

         Things were not as well when he went to meet Luana's father, the Mayor of White Hill Yuber Kiessel.
         “Absolutely not,” Mr. Kiessel said his voice cold and, emotionless, but as solid as the foundation of his three story stone mansion.
         “Father,” Luana began, but Yuber held up his hand and cut her off.
         “I understand how you feel, but there is more to marriage than feelings,” Mr. Kiessel said. “We, as a family, have a certain amount of prestige to maintain. I cannot allow just anyone to marry into our  family.”
         “Sir,” Georg stepped forward to talk, “Maybe you think this is some passing fancy, or worse yet, maybe you fear I have alternative motives. Neither could be further from the truth, and I am willing to prove it to you if I must.”
           For a moment Mr. Kiessel thought as he watched Georg intently. “I do not doubt your sincerity. But Luana is my only daughter. I can not give her away lightly.”
         “Then let me prove myself Sir,” Georg said.
         “Prove yourself? And how will you do that?”
         “I'll do whatever you ask of me Sir. What ever it is that is deficient in me, what ever it is that keeps me from your daughter, I will change it.”
         “Hmm....” Mr. Kiessel thought for another long moment. “Then become a man that the citizens of White Hill are proud to call their own. Become a man of success, of honor, and strength. And do it soon.”
         “Then that is what I will do.”

         To Georg's mind this was a lucky stroke. Normally it would be difficult, if not impossible for a man of little money or influence to achieve the goal that Mr. Kiessel had set out for him. However, this was a time of war. The militant people to the east were invading, pillaging and burning villages. White Hill's solder's were the only thing that stood between them and destruction at the hands of barbarians.    It had never entered Georg's mind to enter the army. But war meant a chance for fame, glory and recognition, and he could have them all in a few mere years. Georg was happy because of his good fortune. Luana was not happy at all. She was understandably hesitant about Georg leaving her side to fight in the war.
         Georg however, since the day he had meet and fallen for the beautiful Luana, had been engaging in an peculiar human past time which, through out the depths of history had brought on more than it's share of trouble. Georg had been thinking. “Why?” he though, “Would such a woman want to be with me?” He could come up with no answer, but like most people, Georg was not one to question to hard the good fortune that had come his way, it was the other questions that were troublesome. “What will the towns people think?” He could tell from the looks he received as he and Luana would walk through the market. “Why him?,” they asked with their eyes, “She's too good for him,” a scornful look would say. “What about her father?” Her father didn't like him that was for certain, he didn't even need to guess about that. And worst of all “Can I make her happy? Am I good enough?” These questions plagued him. So Georg was determined to prove what he was worth, not only to Luana's father and to the city of White Hill, but also and most importantly to himself. In the end Luana, with an understanding beyond her years, let Georg go. For the next 3 years she worried. She feared any news brought from the front lines. Most of it was not good. Their army was steadily being pushed back. Villages were being burned, crops destroyed, trade disrupted. Slowly the flow of food and supplies into White Hill was being choked off. Georg would, as often as time permitted him, which was rare enough, send Luana letters. On the nights she received these letter she would stay up late reading and re-reading only to finally fall asleep on a pillow wet with tears.
         For all of Luana's heartache things were going quite well for Georg. He quickly made a  reputation for himself as a brave and eager solider. Because of his likable nature and, more importantly, his courage on the battlefield there was not a man in his company that would not trust his life to Georg. Many would have risked their lives for him knowing that he would have, and in many cases had already,  done the same. Georg learned anything anyone would teach him. Fighting, riding, tactics, he took it all in with rare speed and efficiency Whenever there was a dangerous task, or an important mission Georg would volunteer. Pretty soon it was widely known that is something critical needed to be done, then Georg was the one to do it. All this he did as merely a means to an end, as just one step in his goal. Luana, she was constantly in his mind and it was because of her, for her that he could take on any challenge, and overcome it. Despite all the honor, all the bravery, all the heroics, Georg was only one solider, and one solider can't win a war by himself. After several years of hard fighting the army retreated within the walls of White Hill, and the enemy began the siege.
         Georg was happy to be back in White Hill for the first time in many years even if the circumstances were lees than ideal. The first moment he had off duty he made his way straight to Luana's house. She would be there, he had no doubt, and if she wasn't, well he could wait. At the idea of seeing his love that he had not seen for so long he could not help but smile.
         However his good mood was ruined when he came to Luana's house and found her standing on the doorstep in the arms of another man.
         “Luana?” Georg said, trying not to sound accusing, hoping that there was some sort of explanation.
         Luana stiffened and turned to face him. “Georg...” she spoke softly voice trailing off as she raised her hand to her mouth, tears welling up in her eyes. “Georg I...” but she was cut off as the man with her stepped in between her and Georg.
         “I would thank you not to be so familiar with my wife,” he said. With a sob Luana turned and fled into the house. But Georg was immobilized by that one, single word.
         “Wife?” he repeated in disbelief.
         “Yes,” the man said, “Newly wed I admit, but my wife just the same.”
         “How?” Georg asked softly still stunned by the news.
         “How?” repeated the man, “The way things are usually done I suppose, but that makes no difference. Now what is it you want here?”
         Georg was about to say something. What, he didn't know yet, but something. However before he could Luana's father Yuber Kiessel came out of the house. “What is going on? Luana is hysterical?” He asked, but he had his answer as soon as he saw Georg. “Ah now I see. Ludwin,” he said to the other man, “You be on your way.” Ludwin did not move at first, “go on,” Yuber urged, “I will talk to this boy here.” It galled Georg to be called a boy.
         “I understand,” Ludwin said and he walked down the steps and past Georg not sparing him a second glance.
         “Well,” Yuber began, “It's good to see you home safe, war is a nasty business.”
         “What is going on here?” Georg to not want to waste time on pleasantries.
         “I admire your effort boy,” Yuber said, “and I hear you've done well enough for yourself. But it has been three years, over three years in fact. Did you think she would wait forever?”
         “Luana would have waited,” Georg said, fire creeping into his voice for the first time.
         Yuber approached Georg and placed his hand on the younger man's shoulder. “Look boy, marriage isn't about love. It is about family, security, influence, those sorts of things. I gave you a chance, waited longer than I had to in fact, but I have to do what's best for Luana.”
         “And she agreed to this?” Georg asked.
         “Luana knows what's best for her,” Yuber said not really answering the question. “If you love her, you should want what's best for her too. Ludwin is an important man. When the time comes he can make sure Luana gets out of this city alive. Can you guarantee the same?” Georg could not answer. “It's best you just forget her,” Yuber said. Then having nothing more to say he went back into the house and locked the door.
         Forget? He could sooner forget himself than he could Luana. What could he do now? He spent the rest of the day wandering the streets, searching for an answer. In the end he decided, there was only one thing he could do. He just had to wait for his chance.

         It was only a few days latter when the chance came. Georg was called to a meeting along with several other decorated soldiers. Before them was the captain of the towns' guards, the general of the army, and Mayor Yuber Kiessel. Neither Yuber nor Georg made any attempt to acknowledge the other.
         After a short speech by the Mayor telling the men of their importance to White Hill and the value of their service, the General got down to business, “I'm afraid we have only one chance for survival. White Hill has always maintained it's independence, but if we are to fight off these eastern invaders we will need  outside help. Some have argued that we should have sought help earlier, but the decision was made not to do so,” he said as he cast a sidelong glance at the Mayor, “but whatever the case we must ask for help now. We need people to deliver a message to our allies in the west. At this point even becoming a vassal to a more powerful nation is better than destruction at the hands of our enemies. All of you were chosen because you are our best, our bravest. I will not order any of you to take on this dangerous mission. If any of you would like to leave, please do so now, you will get no ill will or scorn from me.” Georg had no intention of leaving. This was the chance he was looking for. Once the men who were not willing to take on this probably suicidal mission had left, the orders were handed down. The remaining men were given thanks and granted one day off duty. Georg had no need for time off. He spent his day preparing for the only thing he had left to do.
         That night each man was to take a different route out of the city, through the surrounding country side and the enemy army, relying only on the darkness and their knowledge of the local terrain. Even an optimist would admit that they would most likely die. Still the men left that night each confident that his mission would be successful. All except Georg. Georg did not want a mission where he would probably die. He wanted one where he would certainly die. Now all he had to do was find an enemy lookout, draw enough attention to himself and then... well it would take care of itself after that. Unfortunately for Georg he never considered the idea that he might be taken captive.
         Three days later Georg, half starved and deprived of sleep was brought before the enemy leader, and set up on his knees.
         “Kill me,” Georg said. It was all he had said to his captures since they brought him in.
         “He's a brave one,” One of his guards said.
         “Really?” the leader stood looking down on Georg. “I don't think so. There is no brave or not brave. The only question is do you have something worth fighting for? Worth dying for? Tell me brave man, why do you want to die.” Georg heard the words and although the accent was think and unfamiliar he understood them. In his weakened state and knowing that he was not giving up any vital information, Georg told him. And when he had finished his tale the leader laughed
         “For this you want to die?” And he laughed again, “This is why we are winning this war. You are wronged so your first thought is to go and die. How convenient for the man who stole your woman, for the father that wounded your pride, and for the woman that no longer needs you. You are very accommodating brave one.” This time the guards laughed too.
         “What else can I do?” Georg asked weakly.
         The leader knelt down in front of Georg and placed his hand on his shoulder. “Revenge.” He said. “They lied to you, used you, stepped on your pride. Rather than die, you should get revenge. That's what I would do, that's why I am strong.” They had wrong him hadn't they? All this time he had fought for White Hill, fought for Luana, and how do they repay him? She goes off and marries while he is gone, never even giving him a fair chance. “I am not telling you to hurt them. Only to show them that you are a man of consequence, and man of power.” Yes, a man a influence, like Ludwin. That is what's important after all. Yuber had said so, evidently Luana thought so too. Slowly Georg's sadness was turning to anger. What he had wanted from life was so simple, yet she had lured him away from all this with her smile and wit, then tossed him aside like a worn out garment when she no longer needed him. And he had loved her, thought of nothing but her, put his life on the line so he could be with her. It wasn't fair. It just wasn't right.
         “Why do you think I've fought in this war?” Georg asked, “Do you know what I've done these past three years?” He yelled.
         The leader grinned as he looked over at the guards. “Oh yes, you are not unknown to us. There are many, some in this room, that would like to separate your head from you body for the trouble you have caused us. I respect men of ability though, even if they are my enemies, like you. I had thought of  offering you a place in my army... but I see now I was mistaken about you.” The leader motioned one of the guards forward. He approached carrying a large jug. “I will not kill you though,” he smiled, “No matter how many times you ask. I'm going to let you go back to the city. We'll take you to any gate you want. Maybe you have friends at one of them, no?” As one of the guards cut the bonds on his wrist, Georg nodded, his company was manning one of the south gates. “Good. Take this ale share it with you friends and celebrate your return home.” Georg knew what would happen. He knew, but he no longer cared.
         Georg walked up to the city walls that night in a daze. He felt as if he were in a dream, not sure of where he was going, but letting his feet take him there. The gate guard was surprised to see Georg. He wouldn't have thought it possible for anyone to escape from the enemies camp, but he knew Georg, had fought with on the front lines. So while he was surprised he was also happy and readily opened the gate. The sentries gathered around him, happy to have him back, congratulating him on his escape.
         “Let's celebrate, with a drink,” Georg said lifting the jug of ale. Knowing him, trusting him, they all drank, and passed the jug around to the solders on the walls. Later when all who drank were unconscious from the poisoned ale, there was no one to see the latter thrown up against the wall, no one to see the gate being opened.
         By the time Georg awoke it was early morning and the city was on fire. The sounds of fighting were far off in the distance. Most of the city lay in ruins. Georg jumped to his feet. Realizing what had happened, he ran. Not away from the city though, through it. All the way to Luana's house.
         He found the house pillaged and burned. Ludwin was on the ground outside, the stones beneath him painted with blood. He was dead. Killed trying to protect his wife, who lay a few feet  behind him. Georg knelt beside her, unable to say a thing. This was not what he had wanted.
         “Georg?” Luana spoke. Georg's heart raced at the thought that she might yet live. “Georg, I'm sorry,” she said. “I should have...” she broke off her breathing growing difficult.
         “No, Luana. I am sorry. This is all my fault.”
         “No Georg,”
         “Yes. I let them in. It's my fault they got in.”
         “Georg...” her already pale face grew ashen. “Why?”
         “I... I don't know. I was angry and...” He didn't know what to say.
         “You must make amends Georg.”
         “Yes. You're right.”
         “Promise me,” She said as she reached for his hand. “Make it right Georg. Promise me.”
         “I promise.”

         White Hills allies arrived to late to save the city. Although the invaders were driven off they took much of White Hill's wealth with them.
         Luana Kiessel, the last of her line, lingered on for a few more days, but eventually succomed to her wounds. A large part of her family's fortune had been invested outside the city, and even with White Hill sacked it was an impressive sum. She left it all the only man she had ever loved, Georg Litzinger.

         There was a stunned silence as Martin Kurtz, the Mayor's aid, read the letter. He paused and looked out at the silent crowd and took a deep breath before the end. “And so I kept that promise. Everything I did for White Hill, everything I did for it's people, in reality I did it all for her. All to atone for my sins. I never spoke of this, not because I was afraid of your scorn, no indeed I deserve it, but because I was afraid that if you knew, you would shun my help. Now that my promise is fulfilled I had to tell you all the truth.” Martin stared at the letter for a long moment, then with slow deliberate movements folded it up and placed in back into his pocket.
         The crowd realizing that the letter had come to an end reacted in a sudden but varied manner.
         “It must be  joke!”
         “Kill that traitor!”
         “I don't believe it.”
         “It's slander, slander!”
         “Let's go see the Mayor!” That was a suggestion everyone could agree on. Before long the idea had spread through the crowd. The mass of people gathered for the celebration traveled as one towards the Mayor's office. No one knew what should be done. Mayor Litzinger always seemed to have the right answers, he always seemed to know what to do. Now their pillar of strength had been pulled out. They all had questions, and undoubtedly Mayor Litzinger had answers.
         When the city officials and representatives for the townspeople entered the Mayor's office, they found Georg Litzinger, the hero, the leader, the giver, the traitor, hanging by the end of a short rope. Behind them Martin Kurtz remembered the last lines of the letter he could not bring himself to read to the crowd.
         “I have looked forward to this Re-Building Day more than any other. Not because this is the day that my work will finally be done, but because this is the day I can die.”