The Show on the Reed-Fringed Landing

The reed-fringed landing near Ueckermünde was getting ready for the afternoon's talent contest. A boatman was carrying wooden benches, and two children were squabbling over who would sit in the very front. Grete Vogel smoothed the skirt of her faded blue dress. Her dark blond braids had slipped forward over her shoulders. Today she would imitate the market sellers, win the prize and pay the landing's rent. The plan seemed perfectly clear to her.

Konrad Hofmann, who owned the landing, was there too. He stroked his neat brown beard and glanced at the small rent purse on his belt. He had rolled his wool coat's sleeves up to the elbows and was wedging the leg of one of the benches back into place.

“I'll wait for the rent until the prize has been given out,” he said. “We can talk afterwards.”

Grete nodded. It was good that Konrad had agreed to wait; having him among the audience, though, would make things harder. Her aunt Dörte Vogel came over to her. Grey-streaked hair showed beneath her linen cap, and she shook the sawdust from her dark red apron.

“If you're ready, call out to that dry embankment,” said Dörte. “Someone standing over there should hear every word.”

The embankment lay far off, beyond the reeds. Grete pressed her sturdy lace-up shoes against the planks and puffed out her chest.

“Fresh fish! Straight from the nets this morning!”

The children nearby laughed. Encouraged, Grete slipped into the cracked voice of another seller. Dörte cupped a hand to her ear.

“I didn't hear the end. Try again.”

“But the children heard it.”

“The children are standing right next to you. The person on the embankment didn't.”

Grete pursed her lips. At the contest the audience would be sitting on benches, not on the embankment. Still, she raised her voice. This time the first words came out strong, but the last ones melted away in her mouth. A woman walking on the faraway embankment didn't even turn her head.

Dörte told her to catch her breath for a moment. Grete leaned against the landing's railing. The reeds rustled softly. She had just decided to try out another seller's voice when she heard a thin, hurried voice from somewhere in the water. She lifted her head; there was no one nearby who could have spoken.

Grete leaned a little closer to the railing. The water was swirling between the posts faster than ever. Two families coming from the shore climbed onto the landing, carrying their baskets. One of the children found a bird's feather among the reeds, and the others crowded round to see. As the voices of those waiting for the contest grew louder, Grete looked at the water once more.

A thin film of water spread across the first plank. Grete drew the tip of her shoe back. Just then a green-haired head rose from among the reeds. Bits of reed were caught in her hair, and the garment she wore shimmered like water.

“Quick, get everyone up onto the embankment,” said the girl in the water. “The water is rising.”

Grete blinked. The girl's pale eyes were not looking at her but towards the end of the landing, where a man had set his basket down and was showing his children where to sit.

“Aunt Dörte! Everyone must go up!”

The reeds suddenly rustled in the wind. Grete's voice was lost in the noise. A few steps away, Dörte was making room for a family; she didn't even turn. Grete's throat tightened. She wanted to shout louder, but only a short, thin sound came out.

Then she remembered what Dörte had said while they were practising: carry the end of a word as far as its beginning. Grete laid one hand on her belly and drew a deep breath. Was this what the fish seller's voice was for? Yes. She knew that voice was good at turning people towards it.

“Fresh fish for anyone who wants it, take up your baskets! Our way lies over the dry embankment!”

Her words crossed the rustle of the reeds and reached the far end of the landing. The families nearest turned their heads. When Dörte pointed at the wet planks, they gathered up their baskets, and the children followed them towards the embankment. One of them waved to Grete. She was about to wave back when the girl in the water raised her arm and pointed further along. There were still people sitting there.

Grete smiled at the child who had waved, then looked towards the end of the landing. The people there hadn't yet noticed the wet planks. They hadn't heard her earlier warning, but they had listened to the fish seller's voice. So she could call them again with a voice they knew.

She put her hands to her mouth. As Dörte had shown her, she breathed in first, then spoke each word clearly, one by one.

“Where's the fresh fish?”

A child who had snatched up his basket answered at once.

“On the dry embankment!”

Grete laughed. Dörte stepped over beside the boy and stretched her arm out towards the embankment. This time Grete called to those at the end of the landing.

“Where's the hot bread?”

A woman got to her feet and looked around. The boy repeated the answer, louder. A few others joined in.

“On the dry embankment!”

Grete asked the same question once more, starting in the fish seller's voice and moving into the baker's deep call. People gathered their baskets and walked. So as not to leave anyone behind, she waited after every answer. While Dörte guided those at the front, Grete saw the last of those sitting rise. The girl in the water gave a nod from among the reeds. Grete stepped off the last wet plank and onto the dry embankment.

“Now your voice has reached everyone,” said Dörte.

Grete caught her breath. Remembering the contest, she turned eagerly to Konrad and the market's judges.

“Can we hold the show here? Everyone's here anyway.”

Konrad looked at the dry earth of the embankment, then nodded. The judges made room as well. Grete first played the fish seller, her voice sharp and lively. Then she made the baker speak, slower and heavier, and the linen seller quick and cheerful. Each one's words carried all the way to the far end of the embankment. The children asked for their favourite calls again.

When the judges put the prize into Grete's hand, Dörte applauded. Grete waved to the girl among the reeds as well. The girl smiled, and rings spread out across the water.

The next morning the water had drawn back from the landing's planks. The planks were still wet; reeds caught between them stirred in the light breeze. Grete looked at her sturdy lace-up shoes, then gripped the prize tightly in her hand. Yesterday she had spoken before so many people that it felt strange now to stand silent before three.

Konrad was waiting at the head of the landing. He straightened the hem of his wool coat. Grete placed the prize money in his palm.

“The landing's rent,” said Grete. “Count it if you like.”

Konrad counted the coins one by one and put them into the small purse on his belt. While Grete watched his face, Dörte came over and laid a hand on her shoulder.

“All settled,” said Konrad. “And the landing will stay open. But no running on wet planks today.”

“We can let the far end of the embankment hear that too,” said Dörte.

Grete laughed. When her aunt had told her yesterday to make her voice reach those far away, she hadn't understood why it mattered. Now there were neighbours turning towards the sunlit shore. Some carried their baskets, some looked carefully at the wooden steps. Grete filled her chest and began the fish seller's call she knew so well, then changed the words.

“The landing's open, the way is open! Go slow on the planks, take it easy in the sun!”

A child on the shore turned and waved. Dörte shook her head.

“You swallowed the last word. Once more, so the farthest one hears.”

This time Grete didn't hurry. She said the words clearly enough that listeners could think about where to put their feet. When her call reached the end of the embankment, another hand went up there. Even Konrad smiled and stepped over beside the planks.

In the reeds a small ring of water appeared, then scattered. Grete looked over and smiled. While the neighbours took their places on the sunlit shore, she and Dörte called out once more. This time even the last word reached everyone.