Carrying them in one arm each, the big schoolteacher strode onward up the mountain. His breathing was relaxed, and the cool air felt good against his smooth face.
Wendell giggled. “It’s like being on a camel.”
Mathias laughed and chanted, “Daddy’s a camel. Daddy’s a camel.”
Stefan grinned. “Camels don’t like mountains and they can’t do this.”
To the children’s delight, Stefan broke into a run, leaping over uneven ground, sprinting fast despite the incline of the mountain and the weight of his burden. Reaching the summit, he placed them down, breathed in deeply, and said, “I think I was more like a horse. What do you think?”
Mathias frowned. “Maybe a donkey.”
Wendell shook his head. “Donkeys don’t run.”
“Yes they do, stupid.”
“No they don’t. Not uphill anyway.”
Stefan looked around. The peak wasn’t high enough for snow, and the area was covered with grass and a few boulders. Removing his knapsack, he pointed at a spot of open ground and said, “This will do us nicely.” They sat together and Stefan stretched out his legs as he began rummaging in the sack. He withdrew a Tupperware box, a bottle of water, and a metal flask. “Let’s see what Mummy has made us for lunch.” From the box, he took out cold meat sandwiches that had been wrapped in waxed paper, a salt-cured sausage, a small jar of homemade pickle relish, a hunk of Bierkaese cheese, and three slices of the stollen cake that his wife had baked for Christmas. Laying the spread on top of the sack, he stated, “Food fit for mountain kings!”
The boys grabbed the sandwiches and began devouring them. Stefan withdrew a penknife from his fleece jacket, opened the blade, and sliced into the sausage. After unscrewing the jar of relish, he dipped his knife into it, coated a piece of the meat, and tossed the food into his mouth. It tasted very good. “Okay, so what do we know about the Black Forest?”
Both boys instantly raised their hands.
Stefan nodded at Wendell.
In between chewing his food, the child said, “The Romans called it ‘Black Forest’ because the trees are so close together that there’s no light inside the forest.”
“That’s good, Wendell. Mathias?”
“The highest mountain is the Feldberg.”
“How tall is it?”
Mathias hesitated. “Four thousand six hundred. . no. .”
Wendell interrupted. “I know! I know!”
Mathias darted an angry look at his brother. “It’s my turn to answer.” He held his fingers in front of his face. “Four thousand eight hundred. . and ninety-eight feet.”
Stefan rubbed the boy’s shoulder. “Excellent. Now, Wendell. What’s the name of the state that administers the forest?”
Wendell narrowed his eyes. “Don’t tell me the answer. .” He lowered his head, then looked up quickly. “Baden-Wurttemberg.”
“Correct.” Stefan cut himself another slice of sausage. “The state has a big responsibility.”
“But why, Daddy? Nobody comes here. We never see anyone when we do our walks.”
“That’s because we’re not in a tourist area. And a place can be important even if people don’t visit it.” He smiled. “Anyway, we like being on our own, don’t we?”
The boys grinned as they took more mouthfuls of their sandwiches.
Stefan placed his knife down and began unscrewing the flask’s cap. “Last question. Who can tell me if there are any dangerous animals in the forest?”
The boys nudged each other, clearly excited by the question. “Are there wolves here?”
Stefan poured tea into a cup. “There used to be lots of them. Not so many these days.”
“Are they very dangerous?”
Stefan smiled. “Only if you get close to them. They don’t like that.”
The boys turned to each other and broke into a private conversation.
“Even if they are really dangerous, they’re not as strong as Daddy.”
“Yes, Daddy would be able to defeat a whole pack of them.”
“He’d probably kill the wolf leader first.”
“Then the others would run away.”
“Or maybe they’d make Daddy the new wolf leader.”
Stefan took a sip of his tea and marveled at the way his sons worshipped him. He knew it wouldn’t last. In three or four years they’d be disagreeing with everything he said and stood for. That wouldn’t matter because he loved his boys unconditionally, though he had to admit that it did make him feel good when they talked about him in such admiring terms. Part of him wished they could stay as children forever. “You’ve both forgotten about a creature in the forest that is far more dangerous than a wolf.”
The boys’ eyes widened, their expressions expectant. “Tell us!”
“Lumbricus badensis. The giant earthworm.”
“It lives here?”
Stefan nodded. “Only in the Black Forest.”
“How big is it?”
In truth, the worms could grow to two feet, but Stefan liked to enrich his sons’ imaginations. “Fifteen feet long, and three feet wide.”
“Wow! Does it have teeth?”
“It has fangs. Five rows of them, all razor sharp and as long as your arms.”
“Where’s its home?”
“It hides under the ground, making huge tunnels in the mountains and in the valleys. It only breaks through the surface to feed.”
“What does it eat?”
Stefan shrugged. “Deer, cattle, sheep. It drags them underground while they’re still alive and takes them to a cavern that is littered with the bones of other creatures. That’s where it kills them, devours them, and drinks their blood.” He stared at them and pretended to look serious. “But, do you know what it really likes to eat?”
The boys shook their heads fast. They were hanging on his every word.
“Its favorite meal is little boys.”
The twins’ mouths opened wide.
Stefan laughed, and ruffled their hair. “Don’t worry. He sleeps during the day. And anyway, you’re right-nothing in the forest is as strong as Daddy, and that makes me the most dangerous creature here.”
The boys broke into smiles and started talking to each other with hushed, rapid words, embellishing the size and prowess of the giant earthworm, creating stories about it, their imaginations fully fired up.
Stefan reached into the sack and withdrew two folded kites, which he assembled and handed to his sons. “Okay, time to have some fun. But remember, no running and try not to get them tangled this time.”
The boys moved to the place they always stood to fly their kites and spent several minutes attempting to get them airborne. Eventually they succeeded, unspooling their lines all the way until the bright red kites were flying high over the valley.
Stefan watched his boys and felt utter contentment and peace. Nothing gave him greater joy than seeing his sons happy and carefree. He took another sip of his tea, withdrew an old briar pipe, filled it with his favorite Ottoman blend, and lit the tobacco. The boys were totally absorbed in their activity, staring at their kites, trying to ascertain whose kite was flying the highest.
They were not looking at him.
He grabbed the penknife, looked to his left, and jabbed the blade into the ground. For one minute, he cut through the surface until he found what he was looking for. Placing the knife down, he reached into the ground and pulled out a small metal box. He opened it, saw that it was empty, shut it, replaced it in the ground, covered it with the loose soil, and punched the soil until it was compacted.
He placed one hiking boot over the other, lay back, and relaxed while continuing to puff on his pipe and watch his darling sons. He’d let them play for another thirty minutes or so before they needed to make the descent to the car. After a sixty-minute drive, they’d be home, the children could rest, and he could prepare history lessons for the classes he had to teach the next day.
He stared across the Black Forest. This had been his home for nearly two decades, first as a single man and now as a husband and father. Every week during that time, he’d come here. But if one day he opened the box and found that it wasn’t empty, then everything would change.