They called her The Widow of Stavoren. She huffed. As if she were the only widow in town. She was certainly the richest, she’d readily admit that. She’d seen visitors disappointed, looking at her walls and floors, because they weren’t actually made of silver and gold respectively. The silly things people came up with. Looking out of the window of her mansion by the harbour, she shook her head.
Tapping her foot on the floor, she sighed. Still no ship on the horizon. Every day her captain didn’t return was another she risked becoming a laughing stock. She’d given him one simple instruction: bring me the most valuable thing you can find. Gold, silver, pearls, silk, she had all those already. They had become common goods in her life. There had to be more, something really unique and special. And she would be the one to possess it. No matter what it was. If he would only bring it to her already.
A frown drew her eyebrows together as a bent and broken figure moved towards her door. Not another one! It seemed the town bred more of these creatures by the day. If she made money in her sleep, why couldn’t they put in a little bit of effort? Instead, they seemed to think it was her duty to feed the dirty masses. She wasn’t having it. Do some work for a change, instead of simply begging for food. Too easy. Find it yourself.
She opened the window to shoo the beggar away, but a shout down the street drowned out her voice. Another shout joined the first. People stopped what they were doing, and followed the pointed fingers to the horizon. Her ship. It was finally here!
As quickly as she could without losing decorum, she gave the long-awaited order. Flutes, drums and trumpets! This was a day people would not soon forget. A glance in the mirror confirmed that she looked composed, though her heart beating in her ears drowned out the sound of the fanfare she’d ordered. Dignity was what people would see as she strode towards the quay.
The returned captain was all smiles, though she detected a hint of anxiousness in his jovial manner. Good. This shouldn’t have been too easy. Apparently the captain had also picked up a load of wheat somewhere, but whatever valuable trinket he’d laid his hands on must be small, because he didn’t even carry a box. Hands clasped together, she stepped closer to him.
“Where is it?”
The captain gestured behind him, to the wheat-filled ship. “This is it, my lady.”
She froze. She must have misheard. “It’s… wheat.”
“In all the months we travelled, we have encountered treasures of immense value. Riches beyond what we had ever seen. But none of it could fill our bellies when we were stranded at sea without a sigh of wind. This, my lady, is the most valuable thing we have found for you and your people.”
“My people?” She could barely keep her voice from trembling. Wheat! He’d brought her food! And not even a rare and unique spice. No, the most common food imaginable. “Tell me, captain, was it my people who gave you your order?”
“No, my lady, but—”
“On what side of the ship has this grain come on board?”
“Port side, my lady.”
“Then throw it overboard on starboard side.”
A gasp rose from the throng of people that had gathered to see the widow receive her most valuable gift. Most of the fools probably agreed with the captain. But that’s why they were poor, and she still had not found her priceless item.
“My lady, if you were ever to know poverty, you would realise—”
“Ha!” Struggling to contain her rage, she yanked off one of her gold rings. “The chances of me ever knowing poverty are about as insignificant as me ever seeing this ring again.” With those words she flung the jewel over the side of the ship and stomped back home. Dignity be hanged.
Several days later, the widow was still in a foul mood. This wasn’t helped by the fact that her cook had left the head on the fish, when the widow had given strict instructions never to do so.
“Why is there a head?” she barked at her maid.
The silly girl trembled as she pointed at the fish. “Look!”
What could be so scary about a fish head? Did it have teeth? Using the tip of her knife, the widow opened the fish’s mouth. Inside glinted the gold ring she’d thrown into the sea.
Though Stavoren was a rich merchant town in the late Middle Ages, it is now a village of less than 1000 inhabitants. Its money stream dried up when a sandbank formed right in front of the harbour. No wonder this story was attached to the town’s demise. The flimsy grass that pops up on the sandbank every now and then is even referred to as idle grain, or women’s grain. The sandbank itself is called Lady’s Sand, although that in fact refers to Our Lady, Mary, whose convent used to be close by.
The last part of the story, where the widow has her ring returned by way of fish, is a universal theme that was added later. But even without it, I think this story is a pretty good illustration of what pride and arrogance can do to a person. It comes down to one of my favourite Dutch sayings: wie het kleine niet eert, is het grote niet weerd: he who does not honour the little things isn’t worth the big ones. Have you ever looked at a blade of grass? It’s amazing.
If you’d like to know how my cozy mysteries are coming along, subscribe to my newsletter!
Christa Bakker 
Reblogged this on The Line Edit.
Nice! Leuk geschreven en mooi moraal😊😊
Dank je!