Ludmila by Paul Gallico. Part 1.
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Part way up the valley from Steg, in the Principality of Liechtenstein, where the torrent Malbun comes tumbling down its glacial bed from the peaks of the Ochsenkopf and Silberhorn, you will find the shrine of Saint Ludmila, die heilige Notburga, in a niche cut into the solid rock above the rushing waters.
It is a sweet figure in milkmaid’s dress with the golden rays of the sun behind her head in place of the usual halo. In one hand she holds a harvesting sickle, and in the other a milk jug, for she is the patron saint of the dairymen, the herdsmen, milkers, butter separators and cheese makers, and the taupe-colored Alpine cattle with their broad heads, curving horns, and large, gentle eyes are under her special protection.
Indeed, her connection with such is plain for all to see since beneath the feet of the figure there is affixed the whitened skull and grayish horns of what must once have been rather a small cow.
The younger generations, no longer brought up as were their fathers on the legends of the mountains, are unaware of its significance, but many of the local patriarchs remember what they learned at their mother’s knee of the miracle that happened more than a hundred years ago, performed by the holy Notburga, the sainted milkmaid, the time of the annual return of the cattle at the end of the summer from the high pasturage to Vaduz in the Rhine Valley below.
All those connected with the event are long since dead, Alois, the bearded, hardheaded, chief herdsman and his brown-haired daughter, Ludmila, who was then only seven, and named after the saint, Father Polda, the mountain priest, chaplain of Steg, and of course the little Weakling, whose skull and horns adorn the shrine of the patron saint of all milch cows.
However, you may still see the gay and colorful ceremony that takes place in Liechtenstein each autumn when the first threat of snow comes to the high passes and the cattle begin to cough in the early gusts of cold wind that sweep down from the Sareiserjoch and the glaciers behind the Wildberg and Panülerkopf.
There is a valley tucked away behind the granite wall of the Three Sisters above Schaan, in Liechtenstein, the Saminatal, leading to Malbun, five thousand feet above the meandering Rhine. It is famous for its rich grass and quiet, protected pasturage, where are to be encountered from time to time scattered plants of that herb not found in the lowlands, one of the rare Garbengewächse, of the Species Alchemilla, which the Liechtensteiners call by the beautiful name of Mutterkraut— or “Mothers weed,” for it is believed to increase the flow of milk, and the herdsmen are invariably on the lookout for the yellow-flowered broad-leafed plants which seem to grow best in those shaded spots where the snow has lain the longest during the winter when the valley is buried under snow and ice.
It is the custom of the peasants in Liechtenstein each spring to send their cattle up into the mountains and through the tunnel cut through a quarter mile of solid rock near Steg that gives access to this hidden, enchanted valley. They go in the charge of herdsmen, dairymen, and cheese makers, who move up with the beasts, taking their families with them in horse-drawn wooden carts.
There they remain for the entire summer, living in the high Alpine huts, tending the cattle at pasturage, milking them, making the rich yellow cheeses and creamy butter on the spot and keeping careful record of the yield of each animal. There is no contact with the valley below. Herds and herdsmen vanish, not to reappear until mid-September.
But then, what a day!
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