Pilgrims of Promise (45 page)

The group hesitated until Wilda stood by the woman’s side. “She is to be trusted. I know her heart.”

Alwin nodded. “Pieter, I, too, believe the woman. With Arnold, I believe she can make this happen. We need to trust them both…. I think Heinrich would.”

“It is agreed then?” Pieter asked.

The company nodded. The old man took a deep breath and laid his staff by Solomon. He moved toward Katharina and faced her squarely, peering deeply into her eyes. Then, laying his hands on her head, he prayed over her and the deed to be done, kissed the wooden cross hanging around his neck, and smiled. The gleam had returned to his eye. “Go, woman. Go with God. And may the angels be ready!”

It was before the bells of terce when Katharina strode boldly along Weyer’s footpaths and rapped on Arnold’s door. It was flung open, and the nearly crazed man dragged the startled woman into his home. “Where’ve y’been?” he growled. “I near soiled m’drawers at prime. I heard riders along the road going hard to Villmar. And where’s the others?”

“Not to worry, sir,” answered Katharina softly. She lifted the square parchment from inside her gown. “We have it!”

Arnold gasped. “I… I can hardly believe it! And it is what we thought? The Jew did not lie?”

Katharina laughed. “It is exactly what he said.”

Arnold grinned and filled two clay goblets with red wine. He passed one to Katharina. “Then we must find the prior. He’s most likely taking Mass now, but before terce hell be walking amongst the workshops.”

“Where should we meet him?”

Arnold thought for a moment. “It won’t matter. When he sees me, I’ll have his ear. But I doubt you can help. The monks would want you kept from sight. I think you ought to remain here.”

Katharina frowned. “I think not. I will walk with you to the abbey, then wait beyond its walls.”

“But you’ve naught to say! I don’t need you now!”

The woman looked at the man closely. “I will not interfere, but I must come. If you take the parchment inside the cloister, the prior will have you arrested at once. If you leave it here, he could easily send riders to Weyer before we could return. I will keep the parchment on my person. If he needs proof we have it, you can bring him to the portal.”

Arnold took a drink. He looked at the woman with newfound respect. “You’ve reasoned this well.”

Katharina blushed.

“So let’s be off then!” He finished his wine and laughed. “It feels so much better to do a good thing! Ha! If I had only known before!”

The bells of terce echoed over Münster when Pieter finally turned to Frieda. “So, girl. Do you agree?”

The young woman was exhausted, and her face was taut with strain and worry. The group waited. “There is much risk and little certainty in it.”

No one answered until Tomas stood. He tossed a bit of kindling into the small fire. “Frieda, we need to act quickly. Wilda’s priest says the trial may be on Friday. If that’s so, we’ve only three days. We cannot wait another day to begin apian.”

“We have no other way, Frieda,” added Helmut. Otto and the others nodded in agreement.

Maria took Frieda’s hand. “You must agree, else well not do it.”

Frieda knelt before her sister-in-law and took her in her arms. “I am so afraid, Maria. I’m so afraid we’ll fail.” She looked at her friends. “Pieter, pray for us. I think you are right. We’ve no other way.”

With sighs of relief, the pilgrims gathered beneath Pieter’s outstretched arms and received his blessing. Their plan had been painstakingly wrought over heated debate for these many hours. For each of them, having a plan was, itself, a comfort. Hearing Pieter’s words pronounced so boldly over them filled them each with fresh courage. When he finished, the priest turned to Tomas and Otto. “Lads, are you sure of your duties?”

“We are,” they answered together.

Pieter nodded. He was uneasy but walked quietly away into the deep wood. He found a large beech tree and leaned into its smooth bark with a groan. Solomon joined him, and the two sat for a quarter hour in comfortable silence. “Old friend,” the man said to his beloved dog, “I am not so sure of this. These lads will need to sin and sin grievously, and they are prepared to do it with nary a doubt. I do not know if I ought to fear for their souls or admire them!” He tossed a twig away. “When two virtues are in collision, my soul cries out for wisdom. We will soon have truth-telling opposed to justice.
Ach
, it should never come to this.”

“You choose the higher virtue, Pieter,” said Frieda. The young woman had sought out her friend. “I thought you once told me that.”

Pieter nodded. “Well, I oft forget what I once knew.” He smiled wearily. “Your counsel is right. In this world of sorrows we don’t often have pure choices. We are to pray for wisdom—wisdom to see the higher virtue. Thank you, my dear sister.”

Frieda colored with embarrassment. Pieter took her hand and stroked her hair. “You are a beautiful young woman, someday soon to be a young mother. You will be a blessing to your husband and to the little ones who shall clutch your gown. I can see them, happy and bright. One will be like ‘is father: spirited and willful, brave … and a bit prideful!”

Frieda laughed.

“And another will be like you: spirited and wise, brave … and charitable. As for the rest, a blend of good things, to be sure!”

The young woman was beet red by now, but laughing, and Pieter was glad to see it. The man took both her smooth young hands in his. “Dear Frieda, these next days shall not be days of tepid waters, but rather days of ice or boil. We must all be brave. By compline on Friday, we will have been sorely tested, hammered into yet a finer shape atop the anvil. In the end, whether we fail or whether not, we shall be different … and we shall have lived life very much alive.” Pieter stared wistfully into the bright forest. He took a deep breath and smiled. “But I believe it shall be a good day. I can feel it in my bones.”

According to plan, Katharina faded into the shadows of Villmar’s inn as Arnold rapped loudly on the abbey door. The man turned and winked at the woman before a young porter bade him enter. “Thanks be to God.”

“Quite,” grumbled Arnold. “No kisses, no prayers, and my feet are clean enough, thank you. I’m to see Prior Mattias on urgent business.”

Egidius the porter bowed. “You are Arnold of Weyer.”

“Of course, y’dolt.”

The monk scurried away as Arnold wandered among the gardens of the cloister grounds. He looked at the stone walls now penning him within another world. They were higher than two men and were intended to keep sin and corruption out, as well as to keep the attention of the brethren on things godly.

Of course, honest work was godly to be sure, so within the walls were numerous workshops where lay monks labored to build barrels or hammer tin, to work with iron or dye wool. Both the lay monks and the choir monks shared tasks in the gardens, which, in this July, were lush with the vegetables of the season. Barns were filled with last month’s hay and the first bushels of harvested oats. The brewery was always making beer, and the bakery filled its corner of the courtyard with the aroma of heaven. Arnold wandered about all this with a suspicious eye. He had never believed the monks to be sincere. He thought them to be joyless, self-serving hypocrites. His eye fell on the cider press and a row of empty barrels. “In two months, they’ll be making cider and selling it for a profit!”

A kindly, rotund little monk waddled toward the man with an offer of cheese and a tankard of beer. “May I serve thee?”

Arnold took the beer and drank a long draught. He swallowed the cheese and glared at the simple man before him.

The monk smiled. “I am Brother Johann, the cantor. Are you seeking something, my friend?”

“I’m not yer friend, shaveling. But, aye! I’m seeking joy and wisdom … and long-suffering for the likes of you!” Arnold sneered.

“Ah, well, then you’ve come to the right place!”

“I doubt that.”

“Why?”

“Look about. Not so much as a smile. So much for joy. I’d not dare bother one of your brothers with a good laugh—they wouldn’t want to be distracted from their piety!”

The monk grinned.

“If they were wise, they’d not be hiding behind these walls. They’ve no silver, no women …”

“My friend, I fear you’ve much to teach us. See those barrels?”

“Aye.”

“In September they are filled with red apples. Most are firm and sweet. By October, we find a few that are soft and brown, their neighbors as well.”

“So?”

“So it is the same with us. In good season, the brethren are charitable and selfless. In time, sin corrupts one, then the other. We need our barrel dumped from time to time!”

Arnold grunted. He was planning to do some dumping of his own.

The monk continued. “In thanks for your keen sight, allow me to share this small thing I have learned: when you seek joy, seek it humbly, for you shall not be joyful until your old affections are taken away. When you seek patience, have a care, for you shall not have it until you have been sorely tested. When you seek wisdom, tremble, for first you must be stripped of all you thought was true.” The wise monk took Arnold’s hand and looked deeply into his soul. “We are not all what you believe us to be.”

Arnold spat. “I’m waiting for Mattias. The fool porter went looking for him.”

The monk shielded his eyes from the sun and surveyed the grounds. “Ah, there. He is coming toward us. He looks worried.” He turned to Arnold. “Well then, good day, brother. May God treat you well.”

Arnold ignored the kindly fellow and strutted toward the prior. The two met by a flower garden in the center of the courtyard. Mattias bowed nervously.

“Prior Mattias, I shall come directly to the point. I know a secret, and I have it tucked safely away.”

The monk paled. “Follow me,” he mumbled. Mattias led Arnold through a labyrinth of gardens, past a small orchard, and into the shade of the cloister. Standing by a windowless wall, he stared down his long nose at the ground, deep in thought. He nodded, then fixed a hard eye on Arnold. “I do not like thee. I think thee to be a wicked man destined for hellfire. Thy soul shall become a smoldering ash that never cools. I have been in this place for more than twenty-five years, and I’ve known only one other to be as evil as thee. That would be thine very own brother, Baldric. May he suffer in torment always.

“If thou hast robbed my chamber, thou shalt surely hang. Thee and thy nephew and his wicked son. I should summon my guard now.”