Pilgrims of Promise (47 page)

“What things?” asked Benedetto.

Pieter dismissed the question with a wave of his hand. “Have we heard from Katharina and Arnold?”

“Not yet, Pieter,” offered Alwin. “But soon, I’m sure.”

While Tomas and Otto relayed the day’s events, Pieter slowly retreated into the forest with Solomon. Benedetto strummed his lute, and the lads spun more tales to a circle of admiring friends as Frieda and Maria followed after Pieter into the woodland.

It was dusk when the music stopped and a loud “hurrah” was lifted. Katharina had returned! Relieved, the whole company gathered about her in a close circle. She had come with a bundle of her belongings that she had hastily gathered from her cottage. Setting them on the ground, she wiped her brow.

“It was not wise for you to go home,” scolded Frieda.

Katharina nodded. “I may never be able to return to my home, so I went back briefly to take the few things I needed.”

“What of Arnold?” asked Tomas.

“He said he’d be safe enough in his cottage. He is certain the prior would see no purpose in his arrest, since it would not yield the parchment.”

“You are certain no one saw you?” asked Tomas.

“I was very careful. I did speak to Herwin, though. He offered his support if needed and gave me Wil’s dagger.” She handed it to Frieda.

The band was nervous.

“They will be searching,” grumbled Tomas.

Katharina took a swallow of ale. “I am certain of it. They’ll scour the manor carefully. We must keep the flames low, as well as our voices.”

“And what of the triad?” asked Helmut.

“We’re now sure that Steward Hagan will hold court in Runkel on Friday.”

“Friday! ‘Tis two full days hence!” grumbled Tomas. “It gives the prior two full days to counter our plans.” He kicked the dirt. “I cannot bear the wait!”

“Why in Runkel?” asked Benedetto.

Otto answered. “The abbey is under contract with Lord Heribert for all such matters, and his steward is oft the judge in trials.”

“The abbey does not wish to be the place of judgment for temporal matters,” added Alwin. “They’ve a church court for sins and for keeping the brethren in place. I know they have flogged a few monks on account of blasphemy and lewdness, and they have whipped a few peasants on account of adultery, but they’ve never hanged a soul within those walls, nor do they want to bother with thefts and the like.”

“So,
Frau
Katharina, do you think our plan can work?” asked Maria.

“I believe it can. Your great-uncle Arnold is a good ally. He’s to meet with the prior once more, past compline on Thursday, to settle the final arrangements. Then I am to meet him so that we know what to do. Until then, we must be careful.”

Alwin swallowed a long, refreshing draught of ale, then looked at Katharina and chuckled. “If Lord Heribert learns of his own steward’s betrayal, or if the abbot learns that his own prior is in league with another, hell will not have fires hot enough!”

The circle laughed. “Then cheers to Arnold! If any could make the fools sweat in their beds, ‘tis he!”

The company quickly decided that although the Matins Stone was technically on Lord Rolfhard’s land, it was close enough to the abbey’s manor to be encroached with ease by the abbey’s joint protectors—Heribert and the Templars. “We should find refuge in the heavy spruce farther south and to the east,” urged Wilda.

And so it was agreed. The uneasy pilgrims hurried to gather all their provisions and abandoned their camp. Following the sure feet of Wilda along trails familiar to the woman, they soon arrived at a secluded clearing. Now about a two-hour walk from Weyer, they felt safer, and with Paulus lumbering along with an ample load of summer vegetables, salted joint meats, and fresh ale, the company was eager to build a new fire and enjoy a hearty meal.

Before long, the pilgrims settled into a pleasant chatter. Benedetto sang softly for an hour or so, then lulled his fellows to sleep with a lullaby he oft sang in the warm summer nights of his Italian home. No more could be done. Two days would now need to pass, two days that they yielded with some reserve to the watch of a silent Providence.

The days passed slowly to be sure, but they surely passed, and, at long last, Friday’s dawn broke. On the night before, Katharina had taken Alwin to meet with Arnold, and the two had returned safely with news. They huddled with Pieter, and the three reviewed the details of their two plans. Then he, ashen and anxious, looked nervously about his beloved company. The circle of faces staring back at him was tight but determined.
A more brave-hearted band of fellows I have never known
, the man thought. “Katharina, tell them the plan for Heinrich.”

Katharina looked about at her new friends. “Well, the good news is that the prior has agreed to release Heinrich.”

A happy cry resounded around the ring.

Katharina nodded. “Arnold did well, though he was not able to sway the deal for Wil.” She looked at Frieda.

“I did not expect he could,” the young woman replied. “God’s will be done. We’ve another plan for that.”

Katharina smiled and squeezed Frieda’s shoulder affectionately. “We do need you in this one though.”

“As you wish.”

Katharina faced the others. “Now, Arnold’s plan is a bit more muddled than I would have liked. Listen carefully. I am to meet the prior’s personal guard, a large red-headed soldier named Hann, in the courtyard during the trial. Once Heinrich is released, I shall be his hostage until the parchment is passed to the steward’s secretary.

“Frieda, you will stand by the drawbridge. The secretary knows to look for a ‘blonde damsel under hood’ in that place. He will come to you
after
Heinrich is released. When you see Heinrich safely away, give the secretary the parchment. He will confirm its contents, then signal the guard who is by me, so that I can be released.”

“And if you are not?” asked Tomas.

The woman shrugged. “Seems that’s the muddy part.”

Alwin answered, “Then blood will spill!”

Pieter shook his head. “I am still not sure of this. What if Heinrich is not released? What if they have guards spotting for the both of you?”

Frieda answered, “I’ll keep hidden until we know for sure. It may be as simple as that.”

“Were you seen by anyone near the abbey … passing officers, pilgrims, monks?” challenged Otto.

Frieda shook her head. “I kept away…. I stayed by the inn. I doubt anyone noticed me.”

Wilda disagreed. “Lads, would you have noticed her?”

The boys blushed. Wilda turned a brow up at Alwin. “And you?”

Alwin looked at the ground and shrugged.

“Well, you’re all liars,” scolded Wilda. “Of course you’d remember her! Look at her! Shapely and young, smooth skinned and fair! What man would forget?” The woman paused. “Nay, listen. I say we should let her be seen near the bridge. She’ll catch their eye quick, and they’ll soon reckon her to be the one. But I will carry the letter. I’ll stay in the shadows and emerge at the proper time.”

Pieter groaned. “We’ve risk here, risk aplenty.”

Heads nodded.

Alwin stepped forward and rested his hands on the two swords in his belt. “Heinrich and Wil have no more time. We’ve no choice but to try as we can, and if we fail, we’ll try to save them by force. Helmut, bring Emmanuel. Maria, are you ready, sister?”

Under the knight’s instructions, Wilda adjusted the sleeves of the little girl’s gown.

“I am, sir.”

The weary priest looked at Maria. “And are you sure, my dear?”

She lifted her chin. “
Ja,
Papa Pieter. I am.”

Alwin began to pace. Predawn songbirds were now filling the forest with a loud chatter. Mist hung heavy atop the needled ground, and the air was damp and cool. “Now, as for the plan for Wil—everyone knows their part? Otto, Tomas … are you sure of yourselves? You know exactly what to do and when?”

The lads nodded firmly.

Alwin took a deep breath. “Everyone else knows their part? We know our plans and counterplans?”

“We’ve spoken of nothing else for two days!” barked Tomas impatiently.

“Pieter?”

The old man had dropped to his knees again to beg the legions of the heavenly host to “forgive this miserable servant and ready thy swords, fill thy quivers full, and prepare a great slaughter of the unjust.
In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti.
Amen.”

Now ready, the entire company—including Solomon—made a quick descent to the village of Münster and delivered Paulus to its helpful priest for safekeeping. They then hurried along a circuitous route that took them crosscountry to the far side of Oberbrechen and through the dangerous holdings of the Templars bordering Villmar’s manorlands. It was full light as they turned onto the road that led them north through sleepy Niederbrechen and beyond. Finally, at the bells of terce, the anxious company of eleven joined others now crossing the drawbridge into Runkel’s brownstone castle.

The pilgrims funneled across the plank bridge, then emerged on the other side to find their positions according to plan. Wilda, bearing the valued parchment, withdrew to the shadows of a shed, where she climbed atop a cart to keep a sharp eye on the bailey. From here she would direct the movement of her friends as needed.

Katharina had already spotted the prior’s monstrous guard. He was a burly young man with long, straight, red hair. He was dressed in chain mail and a sleeveless gray robe. The man regularly looked in the direction of several soldiers standing nearby. The woman did not fail to notice. She swallowed and closed her eyes, then bravely walked forward to present herself as the man’s hostage.

Otto and Tomas took their places at the witness stall. Tucked deeply within their hoods, they waited here for the bailiffs announcement of Wil’s name. They were understandably anxious. Both were about to perjure themselves in a capital offense. More than that, if they were spotted by Weyer’s reeve—who was sure to come—they could be arrested as fugitives from the manor to which they were bound.

Sweating profusely, Benedetto was strolling about to serve as a potential distraction. He seemed always able to turn heads in his direction with a clever rhyme or a bawdy song. The poor little fellow was so nervous, however, that he could barely speak, let alone sing. He was bounced to and fro among the milling folk like a child’s toy!

Helmut was hidden in the shadows of a smith’s shed. As instructed, he had brought Emmanuel with him. He was not the archer Wil was, but the lad had practiced from time to time on the journey north. In the last two days, he had done little else. He now reckoned his range to the judge’s bench and then to the gallows. He licked his lips nervously and looked for Alwin.

Near the entrance to the dungeon, Frieda adjusted Maria’s little gown and fixed the flowers in her hair with trembling fingers. She then smoothed the wrinkles from her own gown and wiped the dust from her shoes. She picked up her basket and hung it on her elbow, then nodded to Pieter. The old man drew a deep breath, summoned his waning pluck, and led the two females directly to the jailer. “Good sir,” began Pieter, “I am the priest of these two damsels. One is the wife of an accused and the other his sister. Might I beg thy Christian charity and humbly ask their permission to see him one last time on this earth?”

The guard laughed. “I’ve no time for this. Begone!”

Frieda smiled flirtatiously. She moved closer and lifted the towel from her basket. Underneath was a loaf of bread with a gold coin sticking into it. “A strong man like you must be hungry?”

The jailer gawked at the coin, then looked about. He turned a hard eye on the three standing before him. “Who’s yer husband?”

“Wilhelm of Weyer—”

“The yellow-haired devil? He’s a hot-tempered, arrogant son of Hades! He bit one of m’guards. He’ll swing and so shall his father.”

Frieda’s jaw clenched. Maria, however, smiled innocently. “Sir,” she chirped, “could we see them both?”

The soldier stared at the imp beneath him. He was a giant of a man, dressed in heavy chain mail and holding a lance. The little girl seemed like a tender flower, too delicate to harm—even for a hardened warrior as himself. He chuckled at her sleeves hanging below her unseen hands, and he thought of his own daughter in a village not far away. “Well, I’m not to do this.” He took Frieda’s bread and searched her basket. He then reached out to search her body for weapons and she recoiled sharply. “Fair enough, wench. Then you stay out. I’ll take this little one to them for a quick hug and a good-bye. You two stay here.”