Sylvia (13 page)

‘Sylvia, you know what I mean. What enterprise can you, a peasant woman, embark upon that requires you to read Latin, or for that matter, to read at all?'

‘I wish for more knowledge! I wish to know the truth! The abbot once read from the Holy Scriptures, “
The truth shall make
you free
”. I wish to read such words for myself!'

He laughed. ‘What, so that you may argue the Bible with bishops? You are a brave soul, Sylvia, that I do discern, but alack, the Church will not allow it. You know as well as I do that God has preordained our character – it is immutable, unchangeable, what we are born we shall forever remain.' He smiled and gave me an apologetic look. ‘You cannot change a crow into a falcon.'

‘Are there no women who can speak and read Latin except nuns of noble birth?'

‘Aye, perhaps some few noblewomen, though mostly nuns who do God's work, and so may learn to read the scriptures, some to also write, so that they can transcribe the works of the saints.'

‘And this is the only way?'

‘Unless, like me, you are fortunate and find a priest or perhaps a nun who will teach you and you discover that God has allowed learning to be contained within your own character.' He gave me a sorrowful look. ‘Sylvia, we must all learn to accept God's will.'

‘Ha! So it was God's will that you found your priest, was it? Or simply fortuitous that your father was the ratcatcher on the abbot's estate?'

He shrugged. ‘The Lord works in mysterious ways,' he quipped, then added, ‘It has always been possible for a peasant male to become a deacon or even a cleric, perhaps even a priest, but not so a female.'

‘Aye, as Frau Johanna says, it is men, not God, who make the rules by which a woman must conduct her life. God's word is only their excuse.'

‘You blaspheme, Sylvia! God is Himself a male! You are Eve incarnate and born evil so cannot expect the blessings of Adam,' he said, now visibly shocked.

I sighed. ‘Well then, let it be.' I knew I was cutting too close to the bone. ‘Will you at least teach me the meaning of words of the hymns I sing?'

‘I think not. We are three days journey from Cologne where you would enter the employment of your rich merchant's wife. You cannot learn them all in this time!' Then he gave me a sly look. ‘Unless?'

‘Unless what?'

‘Unless you care to stay with me a while longer?'

‘And where shall we live – and no doubt you think it will be as husband and wife? No thank you, Reinhardt the Ratcatcher!'

‘We have money, the alms we gathered from the village.'

He grew excited and held my shoulders in both hands, his pretty face drawn close to mine. ‘Sylvia, you and I, we are a blessed combination, you singing and I with the flute, your birdcalling and me with the rats! Ho-ah! We will make a pretty sum together!'

It was my turn to be shocked. ‘The alms? But they be for the hermit! For Wilfred of the Wilderness? You told so yourself!'

‘Oh him?' he said, looking vague, then grinning as he scratched his head. ‘Well . . . er, yes and no.'

‘There is no hermit, is there?' I asked, accusingly.

He spread his hands and said disarmingly, ‘Little sister, they would not have given so generously or at all without a cause that would earn them grace in God's eyes.'

I pointed my finger, shaking it at him. ‘And
you
accuse
me
of blasphemy!'

‘Shhush! Not so fast!' he said, at once indignant. ‘It was fair payment for getting rid of their rats!'

I stamped my staff upon the ground. ‘No! We are stealing God's money! If you wished payment you should have asked a fee.'

‘Oh, yes, sure! “Good people, as I stand before you covered in crow shit, I wish to make you a proposition concerning your rats!”' He gave me a scornful look. ‘Remember, they thought the rats the work of the Virgin Maid. What do you think they would have thought if
you
should demand a ratcatcher's fee and thus broke the spell created by the miracle of the birds?'

It was a good point and I had no immediate answer. ‘What would such a fee be?' I asked, my voice growing more accommodating. ‘As much as we received in alms?'

‘Perhaps,' he said.

‘I think not!'

‘You are right.' Scratching his chin he gave a rueful laugh. ‘We are a
very
good combination, Sylvia.'

‘Half as much?' I demanded to know.

‘Aye . . . maybe.'

‘I think much less, but let us say it's half. We must find a hermit and give him half our alms, the other half you may count as your ratcatcher's fee.'

‘No! No . . . No!' he protested angrily. ‘That is money hard earned and it is
mine
. . . ours.' He looked at me pleadingly. ‘They say a Jew's money is glued to the inside of his pockets. That if, at the moment a Syrian infant comes from the womb, you should place a piastre in his hand, he will close his fingers about it and thereafter no might on earth can pry this tiny treasure from him. Be that as it may, it is my experience that the German peasant is the most rapacious of all the moneygrubbers and will make the meanest Israelite seem foolishly generous. We will not see such alms again. Believe me, it was the donation those peasants gave to the Virgin Maid that proved the true miracle!' He patted his satchel. ‘This money was given because they greatly feared your powers, we will need every penny for the hard days ahead in Cologne.'

‘Suit yourself, ratcatcher! Now I must bid you adieu.' I pointed down the road. ‘Go on, be off with you, thief, rapscallion!'

‘You don't mean that!' he protested. ‘What of the words to the Gloria you sing, I know them all as well as the words to the
Kyrie
,
Credo
,
Sanctus
and
Agnus Dei
. If you will tarry I can tell you their meaning in but a few days.'

‘Be off!' I cried. ‘You said yourself I would sing no better for knowing them. Nor am I able to learn the Latin words for being created a peasant and ignorant. I am a sinner born, yes! But not one of my own true making. Now you would turn me into a thief and next thing . . . who knows . . . whore? A fine combination we'll be, you say, but only for your own profit and your terrible lust!'

While Sylvia Now spoke out thus, Sylvia Then was sorely tempted to accept his offer and take a chance on keeping my chastity. Why is it that the Christian conscience is always in turmoil? Is it that the devil is omnipresent? Lurking in the shadows of our minds? If I remained a pious maid, must I then remain ignorant? Or by wanting knowledge become corrupted? Was piety truly the greater of these two desires? Or dare I not ask such a question for fear of gaining the wrong answer?

Reinhardt the Ratcatcher raised his hand and pulled his arm back as if to strike me. ‘You are a stubborn and churlish maid and I should beat you!' he cried out, his pretty face all a-pout, although I could see his eyes appeared more uncertain than angry.

‘Go ahead!' I spat. ‘If you should beat me and then rape me, will you then be satisfied? Ratcatcher, you will have changed nothing, you hear? It is as God wills, I shall remain a poor ignorant peasant and you a pretty ratcatcher!' I spoke boldly, while my heart was sorely afraid. When dealing with my drunken father I had long since learned that my voice should seem defiant, so that he would not perceive my fear and only feel my loathing.

‘Rape you?' Reinhardt's expression was at first querulous then abundantly hurt. His arm fell to his side. ‘Sylvia Honeyeater,' he cried, ‘I have given you my word!'

‘The widow Johanna says that you are just the type to pluck the rose,' I said accusingly.

He brought his hand up to cover his heart. ‘No, I swear it. You are safe with me,' he repeated earnestly.

The knife was in, but I felt the need to twist it, even though I knew I had the measure of this flighty piper. ‘You said that should we come across a Bible you'd swear upon it that the stories you tell of the pilgrimage to conquer the Holy Land were true. Would you also swear not to deflower me? Swear it before Almighty God?'

‘That I shall, kneeling at any altar in Christendom,' he said, in an over-elaborate promise. ‘Forsooth, did I not accommodate you with the widow in the village?'

‘Ho! That well suited your cunning plan,' I accused.

‘What plan? I had no plan. Only thought for food and lodging for the night and to keep you chaste.'

‘Ha! On the morrow you planned that I would be seen the Virgin Maid and you would use me to trick those simple village folk.'

‘Oh-ho! You think me too clever by half. I swear I simply kept my side of the bargain not to share your bed.'

‘Why? Am I not attractive?' I asked perversely.

‘No! Yes, of course! An angel and most amazing pretty. It'sjust that I don't care to . . . to . . . dance with Diana.'

‘Huh?'

‘Sleep with you!' he burst out. Then calmer, he looked at me and shrugged. ‘So what now?'

‘What do you mean?'

‘Will we stay together?'

‘Only if we give half the alms to a hermit!'

‘But I don't
know
a hermit!' he cried.

‘Then we will find one,' I said calmly.

I could see he was becoming exasperated. I had first belaboured the point of my chastity and now this. He fought to keep his voice calm. ‘They are not that easily found and live mostly in the desert . . . alone! St Simeon Stylites who lived in Syria seven hundred years ago spent thirty years chained to the top of a column sixty cubits high so that he might be alone! That's why they're hermits! Don't you understand? They do not wish the company of men! They have no need for alms. Some eat only grass!'

‘Grass?'

‘Aye, and are said to lick the morning dew to quench their thirst.'

‘Ha! What of Peter the Hermit, he was not alone?'

‘Why? What do you know of him?'

‘Everybody knows of him, even we peasants. He led tens of thousands of pilgrims against the infidel to capture Jerusalem and regain the Holy Sepulchre.'

‘That was different, Peter the Hermit was called out of the desert by God to lead the People's Crusade.'

‘And there are no hermits in the towns or in Cologne?'

‘Sylvia, I have travelled far and wide and sometimes have seen men who wear the russet gown of wool and carry the crooked stick. But they are no more a hermit than I. They are men who prey upon the poor and the gullible but, in truth, are footpads and vagabonds. Some, I have observed, have wenches who follow behind and at night in the woods at the edge of towns and villages you may see their fires and their drunken dancing and fornicating. To give alms to such scallywags, reprobates and cullions is to do a great disservice to hard-working entertainers such as we.'

‘Entertainers now, are we? What happened to the Guild of Ancient Ratcatchers?'

Reinhardt grinned. ‘It is a vocation that is always there if we need it.' He clucked his tongue. ‘But to tell the truth, catching rats is inglorious work. My flute and your singing will enchant the crowd and merriness is a far better pursuit than the rats that constantly remind me that they will be the certain cause of my death.'

‘Why so?'

‘The plague, it is the rat flea that carries it, when it strikes the ratcatcher is the first to die. My father and my grandfather both perished thus.'

I could see no point in arguing further as he had, after all, come around to all my expectations. Besides, I quite liked the idea of being an entertainer. If it was less about warm loaves, hot soup and the comfort of the kitchen hearth, singing for my supper seemed a better life than that of a humble kitchen maid answering to a bad-tempered cook and a scolding mistress in a rich merchant's house.

‘If there are no true hermits to be found, then we must give half the alms to the poor,' I announced.

‘But we
are
the poor!' he protested.

‘You said yourself, the ratcatcher never goes hungry.'

‘But we are entertainers now!'

I frowned. ‘And
they
go hungry?'

‘Very well, half to the poor,' he sighed. ‘Then you will stay?'

‘Let me count the money, the alms.'

He gave me a hurt look. ‘You still don't trust me!'

‘Aye, of the honesty of a ratcatcher I know nought, but you have acquired a minstrel's bad habits and his look of innocence when he plans to gull a peasant. It is this I do not trust.' I held out my hand. ‘Give me your satchel.'

With a final sigh he unstrapped the satchel from his waist and handed it to me. I quickly counted the contents and divided the money, keeping half and handing back the remainder.

‘I see the peasant is true to his calling,' he smirked, plainly upset with the loss of half the alms. ‘She knows nothing of anything, but can count money more carefully than a Syrian Jew.'