Pilgrims of Promise (27 page)

“Fine, as you wish. But we needs hurry. If we don’t find the graves by nightfall, we’ll bury him where we must.”

It was a gray twilight when the pilgrims finally came upon the quiet shoreline of the Aare River. Maria quickly spotted the mill near the broken dam and the large rock that marked the place where the crusaders had been buried the summer past. The company hurried to the spot and found the earth still mounded beneath the river stones used to cover the shallow graves. Their wooden crosses had disappeared, and weeds had overgrown the site, but to these former crusaders, the place was yet hallowed.

Large tears fell from Frieda’s eyes as she stood at the head of her brother’s grave. “Oh, dear Manfred,” she sighed, “I’ve missed you so.” She pulled the weeds from the stones and cleaned away the bramble. “In the morning I shall bring you fresh flowers,” she whispered. Humming lightly, she sat down alongside the mound. “You know, Manfred, I’m married now. I married Wil! I think you would have liked that.” A large lump filled her throat, and she could say no more. She closed her eyes and groaned midst visions of the horrid flood that had taken so many.

In the meanwhile, the graves of the others were cleaned, including those of Albert, Jost, and Otto’s old friend, Lukas. The broad-faced lad let the tears fall as he remembered the fateful storm. “I’ll not ever forget the sound of the water,” he muttered.

Tomas and Wil worked with Rudolf to dig Heinz’s grave as Helmut gathered large smooth river stones. When the hole was ready, Wil summoned the others.

“I shall miss you, Elfman,” choked Otto.

“We shall all miss you,” added Pieter. “You tried to save a man you never knew. Would the earth be filled with the likes of you in times to come.” The priest then prayed a quiet prayer and blessed the company. He held the weeping Maria in his arms and kissed her lightly on the cheek as Wil and Otto lowered the shrouded body into the ground.

“Papa Pieter, will you leave us, too?” asked Maria.

The old man looked deeply into the little girl’s frightened face. “Ah, my dear.
Ja
, I shall someday leave this earth, perhaps one day soon. But I’ll ne’er leave you alone. Fear for naught, my angel, for you are loved by many.”

Each traveler set about the task of covering Heinz’s remains, first with soft earth and then with stones. Once finished, the company stared quietly at the rock-mounded grave as Maria and Frieda fixed a neatly fashioned wooden cross at its head. Then, each one bade the brave little fellow farewell in his or her own way and drifted off to sleep under a starless sky.

Considering the next day’s rain and the need to stay hidden from the dangers of highway patrols, it was a wonder that the forlorn pilgrims arrived at Olten as quickly as they did. But it was that evening just outside the gates that Alwin bade the brave pilgrims farewell.

“No, Father Pieter. I am a danger to you all. You have saved me and I am fast healed. The Templars will never stop hunting me, and as long as I am with you, you will be hunted as well.”

Heinrich stepped forward. “You must not travel alone. You’ll have no hope at all. And you’re not yet well. I’ve seen your steps fail a few times.”

Alwin set his jaw firmly. “I’ll not have your deaths on my conscience.”

Pieter spat. “So, monk, ‘tis all for you, then.”

The knight looked surprised.

“Aye, you heard me. You’d deny us the defense of your sword and the skill of your eye so that your conscience might not be pricked! Go then! The self-serving have no place with us.”

Astonished, Alwin gaped at the old man and then at the pilgrims gathered about. “I… I…”

“We hoped you’d protect us,
Herr
Alwin,” said Maria gently.

“But… but, my dear sister, I bring you danger, and—”

“You bring us no more danger than what we’ve been hardened to,” barked Pieter. “Look at these faces. They have been guided through hardships that would make your own heart tremble. Then God sends them a seasoned knight who now wants to run off to protect his own conscience. I, sir knight, am fairly disappointed.”

Alwin looked at Heinrich. The baker nodded. “We need you, friend.” He walked to Paulus and retrieved the Templar sword he had taken. He handed it to Alwin. “We need your honor.”

The knight took the sword and cast his eyes about the circle of faces imploring him to stay. He took a deep breath. “Well, for now, then.”

The pilgrims cheered, and Pieter winked at the smiling Maria. Their knight would stay!

The group made its way through the darkness to the gates of Olten, where Wil hesitated. He cocked his head toward Pieter and shrugged. “What do you think?” The young man was nervous about the reception they might receive at the hand of Lord Bernard. After all, Pieter’s earlier efforts at dentistry may or may not have provided the promised cure!

Pieter climbed down from his seat with determination. “Methinks we’ve a duty to Friederich and Jon. We left them behind in hopes of seeing them again. Knock and let us take what’s coming.”

Wil rapped loudly on the gate.

“Tis past curfew. Begone!” grumbled a guard through the oak.

“Open the cursed door, y’fool!” answered Pieter.

The door flew open, and a long-nosed soldier stormed toward the company with his lance leveled and his torch raised. “Who dares call me fool’?”

Pieter ground his staff into the ground. “I do.”

The soldier wheeled about. “You!” He tilted his smoky torch close to Pieter’s face. “You, the old priest from the north! Ha! I remember you.” He cast an eye at Heinrich, then stepped closer, raising his lance. “And I’ve seen you here before as well.”

“
Ja
. Some months past. I was looking for the child crusaders.”

“Seems y’ve enough light to know us by. Now let us in,” growled Pieter. “We’ve business with Lord Bernard.”

Wil shifted uneasily. He leaned toward Frieda. “Pray the lord’s tooth is fixed.”

“What business ‘ave you?” quizzed the soldier. “Lord Bernard is in Bern.”

Wil released his breath, relieved. “And how’s his tooth?”

“The old man here took the pain away. ‘Tis how I know his face. Our priest thinks it was witchcraft.”

Pieter was in no mood for this. “Witchcraft! By the saints, I ought—”

“And what of the two we left here? They belong with us,” interrupted Wil.

“The little crusaders? They came back hurt after you left. We helped them.”

“Aye!” answered Wil impatiently. “And?”

The man’s face hardened. “We had plague in October past. I lost m’wife and my two
kinder
. Most say you crusaders brought it. One of yer boys perished in it. The other is doing penance.”

“Which?” Wil blurted.

“Which what?”

“Which of them died!”

“The older one. He had a broken leg.”

“Jon!” groaned Frieda.

Heinrich was bristling. “And what of the lad doing penance?”

“What of him?”

“Why the penance?”

“The priest says the waifs to purge the sins of you all. Lord Bernard and his daughter objected, but they dared not oppose the Holy Church in this.” The soldier shifted on his feet uncomfortably. “Some say you disgraced good Christians, what with yer losing faith and thieving. Some say y’cast spells and ate infants. You went to crusade in Christ’s name but defiled our Lord and the Holy Virgin Mother with yer weak ways. Now we all suffer for it.”

Despite his rising anger, Pieter had been oddly quiet. He stepped forward with his staff gripped by fingers whitening with rage. Barely controlling himself, he said, “I see. And what say you?”

The man shrugged. “I am unsure in this. I’ve a nephew who left on crusade last summer. He’s a good boy but has not yet returned. Methinks him not one to eat someone’s baby. And m’sister swears these stories are lies.”

Pieter relaxed his grip. “And what of Dorothea?”

“What of her?”

“What says she of the crusaders?”

The guard nodded. “She makes sure yer little penitent is well fed and clothed. She finds ways to lighten his penance. I’ve heard her reprimand the priest on more than one occasion.”

Relieved, Pieter released a deep breath. “I should like to speak with her.”

“
Ja
. Perhaps you may. She’s dining on a late supper, no doubt, or…” he leaned close to Pieter and whispered something the rest could not hear.

Pieter’s brows raised and he cast a glance at Alwin. “
Ja
?”

The guard nodded. “But tell no one. Now, seems all is in order here. If you’ve money, you can follow me to the lord’s inn.”

Worried that the knights at Burgdorf would be hunting the killers of the Templars, Heinrich had been anxious. It would be good for them to get off the roadway. He looked nervously at the sword riding on Alwin’s hip.
Should ne’er have kept it!
he thought.
What a fool I am.

The pilgrims quietly walked through Olten’s dark streets and alleys until they were introduced to Lord Bernard’s innkeeper at the doorway of a comfortable two-story building. The house was dimly lit within by oil lanterns and a few thick candles. The innkeeper bade them enter as he greeted the weary pilgrims. “Good evening,” he murmured with a bow.

Wil stepped forward. “We’ve need of shelter. We served your master well some months prior, and we hoped to meet him again.”

“He’s in Bern.”

“Aye, sir.”

“We’ve a few drunken guests, but I’ve room for some of you. For the lot it would cost you four pennies, and it buys you fresh bread and beer in the morning. The beast needs go to the stable along with four others.”

Heinrich laughed and pointed to Otto. “He’s a good one for the stable!” He then whispered in the innkeeper’s ear, and the man nodded. “You, boy,” he said as he pointed to Wil. “You and your woman follow me. I’ve a room in the attic. ‘Tis a bit warm on summer nights, but it has a good straw mattress.”

Blushing, Frieda lowered her head and hurried past the others to join Wil and the innkeeper climbing a flight of curling stairs.

“Sleep well!” roared Otto. The pilgrims howled.

In a few moments, the innkeeper returned to escort some others to a small closet whose floor was covered with a thick mound of fresh hay. “We’ve no mattress but soft hay. But he who sleeps here sleeps well.”

Pieter was relieved. His bones ached from walking through the rain. He was thankful it was summer, to be sure, but he was nearly ecstatic to sleep under a good roof and atop a soft floor.

“Now, who shall sleep with the beast?” chuckled the innkeeper.

The children looked at one another warily.

“Heinrich, you must guard the provisions,” Pieter finally blurted with a wide grin.

“
Ja
, seems right enough,” he grumbled. He shuffled toward the door midst the guffaws of Otto.

Alwin followed. “I’m well again, well enough to sleep with a beast, a miserable baker, and a stable full of
Scheisse!”

The pilgrims roared.

“Well, who joins us?” sighed Heinrich. The words had barely left his lips when the man’s eye fell on Tomas. “You’re one of us, lad. You ought to come too.”

Surprised at the dubious invitation, Tomas brightened. Being denied the inn was less important than belonging. “
Ja
. I’ll come.”

Heinrich smiled. “Good. Then if it’s Weyer men for the stable, Otto, you’re the other!”

Muttering under his breath, Otto followed the others to the stable that stood to one side of the inn. Unfortunately, the stable was crowded with two heavy-wheeled wagons and many horses. Grumbling, the guests clutched hands full of what clean straw they could find and piled it along one wall. “The straw is wet and packs hard! A pox on the others,” groused Otto.

A shrill voice startled the four. “Mon
Dieux!’

“Eh?” Heinrich spun about.

Alwin grabbed his sword. “
Qui venir!”

A trembling old man stared wide eyed at the four pilgrims now standing in a row before him.
“Non, non! Je m’appelle Michel! Je…”

“We do not speak your tongue!” snapped Heinrich. He stepped forward with his sword drawn.