Quest of Hope: A Novel (35 page)

“Over there,” Heinrich said, “is the refectory where the monks eat, the infirmary for their sick, the dormitories, kitchen, scriptorium, covered walkways, and, of course, the latrine.”

“Where does Lukas live?”

“There, in that dormitory.” Heinrich lowered his voice. “Lukas says he is going to take a vow of solitude with hopes of being put in a private cell. He says he finds the brethren a bit of a bother!”

Wil laughed, earning a stern glance from their escort. Heinrich pointed to Lukas’s new herbarium standing in the center of a huge, cross-shaped garden to their left. “That is where our friend spends most of his day.”

The porter led the pair along a well-worn, stone footpath past the gardens, a fish pond, and toward the abbot’s grand residence and another set of buildings near the southern wall. He said nothing until they reached the prior’s chamber.
“In nomine Patris
…” The monk knelt before the two and washed their feet as he prayed for them. When the man was done he recited, “God, we have received Your mercy in the midst of Your temple.”

Wil was wide-eyed and uncomfortable when the brother gave him a kiss of peace, but when he offered a sweet roll and a strip of salted fish, the boy grinned from ear to ear!

“Please, sit yourselves here. Brother Mattias shall join you shortly.” The porter showed the two to a couple of comfortable wooden chairs setting adjacent to a blazing hearth and quickly stepped away.

The room was plain, damp, and shadowed, lit only by firelight and what sunbeams pressed their way through two shuttered windows on the southern wall. A large desk sat opposite the hearth and a smaller scribe’s table was placed next to it. A few simple chairs and a stool were arranged on top of a woven carpet.

“Peace be unto you,” a voice suddenly said.

Wil and Heinrich turned to see Prior Mattias and his clerk. “And to you,” answered Heinrich as he and his son stood.

“You have been greeted and fed?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Now, if it please you, I shall sit by my desk.”

As Mattias and his clerk took their places, an official and two more clerks entered. Heinrich knew they were not of the brethren. The official wore a mantle of white squirrel over a long, magnificently embroidered green robe. His legs were covered in fine breeches that fell to his shins where red woollen hose led to his well-oiled ox-leather shoes. From beneath his sleeves peeked the cuffs of a white linen shirt, and atop his head sat an otter cap. His companions were more modestly dressed but were clearly free men of means.

“Heinrich,” announced the prior as he pointed to the official, “this is Steward Hagan. Sire Hagan serves us from Runkel as did Erhard in years past. He handles our matters of law and accounting.”

The baker and his son nodded, curious.

Mattias went on. “We’ve two matters of business to discuss with you, my children, and know that Abbot Udo has been appraised of thine issues and has charged us to bring all to proper order. Firstly, in the matter of this, thy son, Johann Wilhelm: I do have in my possession the abbey’s pledge to your father’s father. I see you have brought yours likewise.”

Heinrich nodded.

“Our second point is a matter regarding thine inheritance of a holding once granted to our deceased tenant, Emma of Quedlinburg, of late a resident in Weyer.”

Heinrich chilled. Lukas told him that Blasius would be transacting all business regarding Emma’s lands. He feared any discussion on these matters without the counsel of either Lukas or him.

“Now,” continued Mattias, “I do freely admit that on matters of law I am not well versed, but it would seem we have some concerns regarding both. For this reason, I have yielded to the better judgment of our steward. He is a lawyer in the realm and properly trained in these things.”

All eyes turned toward Steward Hagan. The man was hawkish and cold. His beady, brown eyes were aimed dispassionately toward the pair of peasants staring blank-faced and nervously at him. “Heinrich and Wilhelm. Hmm. It seems we have some problems. It is my charge, under God, to protect the industry of the abbey so that future generations may benefit from its service to God’s kingdom on earth. I have discussed your grandfather’s … covenant… with the lawyers of the emperor and Archbishop Siegfried in Mainz, as well as the papal legate.”

Wil whispered to his father. Heinrich, now anxious and sweating, hushed the boy.

“To speak directly to the first point, we wonder by what right any man might coerce the services of these Holy Brethren?” The steward fixed a hard eye at the poor baker and waited for an answer.

Heinrich stammered, “I beg your leave, sire, but what is ‘coerce’?”

The man smiled. It was a haughty, wicked, condescending smile. “Ah, but of course. You are but a baker! I beg your pardon, friend. To answer you, ‘coerce’ means to force by threat. So I ask again, by what right are you forcing these good brothers to provide your sons with learning?”

Heinrich looked helplessly at the waiting faces of the others. He drew a deep breath and stared at the cracks of gray light filtering through the shutters. He wished for all the world he could run home.
Oh, if only Lukas were here,
he thought desperately. But Lukas was not there. “I cannot answer you, m’lord, I know only of a promise and …”

“Ah, of course. You know nothing of this other than what’s been told you by the other ignorant folk of your little village.”

Heinrich sat still and tried to swallow. His lips were dry and he looked about for a flagon of beer or mead. He nodded.

Hagan continued. “Hmm. Well, good fellow, I must needs tell you that your parchment is in some doubt. The realm cannot have its subjects taking advantage of its Lord Protectors through threats and slanders. And, as a point of law, a pledge under duress is not valid. Ah, your pardon. ‘Duress’ is the pressure of a threat, you understand?”

Heinrich nodded again. “But I only know of an abbot’s promise, I—”

“Enough, baker!” The steward threw off his mantle and leaned toward the confused man. No longer dispassionate, the man’s eyes burned with anger and with purpose, only to suddenly soften as poor Heinrich dropped his eyes. The man released a long breath. “Hmm. You seem to be an earnest fellow.”

Heinrich looked up hopefully.

“Perhaps we ought leave this matter for the moment and speak of the other.”

Relief came over Heinrich’s face and he relaxed.

Hagan slanted his eye ever so slightly toward the prior, but it was a look that did not escape the sharp eyes of young Wil. “I have been asked to review the wills of our vassal, Gottwald of Oldenburg, and of his whore, Emma.”

Heinrich bristled. “She was no whore!” he growled.

The steward smiled slyly, surprised at the spirit in the man. “Ah, Heinrich, I do sincerely ask your pardon. I had no right to use such a term for the mother of Gottwald’s bastard child.”

His wry tone belied his insincerity, but Heinrich had no ear for subtleties. “She was a good woman and I dearly loved her … and, yes, I pardon you.”

“Many thanks.” Hagan bowed his head sarcastically.

The veins in Wil’s young neck now bulged. He had a different instinct than his father.

“So, Heinrich, I was about to say that I have reviewed the wills carefully.” He held Emma’s will toward the fire of a wall-torch. “Nay, nay,” he chuckled, “you’ve no need to fear. I am only reading the witnesses to the woman’s name. Yes, yes, our own beloved Lukas and the Templar knight, Brother Blasius. Hmm. Well, no matter, all is in order here. I declare the woman, Emma of Quedlinburg, to have issued a proper charter of her earthly holdings and I concur that you, Heinrich the baker of Weyer, are her rightful heir by the declaration witnessed herein.”

Heinrich raised his eyebrows and released a long sigh. He looked happily at the prior. Mattias smiled. “So I am the proper holder to her lands?” Heinrich asked.

“Yes.”

Heinrich was relieved and delighted. “I am told the Templars store my rents and handle my fees and fines, taxes, and the like.”

“That is so,” answered Prior Mattias.

A long pause followed. Heinrich sat still, waiting for something else to be said. He stared about the circle of faces and began to fumble with his hands. “Well,” he finally offered, “it seems the light is failing. M’son and me want to see the schoolmaster, and we’ve more than an hour’s walk ahead and—”

“Heinrich,” interrupted the steward, “I have been authorized to propose an offer to you for your land.”

Heinrich’s heart began to race. He had often dreamt of negotiating his freedom. He had seen himself marching to the abbot’s door and gleefully bartering his new land as manumission for himself and his family. He imagined the abbot grunting and groaning and pleading for better terms. And in his fantasy he saw the prior on his knees begging for the baker’s charity, only to finally yield and grant the man his freedom and more!

“Heinrich!” Hagan bellowed. “Are you listening, man?”

“Oh, aye, of course, m’lord.”

“And what say you?”

“Of what, sire?”

“Of your price!” boomed the frustrated steward.

Heinrich licked his dry lips and looked at Wil.
Oh, to set his household free! he
thought. He turned to the steward. “I …I…”

“Ja? Ja?”

“I would offer Emma’s lands for … for the freedom of m’self, m’wife, and our children.”

Mattias’ clerk began to cough and the prior, himself, reddened. Hagan put a finger on his lips and frowned. “Manumission? You offer this as manumission?”

Heinrich was sweating. “Aye, sire, lord sire …”

“Prior Mattias,” Hagan began, “would you join me in the outer chamber for a moment?”

The two slipped out of the shadowed room and whispered beyond the heavy oak door. Heinrich shifted uncomfortably on his chair and smiled at his son. Wil leaned toward his father. “
Vati,
they’ll try to cheat you. I do not trust these men! Lukas says you needs be more the fox and less the hare!”

The man nodded. “I am trying. ’Tis not an easy thing for me. I…”

The door opened and the prior and steward returned to their positions. The kitchener scurried in behind them and brought Heinrich and Wil tankards of cloister ale and wheat rolls. “Now,” began Hagan again, “you know I dare not speak untruths on behalf of the brethren.”

Heinrich nodded.

“So I speak truth when I say they would like very much to barter your land fairly and in accordance with their obligations as caretakers of that which God has given them. Now, it seems your land lies near some good ground that Lord Gottwald also granted them.”

“Ours lies in the very center!” cried young Wil.

Heinrich hushed him sternly.

The boy folded his arms and scowled. The steward and the spirited lad locked glares for a long pause before the man continued. “You ask much of us this day, Heinrich, and we are somewhat surprised. You are known as humble and devout, faithful to private vows. You’d be a man known for his industry and you are no thief, at least not until this moment.”

Heinrich looked confused. “Why this moment?”

“When you charge a man for bread, good fellow, how do you fix the charge?”

“The price is set by the abbey.”

“And how do you imagine they set the price?”

“I never think of such things.”

“Could you imagine they set the price in accordance to what is fair and necessary to all parties, that the price is set from charitable concern for the buyer as well as necessary concern for holy stewardship?”

Again Heinrich was confused.

The steward raised his voice. “Let me say it in another way! Do you think the brothers charge the very most they possibly can, or do they consider the buyers as well?”

The baker looked at the prior and scratched his head. “I surely do not know.”

“I see. And I understand, for you are no man of business. You give little thought to things as these, and why should you? What I am saying is that Christian dealings account for all sides’ welfare. You are charging a price for your land that considers only you! Greed, I think, is one sin in view here. And when one takes advantage of another, as in usury, it is called theft. Are your kin and kind thieves?”

“Nay. Scrumping is a grievous shame to us.”

Prior Mattias leaned forward. “Sire Hagan, it is true. The man is no thief, not since he was a youth.”

The steward nodded. “Hmm, most honorable.”

Heinrich drew a long, uneasy draught from his tankard. A clerk hastened to refill it as the prior now stood and set a gentle hand on the baker’s shoulder. Heinrich remembered a warning from Emma: “Be wary of the touch or smile of a churchman!” Heinrich drew a deep breath and waited.

“Worthy baker,” said the prior, “if you had thy freedom, what would you do with it?”

Heinrich answered quickly. He had often imagined exactly what he would do. “I should stay and labor at the bake-house and when m’boys were done their schooling we would travel as free men to other parts where they might work as lawyers or physicians, even men of commerce, and I should join a baker’s guild.”

“Ah, a dreamer are you? We did not realize.”