Pilgrims of Promise(109)
“Your baker’s mark,” she said.
The baker nodded. “Ja. I etched it on this streambed stone before I left as a keepsake from home. Your husband and his brother made the shape. It was long ago along some dusty footpath.”
“Ha!” laughed Wil. “I remember the day. Karl was so happy. He saw the cross in the He saw the cross in everything.”
Heinrich smiled. “No artisan in all the empire could have done as well as you two. I stamped it into a thousand loaves, methinks, and each one with pride.”
Alwin laughed. “Only you would stamp oat bread!”
The company chuckled. “Tis true enough. I thought the poor should be granted a bit of art as well as all the others,” answered Heinrich.
The baker knelt by the stream and let its waters rush over the little stone. “I baked bread for the table, but Emma gave us the bread of life. I shall miss her always.”
Wil squatted by his father’s side. “I remember playing in her gardens, and I remember how she’d hug me and I’d disappear in her bosoms!” The group laughed. “I used to run from her so I’d not smother!”
“Ha! Ha!” roared Heinrich. “I remember well.”
“And what of the Magi?” quizzed Frieda. “I’ve heard so much about the Magi.”
Wil pointed upstream. “There, a quarter hour’s walk or so. They were like three giants protecting us from all danger.”
Maria giggled. “I was lost once, but I saw them and then I could find my way home.”
“Lost?”
The girl blushed.
“Ja?” scolded Frieda playfully. “That’s two times now!”
Heinrich stood and faced Alwin. “You, me, and Brother Lukas had some adventures here of our own.”
The knight nodded. “Indeed. You saved my life once. Not far over that ridge.” He turned toward the village and drew a deep breath. “My beard is long now and my hair as well. I’ve not been here since you left. I doubt any will remember me.
Pieter was concerned. “If they do, you’ll be arrested by the reeve. No doubt word of your troubles has found this place. Heinrich, how many bear arms in the village?”
The baker turned to his son. “Wil?”
“We’d about a dozen freemen last year, counting old Oskar and that dimwit Rolf of Metz. So I’d venture about ten worth fearing. Only Ludwig has a crossbow; the others have swords, and methinks Yeoman Franz has a halberd. Only he and Yeoman Rudi serve in combat; the others pay the scutage. But everyone hides slaughter blades, and many have pig mallets, which are as good as a warrior’s hammer.”
At the mention of Ludwig, Heinrich scowled. The man was Katharina’s cruel husband.
Pieter frowned. “So you’ve a full tithing to face if the reeve sounds the horn. And you’d have the others with their hoes and mallets and such.” He faced Heinrich and Wil. “You two would not easily raise arms against your own, and you, Alwin, knight or no, would be badly outnumbered. All of us would soon be bound, gagged, and hauled away.” He set his finger by his nose and thought carefully. “We needs have a care. Weyer was once home to some of you, but it may no longer be. Can y’not check on your wife and bakery without the whole place knowing?”
Heinrich thought carefully. “This is Sunday, and most are either drunk or sleeping….”
“We can wait until dark and find Herwin,” blurted Tomas.
“Herwin!” cried Heinrich. “Is he still alive?”
“Aye!”
“He must be old by now.” Heinrich was smiling. “He’s as good a man as ever walked the earth. He loves the soil almost as much as he loves his wife.”
“Loved his wife, Father. Varina died on Martinmas Eve the year you left.”
Heinrich groaned. Varina was a good woman, and she had brought great joy to Herwin. “And what of their children?”
“Wulf lives with Herwin along with a wife and one son. Irma died in childbirth about two years ago. The other girls married men from Oberbrechen and Selters.”
“Enough reminiscing, Heinrich. What’s our plan?” Alwin said with an impatient bite. “I see a group assembling for a Sabbath forest walk over there, and more are starting to mill about. I’d not want us seen until we’re ready.”
Heinrich nodded and stared across the stream into the village. “My bakery is just beyond those sheds. Since we’re here, let me have a quick look.”
Pieter frowned. “If you must, but hurry and, by heaven, don’t be seen!”
Stooping low behind the cover of brush, the baker and his son left the others and made their way across the ford toward the bakery standing just beyond a shed. They crept slowly and cautiously forward, then stretched their heads to have a look.