Pilgrims of Promise(122)

A tall slim woman slipped into the campsite. “Wilda!” cried Tomas and Otto in unison. “Wilda the witch!”

The company froze. The woman smiled and took a place near Tomas. She was tall and graceful and quite beautiful despite her years. She touched Tomas kindly on the arm and turned to the others. “I am Wilda, daughter of Sieghild known as the witch of Münster. I was a witch, like m’mother, though I was baptized on this Easter past by the priest in Münster.”

Pieter stepped forward bravely. He extended his hand. “Welcome, Wilda of Münster.”

The woman smiled and turned her shining blue eyes on Alwin. The knight blushed in the firelight, and his heart fluttered within him. He guessed the woman to be about his own age, perhaps a bit older. Her hair was white, but it was white like a little child’s, not like an aging woman’s. Her skin was smooth, and her eyes twinkled like Pieter’s in the flames. Her smile was warm and tender, conveying an inner joy.

“I am Alwin, Alwin of Villmar.” He bowed.

“I know,” she answered.

Each in turn then made introductions until the circle was completed.

Wilda spoke again. “I’ve spent most of m’life here, near to this stone. Mother and I lived in these woods. We were not welcome in the villages—at least by most of the priests—and when mother was killed, I was still not welcome, save for the monks at Villmar who fed me sometimes.” She looked at Tomas. “I saw you there last summer.”

The young man nodded.

“In the winter past, the new priest in Münster found me by the springs that feed the Laubusbach. I was cold and hungry, and he was kind and fed me. He taught me stories from the Scriptures and showed me to the way of life. I was baptized and then offered a home with a tinker and his wife, where I now live. But I still like to wander this mountain on summer nights.

“I’ve been listening from the wood, and I know your troubles,” she continued. “Mother said the baker, Heinrich, was kindly and was kin to us. She oft wished she had not cast spells on the village on his account, but she was bitter about her past.”

Alwin leaned forward. “Kin?”

Wilda answered, “Ja. She was the baker’s aunt.”

“His aunt? His aunt? I … I don’t think I ever knew of an aunt… Wait! He once said he had an aunt who was raped and disappeared—”

“It was she.”

The circle hushed, and Alwin shifted uncomfortably in his seat. It had long been rumored that some of his own Gunnar kin had raped a woman from Weyer a few years before his birth. He had heard the monks speak of the blood feud between his own family and Heinrich’s. It was said that it was vengeance for this rape that had cost him his father and several uncles, though they had never been proven to be the woman’s attackers.

Pieter invited Wilda to share in some food. He handed her some salted pork and a small wedge of cheese and then sent Maria for a flask of ale. “So, cousin of Heinrich, how can you help us?”

Wilda proceeded to tell all she knew about the charges against Wil; about both Anka’s and Pious’s parts in the accusations; of the last testament of Heinrich’s wife, Marta; and of the taking of the baker’s property.

“You are certain that the bakery is rightly owned by the archbishop now?”

“Yes. Heinrich was declared dead. He had been missing for so long. His widow granted Pious all the family property. When she died, Pious nearly ran to Mainz with his little success, and he came back with new robes and some silver. And, I’m told, he was allowed to add a portion of the bakery revenues to the treasury of the parish.”

Otto cursed. “You know it was Pious who told Wil to give his mother the poison herb?”

Wilda was stunned. “I… I never thought it was Wil, but… but Pious?”

All heads nodded.

“In Münster we thought it was the hag Anka. The dung-hauler said she’d been a false friend to the widow always and had an eye for their land.”

“That is true,” Maria answered. “She was Mutti’s friend, but she always talked about the land.”

“And where was Heinrich all this time? We thought him to be dead.”

“He was first sent to the north to serve the Church against rebels,” Alwin answered. “Then he was caught up in troubles and went to Rome to do penance. He was returning when he found his son … and daughter, as well as these others on crusade. He had hoped to come home to what is his as a freeman.”

Wilda sighed. “It cannot be. He should have known that.”

The knight nodded. “Aye, indeed. None could tell him. It seems he thought he might win the favor of his masters. A fool’s mission, I fear.”