Pilgrims of Promise(125)
Pieter quickly interrupted. “As thy guest, brother, I do ask some gift of charity from you. I should be most blessed if the young brother could sit by us for a few moments more.”
The guestmaster grimaced. It was a request that put two rules of his order in opposition. The bells of terce rang, and he needed to go to his prayers. He had arrived late at prime that same morning and had missed the first of the three psalms. He knew he shouldn’t press the patience of the abbot. “Well, uh, yes. We are to be hospitable to strangers.” He bowed, prayed quickly over the group, and then scurried to the church.
The happy porter took a seat by his guests. “I am Brother Egidius, named for a beloved porter of this same gate some years past.”
“I am Pieter, once warrior, once student, once monk, once clerk, and now a priest serving the poor of Christendom. These are my fellow journeymen, pilgrims to the holy places.”
After more friendly conversation with the porter, Pieter finally turned the conversation to the matters at hand. “A peasant told us of some terrible things in one of your villages on the night of Sabbath past.”
Egidius nodded. He looked out into the courtyard anxiously. “Well, Father, I am not to speak of these things, but you are a man of the cloth so … well, hear this. The reeve of that village delivered two peasants to our garrison late in the night. One is under suspicion of killing his mother, a beloved monk of ours, and perhaps an abbey guard as well. He foolishly returned from that wretched crusade of children.”
“Why do you call it a ‘wretched crusade?” challenged Friederich, unable to hold his tongue.
“They should never have gone. If only they could have known that God would not ever send them to such certain misfortune.”
“But the Church wanted it!”
Egidius looked closely at the lad and shook his head. “Were you a crusader?”
Pieter answered for him. “Yes, he was a brave soldier for God.”
The monk bowed his head. “I fear the Holy Church did not do enough to dissuade you. Perhaps the fault should be laid at our feet, for we say you ought seek truth from us. I am told that few of your priests ever tried to stop you.”
“And I am told that, here, in this very abbey, a papal legate sounded the call!” Pieter’s face was tight and anger laced his words.
Surprised, the porter faltered. “I … I have heard the same, brother, but I was not here then. I was on a pilgrimage to the tomb at Aachen. It is said the abbot was not pleased. The pope has such an earnest fervor for crusading that it seems his legate may have been overzealous in this matter. I beg thy forgiveness for the error of my brothers.”
Pieter took a deep breath. “Good monk, it is not you who should beg anything. Now, let us let the matter lie. We’ve other business. The young man falsely charged with murdering his mother is being held in your garrison’s jail?”
Egidius looked up with a start. “You know him?”
“We do.”
“I… I surely must not speak of these things, then. You … you deceived me.”
“Brother,” said Pieter in a fatherly tone, “we ask only this of you: do you know what is to happen to the lad and his father?”
“His father?”
“Aye.”
The monk groaned. Looking nervously into the courtyard, he leaned forward and spoke quietly. “I am told they are to be taken to the castle for trial.”
“When?”
“Today.”
“The trial is today?” blurted Friederich.
“No, little brother. They’ll be taken to the dungeon today, but we think the trial is not for several days … maybe at week’s end. Steward Hagan acts as judge in these matters, and he is en route from business elsewhere. Lord Heribert has no interest in things of the court and has just recently left on a pilgrimage to a shrine in the east. ‘Tis all I know.”
Pieter clasped the man’s hand and prayed over him. “With our thanks, brother. Forgive us our deceit.”
Egidius bowed his head. “I do. And what will you do?”
Pieter looked at his companions, then back to the sympathetic monk. “Surely, I shall pray.”
Chapter Twenty
A COLLABORATION OF LOVE
By the bells of sext, most of Weyer’s men had enjoyed a midday meal and were returning to their fields. The day had grown very warm, and the air had become humid. Perspiring and thirsty, Pieter and his worried companions returned to the ridge overlooking the village and scanned the endless green of the landscape beyond. The priest drew a long breath and rested his eyes on a flock of sheep grazing peacefully on a distant slope that was sprinkled with tiny flowers. He smiled. “Oh, if we might only have a day to sleep in the sun in a place like that!”