The guard was young and alert. “Who goes there?” He leveled his lance.
“Five pilgrims from Egypt bound for Cologne.” Alwin tossed back his hood and took a posture of friendliness.
“Egypt?”
“Ja, my brother. And we have visited ourselves to holy relics throughout our journey. I have touched the hem of the Holy Virgin’s veil and prayed over the bones of St. Amphibalis. We have all worshiped at the blood of St. George, and this fine lad has climbed the Scala Santa in Rome. Ah, good soldier, we are well blessed and happy, but we are sleepy and hungry, too! Here, my friend, a coin touched to the tooth of St. Stephen.”
The guard reached toward a silver penny lying dull and tarnished in Alwin’s opened palm. He picked it up reverently and kissed it, then dropped it in a pouch at his belt. “With thanks, pilgrim. Please, knock for the porter.”
Alwin rapped loudly on the wooden gate as Tomas sank deeper into his hood. After waiting patiently, he knocked again, and a sleepy porter pulled the heavy door open. “Thanks be to God,” he mumbled.
“Your humble brethren beg entrance, brother monk,” answered Alwin with a bow.
The porter stepped aside and gave the visitors entrance. Closing the door, he raised a torch to see the faces of his guests and recited sleepily, “He who is hungry is welcome; he who is weary may find rest with us.”
Alwin bowed. “We are pilgrims, brother. We come from Egypt and are traveling to our homes in Cologne. We have silver to buy a bit of bread and perhaps some wine.”
The porter yawned. “Ja, my friend. We’ve an alms box by the guesthouse, and the poor of this manor are grateful. Our guestmaster is asleep, as is the prior. The abbot is entertaining other guests, so you must forgive us if I tend to you myself.”
“We are but humble pilgrims, brother. We need not bother any other.”
The porter quietly led the group across the abbey grounds. The moon was up but shrouded in a clouded sky that seemed to grow more oppressive as the night passed. A few smoky torches hung on some walls, but they cast only a poor yellow light into the heavy shadows. The pilgrims walked by the bakery and brewery … both known by their smells, then passed a barn of some sort and the granary now beginning to fill with oats. Far to their left, in the center of the abbey, stood the dark lines of the main cloister and the towers of its church.
“Your abbey seems large and prosperous, at least by night!” chuckled Alwin.
“It is. And it is growing. Rumors are that we’ve more lands in Saxony to add to our holdings. Lands there and now some near Toulouse, in France.”
“Ah, Toulouse, yes. I’ve spent some time in that region as a knight. I drew the sword against the Cathari for the glory of the Church.”
The porter stopped and turned. “You are a crusader, then?”
Alwin bowed.
“We are given lands taken from those heretics. It must be God’s pleasure to have you come to us. Your sword has blessed this place! Now, my lord, I shall serve you a feast!”
Alwin had hoped to ingratiate himself to the young porter, but he had not wanted to draw undue attention. “No, good brother, please, I beg thee. I… I need not feed my pride with such kindness. I do, however, have a special place in my heart for a good wine. Might you lead us to your cellar? Perhaps allow me to choose the wine you would serve?”
“Indeed, my brother! Indeed! Follow me!”
The porter turned left sharply and hurried toward the imposing silhouette of the main cluster of buildings. The pilgrims’ hearts pounded as they drew nearer their goal.
“Brother, it is dark, but methinks fine masons built this place,” said Alwin. “In Limoges I once took refuge in an abbey that had grown so that it built a separate chamber for the abbot’s secretary and the prior’s office.”
The porter stopped and pointed to a large new addition that reached into the courtyard. “Well, we’ve kept as much as possible together, so we all are as one. But the abbot’s office and the prior’s are now there.”
“Oh,” said Helmut. “And I suppose your abbot has himself a fine window above to keep an eye on the novices!”
The porter smiled. “Ja, ‘tis true enough. Abbot Udo is a humble man, but I know he loves the high window. I believe he repents of it secretly, however. At chapter he once said he would have gladly given the better view to the prior, but since the prior’s knees are bad, he says he thought it better if he’d suffer the steps instead.”
“No doubt,” chuckled Alwin. He gave Helmut a covert glance of approval.
As they approached the cloister, the porter said more. “There it is. See, the abbot’s office is directly on the corner, so he has two windows. His prior is directly beneath, and sometimes they call to one another through their windows. They both have the southern wall, so they get most of the day’s sun.