Before long, the pilgrims settled into a pleasant chatter. Benedetto sang softly for an hour or so, then lulled his fellows to sleep with a lullaby he oft sang in the warm summer nights of his Italian home. No more could be done. Two days would now need to pass, two days that they yielded with some reserve to the watch of a silent Providence.
The days passed slowly to be sure, but they surely passed, and, at long last, Friday’s dawn broke. On the night before, Katharina had taken Alwin to meet with Arnold, and the two had returned safely with news. They huddled with Pieter, and the three reviewed the details of their two plans. Then he, ashen and anxious, looked nervously about his beloved company. The circle of faces staring back at him was tight but determined. A more brave-hearted band of fellows I have never known, the man thought. “Katharina, tell them the plan for Heinrich.”
Katharina looked about at her new friends. “Well, the good news is that the prior has agreed to release Heinrich.”
A happy cry resounded around the ring.
Katharina nodded. “Arnold did well, though he was not able to sway the deal for Wil.” She looked at Frieda.
“I did not expect he could,” the young woman replied. “God’s will be done. We’ve another plan for that.”
Katharina smiled and squeezed Frieda’s shoulder affectionately. “We do need you in this one though.”
“As you wish.”
Katharina faced the others. “Now, Arnold’s plan is a bit more muddled than I would have liked. Listen carefully. I am to meet the prior’s personal guard, a large red-headed soldier named Hann, in the courtyard during the trial. Once Heinrich is released, I shall be his hostage until the parchment is passed to the steward’s secretary.
“Frieda, you will stand by the drawbridge. The secretary knows to look for a ‘blonde damsel under hood’ in that place. He will come to you after Heinrich is released. When you see Heinrich safely away, give the secretary the parchment. He will confirm its contents, then signal the guard who is by me, so that I can be released.”
“And if you are not?” asked Tomas.
The woman shrugged. “Seems that’s the muddy part.”
Alwin answered, “Then blood will spill!”
Pieter shook his head. “I am still not sure of this. What if Heinrich is not released? What if they have guards spotting for the both of you?”
Frieda answered, “I’ll keep hidden until we know for sure. It may be as simple as that.”
“Were you seen by anyone near the abbey … passing officers, pilgrims, monks?” challenged Otto.
Frieda shook her head. “I kept away…. I stayed by the inn. I doubt anyone noticed me.”
Wilda disagreed. “Lads, would you have noticed her?”
The boys blushed. Wilda turned a brow up at Alwin. “And you?”
Alwin looked at the ground and shrugged.
“Well, you’re all liars,” scolded Wilda. “Of course you’d remember her! Look at her! Shapely and young, smooth skinned and fair! What man would forget?” The woman paused. “Nay, listen. I say we should let her be seen near the bridge. She’ll catch their eye quick, and they’ll soon reckon her to be the one. But I will carry the letter. I’ll stay in the shadows and emerge at the proper time.”
Pieter groaned. “We’ve risk here, risk aplenty.”
Heads nodded.
Alwin stepped forward and rested his hands on the two swords in his belt. “Heinrich and Wil have no more time. We’ve no choice but to try as we can, and if we fail, we’ll try to save them by force. Helmut, bring Emmanuel. Maria, are you ready, sister?”
Under the knight’s instructions, Wilda adjusted the sleeves of the little girl’s gown.
“I am, sir.”
The weary priest looked at Maria. “And are you sure, my dear?”
She lifted her chin. “Ja, Papa Pieter. I am.”
Alwin began to pace. Predawn songbirds were now filling the forest with a loud chatter. Mist hung heavy atop the needled ground, and the air was damp and cool. “Now, as for the plan for Wil—everyone knows their part? Otto, Tomas … are you sure of yourselves? You know exactly what to do and when?”
The lads nodded firmly.
Alwin took a deep breath. “Everyone else knows their part? We know our plans and counterplans?”
“We’ve spoken of nothing else for two days!” barked Tomas impatiently.
“Pieter?”
The old man had dropped to his knees again to beg the legions of the heavenly host to “forgive this miserable servant and ready thy swords, fill thy quivers full, and prepare a great slaughter of the unjust. In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen.”