Pilgrims of Promise(144)
Maria slyly lifted her deformed arm upward. It had been covered with an extra sleeve sewn by Wilda the day before. Inside was Wil’s dagger tied by a thin cord to the girl’s shortened arm. “Hurry,” whispered Maria. “We’ve a plan, but if it fails, you are to have the blade.”
Wil’s fingers flew over the easy knot, and the dagger was released to his grip. With Maria drawn close, he quickly hid it within his tunic. “For hope, then,” he whispered.
The girl kissed Wil on the cheek and turned to Heinrich, who was kneeling alongside. “Oh, little daughter,” he cried softly as he embraced her, “God bless you always.”
“Enough now!” commanded the jailer. “Time’s up!”
With a whimper, Maria bade her brother and her father a sad farewell. They would now need to wait for whatever mystery unfolded, and they’d need to wait in ignorance, very much alone.
Once outside, Maria followed Pieter to the feet of the imposing gallows, where the two stood quietly holding hands. Solomon sat by his master and whined. Pieter, too, hoped their assignment would never be called upon.
In the meanwhile, Frieda had placed Friederich near the end of the judge’s bench, where Lord Heribert’s personal clerk would soon be seated. From here, the scamp might hear something of import. If he did, it was he who could scurry between legs the fastest. Frieda, now under hood, then positioned herself in the general vicinity of the bridge, where she’d eventually need to make contact with the secretary.
Alwin was in the greatest peril of all. Numbers of his former Templar brethren were milling about the castle grounds. They were easy to spot in their cross-emblemed white robes. He hoped that his long beard would help disguise him, and he lifted his hood over his head as he sank into the crowd. His purpose was plain. If other plans failed, he was to command a violent consequence. At his signal, Helmut would be ordered to shoot the judge and then the hangman, while Alwin attacked the guard holding Katharina. Others would rush the judge’s bench and seek to cause enough confusion for Wil or Heinrich to escape. It would be an unlikely victory.
The bailey was rapidly filling with a heavy-footed parade of peasants plodding about in hopes of taking pleasure in the delights of the floggings and the hangings sure to come. At the bells of terce, the judge and his court finally emerged from their chambers.
“It is to begin,” murmured Pieter. “God save us.”
Keeping deep within his hood, Alwin studied the bench and the witness stalls. Where the devil is Pious? he wondered. He turned his face toward Wilda. The sight of her perched atop the distant cart made his heart beat faster. Tall and willowy, she stood like a triumphant herald angel bravely poised for duty. “Oh, Wilda,” he muttered. “If we live the day…”
An inebriated castle priest belched a loud prayer, and the day’s business began. With little delay, Steward Hagan—now acting as Judge Hagan—immediately pronounced several of the accused guilty from prior trials by ordeal. Under the supervision of the court’s bailiff, three days before, hot irons had been laid across the opened hands of those charged, and their unhealed blisters were proof enough of guilt. “Twenty-four stripes,” he shouted. “One for each tribe of Israel and one for each apostle.”
From his post, Tomas thought Hagan looked agitated and distracted. He knew the man would offer little mercy on this day. The young man watched as a long line of others accused passed by the bench with oathhelpers at their sides. They suffered quick judgments on matters of theft, slander, assault, and sundry complaints regarding things such as sawdust in baker’s dough and damage by loose swine. A merchant’s wife testified against her butcher. “I bought the whole cow, but I caught him eating m’tenderloin!” she cried.
A grumbling line of others followed—some petitioning relief from taxes, others claiming unpaid debts. Hagan stood and pointed a long finger at one poor fellow. “Pay him in a fortnight, else lose thy thumbs!”
Lords and their squint-eyed attorneys presented sundry complaints regarding boundaries and violations of contracts. With a yawn and a few nods, Hagan settled these matters by favoring the highest bidder. For Hagan, discerning justice was a rather profitable business.
“There!” cried Maria. “Father Pious has arrived.” The girl pointed to the round priest rolling off a swaybacked donkey.
“Pious!” Pieter closed his eyes. Six things does the Lord hate, yea, seven are an abomination: a proud look, a lying tongue, and hands that shed innocent blood. A heart that devises wicked imaginations, feet that are swift to mischief a false witness that speaks lies, and he that sows discord among brothers.