Morning broke with a fresh August breeze. It was quickly decided that the group would not enter Kassei but would spend the day quietly at rest. The women were to tend to Pieter and to put their provisions in some order, while the men and boys would scout the highway. Alwin believed that the Templars were either close behind—in which case they might be seen entering Kassel’s gates that very day, or they were ahead—in which case it would be good to let them go farther. “But if they’ve gone ahead,” the knight said, “well need to keep a sharp eye for their return. They are not easily fooled.”
“As I’ve said, they have no idea where we went from Marburg!” protested Heinrich. “We could have run in any direction. Even Godfrey does not know our plan.”
Alwin shrugged. “I feel better about it now than a few days ago, but I know them. They’ve the instincts of master huntsmen.”
Wil agreed. “Stedingerland will wait for us. Each league makes us safer, but we are not safe. I think we are right to do this slowly.”
The day quickly passed without any sight of the dreaded Templars, and night fell lightly on a company now beginning to relax. Conversations became lighthearted, even jovial. Pieter had slept throughout the day and was now surprisingly refreshed. He ate a small supper and began to recount tales of his youth.
Wilda and Alwin walked slowly away from the camp toward a nearby clearing where they stared dreamily into the starry canopy above. They spoke of many things and as their hands brushed, the touch felt warm to them both. Alwin looked into Wilda’s face uneasily. “Wilda, is it true that you are Heinrich’s cousin?”
“Did he tell you that?”
Alwin nodded.
“It is so. My motherwas his aunt, his father’s sister.”
“And who was your father?”
“I do not know. My mother was raped by a pack of wicked shepherds.”
“Gunnars,” said Alwin sadly. “They were my kin.”
Wilda’s face fell, and she did not answer at first. She shifted subtly away from the man. “I… I thought that was a rumor.”
Alwin shook his head. “No, dear Wilda. It is true. Heinrich and I have spoken of the feud of our fathers. It was some of my kin who raped your mother … and someone of Heinrich’s who killed my father.”
Wilda wrung her hands. “It may be that we have the same father then!”
Alwin’s throat swelled. He had grown to love this woman, but the knowledge of their pasts could ruin it all. “Nay, ‘tis not so. Neither my father nor his brothers were involved in the attack. Yet surely our house has paid for its many sins against your kin.”
Wilda turned her back on the handsome knight and walked a few paces away. She had begun to love this man. “I know not what to say. ‘Tis a horrible thing that was done to my mother—it ruined her life … and mine.”
Unable to restrain his heart any longer, Alwin strode toward the woman and turned her face to his. Holding her shoulders firmly, he asked, “Can you find it within to forget the sorrow? You must, if you can … for I love you, Wilda.”
Wilda buried her face in the man’s heaving chest. Weeping, she could not answer.
The next day delivered the quiet company past numbers of mills sprinkled along the woody banks of the Fulda River. The meadows had widened, but the slopes on either side of the river rose steeply. The column kept to the forests as much as possible, making the walking rather difficult for that day and the next. Finally, they came within view of the newly built gatehouse of the walled town of Münden, and they paused to decide whether they should venture within or not.
“We need beer or mead, Heinrich,” offered Katharina. The woman had kept a careful count of their shrinking provisions. It seemed they had left some items in Marburg after all. “And we’re low on meat. We’ve salt enough and a few wheels of cheese. But the bread is gone, and I’ve only a little grain for Mus.”
“I say we ferry across in separate groups,” said Tomas. “Heinrich, methinks you are a risk, what with your one arm and patch. Can we not add a sleeve to your tunic like we did with Maria? If any is searching at all, it’d be for a one-armed man.”
The idea was met with approval.
“Ja,” answered Katharina. “Indeed I can. Well tear cloth from a sack.”
“Good!” said Alwin. “Good indeed. We’ll cross in three groups and meet back here by the bells of nones. Like in Basel, each group should buy a set thing.”
It was agreed. Over the next two hours, three groups crossed the Fulda at intervals and warily entered the town of Münden through its south gate. The inscription above them was troubling. It was worn and in a difficult script. Pieter squinted. “I believe it says, They faded away, but their ghost lives on, an everlasting reminder of our duty.’ Dialect perhaps?”