Pilgrims of Promise(165)

“They’ll be questioning the constable or his deputies,” muttered Alwin. “That means we’ve a little time. No one would remember a one-armed man … not with Heinrich’s added sleeve…”

The baker quickly unfurled the false sleeve.

“We’ll need cross the Werra at the bridge, just over there,” said Wil. “It’s our only way. But we can’t get to it without being spotted by guards on the wall.”

“We’re on the town’s north side. The soldiers on these walls haven’t learned of us yet,” blurted Alwin.

“Then load Paulus and let’s be off at once!” barked Wil. He pointed to this bag and that, and quickly studied the campsite for any satchels or provisions left behind. He secured his dagger, bow, and quiver, adjusted his side bag, and checked his wife. The young man then sent his company forward in six pairs at intervals behind Pieter, who led alone with Paulus and Solomon.

Pieter pulled his hood over his head, placed his staff confidently into the ground, and walked as upright as he could. Behind, the twelve waited, and when Pieter set his foot upon the wooden bridge, they began to make their way as well.

Alwin and Wilda followed next. Perspiring under his hood, the knight held Wilda’s hand, and they passed casually beneath the tall, parapeted walls of Münden. They prayed fervently with each step, expecting at any moment to hear the dreaded shout of a sentry. “Do not run, Alwin,” urged Wilda anxiously. She could feel the tightness in the man’s grip, the tension in his legs. She licked her dry lips.

The knight did not answer. He squeezed the woman’s hand all the more. Closer and closer the pair drew until their eyes fell upon the toll-taker standing by a gate on the far side of the bridge. “Oh, God above,” moaned Alwin, “I don’t want to stop for any man at all.”

The pair arrived at the tollgate and waited for the guard to collect coins from those ahead. Alwin reached into his satchel and retrieved two pennies. “It should be enough,” he whispered.

When the guard came to the couple, he paused. He ordered Alwin to throw back his hood. “Why d’ye wear it on a hot day as this?”

Alwin’s mouth was parched, and he faltered. It was Wilda who spoke. “He’s a pilgrim under vow. He’s not to let the sun light his hair for three months, sir.”

The guard grunted. “Humph. Two coins, then, and be on yer way.”

Alwin dropped the silver into the man’s hand and avoided the fellow’s suspicious eyes. He turned his face toward the roadway ahead and hurried along, greatly relieved.

The others followed in turn and without incident. Soon they gathered together a half league north of Münden and made their way into a thicket off the side of the road. Friederich and Tomas were immediately sent back to spy the highway and the bridge as Wil ordered the rest of the company to sink deep into the heavy forest.

It was after the bells of sext when the spies returned. “We saw only one rider,” panted Tomas. “No Templars were on the road, and none were by the bridge.”

“One rider?”

“Aye. He dashed over the bridge and down the highway. In about an hour he came back.”

“I thought as much,” said Alwin. “I tell you, Wil, we must hurry away. I’ve said it before; they’ve an unearthly sense about them. I know… I was one of them!”

As though on cue, the whole of the company suddenly looked up at the sound of seabirds ciying overhead. “They’re telling us to hurry,” said Maria calmly. “Listen to them.”

Indeed, the birds’ shrieks were crisp and demanding. Wil was in no mood for either mystics or doubters. “Birds or not, we need to hurry away.” With that, the thirteen scrambled to the roadway and rushed northward. Above, three seagulls swooped and soared ahead of the hurrying column, ciying loudly. The day was hot and steamy. The Weser, flowing to the travelers’ left, ran hard, but the trees to their right stood limp like exhausted giants parched by sun. Their leaves were curled and silvery, their branches drooping like weary arms. For once, the forest did not look inviting.





Chapter Twenty-six

THE BEES OF RENWICK



Are we wise to keep on the highway, Wil?” quizzed Pieter from his perch atop Paulus. The lad considered the question. “We have a lead on them. We can make better time on the road than in that brush.”

Alwin wasn’t so sure. “Wil, once they think we’ve left Münden, they’ll charge down this road again. They’ll know we eluded them, but they also know we’re on foot and easy to catch.”

“How long for them to search the town?” asked Otto. The boy was red faced and sweating profusely. He was thirsty like the others.