Pilgrims of Promise(175)
Later, the guests were treated to a summer feast of woodland fare: venison, hare, mushrooms, and boiled greens. To this was added honey-laced bread, lentils and peas, bowls of early kraut, and turnips. Beer was not plentiful, though mead surely was, and the company was more than content to slake their thirst with the sweet taste of the honey drink. The night passed easily, and the next day was pleasant.
It was late on Wednesday evening when the village scouts returned to give their report to the friar. “They’ve followed the birds far to the east,” said one of the dwarves as he removed his rucksack. “We saw them yesterday about noontime. They had just finished a rest in the valley by Schönhagen. Then we followed them southeast for several hours until the birds turned straight east again, toward the long ridge beyond Escherdorf. From there they came to the highway leading northeast. We stayed on the ridge and watched them hurry along that road until it was too dark to see. We waited this morning to see if they’d double back, but they never came … nor did the birds.”
“Well done!” cried Oswald. “Now feed yourselves well and spend the morrow at rest!”
Wil extended his hand to grasp those of the scouts. “Many thanks to you,” he said respectfully.
The four men nodded and then hurried away for a good meal and a song with Benedetto.
“We’ll leave at prime,” announced Wil.
His company nodded and soon made their way to their beds, save Benedetto, who spent some time walking about the village with Solomon. Renwick was pleasant by day and peaceful by night, and the moon set midst a few harmless snorts and snores of those resting in deep slumber. Then, as on countless predawn days gone before, the cocks crowed loudly just before the rising of the sun. At the sound, the village began to stir, and soon the summer hearth fires scattered about the footpaths glowed with fresh tinder. Sleepy housewives lugged kettles to the spits, and before long, water for morning mush bubbled and steamed.
Heinrich stepped into the gray dawn, yawning. Others slowly climbed from their beds. They had enjoyed three nights of good sleep under a sound roof. Stretching and belching, they assembled out-of-doors as the sun cast its first light into the woodland. They smelled the burning fires and walked toward their provisions, which were arranged near the tethered Paulus. They dug through their satchels and retrieved salted pork, some cheese, and a few flasks of mead.
Friar Oswald arrived with a small delegation of villagers. They presented the company with fresh-baked bread and a wealth of good wishes. The monk took Wil aside and gave him a strange bundle that was quickly placed deep within a basket on Paulus’s flank. Gifts were then presented to the others. Traugott stepped forward and proudly presented Heinrich with a new eye patch. It was made of soft sheepskin, kneaded and pounded so that it had the feel of fine velvet.
The baker held it in his hand and marveled. “I… I have no words, sir.”
Traugott beamed, then pointed to the design he had neatly embossed. “What you cannot see, God sees,” he said.
Heinrich held his new patch out for the others. On it was etched the triangle of the Trinity surrounding an opened eye. “It is wonderful, Traugott. I thank you from my heart.”
The leather worker turned to Maria. “And for you, dear sister.” He held out a small headband, also of softened sheepskin. “Wear it over your golden hair, and in it you may put the many flowers you pick.”
Maria squealed with delight and let the leaning man place his band over her head. She kissed him on the cheek and curtsied.
To the surprise of the rest, others stepped forward and presented more gifts. Katharina was given a colorful scarf from the weaver, Wilda a tin brooch, Alwin a silver clasp for his long hair. Frieda was presented with a drawstring pouch to be tied on her belt. Friederich and Otto were presented slings from two of the village boys, and Tomas was handed a dagger from the smith. The blade was crude but sharp.
“A freeman needs the tools to keep his freedom,” the smith said. He looked at the lad with a crooked smile that brought both admiration and pity to Tomas’s heart.
Tomas received the gift from the man humbly. “I … I thank you, good sir. The lords fear freemen with a good blade.”
The smith nodded and Friar Oswald interrupted. “They are fools. Quemadmoeum gladis nemeinum occidit, occidentis telum est.”
Wil translated: “‘A sword is never a killer; it is a tool in a killer’s hand.’ Well said, Friar.” The young man smiled and drew his own dagger. He had no sooner done so when another stepped forward to present him with a fine deerskin sheath.
“To keep it clean,” the giver said. Wil bowed.