Pilgrims of Promise(178)

“The fee?” asked Alwin.

“Four pennies each to Bremen.”

The group shrugged. It seemed a small price to pay to relieve their sore feet. So they soon found a place of lush grass and deep shade to rest as the time passed. “How long a journey from here?” asked Wilda.

“With stops, it should be seven days to Bremen,” answered Wil.

“Stops?” asked Tomas.

“Aye. They fear to sail by night.”

“So you mean we have seven days before we have to walk again?” exclaimed Friederich with a happy smile.

The group laughed and clapped. It was good news, and for the next hour, a discussion ensued regarding the plans for this final leg of their journey. After a heated argument, it was agreed that, despite Helmut’s protests, they would escort him to his home before continuing their own journey.

“But you’ll be so close to Stedingerland! You could hire a ferry in Bremen and be there within the day.”

Heinrich nodded. “Ja, lad. But we are not going to abandon you until we see you home safely!” The others agreed.

“But Pieter should not travel more than necessary,” lamented Helmut. “Look at him. He is weary and growing weaker each day. Leave me in Bremen, and just travel on directly. I can find m’home easy enough.”

Pieter shook his head. “God’s final gift to me is to see that all my remaining sheep have found their homes. My heart is at peace for Benedetto, but to bid you farewell without the same would take my joy away.”

Helmut fell quiet. Finally he nodded, and the matter was settled.

The August morning was warm. The sky was pale blue and dotted with puffy white clouds. Birds flew above, but to Frieda’s great disappointment, no trio of seabirds could be seen.

“I don’t see them either,” whispered Maria.

“They’re taking the Templars to Poland,” said Katharina with a confident smile. The group nodded, albeit anxiously. Thoughts of the six knights had not been far from any of their minds.

Heinrich had finished an accounting of their money and now lay on his back with his head resting on his hand. He stared upward. Katharina joined him and snuggled by his side in the cool grass. “What are you thinking of, husband?” she asked.

The man did not answer at first. He just stared vacantly at the sky. “I am thinking of Karl,” he finally said sadly. “I think of him always, but especially when the world is still. I miss him more than I can say.”

The woman rested her hand lightly on his heart and said nothing. Together, the couple lay quietly for the next hour, each lost in thoughts of times past. For Katharina the time was one of soul rest. Her spirit was refreshed by the silence and in the gentle rise and fall of her husband’s chest.

Meanwhile, Frieda had found a comfortable seat between some shallow roots of a large tree some distance from the others. She was busy writing again, and, seeing her, Otto and Tomas finally insisted on an explanation.

“You’ve kept the secret long enough, Frieda,” complained Otto.

The young woman put down her quill and blew lightly across the fresh ink. “I suppose I have,” she answered. She pointed to the parchment. “I did not want others to know of this before, because I did not want any to be aware of my listening.”

“What?” Tomas wrinkled his nose.

“I have been collecting what we have been learning for these many months from Pieter, Heinrich, Alwin, and others. They’ve shared great wisdom, and I thought it would be a good thing to write down what we’ve heard so that my children and my children’s children might learn from this hard journey.”

Tomas looked over her shoulder. “You’ve written much.”

Frieda nodded. “I’ll need to put it to better order another time.”

“So you’ve chronicled the journey?”

“Well, not so much the events as the truths.”

Otto stared thoughtfully at the parchment. “You’ve done a good thing. Sometime when we’re old, you must read it to me.”

Frieda smiled. “Indeed, I surely shall.”

It was within a half hour of the bells of sext when Wil assembled his company. He led them quickly to the docks and paid their passage on a stout riverboat. The shallow-keeled craft was built like most of the others seen gliding on the Weser. It was about seven rods in length and made of long, overlapping oak planks fastened together with iron nails. One short mast carried a square sail, and four long oars lay waiting for the crew. Caulked with animal hair, it leaked a little—a condition that gave considerable pause to Maria and Friederich as they stepped gingerly aboard. There were a few squares of decking to sit on, but the rest of the interior was simply heavy spruce beams and knees suspended over a ribbed floor. The boat was loaded with crates and barrels filled with sundry wares: grain, leather goods, salt, ells of cloth, and kegs of beer.