Pilgrims of Promise(30)
“No!” interrupted Pieter impatiently. “Hear me. We come in search of two fair-haired maidens left in your care a fortnight or so before St. Michael’s.”
The prior nodded. “Ah, si. Brother Chiovo spent many an hour with them.”
“And?” blurted Pieter.
The man lowered his head. “Ah, mein Freund, Brother Chiovo served them day and night by the reliquary of the church. He had hoped the relics might bring a miracle. For one, it seems they did, God be praised. But for the other blessed cherub, they did not. She died and was buried beneath the olives on the fourth day of October … a bright Thursday. I remember it well. No sadder day has so darkened the sun in this place.”
Tears began to course down the pilgrims’ cheeks. They stood bravely and waited as the prior continued. “The two of them shall have a place in our hearts forever. They brought joy to all and served one another so very devotedly.”
Pieter was now trembling and dismayed. He finally blurted. “Tell us!” he cried. “Who is buried here?”
The prior answered sadly, “The child called Anna.”
No one said a word. The boys rocked awkwardly on their feet. Pieter was dumbstruck. Confused by opposing emotions, he squeezed his staff and groaned inwardly. He could not imagine that Maria had survived. It was beyond comprehension. Yet neither could he imagine the loss of Anna. She had been in improving health when he kissed her farewell. Her eyes had been bright and keen. Indeed, the man grieved for her loss, but grief had not been his first emotion—relief was, and he felt ashamed. “I … I have no words,” the old man muttered. He looked down and shook his head. What manner of man am I? he wondered.
“Did she suffer?” blurted Otto.
The prior answered gravely. “Si… I fear some, lad. On St. Michael’s Eve a fever spread over her quickly. Brother Chiovo feared cerebritis, for the girl complained of severe pain in her head.”
Heinz wiped tears off his face. “Was she happy here?”
“Yes, my son. Very. She cared for Maria with great joy and laughed often with the other oblates in our care. And Maria recovered in time for the two to play happily for a few days before the fever came. But come, let us walk to the grave.”
The pilgrims followed the old monk slowly through the cloister grounds until they stood before the grave the boys had seen earlier. Solomon curled up alongside the sagging mound of earth and laid his chin atop the pine branches. “Maria comes each week with a fresh wreath.”
Pieter and his boys stood respectfully silent by Anna’s grave for a few moments. The old man then knelt and prayed over her remains. “Now may the Lord of peace Himself give you peace always in every way.” Pieter stood and turned to the prior. “Thanks be to God for your care of them both. His ways are His alone. May the little one rest well.
“But I now needs ask of Maria. Is she here with the other children?”
“Nay, my friend. Before he left for Rome, our abbot instructed us to send Maria to the castle.” He pointed to the fortress perched high above the shore. “It seems the girl accompanied Chiovo on his trips to serve the old lord, and the lord’s lady fancied her. She paid a handsome sum to have the child released to her own household.”
Pieter groaned and faced the imposing castle. “Well, we’ve come to take her home.”
The prior shrugged. “A problem, perhaps. Signore Salito is very ill, and the girl brings him comfort. She and another sing to him.”
Pieter darkened. “They have no right to hold her!”
The prior said nothing, and the boys felt suddenly nervous.
“Maria belongs with us!” stated Pieter flatly. “Shell be no servant to any! Brother, many thanks for your kindness and good care of our girls. May God’s bounty fall upon all who served them, but if our little sister Maria has suffered in that castle, then I pray God’s wrath consume your abbot!”
“But, sir, I vow to you—”
“Come, lads. We need be about our business!” With that command, Pieter planted his staff hard into the earth and spun around. He led his two boys and his trotting dog quickly through the courtyards of the cloister and out the portal.
“Should we not have made a thanks gift to them?” quizzed Otto.
“Humph! It would seem the lord has paid our debt for us.” Pieter’s anger did not fade. He had very much hoped that Maria would greet them within the safe boundaries of the monastery. Now he had no idea what kind of circumstance the girl was enduring. Grinding his gums, the old fellow marched through Arona. He focused all his anger on the castle looming over the town’s walls and prayed for an army of angels to sweep from heaven’s gate and stand by him. What if they refuse us? he wondered. What if they will not release her?