Heinrich looked at the donkey with a satisfied smile. The beast was strong—he’d be a great asset for the journey. But more than that, he had been loaded with a generous stock of provisions that were tied in bundles hanging heavily across his back. “So many gifts!” the man exclaimed.
Eager hands quickly dug through sacks and bedrolls strewn about the ground as well. “Olives and fish!” cried Rudolf.
“Flatbread and spelt!” added Heinrich.
“Ja,” laughed Wil. “And see here, arrows and string for me, blankets and cord, ells of wool and thread, flints, rope, salt—even fat scraps for Solomon.”
“Salt?” exclaimed Pieter.
“Ja! A fortune in salt!”
Helmut foraged through a large bag. “Pots and a kettle, a ladle and tongs … a dozen knives …”
Maria laughed. “She said we were barbarians and ought not eat with our fingers!” The girl turned her face upward, and her smiling eyes accidentally met Heinrich’s gaze. She held her smile shyly and hoped. For these weeks, the little maid had longed to hear the man call her “daughter,” and she could not understand his apparent indifference. She had been told by Wil that he was her father, yet he had never said a word of it. She had heard the others prod him, and though he had not been unkind, his heart had not warmed to her. She longed for him to find her worthy of his love. Her gaze lingered and held the man’s attention for a moment, and then he looked away. Maria’s chin quivered and her heart sank.
Otto and Benedetto opened a small bag and showed it to Frieda. “Honeycomb and berry preserves. God’s blessings upon that woman!”
Tomas had spent the previous weeks quietly. Though still somewhat distant from the others, he had taken the first steps toward reconciliation by sharing both work and respite. Now he tugged hard on the cork of a long clay bottle. With a loud “pop” it came out, and he held his nose to the opening. “Humph,” he grumbled. “Olive oil.”
“Good for most anything, lad,” chuckled Pieter. “And see here, a set of wallets filled with herbs. We’ve horehound and dock for coughs, ground lemon rind for whitlow, garlic of course, and here’s tansy, wormwood, thyme, lady’s mantle for headaches, licorice for the belly, flaxwood, nettles … God be praised!”
“And you stay away from those figs!” cried Otto.
Pieter grinned sheepishly. “Aye, lad, indeed.”
Wil ordered his company to resecure Paulus’s load before arranging the column. When all was in order, he faced his fellows quietly, then spoke in earnest. “We’ve a long journey ahead, and we know little about what faces us. I am in command, though Pieter and …” he glanced briefly at Heinrich and forced himself to continue. “And my … father … are our counselors.”
The sound of the word father comforted the baker.
“Otto,” continued Wil, “you are my sergeant.”
Frieda stifled a giggle. She leaned toward Maria and whispered, “The great general thinks he’s in command of a mighty army!”
Hearing her, Wil quickly blushed. “Well … now, Pieter and Maria follow behind me with Paulus. Herr Heinrich and Frieda are to be next, then Benedetto, Heinz, Otto, then Tomas, Rudolf, and Helmut. We need the rear well guarded.”
Frieda was a little disappointed. Though she enjoyed Heinrich’s stories, she would rather have walked alongside Wil. The baker leaned toward her and smiled. “Not to worry. After a day hell miss you, too.” He winked.
Wil continued. “We’ve agreed that we should follow our old route north to Weyer. A merchant in the castle told me that returning crusaders are being treated badly in the northland. Seems we failed in our faith and are now hated for it. So we must be clever and careful. As before, we’ll not be near many monasteries, so we’ll need to protect one another.
“Along the way we hope to find Friederich and Jon where we left them. Rudolf, we’ve hopes of returning you to your family.” He turned to Helmut. “After we reach Weyer, you’ll need find a way to your home.”
The lad nodded.
“Frieda …” Wil was in a bit of a predicament. “I … we … have you a plan for yourself?”
The girl paled slightly, but she set her face proudly and lifted her chin. “Well, master, I suppose my home is still in Westphalia. Perhaps Helmut can escort me there after we reach Weyer.”
Wil threw a hard glance at the beaming Helmut. “I see.” He squeezed his hands into fists. “And Benedetto, your wish?”
The little minstrel shrugged. “Once I thought I might find the village of my childhood, but I doubt it would feel like home to me now. The dock holds me no more. It seems I belong with all of you.” He reached a tiny hand toward Maria and crooned,