Pilgrims of Promise(56)
“And you do not now?”
Heinrich kept his face fixed on the maid. “I do try. But I know who her father is, and it is not easy to keep my hatred for him from falling upon her.”
A small rustle in the brush turned both men’s heads. Seeing nothing, Pieter faced the baker once more. “Are you certain of the father?”
Heinrich grunted.
“How so?”
“Once I owned a boar with a red ear. Each gilt of the litters he threw had a red ear as well. None others in the village herd had a single red ear, only the gilts of that boar.”
Pieter waited.
“In the same way, Maria bears the mark of someone.”
“Her arm?”
“Nay, not her arm. The village has its share of troubles like that. Most say ‘tis punishment for sin. I say not. We’ve sheep with three legs, swine with half a leg … a calf once with two tails. Nay, ‘tis the way of the world as it is.”
“Then what marks her?”
Heinrich nodded. “‘Ave y’seen the little mole on the girl’s left earlobe?”
Pieter nodded.
“The village has one pig with such a mole, and I’ve known him to be in my home when none else is about.”
“And?”
“Aye. ‘Tis our priest, Father Pious.”
Pieter spat. “Humph. From what Wil says, I ought not be surprised.”
Heinrich darkened. “A pig with the soul of a devil, playing the role of a churchman like some actor at a fair.”
“So you are certain you are not the father?”
With a scowl the baker answered. “I’ve told you, I was banished from her bed long before I left Weyer.”
The pair sat quietly for a few long moments. “You know, good friend, that the maiden is not to blame?” Pieter asked quietly.
“Of course.” The man did not wish the girl to become a symbol of the offense, yet so many voices within him urged he see her as such. His mind turned toward those who had once so eagerly exposed his failings. Hypocrites, he thought. They laid great millstones about my head … they demanded so much suffering from me for my sins yet do not see their own.
Sensing his anguish, Pieter laid a kindly hand on the baker’s tight shoulder. “Seems you have been grievously wronged, my son.”
Heinrich nodded.
Pieter sat thoughtfully. “And ‘tis justice you ache for?”
“Aye!”
“Justice or vengeance?”
The baker hesitated. He wanted to be vindicated, to have the whole truth known. “I… I suppose a bit of both.”
Pieter smiled. “Good, an honest answer. Now, my caution is this: we oft want mercy for ourselves and justice for others.”
Heinrich nodded.
“A very natural thing. Yet my heart tells me you would be truly content to simply have the truth known.”
The baker nodded again. “Ja. Though I think Pious should be stripped of his robes and sent away.”
“Agreed! And may it be so. But for now, consider this: the truth of these matters is known … every bit of it. God sees all; He is perfectly aware of every stain on your heart, on the heart of Pious, and even on the heart of your wife.”
The thought was mildly comforting to Heinrich. He shrugged.
Pieter looked deeply into the man’s face. “Hmm. So, perhaps ‘tis not so much that you want the truth known, as it is that you want it known in a particular way.”
Heinrich shuffled in his place. He had not reasoned through his bitterness nearly so thoroughly. “I… I suppose so.”
“Good! To find a handle on trouble we must first name it. Your problem is particularity. You want someone in particular to know the whole truth. So whom do you wish to know?”
Without hesitation, Heinrich blurted, “Wil.”
Pieter smiled. “Good! You love the boy, and you want him to love you. You think he hates you and judges you unfairly.”
Heinrich was perspiring. He nodded. “Aye.”
“Well, perhaps he does and perhaps he doesn’t. But you can’t make him see. You can’t make him believe what you want him to believe.”
The baker stared into the darkness. “I gave that up long ago, Pieter. I demand nothing from the lad. I wish he knew how much I loved him. I wish he knew that I did not abandon the family for wholly selfish things … though I do confess some wrong desires in my leaving. I was truly in fear for them … in fear of what horrible judgment the sins of my life might bring them. I believed with all my heart that the journey would cleanse me and free them.”
“Perhaps it has,” mused Pieter. “But hardly in the ways you thought!”
Heinrich shook his head. “I fear it has cost them far too much. Pieter, I am not a perfect man, and in that knowledge I have lived a life of fear that has wounded those I love most.”