The old man’s eyes twinkled. He loved the excitement of it all. “A lot to win! Have no fear, baker. No fear!”
“All is in order,” announced the magistrate. “Blindfold the girl.”
Maria’s eyes were bound beneath a wide strip of black cloth, and she was led by the official to a long table where three stacks of varied numbers of cheeses had been piled. The crowd fell silent as she reached forward to the first stack. Her fingers were guided to the bottom row and she moved them slowly along the table, counting each out loud. “I count twelve,” she announced. The crowd hushed as the little girl stood quietly. The priest began reciting his first “Ave.” He had barely finished when the girl blurted, “Seventy-eight!”
The merchant paled. The tyke was correct.
Maria was taken to the next pile, which had seventeen cheeses on the bottom row. The priest began reciting his “Ave,” this time more hastily. He finished the second recitation. Hushed and anxious, the crowd pressed forward. Father Mattias was standing with clenched fists, slurring the words as he began the final recitation of the race. “Ave Maria gratia plena. Dominustecum…”
Maria was struggling. “Um …”
“Benedictatuinmulieribusetbenedictus…”
The pilgrims held their breath. Pieter gripped his staff with a white fist, and Otto stared open mouthed. The villagers ground their teeth.
“One hundred thirty-six!” shouted the girl.
Mattias groaned with the crowd, then finished. “… mortis nostrae, Amen.”
Panicked hands now crawled over the stack to confirm the count. “Ach!” shouted Hartman. “One hundred thirty-six!” The blindfolded maid was led to the final pile. She took a deep breath, then counted nine on the bottom as Father Mattias began again.
This time, the poor priest had barely said his first Amen before the girl chirped, “Forty-five!”
Astonished, Heinrich removed the girl’s blindfold as the villagers began to jeer and curse. The count was confirmed, and Hartman, Father Mattias, and Pieter quickly huddled with the magistrate, who then announced, “Hear me! Silence! The girl’s right with her count … on each. The wager is declared in favor of these … these pilgrims.”
Furious, the crowd grew louder and more surly. Heinrich hastily dumped all the coins into his satchel and ordered Otto and Maria to load Paulus with the food they had won as quickly as possible. Standing between two armed guards, Pieter climbed atop a barrel and pronounced a sarcastic blessing on the hapless men of Meiringen; then he smiled. With his yellow snaggletooth exposed by a cavernous grin as wide as the Aare Valley, the old fellow pointed to his dear little one and proclaimed, “Ave Maria!”
Chapter Ten
LOVE IN THE BRÜNIG PASS
Wil and his company rolled with laughter when they heard the story of the cheese told by Pieter that evening around a snapping campfire. “But how, Maria? How did you do it?”
The little girl was embarrassed by the attention but explained how Signora Cosetta had spent many hours teaching her mathematics. “Then a very old Persian man came to see the signor, and he taught me the secret of the triangle. I practiced a lot… but never told Pieter!”
Heinrich finished his meal and stared at the torches of Meningen. A feeling of uneasiness crept over him. “Methinks we need to leave at once. We should keep the fire ablaze to make them think we’re here, but we ought to move on now. We left them angry and poor.”
Wil agreed. So, well fed and in high spirits, the pilgrims hurried away from Meiringen under the silvery light of a half-moon. They traveled across the flat valley throughout the night and paused at daybreak for a brief rest at the first ascent into the Brünig Pass. Refreshed, they prepared to march again as the early morning sun cast brilliant color and shadow across the rock cliffs before them. The group marveled at the sight.
“It looks different coming this way,” said Otto. “I don’t remember those cliffs.”
“The world always looks different when your vantage point changes,” mused Pieter.
“I think it’s the most beautiful sight yet,” sighed Frieda. She cast a sidelong glance at Wil and smiled.
Pieter nudged Heinrich with a knowing look. “Something seems afoot with those two,” he whispered.
The baker chuckled. “Methinks you’re right. ‘Tis plain they have feelings for each other. I only wonder whether Wil sees what an uncommon lass Frieda is. Surely his head will soon follow where his heart is leading. He has long been a boy of good sense, though stubborn at times.”
“Aye,” agreed Pieter, laughing.