Fill thy goblets! Fill thy platters!
Sing with lute a kettle song!
What we claim here now doth matter:
With each other we belong.
The song over, a mad rush to kiss the bride ensued, and Heinrich cried, “Now we need to feast!”
Paulus had been standing quite peacefully by the tree to which he was tethered. His big eyes widened in fear as a rush of many hands flew toward him and the sacks tied fast to his back. Honey was quickly retrieved and poured atop loaves of Meiringen bread, while cheese was melted in the pot atop a hastily built campfire. Soon eager hands dipped bread into the bubbling mixture, while others passed flasks of beer. Strips of salted pork disappeared with speed, and even Tomas was prevailed upon to enjoy fingersful of berry preserves.
Benedetto strummed a ballad to which all danced the ring dance. Pieter brought tears of laughter to all as he frolicked about the circle in his rolling gait. He was as happy as a schoolboy released to the sunshine! The warm breeze tousled his thin white hair and beard, and his bony limbs creaked loudly with every step. Soon the old fellow was panting, and he staggered to the fire to rest.
From there, Pieter watched his beloved friends laughing and singing. The old man chuckled, and his heart swelled with love. “I am richly blessed, Solomon. Richly blessed indeed!”
As twilight descended on the merry camp, Heinrich knew the bride and groom would soon be off. “Pieter,” he cried, “methinks we’ll make camp here tonight?”
The old priest laughed loudly. “Ja, I am sure of it!”
The baker then called for his son and for Frieda. In moments, they and the whole of the company gathered together. Heinrich took Frieda’s hand. “My dear, with my son’s permission, I should find it a great joy to call you ‘daughter.’”
Wil nodded. “Indeed, sir.”
Heinrich embraced the girl. “We are family now. We belong to one another.”
Frieda took the baker’s hand. “I am honored to call you ‘Father,’ sir.” She smiled.
Heinrich then turned to his son. He extended his hand tentatively toward the lad and laid it gently on his shoulder. “I am proud of you this day, Wil. I wish you and your bride every good thing under heaven.” He closed his eye, then repeated what he had offered each of his sons at his birth. It was the blessing his own father had given him at his baptism.
For this circle of kin I vow
To stand by you (both) and humbly bow
To God above and blood below To join our hands against all foes.
I pray you courage and arms as steel,
A mind of wisdom, a heart that feels.
Though battles may find you, may each one be won,
Your eyes turned toward heaven and lit by the sun.
Wil’s throat tightened. He said nothing but nodded.
The baker then reached inside his tunic and retrieved something wrapped in a cloth. He looked at Frieda and at Wil. “I should like to give you both this thing as a token of a father’s hope. Son, methinks you’ll be the one to bear it, but it is to be borne for Frieda’s well-being as well as your own. Take this and know that I love you both.” He extended the gift to Wil’s opened hands.
The groom received the present carefully, both eyes fixed on Heinrich. “Thank you, Father.”
Frieda waited patiently as Wil turned his gaze to the thing lying in his palms. He removed the cloth, and the circle clapped. It was the Stedinger blade. “I… we shall treasure it always! Many thanks.” Wil leaned toward his father and embraced him shyly. Heinrich’s heart soared.
Frieda smiled and touched the polished steel lightly. “What is the inscription, Father?”
“Father?” Heinrich smiled. “Ah, my dear girl. Yes. It says, 'vrijheid altijd,’ which means ‘freedom always.’ It is the language of the Stedingers of whom I have spoken. Freemen in a free land. Would that you both shall be free, like them.”
The bride kissed the man on the cheek.
Pieter touched Wil on the shoulder. “And, good sir, I’ve a gift as well.” He turned to Frieda. “Since Wil shall carry your gift from Heinrich, I should like you to bear this little gift I give to the two of you. Like the dagger, it is to be carried for the well-being of you both.” The old priest opened his bony hand and offered Frieda his treasured Scripture.
The girl gasped. She took the parchment in her hand and held it lightly to her breast. “Oh, Father Pieter. Danke sehr.… I’ve no words.”
The priest laid his hands on each of their heads. “Love one another always. It is your privilege as man and wife and as children of God.”
The newlyweds thanked everyone for their good wishes and even cast a halfhearted wave to Tomas watching from some distance. Now blushing, they made their way nervously to the soft ferns of the shadowed woodland standing a respectful distance from the glade.