Tomas laid hold of one shoulder and Heinrich the other as they helped the struggling Alwin to his feet. Heinrich quickly studied the Galgenberg. He checked to make sure he had his sword and that nothing was left behind. “Steady him,” he said to Tomas. The baker then snatched another sword from one of the Templars. “Ach, if only I had two hands!” He looked about another moment, then stared uneasily into the darkness. “Something seems amiss.”
Chapter Twelve
FRIENDS FOUND, FRIENDS LOST
Where’s Benedetto?” asked Maria. “And where is Heinz?”
Panting with exertion, the pilgrims cowered in the dark forest under cover of night. They had fled the Galgenberg and now stared fearfully at the group of torches gathered under the silhouetted boughs of the distant tree. “Benedetto!” whispered Wil loudly. “Are you here? Heinz? Where are you?”
All remained quiet. Squatting, Heinrich shifted his weight and peered into the inky darkness. A red glow radiated over the walls of Burgdorf, and the air smelled of smoke. Clouds hid the stars. “Wil?”
“Aye, Father.”
“How is Pieter?”
“Awake, but weary.”
The man took a deep breath. “Where are the minstrel and Heinz?”
Tomas answered, “I sent Benedetto to distract the soldiers at the tavern. It was near the jail. I heard him singing before the fire was set, but that’s the last I saw him.”
“And I saw Heinz on the horse when we first began to gallop,” added Otto. “I said to him, ‘Hold on, Elfman!’ He never answered and I lost him in the charge.”
“We all fell off, save Wil,” said Helmut.
“I fell at the end.”
Heinrich turned his face back to the darkness. “He must be out there, then. I fear the worst for him.”
Maria began to whimper.
Frieda comforted the girl with an embrace as Wil stood. “Then he’d be between here and the hill.”
The others stood, ready to begin a search for their comrade. “Rudolf,” ordered Wil, “stay with Maria, Pieter, and Alwin. The rest follow me.”
“And what of Benedetto?” asked Heinrich.
“He is either making his way toward us, else he is still in the town. For now, we need to find Heinz.”
Solomon suddenly emerged from the darkness, whining. He ran over to Pieter and lay down alongside him. “Ah, good boy,” sighed Pieter weakly. “Good old fellow. Help them find Heinz.”
The dog’s ears cocked.
“Ja, boy. Help them find Heinz.”
Solomon twisted his head, then closed his jaw. Then, as though he truly understood, he spun about and trotted past the pilgrims and into the night.
For the next hour, Wil, Frieda, Tomas, and the others carefully picked their way across the open land between themselves and the hanging tree. To their great relief, the town’s provost and his men had begun their slow walk back to town. The pilgrims would be safe until daybreak.
The bells of a church began to ring matins prayers when Solomon barked three times.
“Over there!” urged Frieda.
The searchers stumbled toward Solomon’s whines. In what light the moon pushed through the night’s fleeting clouds, the group soon found itself bending over the panting dog and the still body of Heinz. Frieda laid her head on the young lad’s chest. The circle fell quiet. The young woman pressed her ear close and listened. All waited breathlessly. Finally, she moaned, “I… I fear he’s dead.”
Wil quickly laid his open hand on Heinz’s neck. He felt no pulse, but he did feel sticky blood. “Oh, Heinz,” he muttered. “Good, brave Heinz.” He lifted the boy’s limp body into his arms. “We must go back,” he choked.
Maria had waited obediently by Pieter’s side until she heard muffled voices approaching. She sprinted toward the others. “Did you find him?” she cried.
“Aye,” grumbled Tomas. “We found him.”
The girl spotted Wil. “You … you are carrying him.” Her voice trailed at the end. She knew.
“We’ve lost him,” said Wil sadly.
Hearing that, both Pieter and Alwin groaned loudly. The old priest hauled himself to his feet and staggered toward the group as it entered the camp. Without a fire, the man could barely see. He groped forward until his hands found the little chap lying in Wil’s arms. Pieter whimpered at the touch. “By the Virgin,” he wept, “I loved this little fellow.”
“He must have fallen from his horse,” moaned Otto. He turned to Tomas. “You! You put him back on three times afore we even left! How did you think he’d be able to hang on? You killed him!” Otto flew at Tomas, and the two crashed to the ground. Fists flew and curses filled the air until Wil and Helmut pulled them apart.