Maria sprinted toward the little man with outstretched arms. “Oh, you are safe! You are safe!”
“Si, little maiden. Oh, I am very safe now.” The happy man drank heartily from a flask of wine and recounted his adventure. But with the news of Heinz, the poor fellow choked and turned away.
With all now accounted for, Wil prepared his company to leave. Heinz was wrapped tightly in blankets and tied carefully atop Paulus’s back. “In the morning the roadways will be searched carefully. Alwin is in great danger, as are we all. We must leave at once,” instructed Wil.
The quiet company hurried away. They traveled through the night quietly, most lamenting the loss of life and property they had inflicted on Burgdorf. The air was cool and the highway was empty, save two patrols that the pilgrims avoided by dodging for cover along the shoulder.
“As I recall,” said a weary Pieter at daybreak, “Olten is about six leagues northeast of Burgdorf. Methinks we’ve traveled about two leagues by now.”
Tired, Wil ordered everyone to the cover of a ridge just beyond the road. “We need to rest.”
The fugitives collapsed in a grassy field and nibbled wearily on salted pork and cheese. They filled their flasks from a nearby spring but set no fire. Forlorn, they murmured among themselves until Otto finally asked, “And what of Heinz?”
Wil looked about at the wide green valley surrounding them. Maria stood. “No, Wil,” she stated firmly. “The others are by the river. We must take him there.”
“The day may get hot,” grumbled Helmut.
Pieter took a long draught of beer. He looked to the sky and shook his head. “Clouds coming from the east. We’ll have some rain for sure.” He turned to Wil. “He would have wanted to be buried with the others. I am certain of it. We’ve about three leagues to go … at this rate, perhaps a day’s journey. Shall we try?”
Wil looked at the imploring eyes of his sister and at Pieter, then up at the clouding sky. “I’d rather you be riding Paulus than he, and we needs walk off the road. It’ll slow us.”
“First, I’d rather put the boy to proper rest than ride. Next, I know these parts. We can parallel the highway with ease.” The priest was firm.
“Fine, as you wish. But we needs hurry. If we don’t find the graves by nightfall, we’ll bury him where we must.”
It was a gray twilight when the pilgrims finally came upon the quiet shoreline of the Aare River. Maria quickly spotted the mill near the broken dam and the large rock that marked the place where the crusaders had been buried the summer past. The company hurried to the spot and found the earth still mounded beneath the river stones used to cover the shallow graves. Their wooden crosses had disappeared, and weeds had overgrown the site, but to these former crusaders, the place was yet hallowed.
Large tears fell from Frieda’s eyes as she stood at the head of her brother’s grave. “Oh, dear Manfred,” she sighed, “I’ve missed you so.” She pulled the weeds from the stones and cleaned away the bramble. “In the morning I shall bring you fresh flowers,” she whispered. Humming lightly, she sat down alongside the mound. “You know, Manfred, I’m married now. I married Wil! I think you would have liked that.” A large lump filled her throat, and she could say no more. She closed her eyes and groaned midst visions of the horrid flood that had taken so many.
In the meanwhile, the graves of the others were cleaned, including those of Albert, Jost, and Otto’s old friend, Lukas. The broad-faced lad let the tears fall as he remembered the fateful storm. “I’ll not ever forget the sound of the water,” he muttered.
Tomas and Wil worked with Rudolf to dig Heinz’s grave as Helmut gathered large smooth river stones. When the hole was ready, Wil summoned the others.
“I shall miss you, Elfman,” choked Otto.
“We shall all miss you,” added Pieter. “You tried to save a man you never knew. Would the earth be filled with the likes of you in times to come.” The priest then prayed a quiet prayer and blessed the company. He held the weeping Maria in his arms and kissed her lightly on the cheek as Wil and Otto lowered the shrouded body into the ground.
“Papa Pieter, will you leave us, too?” asked Maria.
The old man looked deeply into the little girl’s frightened face. “Ah, my dear. Ja, I shall someday leave this earth, perhaps one day soon. But I’ll ne’er leave you alone. Fear for naught, my angel, for you are loved by many.”
Each traveler set about the task of covering Heinz’s remains, first with soft earth and then with stones. Once finished, the company stared quietly at the rock-mounded grave as Maria and Frieda fixed a neatly fashioned wooden cross at its head. Then, each one bade the brave little fellow farewell in his or her own way and drifted off to sleep under a starless sky.