Pilgrims of Promise(84)
“Ja, she did,” said Friederich. “She was scolded often, but she hid bread about the town and sent her servants to tell us where. I heard her arguing with the priest, and she once threw over the chalice!”
“And Jon?”
“His face broke into red marks, and he was sweating day and night. Then he began a terrible cough. Blood came out his nose.”
“And the doctor?” queried Wil.
“The priest said it wasn’t allowed. He said Jon was paying his debt to God.”
The table shook with the pounding fists of the outraged pilgrims.
“Where is this priest?” roared Heinrich with a drawn sword.
“No!” exclaimed Dorothea. “I’ll not have this at my table!”
An usher suddenly rushed into the hall and flew to Dorothea’s side. He was visibly frightened and whispered awkwardly into the lady’s ear. Dorothea paled, then looked about the hall.
“Quickly!” ordered Dorothea. “All of you to the cellars.”
“What is it, m’lady?” asked Pieter.
“Soldiers are at our gates. They’re demanding the right to search.” Dorothea’s face was drawn and her body stiff.
“What do they want?” asked Heinrich.
The messenger answered. “Two Templar knights are with them along with some brown shirts. They claim four of their own were murdered, and a refugee is about. They’ve some thought for youths dressed in black, but they suspect Cathari as well.” The man looked sideways at Dorothea and licked his dry lips. “M’lady?”
“Father Pieter, you must all do as I say at once. We will hide you in the cellars until—”
“Bar their entrance!” cried Wil. He picked up his bow and set a hand on the hilt of his new dagger. “We’ll fight with you!”
“Fool boy!” growled the servant. “They’ve two score horsemen and footmen, archers as well. Our garrison is a score at best. The rest of our soldiers are with Lord Bernard.”
Heinrich’s mind was racing. “Lady Dorothea, the innkeep has seen us, and you’ve servants as well. They’ll be sure to search your house.”
A guard ran into the room and whispered into Dorothea’s ear. Pale, the woman answered, “Ja. So it may be. You all have been seen together, but my servants and the innkeep are loyal to the death.” She turned to her servant. “Tell the gatekeepers to hold fast until I come. Tell the Templars they must ask my permission directly.”
“Hold fast?”
“Yes!” cried Dorothea. “Do as I say. Then send me my captain.”
The servant raced away as Dorothea pointed to a dark corridor. “There, all of you. Follow my man down to the deep cellar. Leave the dog here with my hounds.”
“Our donkey?” squealed Maria.
“Give it no thought, Màdel. He’ll be safe enough in the stable.” She set a kind hand on the girl’s head. “You shall be safe, my dear. Now all of you must go quickly.”
Wil and his company followed a terrified clerk down a slippery flight of narrow stairs and across a candlelit cellar crowded with wine barrels, sundry baskets of root-foods and cheese, a few racks of fruit preserves, and a collection of broken furniture and pottery. Reaching a far wall, the clerk pushed away a large trunk and reached down to lift a dusty wooden hatch. “God go with you,” he muttered as he pointed to a short ladder leading into utter blackness. “And, by the saints, keep silent!”
Above, Dorothea summoned her handservants, who fussed about her clothing and her hair. “My circlet,” she ordered anxiously. A young girl ran to a drawer and returned with a silver ring, which she placed neatly over the woman’s silk wimple. Now dressed in a flowing green overgown and her shoulders covered by a lace mantle, Lord Bernard’s lovely daughter drew a deep breath and bravely stepped from the burgher-house.
Feigning confidence as she entered the town’s abandoned streets, the young widow smiled at her father’s townsfolk peering fearfully from behind half-shuttered windows. The radiance of her fair beauty and the bold gait of the soldiers at her side quieted many a racing heart. Dorothea made her way calmly to a set of wide steps at the base of the town wall. She lifted her gown and began her climb to the wall walk that rimmed the top edge of the stockade. She then made her way to a position just above the main gate, where she raised her face to survey the army arrayed before her. Never show fear to an enemy, she thought. They were wise words from both her father and her late husband. So when Dorothea’s eyes scanned the angry faces staring at her from impatient chargers, she did not flinch. Instead, she let her mind fly to the young soldier she had married three years ago. Oh, dear Jurgen, I wish you were with me now.