All eyes turned toward Steward Hagan. The man was hawkish and cold. His beady, brown eyes were aimed dispassionately toward the pair of peasants staring blank-faced and nervously at him. “Heinrich and Wilhelm. Hmm. It seems we have some problems. It is my charge, under God, to protect the industry of the abbey so that future generations may benefit from its service to God’s kingdom on earth. I have discussed your grandfather’s … covenant… with the lawyers of the emperor and Archbishop Siegfried in Mainz, as well as the papal legate.”
Wil whispered to his father. Heinrich, now anxious and sweating, hushed the boy.
“To speak directly to the first point, we wonder by what right any man might coerce the services of these Holy Brethren?” The steward fixed a hard eye at the poor baker and waited for an answer.
Heinrich stammered, “I beg your leave, sire, but what is ‘coerce’?”
The man smiled. It was a haughty, wicked, condescending smile. “Ah, but of course. You are but a baker! I beg your pardon, friend. To answer you, ‘coerce’ means to force by threat. So I ask again, by what right are you forcing these good brothers to provide your sons with learning?”
Heinrich looked helplessly at the waiting faces of the others. He drew a deep breath and stared at the cracks of gray light filtering through the shutters. He wished for all the world he could run home. Oh, if only Lukas were here, he thought desperately. But Lukas was not there. “I cannot answer you, m’lord, I know only of a promise and …”
“Ah, of course. You know nothing of this other than what’s been told you by the other ignorant folk of your little village.”
Heinrich sat still and tried to swallow. His lips were dry and he looked about for a flagon of beer or mead. He nodded.
Hagan continued. “Hmm. Well, good fellow, I must needs tell you that your parchment is in some doubt. The realm cannot have its subjects taking advantage of its Lord Protectors through threats and slanders. And, as a point of law, a pledge under duress is not valid. Ah, your pardon. ‘Duress’ is the pressure of a threat, you understand?”
Heinrich nodded again. “But I only know of an abbot’s promise, I—”
“Enough, baker!” The steward threw off his mantle and leaned toward the confused man. No longer dispassionate, the man’s eyes burned with anger and with purpose, only to suddenly soften as poor Heinrich dropped his eyes. The man released a long breath. “Hmm. You seem to be an earnest fellow.”
Heinrich looked up hopefully.
“Perhaps we ought leave this matter for the moment and speak of the other.”
Relief came over Heinrich’s face and he relaxed.
Hagan slanted his eye ever so slightly toward the prior, but it was a look that did not escape the sharp eyes of young Wil. “I have been asked to review the wills of our vassal, Gottwald of Oldenburg, and of his whore, Emma.”
Heinrich bristled. “She was no whore!” he growled.
The steward smiled slyly, surprised at the spirit in the man. “Ah, Heinrich, I do sincerely ask your pardon. I had no right to use such a term for the mother of Gottwald’s bastard child.”
His wry tone belied his insincerity, but Heinrich had no ear for subtleties. “She was a good woman and I dearly loved her … and, yes, I pardon you.”
“Many thanks.” Hagan bowed his head sarcastically.
The veins in Wil’s young neck now bulged. He had a different instinct than his father.
“So, Heinrich, I was about to say that I have reviewed the wills carefully.” He held Emma’s will toward the fire of a wall-torch. “Nay, nay,” he chuckled, “you’ve no need to fear. I am only reading the witnesses to the woman’s name. Yes, yes, our own beloved Lukas and the Templar knight, Brother Blasius. Hmm. Well, no matter, all is in order here. I declare the woman, Emma of Quedlinburg, to have issued a proper charter of her earthly holdings and I concur that you, Heinrich the baker of Weyer, are her rightful heir by the declaration witnessed herein.”
Heinrich raised his eyebrows and released a long sigh. He looked happily at the prior. Mattias smiled. “So I am the proper holder to her lands?” Heinrich asked.
“Yes.”
Heinrich was relieved and delighted. “I am told the Templars store my rents and handle my fees and fines, taxes, and the like.”
“That is so,” answered Prior Mattias.
A long pause followed. Heinrich sat still, waiting for something else to be said. He stared about the circle of faces and began to fumble with his hands. “Well,” he finally offered, “it seems the light is failing. M’son and me want to see the schoolmaster, and we’ve more than an hour’s walk ahead and—”