Quest of Hope(103)
“Heinrich,” interrupted the steward, “I have been authorized to propose an offer to you for your land.”
Heinrich’s heart began to race. He had often dreamt of negotiating his freedom. He had seen himself marching to the abbot’s door and gleefully bartering his new land as manumission for himself and his family. He imagined the abbot grunting and groaning and pleading for better terms. And in his fantasy he saw the prior on his knees begging for the baker’s charity, only to finally yield and grant the man his freedom and more!
“Heinrich!” Hagan bellowed. “Are you listening, man?”
“Oh, aye, of course, m’lord.”
“And what say you?”
“Of what, sire?”
“Of your price!” boomed the frustrated steward.
Heinrich licked his dry lips and looked at Wil. Oh, to set his household free! he thought. He turned to the steward. “I …I…”
“Ja? Ja?”
“I would offer Emma’s lands for … for the freedom of m’self, m’wife, and our children.”
Mattias’ clerk began to cough and the prior, himself, reddened. Hagan put a finger on his lips and frowned. “Manumission? You offer this as manumission?”
Heinrich was sweating. “Aye, sire, lord sire …”
“Prior Mattias,” Hagan began, “would you join me in the outer chamber for a moment?”
The two slipped out of the shadowed room and whispered beyond the heavy oak door. Heinrich shifted uncomfortably on his chair and smiled at his son. Wil leaned toward his father. “Vati, they’ll try to cheat you. I do not trust these men! Lukas says you needs be more the fox and less the hare!”
The man nodded. “I am trying. ’Tis not an easy thing for me. I…”
The door opened and the prior and steward returned to their positions. The kitchener scurried in behind them and brought Heinrich and Wil tankards of cloister ale and wheat rolls. “Now,” began Hagan again, “you know I dare not speak untruths on behalf of the brethren.”
Heinrich nodded.
“So I speak truth when I say they would like very much to barter your land fairly and in accordance with their obligations as caretakers of that which God has given them. Now, it seems your land lies near some good ground that Lord Gottwald also granted them.”
“Ours lies in the very center!” cried young Wil.
Heinrich hushed him sternly.
The boy folded his arms and scowled. The steward and the spirited lad locked glares for a long pause before the man continued. “You ask much of us this day, Heinrich, and we are somewhat surprised. You are known as humble and devout, faithful to private vows. You’d be a man known for his industry and you are no thief, at least not until this moment.”
Heinrich looked confused. “Why this moment?”
“When you charge a man for bread, good fellow, how do you fix the charge?”
“The price is set by the abbey.”
“And how do you imagine they set the price?”
“I never think of such things.”
“Could you imagine they set the price in accordance to what is fair and necessary to all parties, that the price is set from charitable concern for the buyer as well as necessary concern for holy stewardship?”
Again Heinrich was confused.
The steward raised his voice. “Let me say it in another way! Do you think the brothers charge the very most they possibly can, or do they consider the buyers as well?”
The baker looked at the prior and scratched his head. “I surely do not know.”
“I see. And I understand, for you are no man of business. You give little thought to things as these, and why should you? What I am saying is that Christian dealings account for all sides’ welfare. You are charging a price for your land that considers only you! Greed, I think, is one sin in view here. And when one takes advantage of another, as in usury, it is called theft. Are your kin and kind thieves?”
“Nay. Scrumping is a grievous shame to us.”
Prior Mattias leaned forward. “Sire Hagan, it is true. The man is no thief, not since he was a youth.”
The steward nodded. “Hmm, most honorable.”
Heinrich drew a long, uneasy draught from his tankard. A clerk hastened to refill it as the prior now stood and set a gentle hand on the baker’s shoulder. Heinrich remembered a warning from Emma: “Be wary of the touch or smile of a churchman!” Heinrich drew a deep breath and waited.
“Worthy baker,” said the prior, “if you had thy freedom, what would you do with it?”
Heinrich answered quickly. He had often imagined exactly what he would do. “I should stay and labor at the bake-house and when m’boys were done their schooling we would travel as free men to other parts where they might work as lawyers or physicians, even men of commerce, and I should join a baker’s guild.”