“Oh, good father. I can hardly live each day. I am so distressed at my husband’s deceits, I know that ill shall befall m’self or m’sons.”
Pious took her hand. “But, dear woman, Karl and Wil are both now sitting under the lindens in the abbey. They are in the good care of their schoolmasters, learning of God’s ways. They are surely safe.”
Marta nodded. “‘Tis true, father, and I thank you. B-but what of me? What price must I pay for that man’s evil? What am I to do?” She leaned toward him.
“Hmm. As his wife, you must stay in submission.”
Marta nodded.
“But you are correct to reckon your risk, for the Scripture says that you and he are as ‘one flesh.’”
Marta nodded nervously.
Pious stood and pondered the opportunity before him. He was not sure exactly how to proceed, but he was certain an advantage was in view. “I think it best that I speak to the man. I fear his sins are both mortal and venial. His eyes must be opened.”
While Father Pious was comforting Marta, Heinrich walked through the village. It was midafternoon and the other men were hard at work in the fields. He thought he should be checking on Herwin’s son, Wulf, who was working his land that day, but he knew that Wulf was as faithful and as hardworking as his father. Instead, Heinrich decided to take an unusual hour’s respite.
The baker left the village and walked through the narrow fields of fresh-cut hay that lay by the Laubusbach. He strained an eye to find Herwin, who now sat in the shade with the other old men, sharpening scythes instead of swinging them. He happily strode toward the haymakers with few cares on his mind. Actually, he thought his adventure with the Templar had changed him some. News of the man’s complete recovery had given him a good feeling and he felt proud for his part, despite the twinges of guilt he felt for having crossed the border. Not finding Herwin, he settled contentedly under one of the great oaks lining the Oberbrechen road.
The baker surveyed the fields filled with men swinging scythes, women binding sheaves, and oxen pulling two-wheeled carts. He watched the haymakers’ entrancing rhythm until his eyes grew heavy. He laid back and imagined Emma picking flowers in her summer garden surrounded by flocks of hovering butterflies. He heard Ingly laughing in the Laubusbach and Richard giggling in the wood. The cool grass, the sweet-smelling hay, the lowing of oxen all lulled the tired man into a deep sleep.
Heinrich awakened as the bells of vespers clanged from both Oberbrechen and Weyer. He sat up, startled and surprised. A strong breeze brushed the curls off his slightly sweated brow and he looked about at the final carts being led away. He knew he ought to start toward home, for he had tasks in his garden to attend. The man stood up and stretched, then thought of his wife’s likely reception and lay down once again. He faced the blue sky but kept his eyes closed; it felt good to him to keep his vow. At last he yawned and sat up. He looked about and eyed the approaching form of a familiar figure. “Katharina!”
Katharina had gleaned the fields of what cuttings were left behind and was prodding an ox gently toward the road. Heinrich stood and stared. Katharina saw the man and bowed her head timidly as she nudged her ox forward. Heinrich’s heart beat quickly and he was overcome with a desire to speak to her. He pushed a creeping guilt away and called to the approaching woman. “Katharina. You’d be a bit behind the others.”
“Aye,” she answered softly. She kept her face turned away.
Suspicious, Heinrich trotted toward her. “Katharina?”
The woman kept her eyes downward. The man gently lifted her chin with his forefinger. He gasped. “Katharina!” The woman’s face was badly bruised and swollen. Fury filled Heinrich’s heart. “I shall … I shall kill him!” he shouted.
Katharina’s eyes filled with terror and she shook her head. Her lips were so swollen she could barely speak. “N-nay, good Heinrich. I beg you.” Her tone was desperate and pitiful.
The man was enraged, but also overcome with compassion. He reached his arms toward her and pulled her tightly to his breast. Katharina began to sob and Heinrich felt all the more a man until a voice from the roadway sent a bolt of lightning down his spine.
“What is this?”
Heinrich spun around, ready to attack the woman’s cruel husband. He snarled and snapped, “Who speaks?” His chest then seized and he faltered for words for it was not Ludwig, but Father Pious.
“You know who I am! Sinners! Caught in a lover’s embrace!” The priest was scolding and loud.
Heinrich felt suddenly sick and shame washed over him like a cold cloudburst in November. “Nay, father, I was only offering comfort. Look at her, father, see her face.”