Quest of Hope(118)

Heinrich shrugged again.

“Yes, and you understand that elder men are less important to a growing village than the younger ones.”

Heinrich remained silent.

“Let me come to the matter. The Holy Church has called on my lord, Heribert, to support her in parts far north of here. As if the civil war was not enough, it seems Archbishop Hartwig of Bremen has a need to protect his diocese from some rebellious serfs who would deny their Church her proper taxes, rents, tithes, and the like.”

Heinrich leaned forward. The words “rebellious serfs” were suddenly appealing. “What men are these?”

“Some wild and untamed Frisians; peasants who have strayed. Lord Heribert’s cousin is the Count of Oldenburg and has called on Heribert to satisfy a debt by providing assistance.”

Heinrich was curious. “And why, sir, are you here?”

“Yes, of course. My lord is sending a small troop to help the archbishop, and I am charged to support them with servants, groomsmen, cooks, armorers, and others. We’ve a terrible shortage with our losses in the war, so I am to recruit some from the villages.” He turned to Pious. “If you have not already learned, the pope has abandoned his support of Otto and now allies with Duke Philip.”

Pious raised his eyes. “And then what of the Templars?”

“Aye, the blessed Templars. Like us they follow the pope wherever he may go. Seems they imagine him to be infallible. Incredible! The local preceptory is to send one of theirs with us—as a spy, methinks. The abbot has permitted us to take servants from among his serfs as payment toward his contract with us, and he has graciously offered free rents for the time spent. Father Pious and the bailiff have suggested you to go.”

Marta looked pleased and she smiled at her priest.

Pious nodded. “Ja, Marta, this is somewhat easier than what is truly deserved, but I have seen that you have called him to tasks of obedience and suffering these many months.”

“But what of my bakery?” quizzed Heinrich.

“The commission is for the usual forty days, a most manageable time.”

The priest grunted. “You shall be home by Advent. And more, you may be pleased to know that your cousin, Richard, is a most eager recruit, as well. Seems he’s a few matters of his own to settle under God!”

Heinrich was all the more tempted. Oh, a chance to fly, to be away from this place—away from her, and an adventure with Richard … like we are boys again! He quickly condemned himself. Nay, it is to be a penance… a serving of the Church in her time of need. He looked at the faces staring at him. “Forty days you say?”

“Aye.”

Heinrich hesitated. The penalty seemed too light and he did not trust Pious. But he desperately wanted to feel clean and he wanted peace returned to his mind. Despite Lukas’s pleadings to the contrary, he had become obsessed with the fear that his sons would soon suffer because of his failings. He needed to be sure this would save them all. “I am not certain, father, that this is penance enough for my sins. It seems … somewhat gentle.”

Bernd laughed. “Gentle?” the deputy scoffed. “It shall not be an easy time! Indeed not. You shall be required to carry firewood and cook, lift carts out of mud, push them through fords. The knights shall demand much of you. And worse, you are helpless in ambush and there are oft attacks. We’ve lost more servants than soldiers while traveling the Empire! The civil war has brought naught but confusion. If attacked, the knights have armor and you have nothing. When the enemy fears to engage our knights, they creep into camp to slaughter the servants, then disappear, leaving the knights to cook their own supper! Ha! It is not a light thing.”

Heinrich was satisfied; the plan seemed to give God a wealth of opportunities to punish him properly. “Father,” he asked, “this penance covers all my sins?”

“More than likely. You’ll need report thy sufferings upon thy return.”

Marta did not approve of that answer. “But father, if he fails to return and is not absolved, shall I be at risk for—”

“Fear not, sister. If your husband fails to suffer enough I shall find some other way to finally absolve you and your brood. You must trust in me.” He picked a dark, caraway-seasoned roll from the breadbasket and lifted it to his nose with a wry smile.

Ignorant of his secret schemings she was satisfied and grunted her approval.

Heinrich listened carefully. He stared at Pious, aware that the ambitious priest was setting some kind of snare. But what can happen in forty days? he wondered. The baker looked at Marta. She’ll keep the bakery safe; she’s too much greed to let it slip away. And if I die, Lukas shall surely protect the bakery for m’sons. I do own it. He paused to consider Wil and Karl. Only forty days, free rents to put in the strongbox, the lads released from my sin and still safe in the abbey—and time away from Marta.