Lord Simon joined the two. The aging knight was leathery and worn. Gray hair fell to his shoulders and a long, gray beard framed a face wrinkled by war and weather. “Enough, sir! He’s a good man and shall serve well. I stake my honor on it.” The fire in Simon’s dark eyes was enough to still the impetuous Lord Niklas.
Niklas leaned close to Richard. “Let the past stay there!” he muttered. “I meant you no harm then … or now.”
Richard’s blue eyes never moved from Niklas’s face. The knight sheathed his sword and moved on to inspect his other servants.
“Y’needs be more careful!” scolded Heinrich.
Richard was still bristling. “Put a stopper in y’mouth, cousin. ‘Tis my fight, not yours.”
A familiar voice turned their heads. “Peace be unto you!”
“Ah, and to you!” shouted Heinrich. He was smiling from ear to ear as his friend, Blasius, the Templar, approached. The two embraced and the warrior-monk turned to greet Richard.
“A wonderful day!” cried Heinrich. “Look at us! Together in a common cause, serving our Church and each other.” The baker suddenly beamed with joy. It was an amazing thing for him to feel more than a simple tradesman. Instead he felt important and he delighted in the new sense of purpose.
A black hood peeked from around a corner. From deep within its recesses spread a huge smile. “Brother Lukas!” roared Richard.
“Shhhh!” hushed the jovial old monk as he trotted toward his friends. “I’ve been caught thrice out of the monastery and am supposed to be in prayer! Ha! I’d rather see m’dearest friends off on their adventure.” Lukas gave each a mighty hug. “My prayers shall follow you where e’er this journey takes you. Now, on your knees, each of you.”
Heinrich, Richard, and Blasius obediently bent and bowed as the monk laid his age-marked hands on each of them. He prayed loudly and boldly, urging the kingdom of God to offer them “shield and buckler from the wiles of Satan and the ignorance of man.” When he finished he kissed Blasius and Richard on each cheek, but took Heinrich by the elbow.
Lukas walked the baker some distance from the others and paused by a dozing ox. Lukas looked deeply into Heinrich’s patient face and began to speak with a gentle, pleading voice. “Good man,” he began, “my heart aches as I behold you here, in this place, about to leave in this service. My son, for all the many years I have loved you, I have prayed you might leave your darkened path. Your captive conscience binds the man that bears God’s image deep within. You have allowed others to chain you to the madness that rules our world because you turn your eyes away from truth and have closed your ears to wisdom!
“You have denied yourself the joy of the butterfly. You have yet to pleasure in the glory of a wildflower. You’ve not warmed your face in the sun, nor washed your eyes in the colors of a rainbow since you were a mere boy! You have ne’er danced to the music of the Scriptures, nor delighted in your Maker. Listen, dear friend, I beg you. Abandon your wicked vow; oppose the deception of this empty world that is so terribly familiar to you. Dare to look beyond what you know! Truth is outside yourself, man, and is searching for you. Seek it with your eyes, listen for it; quiet your mind and let it find you, let it free you!”
The baker stiffened. “Lukas, I am in no mood for this! Look, there.” He pointed to a knot of knights receiving their blessing from a priest. “And there.” He pointed to a large wooden crucifix mounted against the courtyard wall. “And listen.” The bells of sext began to ring. “All around us is the way I know. Is it so terrible? Is it so pointless?”
Brother Lukas paused for a moment. He laid a gentle hand atop the baker’s shoulder. “Listen, good, faithful, devout Heinrich. It seems you truly believe that your way, your Ordnung, is neither binding nor blinding nor dark. Nor do you believe it is contrary to either Scripture or the way of nature.”
Heinrich waited.
“So I ask you this as your old friend: if your eyes are ever opened to its terror or your heart ever iced by the draught of its empty void … would you then turn and look beyond?”
Heinrich relaxed and thought for a moment. “I readily admit m’world is not perfect.”
“Agreed, perfection is not yet come. But what if you discovered that your way is more than just imperfect? What if you find that it is so very imperfect as to offer little more than poor shadows of truth? Would you then turn from it to find a better way?”
The baker stood silently for a long pause as the knights readied their column. “Has the sound of Emma’s song.”