At last, to the great relief of all, the nagging rain subsided. Heinrich and a dozen other servants were ordered into the forest to forage for wood. They dragged fallen boughs to the campsite where axe-wielding men shaved away the wet bark, exposing the dry heartwood beneath. By compline of one long day a series of small fires were beginning to snap to the cheers and hurrahs of the chilled travelers. The cooks were then set to task and midst the happy cries of the men-at-arms, cauldrons of bubbling gravies soon churned dried vegetables and chunks of pork and bacon. Finally, at long last, the famished knights were slurping hot stews.
The servants shivered in the cold as they waited their turn to eat. Rosa and Ita huddled close by Leo and Linz, the young brothers from Lindenholz. Richard noticed the four whispering and he shifted close enough to hear Rosa’s voice choked with tears and anguish.
“What do you want?” barked Leo.
“Why, naught … nay, I just was coming to see you,” answered Richard. He looked at Rosa in the dim, yellow light of a distant fire. He could see bruises on her face and she cupped one elbow in pain. “Can I help?”
“Help in what?”
Richard lowered his voice. “Look at them. We can’t let this keep happening any longer.”
“Aye,” muttered Leo. “But what do we do?”
“’Tis simple.” The five were startled by a new voice. It was Heinrich.
“Münster’s but a few days’ quick-step behind us. None would bother follow back through those swamps.” The girls looked so helpless to Heinrich. He nearly wept for them. He thought of the bruises on Katharina. “The men are drunk already. They’d be finishing their meals and coming for you soon enough. You’d best hurry.”
The girls began to cry and Linz took Ita by the hand. “Leo, you and I shall take them! One year and a day in Münster and we shall all be free!”
“What of your family at home?” asked Richard.
“We’ve none. All died by plague this summer past.”
“And what of you?” Richard asked the girls.
The two shrugged.
“Rosa! Ita!” It was drunken Lord Niklas calling from the camp.
“By God, you needs go quick!”
“How can I help?” Blasius’s voice whispered from the darkness.
Startled, Heinrich nearly dropped at the sound. “Uh, brother, these four are escaping.”
“Aye. If they are caught they shall be slain on the spot.”
“We’d rather die than stay,” answered Linz.
Blasius thought for a moment. More men began to cry out for the girls. “Get ready to run, and go with God.” With that, the Templar burst into the firelight. He raised his sword above his head and roared, “I challenge any man!”
The camp grew quiet as the Templar circled round and round. He grabbed a shield and banged his sword against it until Lord Niklas took the bait.
“I challenge!” roared the drunken knight. “Prepare yourself, fool monk!”
As Lord Wolfrum reviewed the rules of the contest and his knights eagerly circled the combatants, Leo, Linz, Rosa, and Ita slipped away unseen into the forests of Saxony. Heinrich and Richard, having bade them a heartfelt “Godspeed,” crept to the edges of the camp’s firelight and watched as Brother Blasius skilfully attracted all attention to himself.
It took mere moments for the Templar to be fully engaged in a savage duel with Richard’s nemesis. The monk circled and dodged, parried and ducked. He mocked and ridiculed, beckoned and harassed Niklas with his long Templar sword and a surprising repertoire of sarcasm. He strutted and boasted, taunted and jeered the tormented lord until the bedevilled man roared in frustration. Then, wily Blasius teased with riddles and rhymes as he parried with riposte and lunges. At last, the arm-heavy Templar reckoned the time to be right for a final, silent, savage assault. With a few deft strokes Lord Niklas was driven backward across the campsite and knocked flat on his back. He lay under the dark sky staring glumly up the shining flat of Brother Blasius’s long-sword.
“Ha, ha!” howled Richard from the shadows. It was a disrespect that would not soon be forgotten.
Blasius withdrew his sword and reached a hand to his fallen foe. Lord Niklas dismissed the monk’s chivalry with a sneer and climbed to his feet. Midst words of congratulations and newfound respect, the Templar bowed to his fellows and walked away quietly.
It was nearly an hour before the camp knew of the girls’ disappearance. Lord Wolfrum ordered a search of the wagons and the forest, but took Blasius aside and studied him with a suspicious eye. “Do you know something of this?”
Heinrich was standing nearby and listened carefully. He wondered if a Templar dared lie. Blasius set his jaw and leaned close enough to Wolfram’s craggy face for their beards to tangle. “Nay, sire,” he answered calmly.