Three representatives were sent forward to receive the Stedingers midway between the army and the fortress. Heinrich craned his neck from atop his wagon and waited anxiously as the urgent discussion determined the day’s destiny.
The army’s agents returned at a gallop and huddled with the commander and his captains. It seemed the Stedingers were in no mood to resist. They could ill-afford another war, and they thought their villages were filled with widows enough. They had met in loud, chaotic meetings at The Thing, as their assembly was called, and had reluctantly agreed to pay the taxes as demanded. They desperately needed a season of peace in which they might be left alone to prosper in their liberties.
News of the Stedinger capitulation rolled through the army like the low rumbling of dry thunder. It was met with some cheers and a few satisfied nods, but mostly with grumbles and oaths, sarcasm and jeers. Blasius was among those few cheering the moment, and he was glad-hearted as he witnessed the counting and removal of the taxes from within the fort.
By the time Hude’s distant bells rang nones, the business of the day was completed and an unsettled Lord Egbert gathered his captains on the roadway. The man was content to have his tax in hand and had even exacted a heavy duty besides. Yet he was hardly satisfied. “These rebels cannot simply buy us like we are marketplace whores!” he seethed. “They need see the power and might of God’s army. Tear down these gates and burn whatever stores you find in this pitiful fortress. Slay their delegates and put their heads on pikes. Burn their banners. When your business is finished, I shall lead this army through the town and show this wayward flock what doom they bring atop their heads if they dare oppose the Holy Church ever again!”
To the horror of some and the joy of others, a company of eager knights dashed into the fortress and slayed the woeful yeomen. Then, as ordered, the timber gates were pulled over and burned along with a meager quantity of stores found within.
In the meanwhile, Heinrich was ordered by Master Falko to help harness the wagons and pack the horses. He was busy racing hither and yon when Blasius appeared with a contingent of some dozen mounted soldiers.
“Heinrich!” he called.
The baker turned and shielded his eyes from a bright sun above. “Ja? Ah, Blasius!”
The monk dismounted and embraced his old friend. He looked at the baker closely. “In this light I see yet more silver in those red curls of yours!” He smiled. “And the look of many burdens.”
Heinrich shrugged. “Aye, but a few have lifted today. I am pleased you’ve no need for battle against these people.”
Blasius shook his head. “Ah, I wish the day was so pure. Egbert ordered these to be butchered without Christian mercy and without cause. I raised my voice against him but was silenced. I am only grateful we’ve no larger war to fight, for as God is my witness, I do not know that I could raise my hand against them. I spoke with a few while we were collecting the tax. They are good men, Heinrich, good Christian men. They work hard and only want to be treated under the law as free men ought. They’ve no stomach, for war but their blood boils for their liberties. I pray God blesses their fellows, and I pray for the souls of those just slain. Ah, but I am here to bid my farewell.”
Heinrich’s chest seized. “Farewell?”
“Yes. I have collected the Templars’ due and must escort it to our preceptory in Cologne at once.”
“But…but, I…”
Blasius laid his gloved hands atop the baker’s shoulders. “Good and dear friend. There’s to be no war. You shall be leaving for home within days and methinks by midsummer you shall be with your boys and wife in Weyer once again!”
Heinrich sighed. He grasped the Templar’s hand in his own and squeezed it. The two embraced before Blasius mounted his horse. “Until we meet in Weyer!” he cried. With that, the monk and his company urged their horses forward and dashed away.
Heinrich stood still as he watched his friend disappear on the roadway. “Bis Weyer.” With a heavy heart he turned away and soon was marching with the army through the smoking bulwarks of the Stedingers’ stronghold. He peered at the headless bodies of some twenty freemen strewn about the place and wondered if their murder truly served the cause of greater good. Rolling his Laubusbach stone between his fingers, he turned away and followed his wagon.
The archbishop and a contingent of his elite guard suddenly appeared from the west and soon joined the army as it marched toward Hude. Whispers down the line confirmed the bishop’s pleasure with the tax collection, but he was apparently displeased with Egbert’s bloodlust.