Heinrich was in no mood for this. He wanted to escape the bells, the chants, the prayers, the fasts, the incense, the huddles of head-bowed shavelings, and all their somber ways. He had no interest in another conversation with the verbose young priest and at that moment would have preferred to share a bench with some rough-tongued drunkard! “Aye!” He shouted the lie and as soon as it left his lips his heart sank again. The bite in his tone caught the priest unawares, though the answer pleased him.
“I thought as much,” he answered, smiling cautiously. “Might I beg you one small favor?”
Heinrich closed his eye in dread. He knew the skill with which churchmen cloak obligation in just that sort of innocuous query. He nodded and held his breath.
“You are a good man. Come with me a moment.” The priest walked Heinrich through the mud and rain to a corner of the cloister church where a dusty, gray beam of light strained to chase a few stubborn shadows. He reached into a satchel hanging by his side and reverently withdrew a long silver chain suspending a gold medallion. The coin twirled in the muted light of the church. Heinrich watched it, entranced and somewhat mesmerized. Something about it seemed vaguely familiar.
“This relic is a gift from Archbishop Anders Sunesen of our diocese in Gothland. An astounding man of God, is he; a poet of extraordinary skill. Ah, but no matter. It is said he received this from the Archbishop of Mainz in exchange for herring. He then presented it to our former prior upon the cloister’s endowment. Our prior, in turn, has sent it with us along with a lock of hair from Saint Cyrill, once the Bishop of Jerusalem. He prayed these relics would protect us on the sea from pirates and from the pagans by land.
“Since our sea journey was already blessed, some of the brethren believe the new monastery would be best served if one of these would be taken to Rome and presented to a church that cares for the poor. So they have chosen the gold medallion for you to take.”
“Gold?”
“Ja, friend. ‘Tis a gold bezance … see here … it appears one of the ancients bit into it with a broken tooth!”
Heinrich went nearly faint. He grabbed the coin and stared numbly at the dashes made by one good tooth and one broken. “Father… tell me what else you know of this.”
Baltasar paused, surprised at the man’s sudden interest. “My son?” He paused, then continued slowly. “The archbishop was informed that this very medallion was touched to the Holy Sepulchre by the Grand Master of the Knights Templar and so blessed by him. It bears the power and wonder of our Lord’s body.”
Heinrich’s eye blurred with tears. He held the necklace to his breast and collapsed to his knees. “Oh, Mother!” he muttered. “Oh, dear Mother, it is your golden secret come to help me!”
Father Baltasar was pleased with the man’s apparent veneration and laid a hand on Heinrich’s trembling shoulders. “Good and worthy fellow. You are entrusted with a sacred thing. Our prayers shall follow you on your journey.”
Heinrich rose slowly, still holding the medallion to his heart. He faced the priest, dumbfounded and speechless, and listened as he was given final instructions.
“Brother Ignatius prayerfully and humbly offered a candidate Church to receive this relic. Ignatius was an orphan in the city of Rome and raised with Christian charity amongst other destitute children in the church known as Santa Maria in Domnica. It is agreed that this church should be granted the relic for the blessing and protection of its lowly flock. It is our wish that you should deliver it to the superior of that particular church along with this.” Baltasar handed Heinrich a folded paper sealed with wax. “Present this letter as witness to the nature of our gift and the sacrifice of your service.”
Father Baltasar then took the chain away from Heinrich and walked slowly to the altar. He laid the coin atop the bronze table and prayed loudly. Then he motioned for Heinrich to approach and he lifted the necklace over Heinrich’s head. He laid the golden medallion gently on the man’s heaving chest and prayed, “Angel of God, my dear guardian, to whom his love commits me here; light and guard, rule and guide.”
Heinrich opened his eye and wiped the tears off his face. The priest embraced him and together they returned to the rain-soaked courtyard of the barren cloister.
For the next week it mattered little to the man whether the world was wet or sunny. In the mornings he awakened with his hand closed tightly around his mother’s relic, and when he drifted to sleep he held it all the more. Its presence around his neck restored him to the world from whence he came and he embraced it joyfully.