Quest of Hope(15)
“No. I’ve no one who wants the thing. I’ve a bag of coins that should keep it fed and in clothes, more coins than the thing’s worth, to be sure.”
Egidius had a strong urge to assault the man but obediently offered charity, instead. “Come this way,” he growled.
The merchant followed the porter into the courtyard of the monastery and passed the kitchen. It was fortunate for the man that it was neither Wednesday nor Friday and the monks were not in fast. This assured him of a good meal, especially since it was just now midafternoon. The merchant wasn’t certain, but he thought he smelled mutton stew and fresh bread. He licked his lips in anticipation.
The three soon passed the dining hall and crossed the inner courtyard to the abbot’s chambers. The hooded monks scurrying to their meal did not speak to the stranger for their Rule prohibited it, but they did bow respectfully, as did Abbot Boniface upon the merchant’s arrival at his door.
Boniface prayed and then greeted his visitor with a kiss of peace. He recited a few verses of the Holy Scriptures and then washed the merchant’s hands and feet. As he dried his own hands he prayed again. “God, we have received thy mercy in the midst of thy temple.” He motioned for a brother to fetch food for his guest and beckoned the man be seated.
“Now, how may I serve thee, good sir?”
“My name is Leopold of Limburg and I’ve needs to find a home for this.” Leopold pushed his son to the fore.
“Ah. Good sir, and what of your wife?”
“I’ve no wife.”
“Ah, she is dead?”
“I’ve had no wife. The thing’s mother died of a fall a week back.”
Boniface stroked his face and stared at the moneybag. “You are the child’s father?”
Leopold grunted. “Yes. A momentary slip off the path, Father Abbot. I thought to make penance by offering a heavy price for its care.”
Boniface sighed. He stared at the man with a mixture of pity and contempt. The man is indulgent. He is fat and soft like a November hog. Hmm. The otter hat, embroidered clothing …he obviously has wealth. The abbot cleared his throat. “We’ve a need to better steward our finances. I pray God’s wisdom for you as you seek elsewhere for the lad’s care.”
Leopold sat quietly, picking at the large mole on his left earlobe. “Nay, methinks you’ll take it from me. Think of the thing like a little Christ child, and think of me as a Magi with silver a’plenty.” He slammed his purse hard upon the abbot’s desk. It was stuffed full and the abbot knew it to be worth about ten shillings—the rent of one full hide for two years. The two stared at each other for a long moment. But it was Leopold who erred. He, being less shrewd than old Boniface, spoke first. “It whines a little but comes of good stock.”
The abbot nodded politely.
Leopold waited, then finally snatched two coins from a hidden pocket. “Ach, mein Gott! Ill add two gold pieces from Genoa!”
Boniface extended his arms toward the waiting child. “God’s blessing for thy father’s selfless and most generous gifts. Ah, a soul and a purse for us, oft traded for each other, are both now granted to our humble abbey.”
Leopold released his son to the monk. “I’m in no further debt and owe no other penance?”
Boniface bowed. “Go in peace, my son, thy sin is forgiven. We shall raise the boy into a fine smith, perhaps a—”
Leopold looked suddenly solemn. “The thing’s a bit lazy but methinks it shows cleverness at times. Swear to me, Abbot, that he’d be no workhand for the monks his whole life.”
Boniface shrugged. “I know not God’s will for him.”
Leopold paused. “You see my clothing? My fine doublet? It took me near to a lifetime to get out of my short-slit tunic and the fields. I’ve no love for this … nuisance, but I swore an oath that no issue of mine would ever wear a serf’s tunic, nor a workman’s apron. I’ll not bear that shame no matter what I think of the thing. It’s to be trained a merchant or a priest and wear linen and silk or the robes of a churchman. I want your vow on that!” The man pulled a purse from inside his silk sash. He lowered his voice and leaned close to Boniface. “The bag and the two coins are given to the Holy Church for its care. But this is for your pledge and for you alone.”
The abbot smiled and tapped his fingers next to three gold coins stacked neatly before him. “Yes, my son. I believe the little fellow might make a good priest.” Then, like a snake striking its prey, the gold was snatched away to a dark pocket within his simple robe.
Leopold nodded and smiled and cast a final look at his son before he turned away. As he followed the porter toward the courtyard he called to Boniface, “If any should ask, he was baptized Pious.”