Quest of Hope(19)

Baldric rushed to Kurt’s aid. With a vicious swipe of his mallet, Baldric crushed the head of the shear-wielding Gunnar. The man fell to his side with a whimper and lay openeyed and lifeless.

Baldric dropped to his brother’s side. “Ach … nay … Gott in Himmel!” the man cried to the heavens. He clutched his brother’s body in his arms. “Kurt!” he wailed.

Kurt felt a chill drift through his body. For a moment he felt a flutter. He heard distant voices calling him—familiar voices, perhaps Arnold’s, perhaps his father’s? He gasped for breath, then felt suddenly calm and the voices grew faint, finally fading away to utter silence.

The vanquished Gunnars lay strewn about their campsite, dead or dying. The survivors of Weyer stared disbelieving at their fallen comrade and said nothing as they carried his body to a dewy patch of unspoiled grass. They laid him down respectfully and the three of them knelt by his side.

The group was quiet and the air deadly calm. Paul the dyer approached from the darkness and bowed his head in sorrow. Baldric was fighting a tear—a battle seldom engaged—as he turned his blood-splattered face to the quaking dyer. “You? You hid?”

“Y-Yes,” answered Paul. “I’ve not the stomach for such—”

The gentle man never finished his sentence. Baldric snarled and swung his mallet into the man’s thin frame, felling him to the earth like a broken willow. Paul collapsed with a gasp and his eyes rolled as his soul flew away.

Arnold and Dietrich grunted their assent to justice served and stood to finish the night’s business. With a diabolical grin Dietrich set about the task of assuring the deaths of any Gunnar yet twitching on the ground while Arnold rifled through their purses to take whatever treasures he might find.

“Do we toss them in the river?” asked Arnold.

“Aye, fish food,” answered Dietrich.

Baldric paused. “No, leave them for the birds so their kin finds them. They needs see the price they pay for Sieghild and their threats!”

Dietrich wasn’t so sure. “Lord Klothar will learn of it and go to the abbot. Your feud is no secret.”

“Ach! Let them accuse us. We’ve oath-helpers enough who’ll swear by our innocence.”

Arnold pointed to Kurt and Paul. “And these?” he asked anxiously.

Baldric thought for a moment. “Berta needs claim Kurt died of the fever. We’ll shroud him quick and Father Gregor won’t know. He’s too fearful to ask questions of us anyway. We’ll sink Paul in the river downstream.”

“But Paul’s wife will wonder,” blurted Dietrich.

“Aye,” answered Baldric. “I’ll simply tell her the last I knew he’d been visiting the strumpets in Limburg.”





As the dawn of Lammas broke bright over Weyer, Baldric and Arnold bore the body of Kurt to his wife and three children. Berta collapsed onto the dirt floor of her hovel and wept inconsolably. Heinrich stood bravely at his father’s side and stared into the lifeless face. The lad’s lower lip quivered and tears rolled down his face. He had already been taught to hide such weakness, and he quickly wiped his tears away. He walked bravely toward his mother and offered her the comfort of a tender hug.

“Leave me be!” shrieked Berta. “Are you stupid, boy? Can y’not see I needs be alone?”

Shamefaced, the four-year-old ran from the hovel.

Baldric related the night’s events to Berta and recited the story she must offer to Father Gregor.

“I… I dare not lie to a priest! Are you mad, Baldric? I’ll not put my soul in peril or that of little Axel here, or Effi! No, I’ll not be telling your lies!”

“Then Arnold and I shall swing on Runkel’s gallows and Kurt’s land shall be taken in payment for the dead.”

Arnold whispered to Baldric. “If she’ll betray us, then she’s to join him.”

Baldric nodded. “Woman, listen and listen well. I am the elder of this household now. I’ll speak to Gregor, you say nothing!”

Resigned, Berta nodded obediently. “Then hurry for him, Kurt’s soul has need of the prayers!”

“Not before he’s washed and shrouded!” barked Arnold.

Herwin, the tenant, was sitting in the corner, frightened and silent. Baldric turned to him. “You … come here y’mouse. One word and you’re dead. We’ve need of your rents else you’d already have your throat cut. Be off now to the well with a bucket. Arnold, get some linens from your wife. We shan’t spend for deerskin and we’ve no time for a box.”

Immediately the family was busy. Berta sewed her husband’s wounds so no blood would stain the wraps while Herwin washed the body. Within the half hour they quickly shrouded the corpse.