Quest of Hope(22)
Emma gazed sadly at Heinrich. The boy was staring at his feet and waiting for the final pronouncement. “Good lad,” began Emma. She bent down and laid a gentle finger under his chin. “Dear boy, look at me. ‘Tis always good to honor your mother.”
Heinrich nodded. His eyes brightened as they met the woman’s and met with unspoken understanding.
“Thank you,” interrupted Berta. “Things need remain as we know them to be. It is good to fix yourself to things right and true. Father Gregor says so.”
Emma sighed. “Might I serve you some buns with your honey, and some cider?”
Berta paused. She struggled for a moment, surprised at the woman’s charity. Berta was still drawn to the strange woman. “I … I can stay for a short time, but needs return home soon.”
Emma understood Berta’s struggle—she had been witness to such hesitation before. Graciously she set a small table of rye rolls, cider, and a jar of precious honey. Then, having made her guest at better ease, she patiently listened to Berta’s recitation of her many penances, her successes in fleeing temptation, and the wonders of the Virgin. But when Berta began to slander a neighbor, Emma interrupted. “Ah, ‘tis a glorious day, is it not? Would you be pleased to walk in my gardens?”
Berta fell silent, then nodded. And, while the two boys played innocently by the Laubusbach, the two mothers were soon walking midst Emma’s joy. The kitchen garden was filled with pungent herbs like rue, sage, and basil; also parsley, hyssop, parsnips, turnips, garlic, and chives. Berta was astonished at the abundance of green things lush and ready for the gardener’s knife.
Emma’s true treasure, however, was her garden of flowers. It was a masterpiece no painter could have ever captured, even on the canvas of a king. Emma led her guest to a plot of her favorites. “These are m’most precious ones. They are simple corn poppies, found wild in the grain fields. But I water them and sing to them, and they grow big and happy. Look how their red petals lift and open to the sun. See how their faces shine yellow with seed? Oh, I do love them so.”
A soft breeze cooled Berta’s skin, and she smiled as the kindly sun yielded its precious fruit of color. She picked a corn poppy and held it to her heart as she turned this way and that, marvelling at Emma’s glorious garden. Her burdens and fears were quickly chased away by beauty as she sat down among blossoms of borage and marigold, langde-beef, heartsease and other sundry perfumed blooms. Berta’s nose was bathed in heavenly perfume and, were that not joy enough, floating flocks of butterflies circled about her sunlit hair.
Autumn labors proved difficult and strained Berta’s household to its limit. Faithful Herwin worked the fields, harvesting the grain and threshing it late into the night. The hayward had ordered a rotation of barley for the coming year and the fields just harvested would be left fallow for a year’s rest. Herwin thought there ought to be a better way of using the land. He had heard of other manors rotating their crops in a three-field system rather than the ancient two rotations the abbey still demanded. Why do they fear change so? One year fallow, one year planting, by the saints, we lose profit! Why not one third fallow, one third a spring crop, and one third an autumn harvest? he wondered to himself.
But there were other pressures on Berta and her three children. The Gunnars had come under cover of night and burned the hovel shared by her brothers-in-law. While Arnold’s family found other residence, the bitter Baldric forced his way into Berta’s home.
By the Epiphany a dark melancholy had overtaken the woman, and it had deepened like the snow blanketing the smoky village. Berta looked about her cottage and began to weep. Baldric’s very presence had cast a fearful pall over everyone, but she could do little more than hang her head and yield to duty. Baldric was the brother of her husband and she, a mere widow with three children and a tenant. She was thankful the priest had not required they marry.
Winter now lay across the manor like a heavy white woollen. Biting cold, privation, darkness, and despair were the demons of the season and little could bring comfort. In this gloom even the beasts of the forests shivered and hid deep in their caves or far below the frozen sod. But despite the natural lethargy, there was much work to do. Baldric was particularly busy working long, cold days overseeing the sawing of timber in the forests, the making of charcoal in the wood near the Lahn, and the management offences for the swine now foraging for mast in the great stands of oak. Herwin was commissioned to work at repairing the roof of the mill in Oberbrechen and the walls of Weyer’s ewe-house. Arnold’s cart was shed-bound by snow, but he was assigned the task of hauling bundles of chopped stubble and straw by sleigh.