COURAGE AND GRACE
The Sabbath following the Epiphany was known as the Baptism of our Lord, but for the terrified folk of Weyer there was little joy in the celebration. Few had dared venture from their homes since the fearful hex of the woodland witch. Rumors abounded of hairless swine found tied in the trees and of infants suffocated in the night. Finally, Father Gregor convinced a reluctant Arnold to escort him to Villmar where he entreated the abbot to rise in defense of the village. After exchanging messages with the archbishop, the worried abbot decided to invite the Templars, holy monks themselves, to help Runkel’s men-at-arms scour the forests in search of the witch. He wanted her captured and brought to trial in the church court at Mainz.
Gregor returned from Villmar with Father Johannes, a younger priest just sent from Mainz to assist the aging man. Father Gregor was nearly fifty and had endured his tenure in the service of a damp and gloomy parish church. The appointment of an assistant made for a bittersweet gift. The old priest was pleased to have the younger man’s companionship, but his very presence was an unpleasant reminder of his own mortality.
Father Johannes had been raised as an oblate in the pink-stoned cloister at Maria Laach and, though his heart was sincere, he had been granted just enough education to cause harm. For all his lack of learning, however, the thin man was sincere and eager to do God’s work. He imagined himself a guardian of the Virgin, and his piety and zeal were evident to all. As he followed Arnold and Father Gregor down the hill into Weyer’s hollow, the young priest wept aloud for joy. “Ah, thanks be to God for this place! It is my place and I shall guard it well!”
No sooner had the clerics entered the village before a group of peasants crept from their hovels and scurried to the safety of the priests’ shadows. One desperate woman held out her sick child for help. “Fathers, in the name of Blessed Mary can y’not help us? The witch’s hex has taken one of m’children and now this one is sick with the King’s Evil, just as she said!”
Others crowded around, including Heinrich. The sun disappeared behind a thick cloud and a sudden gust of snow showered the village. “My children,” began Father Gregor slowly. “The brothers in Villmar are fasting for you now, this very day. They fast and they are doing penances for what wrongs you have brought upon yourselves. And God has sent us Father Johannes in our hour of need. He, too, shall pray for you and fast with me for thy safety.”
“My child’s eyes are failing and she lies sweated with fever,” shrieked a woman. “I’ve spent all I have for bilberry but it is for naught. The witch is taking her sight!”
“Enough, woman!” answered Father Johannes sternly. He walked toward her purposefully and beckoned all to listen. Heinrich pressed close.
“The Savior healed the blind; ‘tis blindness that be our foe! Seek not herbs to save your child’s sight! ‘Tis faith that is the balm, faith I say for all to hear. Woman, all of you, vow to me this very day that none shall put their trust in herbs or cantations, remedies or cures! Vow to fast and yield yourselves to the prayers of God’s men.
“From here to the end of the curse any who would use a potion or an infusion or chant shall bear the wrath of the Holy Church. It is your lack of faith that has brought the curse, and by your faith restored the curse shall fail! Now on the morning Mass I shall grant absolution for all confessed sins. Your souls will be forgiven in heaven, but I cannot grant plenary indulgence for the temporal penalty still due until you perform penance for your weakness.
“So hear me: none are to eat honey, all must swear to charity; you needs pay another tithe by Sabbath day. One of each family must walk the village paths barefoot and without a cloak. By these penances we shall begin to overcome.”
The folk were desperate and the young priest’s confidence gave them hope. At the bells of nones groups of penitent villagers hurried toward the roadway. Among them were Baldric’s bruised wife, Hedda, as well as Reeve Lenard with his huge dog in tow. Heinrich took his sister by the hand, and the two walked to the end of the frozen footpath to stare at the huddled column trudging obediently round the village like the Hebrews circling Jericho. But in Weyer there were no trumpets and there was no victory; only shivering peasants tramping barefoot through the snow.
By Holy Week much had changed in Weyer. The child with failing sight was now completely blind, and nearly two dozen others had entered their graves. Most had died obediently—dutifully refusing to use the herbs offered by a kind Creation. The swineherd was decimated as well as the sheepfold, more from neglect than by the curse.