Quest of Hope(30)

With kicks of their spurs and a loud shout the mounted men charged into the heart of the smoky village. The terrified folk scattered before them like dried leaves driven by a gust of wind. The rogue knights lifted their swords and sped after the fleeing peasants. First one, then another fell to the razor-sharp edges of the four flashing blades. Poor Otto, a neighbor to Arnold, fell first, his shoulder split to the center of his chest; then Elsbeth, the kindly wife of a ploughman and Werner the shepherd with his little infant, Ruthard. Others fell atop each other, bellies opened, limbs hacked, faces punctured.

While the soldiers continued their attack, the households of Baldric and Arnold hastened toward the Laubusbach and the safety of the far wood. Baldric paused a moment and turned an angry eye back toward the carnage. There, at the rear of the throng he saw his good friend, Dietrich the miller, stumbling along and holding his infant daughter, Meta. Behind him followed his wife, Gudrun, with the forearms of young twins Sigmund and Marta grasped tightly in her hands. Baldric gasped as Dietrich tripped, spilling baby Meta to the ground. Gudrun let go of her twins and lunged for Meta as Dietrich dodged a blade. An arrow struck the mother’s chest and before Dietrich’s eyes his wife toppled to the ground, baby Meta tumbling beneath the grinding hoofs of the archer’s horse.

Baldric had seen enough. He bellowed for Arnold and grabbed a threshing flail. He tossed Arnold a fodder fork and the two pressed against the swarming tide of wool. Herwin, seeing the men turn, grabbed an axe and joined them. Inspired by the courage of these three, Reeve Lenard, Gunter Ploughman, Edwin the thatcher, and others turned to fight as well.

Dietrich rolled into the safety of an open doorway and tossed his twins deep inside the hovel. Seeing Baldric and his comrades storming toward the horsemen, he leapt from his cover and picked up a hog mallet.

Baldric struck first. He swung his hinged flail squarely into the face of one surprised rider, dropping the man to the ground where two others smashed his head with heavy rocks. Arnold deftly feigned a thrust with his fork at another soldier’s side, then rammed the iron points through the sweated horse’s ribs. The animal buckled and collapsed on its side, spilling its rider into the grasping hands of the raging peasants.

Arnold took the fallen man’s sword and turned against the remaining two, who, shocked by the serfs’ resistance, reined their horses hard. Herwin grabbed one horse’s bridle and held fast against the beast’s urge to rear. In that moment Dietrich leapt onto the horse’s rump and swept the rider to his death. The final soldier threw his sword upon the ground and raised his hands in surrender to the crowd of gray-brown tunics now encircling him. “No quarter!” roared Baldric as he pressed between the shoulders of his fellows. “No quarter!”

With that, he swung a woodsman’s axe into the man’s belly, folding the murderous rake like a stalk of barley struck by a dull sickle. The man gasped as Baldric pulled him to the ground where he crushed his skull.

Weyer fell as silent as a winter’s night. Slowly, those in hiding crept from sanctuary, and those who had fled to the forest returned to join the others in the village center. Emma clutched Ingelbert to her breast and searched the crowd until her eyes fell on Heinrich. Relieved to find him safe, she wept. Wide-eyed and speechless, Heinrich, Richard, and their siblings stared mutely at the scene.





In late March of 1181 the winter wheat sprouted green atop the frosty hills, and the bells of nones tolled loudly above the churchyard where the village council was preparing to conduct business. The men of Weyer sat in a large circle atop pine boughs and bark and waited for Reeve Lenard to begin. Meanwhile, Heinrich and Richard crouched behind some bushes at the far edge of the churchyard. For boys of seven and six this was an adventure indeed. If they’d be caught they would surely feel the hard slap of a willow wand!

The business of the day began, dealing mostly with issues of the fields, taxes, encroaching fences, petty thefts, allotments of firewood, and the like. Dietrich the miller, with the influential support of his friends Baldric and Arnold, was elected as a village elder and had much to say about grain fees and thefts of flour. Little else of any account was discussed, and Heinrich and Richard grew weary and cold.

After a few yawns by those gathered, Reeve Lenard moved on to other matters. A man had been accused of robbing a grave but was judged innocent on the word of three oath-helpers who had sworn, under risk of God’s wrath, to his innocence. A discussion was entertained on the constant problem of firewood and two neighbors disputed a fence. At long last Reeve Lenard came to the final issue. “You’ve heard it said that we’ve had rumors about this woman, Emma. Bring her here.”