Baldric was anxious. He had suffered nightmares nearly every night for many months in which he saw the face of Paul the dyer staring at him from beneath the waters of the Lahn. And lately he was certain he could hear Hedda’s voice cursing him in the dark. “What of it?” he answered. “The harvest was good this year, the best any can remember. The hex is gone and methinks it best to leave well enough alone.”
“What if it be just a man… a secret lover. Secrets are worth money!”
Baldric shrugged. “I’ll… I’ll go with you this once and well have a look, but I make you no vow. If ‘tis a spirit I come home!”
Arnold laughed. “You’re the biggest man in the whole of the manor and you’d be afraid! We needs be there by matins’ bell.”
It was soon after compline when Baldric ordered his household to bed. He then climbed into his bed where he lay restlessly waiting for the next few hours to pass. In the common room lay Herwin, exhausted and snoring. Along the outer walls slept Heinrich, Axel, and Effi, each burrowed deep into their straw.
But none would sleep long, for Reeve Lenard’s dog was whining again. The village groaned and muttered in the night’s darkness, cursing and wishing the reeve would silence the beast once and for all. Lenard shouted and then could be heard swearing by the darkest places. Within moments the poor beast’s whines turned to yelps.
Heinrich lay in the nightglow of his hovel and wept for the dog. The animal was a clumsy, oafish thing, perhaps a bit stubborn, but sincere and eager. When Baldric had beaten Heinrich at Hallowmas just passed, it was Lenard’s tenderhearted creature that licked the lad’s bleeding face. The boy sat up. For a moment he imagined sneaking over to Lenard’s hut and releasing the dog, and his heart began to race. But it would be stealing …I’d be a thief! he worried. He argued with himself. Aye … but is it better to leave the animal with that madman?
Heinrich was suddenly paralyzed. He had woven a web and ensnared himself, for his conscience had trapped him into inevitable disobedience to something. He lay back and stared into the red-hued underside of thatch.
In the bedchamber Baldric was troubled too. He dared not close his eyes for fear of hearing Hedda, yet he could not keep them open for fear of seeing Paul’s ghost. Mercifully, his brother finally entered the hut and strode into his room.
“We’ve needs go,” said Arnold.
Baldric rose quickly and pulled a fur cloak over his shoulders as he stepped past the hearth and out his door. The autumn night was damper than usual, and a heavy fog had settled on the village. “Remember, I’ve only agreed to watch.”
The two walked quietly through the sleeping village, past coughs and snores, a cackle from some fowl, and the soft cries of hungry infants. They approached Emma’s hovel cautiously. It was beyond the end of the path, standing quite alone near the Laubusbach. The moon was new and the mist-shrouded stars barely cast enough silvery light to see the blurred silhouette of the hut and its fences. The men crouched and hurried to the cover of a thick-trunked tree.
For a time, the brothers could hear only the sounds of their own breathing. Then the church bell rang and they jumped with a start. “Ach!” groused Baldric. “Johannes ought let his novice sleep!”
“Shh!” whispered Arnold. “It should appear now.”
He had no sooner uttered the words when heavy padding could be heard approaching Emma’s hut. It sounded like soft leather on matted sod. The two froze and strained to see a shadow moving past the fence. “Baldric,” whispered Arnold, “we needs move closer.”
Baldric swallowed hard; his mouth was dry and his hands trembled. “N-n-not too close. It moves like a spirit.”
Arnold crept from behind his cover, his older brother in tow. They each stayed low to the ground and stepped lightly until Baldric’s heel squashed a walnut. The two froze, certain the ghost had heard the crack. Fearful to move, each held his breath.
The shadow stood still. The path was dead silent. Baldric closed his eyes and fought the urge to run. He was certain Hedda’s awful whispers would break the horrid silence, and he began to sweat. Arnold was now frightened as well. Suddenly, a giant creature crashed through the underbrush behind the startled brothers and roared past them in the mist. The two cried out and fled in terror.
Heinrich lay wide-eyed and trembling as a chilly, breezy dawn welcomed Weyer. It was November the second, All Souls’ Day—the day that warned of the coming Judgment Seat where Christ would judge all souls. The boy was aware he had sinned grievously the previous night, and he wondered how he might construct a confession specific enough for eternal absolution, while vague enough to avoid a beating. He further struggled over what secret penance he might do to secure his temporal forgiveness. Of course, he then wondered if secret penance was penance at all? He had been well instructed on the sufferings of Purgatory, and the lad feared what horrors his unremitted sins might earn him after death. He shuddered and began to sweat.