Quest of Hope(44)

By the end of April the barley and oats were sown, the fallow fields turned and fertilized, and peasants’ crofts planted and waiting on the faithful sun of May. Baldric’s friend Dietrich was now the monks’ miller for Weyer, and their mill, located along the Laubusbach at the village edge, was in desperate need of attention. So, in addition to all other tasks, all able-bodied men and boys were forced to work on repairing the mill, for in a few short months its service would give purpose to all the labors of spring.





At twelve and a half, Heinrich was beginning to take the shape of a man. His growth lagged behind others of his age, though his shoulders were beginning to broaden. Most thought he resembled his round-faced father, Kurt, though the boy had not yet gained his father’s burly bulk. His hair was now reddish brown—some might call it auburn. It curled and looped and shone in the sun. His manner reminded some of his mother’s father, for he was calm and gentle, sensitive to the suffering of others, and friendly to all. Yet the lad could be angered and stubborn, and was given to hiding his feelings. He spent much time in melancholy and reflection, and suffered the superstitious fears of his mother. He gave great weight to things of heaven and hell and was given to night torments and dreams. Baldric boasted the boy was finally “well-shamed,” and, indeed, the lad had grown to be ever more bound and fettered by the demands and expectations of others. Little did he know how his world was shaping him for things to come.

On a Sabbath in June, Heinrich raced from Mass with cousin Richard toward the beloved gardens of Frau Emma and her son. Ingly worked long days with the cotters in the monks’ demesne—ploughing, sowing, harrowing, weeding, and serving at whatever task the season called him to perform. He was gentle, still slow of mind, but grand of heart. He bore the jeers and taunts of others with a grace he learned from his mother’s godly ways and offered kindness for insult at every turn.

The boys charged to the woman’s wattled fence and leapt over it like happy deer. Forgetting their manners, they burst through her door without warning and stumbled across her earthen floor. Emma screamed with a start. “Ach! Boys! Can y’not knock on m’door!”

The two stood perfectly still, embarrassed and surprised by her anger. Richard spoke first. “Beggin’ pardon, Frau Emma. We’d no right to rush in like that.” His eyes moved away from her and fell upon what appeared to be a parchment setting atop her scribe’s table.

Emma gathered her wits and drew a deep breath. Her heart slowed to its normal pace and she spoke more gently. “You nearly frightened me to death! It is better for you to knock … but, no harm done.”

Both boys now stared at her table. The woman sighed. She had many secrets and had learned it was sometimes wiser to preserve them. She was about to speak when a familiar voice was heard at her door. The woman closed her eyes and sighed again.

“Frau Emma?”

“Ja. Come.” The woman wiped her hands on her apron and smiled halfheartedly as Brother Lukas stooped through her door and stepped into her room.

“Peace to you, sister,” he said.

“And peace to you, my friend,” answered Emma.

The monk surveyed the room and nodded a greeting to the boys. “I heard a scream and thought there might be trouble.”

“Ah,” chuckled Emma, “no trouble here. The boys put a scare in me and I’m sorry for your bother. Now if y’needs get back to your—”

“Oh! And what have we here?” The monk joined the boys at Emma’s table.

Emma shook her head and closed her door. She walked over to the group huddling over her parchment and bit her lip. “Ah, yes … this,” she answered slowly. “I had no thoughts of others coming today.”

“It is marvelous! Beautiful! It is … heavenly!” Lukas was amazed.

Heinrich, Richard, and Ingly stood quietly. The man bowed his head low to the table and stroked his short beard with delight. The table was positioned near the window of the hovel and the late morning sun was casting a pleasant light atop it. “Emma, you’ve a gift from God, but I must confess I am very confused. In my days I have ne’er heard of any woman, and surely no peasant woman, set to this task! Ach! By God the abbot would have you flogged! You can let none know!” He turned to the boys and laid a stern eye on them. “You lads! You must keep the secret of this good woman—”

“Aye! And so we shall,” boasted Richard.

Heinrich nodded. “We’d known her to have quills before … but we only ever saw her doodlings.”

“Think no more of it, boy, put it out of your mind, for one slip might cost her plenty. The abbot wants the scriptorium to be a profitable commerce. He contracts his scribes to make Scriptures, Books of Hours, and Psalms for Mainz and for lords in the realm. He needs no secret competitor under his nose! And, Emma, you must know that all income is subject to tax and tithe. You’d be punished for a hidden work—I fear you’d be punished harshly.”