Quest of Hope(5)

Berta shook her head as Sieghild tilted the table back to its legs and gathered the precious buns into the basket. She stared into the pot and grumbled a few oaths, then asked Sieghild to fetch more water from the nearby village well. A good mush was bubbling, and two scrawny chickens were waiting to be boiled in another pot, now steaming. The woman looked wearily around the room and, content all was now restored to calm, turned toward her husband. “You might reach out the door for a bit of snow and put it on that swelling face of yours.” Kurt grumbled and nodded but was soon laughing again with his brothers.

For the next hour the two women huddled together in conversation, stirring the mush and sinking the chickens, trying their best to ignore the men. So, despite the blustery, cold winds of January that bent the smoky columns atop Weyer’s rooftops, the house of Kurt was returned to proper order.

By the bells of nones the household had sucked the last bit of meat from both birds and fingered the mush bowl clean. It was a good mush, a stout and hearty blend of boiled barley and rye. The wheat rolls had brought a roar of approval from all gathered, and the taste of sweet honey on that bitter day was likened to a gift from the Holy Virgin herself.

Outside, the sky was a heavy gray and darkening as the day aged. Inside, Kurt kept the fire blazing and now cradled his newborn in his strong arms. Berta sat with Sieghild on one side of the hearth while the men lounged about the straw-strewn floor atop their woollen cloaks and furs.

At last, Jost stood to his feet and stretched. After shaking the straw from his hood he ceremoniously reached into his leather satchel hanging on a peg and withdrew a mysterious parchment scroll. “Afore I present this, I’ve needs to speak of some things.” Jost the Shepherd was not a tall man, nor strong-built, but his resonant voice and imposing eyes commanded the unwavering attention of all. He looked into each face carefully and then began to speak.

“All here be kin. I’ve a half-hide of land, as y’know. Now, a half-hide’s not enough to earn a man’s freedom, but ‘tis more than the cotters can claim and more than what I had when I was but a shepherd.” He paused a moment, suddenly picturing in his mind’s eye his late wife and their difficult years spent in drafty, one-room huts on the outskirts of nearby Villmar. He could see himself walking over the endless pastures of the Lahn valley as the monks’ shepherd. He remembered the few pennies they had always kept in a wooden bowl, never as many as a shilling at a time and barely enough to pay the taxes they owed.

Jost returned from his musings and continued. “Hear my wheezing chest? Not the sounds of a man likely to see Lammas. Methinks I am near m’grave. No matter. It is time to leave behind what I can; a few thoughts and a promise. Lads, look to me hard in the eyes! There’d be two things not to forget once I’m gone and you needs teach the little one. Your lives need rest on these two things and these alone: the code and the cause.

“First, cursed be any who shames this family by breaking the code of m’father, Thonges. I’ve taught you the way before, but I say it again, plainly: hate sloth, steal naught, keep a pledge. ‘Tis simple enough.”

Jost stopped to let his words settle and took a long draught of beer. Baldric nodded to his father. He liked to work and had no urge to scrump; he had made no vows. He was suddenly relieved, as are all who imagine the way of salvation so well within their gifts.

Sieghild offered timidly, “Vater, the priest says some different.”

Kurt groaned, but he recognized the courage in his sister’s challenge—for true valor is in proportion to fear, and the poor girl was terrified.

Jost’s face tightened like wet deerskin in the summer’s sun but he allowed her to speak.

Sieghild began. “The father says we’ve to keep the rules of the Holy Church. He says the Church has its place, the men-of-arms have theirs, and we have ours. We needs keep the order of things right. Our place is to be kept without questions and other contempts. We ought ‘seek truth only through the Holy Church and protection but through our rightful lords.’ He says the end of the world is at hand, that Judgment is close and the world needs to be fit and ready. He says we’ve a code of ten commandments to live by… not three.” Her voice faded to a fearful whisper.

Jost bristled but found himself on precarious ground. He, too, feared the Judgment to come so he thought carefully before he answered. “Ja, ja, follow the bells and chants, heed the mumbles of the churchmen as y’wish, but never, never stray from the family code. Ach, I know The Commandments, but they are ten ways to say the same as what we say in three! Now, enough of this.”