Herwin paled. “I’ve no part in your feud, I’ve—”
“You and him have a part indeed. ‘Tis the debt you now owe!”
Herwin closed his eyes and nodded in resignation.
It was the Sabbath before Easter when strangers arrived in Weyer. A freeman from Limburg had moved his family to the monks’ manor in search of business as a mason. He had been promised work at the bakery now under construction at the north end of the village where Heinrich would soon serve. It seemed that the new prior, Mattias, had successfully influenced Abbot Stephen to return baking to the villages. It was a reasonable scheme, considering the gross inefficiency of carting dusty bread to each village every morning. He had argued it would also improve relations between the peasants and the brothers. Such consideration—and the profit attached—was a worthy advantage for all.
The traveling mason brought with him a household of six, as well as news of Axel. Heinrich eagerly questioned him about his younger brother and was pleased to learn that the apprentice was doing well at trade, as he was naturally adept at calculating distance and weight, and agile atop the scaffolds of Limburg. His master could be heavy-handed, but was known to be a good teacher.
As Heinrich bade the mason farewell, a young girl stepped from the man’s modest quarters. The young man stopped and stared—captured by the girl’s bright green eyes and smiling face. He tried to speak. “G-g-good day, s–strange … good strange maiden … I mean …” The lad took a deep, rasping breath. “I mean, good day, stranger.”
“And good day to you, sir.” The lass smiled kindly.
Heinrich’s heart soared. He studied the girl carefully and guessed her to be near his own age. She was willowy and had the soft curves of a young woman. Her hair was blonde, and her face strong, yet gentle. “My name is Heinrich and I live there.” He pointed toward the village center. “I am a baker,” he continued proudly, “and will be the village baker as soon as the building is done.”
“Oh,” she answered softly. “My name is Katharina, of Limburg. My father is the mason for your bake-house. He’s worked on a bakery in Mainz and the ovens in Runkel.”
But Heinrich was not listening. He could only hear his heart hammering hard within his heaving chest. Ach! he thought. Could it be that I might claim her for a wife? She is quiet and lovely, well-shaped and clean-smelling.
“Heinrich … Heinr—”
“Oh … yes?” the startled boy replied.
Katharina giggled. “For a moment I thought you were not listening.”
“Oh, no! You said your papa is a brick layer from Mainz.”
Katharina smiled and nodded. “He is. But, I—” She shrugged and winced as her mother barked her name. “I must go now, Heinrich, but perhaps I shall see you at your bakery. We shall speak again?”
Heinrich sighed and smiled. He turned and closed his eyes. “My bakery”… she said “my” bakery. Oh that it could be so!
“Frau Emma!” cried Heinrich. “Frau Emma?”
Ingelbert came racing from the wood. He was smiling, as usual, and Heinrich laughed as his friend drew near. Poor creature, he thought. Now a man but, oh, what a sight. Indeed, Ingelbert was nearly sixteen and able to be wed, but neither his mind nor his body would be anything but a burden for even the most tender of young women. His broken bones had healed from Lord Tomas’s beating, but he was as thin and white as ever. Some imagined he was little more than a skeleton wrapped in parchment. His distorted features were more pronounced than ever, but a great heart still beat within his gangly frame.
Heinrich clasped hands with Ingly and followed him to his mother waiting patiently by the stream. “Good Sabbath afternoon, Frau Emma!”
“Ah, lad, and to you.” The woman chuckled. She rubbed her round belly and laughed. “Well, we’ve eaten more mush than what’s fitting, and we can barely wait for Easter feast next week. And you, boy, have you eaten?”
“Aye, we’ve mush as well, but Varina put some dried herb in it and it tasted better than before. I cannot remember its name.”
“Hmm. Perhaps rosemary? Nay? Well, I needs ask her. She’s a delight.”
“Aye.”
“And what brings you to us?”
“Ah, ‘tis a good day for me and I thought I’d spend it with you and Ingly.”
“Oh? And why such a good day?”
Heinrich blushed and looked at his feet.
“Come, boy! Y’needs tell me!”
“I… I met a stranger in the village.”
“Ah, the mason?”