Quest of Hope(57)

The second story was accessed from the inside by a short flight of wide, oak steps. Outside, a large double door could be opened, and a pulley above was hung on an extended beam. This would serve to hoist sacks of flour from the miller’s wagon for storage.

Heinrich strutted through his new bakery and his chest swelled with more pride than he later confessed to Father Johannes. He also felt some disappointment. He had secretly hoped for a bake-house separate from the ovens; it would be so much cooler in the heat of summer. However, Prior Mattias insisted a single, half-timber, two-story building was adequate to serve. Johannes would later assure him that the discomfort might keep pride at bay.

During Pious’s blessing, Heinrich could not help but fix his eyes on Katharina. As heavy as his heart so often was, it was she that brought a flutter and a song. He thought her like a butterfly from Emma’s garden, or a light-winged bird soaring within his soul. And when she smiled at him, her green eyes sparkled with the warmth and hope of a summer sun. “Katharina, I am so pleased you’ve come!”

The maiden smiled shyly.

“Your father did a good thing here. ‘Tis the best bakery in all the realm!”

Katharina was pleased. “Ja, methinks so. He’s a good papa, smart and hard-working.” She looked about the room. “Seems there is much to do as a baker. Have you no helpers?”

Heinrich beamed. “Well, the monks send me workers from time to time, but we’ve no need for an apprentice as yet. Actually, ‘tis important I watch all that happens here. You know, Katharina, bad things can happen if the bake is bad.”

Katharina drew close.

“The monks warned me and Dietrich, our miller, of the poisons and hexes on the grains. It seems thousands in France were burned from the inside; their flesh pulled from their bones by an invisible fire! Some went mad, rolling about their huts. We needs watch for black or sweet-tasting grains, especially any with tiny drops that taste like honey. They say it is a fearsome temptation, like the forbidden fruit. They told me if bread is ever cut and ‘tis black inside, though it may be sweet, ‘tis surely cursed. Some think the witch or her daughter may try to hex our fields, so the priests bless each planting and harvest.”

Katharina was spellbound, or at least appeared to be. She was happy to be near the young man. The two brushed hands as Heinrich led her to the door. Neither said a word, but for each the light touch was a gift from heaven.





Abbot Stephen ordered the villages to hold councils on the afternoon of the Ides of March, and Weyer’s Reeve Lenard placed his elders in the fore of the crowd on the blustery, sunny day. Father Johannes and his assistant, Father Pious, shouted a blessing over the wind and maintained a visible presence in the center of the gathering. Of course, it was particularly difficult for Pious to be obscure no matter where he stood! The eighteen-year-old priest was a rolling mound of indulgence and gluttony. His face was puffed and doughy and his skin white as sun-bleached parchment.

Old Lenard motioned for silence and beckoned Baldric to his side. As woodward for the whole of the abbey’s lands he was well versed in the issues at hand. “We’ve items of some importance this day,” began Baldric. He was now completely toothless and weatherworn. Heinrich thought him to look grizzled and mean, huge and foreboding, but also stiff-jointed and weary. “First order for a vote is for a new reeve.”

Lenard stiffened and soured. He had not been warned of this! He opened his mouth to object, but a blazing glare from Baldric quieted him. In moments, Lenard was out and another was in. “We’ve more things,” continued Baldric. “The bakery is at work each day, save the Sabbath. Any caught baking their own bread shall be fined. Any dough found in your huts gets you a fine and a flogging.”

A grumble rolled through those gathered.

“Forester Arnold identified Rolf, son of Hugo, poaching deer in the beech near Oberbrechen. I had him bound and taken to the abbey where he is being held for trial by the bailiff. Listen to me, men. You may take no fish from the stream, no hares, no deer, no fox, bear, boars … not even a squirrel! No acorns, beechnuts, hazelnuts, wild plums, berries … nothing without the approval of Forester Arnold or me!

“Further, the new abbot wants care taken in the fields. Any caught moving a marker shall be whipped, fined, and subject to hard penance. At a second offense he shall forfeit land rights. None shall block drainage, deepen a furrow, dam a spring. None shall move a fence, cut an orchard limb, or take firewood without the permission of the reeve or hayward. None shall marry in secret, none shall bury in secret—the taxes shall be paid. None shall refuse a man-at-arms food or quarters as needed. Lord Klothar is now in alliance with the Templars to our west and is quartering their sergeants as required. Fathers Johannes and Pious shall be keeping watch over all.”