The knight reined in Baldric’s horse and circled his fallen prey with a satisfied smile.
Baldric, now raging like a bear gone mad, rushed toward the knight with a rock gripped tightly in his huge right hand. The soldier chuckled and nudged his heaving horse toward the charging woodward. Then he halted his mount and reached behind his back to grab hold of his crossbow. With a wry smile the knight loaded a well-sharpened bolt and took aim. He stood in his stirrups and calmly waited until he could hear Baldric’s wheezing lungs and see the fury in the red-faced man’s eyes. He pulled the trigger.
The hardwood dart flew hard and true and smashed into Baldric’s chest with a bone-crushing thud. The woodward toppled to his back as if a mighty hand had driven him to the ground, and there he lay, open eyed and gasping. The dispassionate knight dismounted and stood over his fallen prey. He glanced around for a brief moment to be certain none was witness to his deed, then placed a heavy boot on the woodward and jerked the bloodied bolt from the man’s punctured chest.
Foaming blood oozed pink and red from Baldric’s mouth and nose, and his breaths were quick and shallow. His eyes rolled, then closed. He coughed, gasped, and gurgled, until, at last, he lay still and silent upon the ground.
It was three days before Baldric’s body was found. Bailiff Werner, the abbey’s new lay law officer, was eager to show his mettle and quickly began an investigation. Indeed, the scene was a mystery. He had examined the man’s wound but had found no killing instrument. He also discovered a curious pool of blood a dozen rods away from Baldric, but only a strip of tattered cloth lay where a body should have been.
On a cool September day Baldric was washed and shrouded and laid to his eternal rest near his father’s grave in the churchyard of Weyer. Father Pious dutifully offered a final prayer, but none shed a single tear. Heinrich thought that to be the greatest tragedy of all. Baldric had lived his life deceived by the notion that reality lies only within the visible and hence, as do all men of vanity, he gave no thought to things of the invisible; things such as truth, kindness, hope, faith—or love. Void of these, he endured a meaningless life and suffered his death very much alone.
At the request of Abbot Stephen, Lord Klothar of Runkel permitted Werner and a company of brown-habited Templar sergeants to search his lands for evidence in the mysterious death of Baldric—without success. Though Klothar preferred to use his own knights, the Templars were gradually increasing their influence over him and the lands he protected. It was the natural effect of borrowing money, and Lord Klothar had increased his debt to the wealthy Templars.
During the particularly cold winter, Heinrich had stayed warm within his bakery. The abbey’s newly hired general counsel, Hagan, had affirmed the eighteen-year-old’s inheritance. Kurt had possessed a half-hide—inheritable land the equivalent of about twenty-five hectares and twice the amount considered necessary to support an average peasant household. In ancient times inheritances had been partitioned among all the male heirs. However, the lords now worked hard to end this custom, for it had created havoc by dividing each holding into ever-smaller parcels.
So, it was Heinrich who received the greatest portion of his father’s wealth, including his land, livestock, hovel, all chattels, and the garden plot. As a charitable young man, Heinrich was uncomfortable with his good fortune and gave his younger brother Axel a promise of a future sum of silver, and he began immediate plans to accumulate a small inheritance for Effi.
Finally free from Baldric’s control, Heinrich paused to reflect on his new station. He had plans to build a coop for fowl and a pen for swine, had hopes to improve his land’s yield, and dreamt of buying the bakery from the monks someday. He was now responsible to be a Christian landlord to Herwin and the man’s growing family. But most of all, Heinrich needed to consider his sister’s future. She was nearly sixteen and Baldric had not bothered to find her a husband.
As head of his household, Heinrich now needed to relate to his Uncle Arnold as something of a peer. At thirty-five, Arnold’s black hair had turned mostly gray and his lean frame had become bony and knotted. He was still cunning as ever and alert, but like his brother Baldric, his life was void of hope and he lived each day confined to the exploitation of the moment. Heinrich found every possible excuse to avoid the man.
With so much new responsibility, young Heinrich surely missed the company of his cousin Richard. Now seventeen and still serving Lord Klothar’s vassal Simon, Richard had so impressed the knight that he was beginning to train with the squires. Simon thought Richard to be worthy of his freedom and had secretly considered offering manumission to the abbot once the lad’s mettle was proven. It was a dream Heinrich wished for his friend.