Quest of Hope(68)
The Templars laughed. “Aye, we’re not to use them on Christians. You shall not see us with them, but few others care much about the pope on matters such as these.”
Werner was relieved. He mounted his horse and said, “We’ve needs to press on, Heinrich. God’s best to you, and on the wedding… some three weeks yet?” Werner laughed.
Heinrich smiled halfheartedly as dread filled his belly. “And good day to you, bailiff, and to you, brothers … and Alwin.”
The troop nodded and turned their horses toward the mill. Heinrich watched them for long moment until they passed out of sight.
The knight, Simon, was a vassal to Lord Klothar of Runkel, and his small manor lay within Runkel’s vast estate just beyond the Lahn River, close to the village of Arfurt. Simon held three hundred hectares of fertile land and about five hundred hectares of forest, making his domain about half the size of the area surrounding Weyer. He had no village, but instead housed many of his five score servile subjects in a cluster of huts gathered near his manor house. Other peasants who were bound to him lived in Arfurt and walked each day to work in his fields. By the order of things, both he and they were also bound to Lord Klothar of Runkel, the greater overlord of many such manors north of the Lahn. Of course, Lord Klothar, in turn, was the pledged vassal to a greater lord and so forth, until the chain of command found its way to the emperor himself, now Heinrich VI.
Richard, Arnold’s son, was gaining attention as Lord Simon’s aspiring servant-on-loan. As a page, Richard had served the knight well, learning the arts of court life and combat. Richard no longer wore the gray woollen leggings and short homespun tunic of a peasant boy. He now dressed in linen hose, colorful shirts, and the long, sleeveless robe of the warring class. He sported narrow, leather belts, supple leather boots, and embroidered cloaks. Nearly eighteen, he was entering the peak of his vigor and manhood. Handsome, strong, forceful, and courageous, he had captured the attention of the court and the ladies. But he was far too old to be considered a page any longer, so he was introduced as a footman-in-training, a respected title for a peasant soldier.
It was the feast day of St. Michael’s, and the serfs of Lord Simon had provided their lord with a plentiful harvest of food and beverages. Of course, Lord Simon had added plenty from his own surplus, and he offered the great hall and courtyard of his manor house for the celebration. Cartloads of cheese, bread, and vegetables were hurried toward large tables bowing from the bounty. Three oxen, two bullocks, five calves, seven sheep, and a dozen swine had been slaughtered the day before, and by the bells of prime they were roasting on spits or boiling in huge cauldrons.
The sun shone brilliantly and the air was cool as it should be in late September. In one corner of the courtyard, drunken peasants wagered hard-won pennies on cockfights, while others wrestled, played bladder-ball, or raced. All through the morning, children squealed and chased one another through rounds of blindman’s bluff and prisoner’s base. Indeed, it was a feast day not unlike others gone before!
For Simon and his squires, however, the day would be lost unless they had opportunity to display their skill at arms. The knight, having drunk more than prudence would advise, beckoned his fellows to gather in the courtyard while his subjects cleared the center. Simon’s best friend and dearest comrade, Lord Wolfrum of Saxony, had also come to celebrate the feast day. He and Simon began a good-natured contest with long-swords and shields. The two circled round and round each other, their swords singing in the clear air. They laughed and roared as the razor-sharp blades breezed by their unprotected limbs. The two played like lion cubs in the sun until, at long last, they collapsed unharmed and exhausted on the grass. Several squires set straw targets by the granary wall and displayed their skill in archery as others lanced gourds from atop spirited steeds. A group of footmen tumbled about in a riotous wrestling match while Richard watched restlessly.
The young peasant from Weyer had spent time training with a battle-axe and was anxious to display his skill. He desperately wanted to have Lord Simon see his ability for—just perhaps—the knight might be moved to buy his freedom and offer him a knighthood of his own. Richard decided it was time. He searched about the tented courtyard until he finally found one man willing to engage his fancy.
With a reluctant nod from Simon, Richard and Squire Niklas soon faced one another in the center of the quieting courtyard. At the insistence of their lord, each donned an open-faced helmet and a mail shirt before choosing their weapons. It would be the object of the contest to disarm the opponent without causing mortal injury.