One of Varina’s children had thought to bring a jug of Herwin’s warm ale. “Aye, thanks to you,” Pious grumbled as he lifted the clay rim to his pouty lips. The household waited quietly as the priest finished guzzling. With a belch and a wipe of his sleeve, Father Pious was ready. “So, heaven’s sent a new soul? The midwife did not christen it with some foul blessing?”
Heinrich answered. “Nay, father, and here she comes with the child.”
As the midwife climbed up the church steps Herwin arrived from the monks’ fields and greeted his landlord with a firm grasp on the shoulder. “Well done, good man!” he whispered.
Father Pious took the baby and held him against his own swollen belly. The infant cried and wriggled in the rough wool of the priest’s black robes. Pious blessed the child, put salt in his mouth to ward away demons, and recited a psalm: “Tu autem, Domine, ne longe facias miserationes tuas a me. Ad defensionem meam aspice. Erue a framea, Deus, animam meam. But Thou, O Lord, be not far from me; look toward my defense. Deliver, O God, my soul from the sword.”
“Now, Heinrich,” continued Father Pious, “have you chosen a name?”
Heinrich smiled and winked at Emma. “Johann Lukas,” he answered.
“And have you godparents?”
Heinrich hesitated. Marta wanted her cousin Johann, but he was unmarried, slothful, and often blasphemous. Heinrich’s brother, Axel, was far away in the guilded halls of Limburg and too much like Baldric for Heinrich’s comfort. His best friend and cousin, Richard, was despondent and miserable, wandering the woodland as the village’s new forester in deep melancholy. He was viewed as promiscuous and unrepentant—a soul in peril. “My … my … tenant, Herwin, and his wife, Varina.” Heinrich gulped. He should have talked about it more with Marta.
“Are they Christian man and wife?”
*Ja.”
“Are they in good stead and order with the rules of God and man?”
“Ja.”
“Then so it shall be witnessed. Follow me to the font.”
As the group shuffled toward the baptismal of the simple church, Herwin and Varina exchanged nervous glances. Herwin leaned toward Heinrich and whispered, “Marta had oft spoke of her cousin. Methinks shell be furious with us and…”
Heinrich stopped and turned to Herwin with pleading eyes. “You’ve needs do this. None know of Johann’s whereabouts and he’s no wife to bring … and Marta did not want this delayed on account of risk to the boy’s soul. She thinks we’ve much sin under our roof and are in constant danger.”
Herwin nodded.
Pious’s voice echoed through the empty church. “Come, make ready!” With little ceremony he lifted the child over the tub and prayed, “In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spritus Sancti.” He immersed Johann Lukas. “Amen.”
With that, the little Christian was lifted from the water by Pious and the gentle hands of Herwin, and finally placed in the longing arms of Heinrich. The man beamed with pride, a healthy and godly pride. He smiled as if all heaven’s angels were gathered round, and he cuddled the baby’s tiny face tenderly against his stubbled cheeks. After a precious few moments Heinrich turned to his witnesses and invited all to his house to savor a berry bread he had baked that very morning.
As the small group made their way toward the celebration Emma drew Heinrich to one side. She smiled and gave her good friend a hug. Heinrich laughed and he offered her a moment with his son. Emma took the baby gently and tickled his chin as the newborn cooed. “Ah, wonder of God’s goodness … live well and be happy.” She softly kissed the little one upon his cheek and returned him to his father.
“Heinrich,” Emma said with a tone of excitement. “Before you join the others I’ve something to give you.” Her blue eyes twinkled as a huge grin stretched across the happy woman’s face.
Heinrich stood quietly as Emma reached inside her dress and withdrew a rolled parchment. He stared at it as she handed it to him. “I… I do not understand, I…”
“‘Tis a gift from your mother.”
Heinrich held the scroll in hand and waited for more. By the puzzled look on his furrowed face Emma knew she would need to explain.
“You’ve heard of the old pledge between an abbot of Villmar and your grandfather, Jost?”
“Yes. I’ve heard bits of it over the years but I thought most to be wild tales. I was told my sons would be taught in the abbey school.”
Emma beamed. “Aye! ‘Tis true enough.”
Heinrich was astonished. “How can this be?”