Quest of Hope(85)
Above, the peasants cheered, cried, and yelled as they watched the battle erupt below. Steel flashed and men screamed, horses whinnied and toppled. Archers hurried close to pinpoint their targets and shot their longbows with keen, passionless eyes. The grunts of men and clang of steel tumbled together in a horrid mêlée of severed flesh and crunching bone. Oaths and curses, cries and pleadings flew from desperate lips. And in moments it was over.
Roland lay dead; a lance had pierced his heart before his horse crushed his head. His soldiers lay strewn about, dead or dying, save one knight and a few wounded others who tripped through the village, across the Laubusbach and to the safety of the forest.
Lord Klothar’s men had suffered loss as well and the villagers now scrambled from their safe perch to give what comfort they might. Two knights lay dead, one dying. Three sergeants and eight footmen were dead, several others wounded. It had been a brief but costly engagement, but for none was it more costly than to Frau Emma. She scuttled from the churchyard sobbing and groaning until she fell across the still breast of Gottwald. The broken woman wailed and raised her tearing eyes to a silent heaven. Confused, Heinrich wrapped a loving arm around her.
“Shhh … good Emma. Shhh. All shall be well.”
The woman struggled to her knees and embraced the young baker as she sobbed uncontrollably. Heinrich held her tight and wondered why.
“H-he was … the love of my life,” whispered the woman. “And … and the father of Ingelbert …” Her voice trembled and faded away.
Heinrich stared silently at the dead man’s face. He held Emma tightly until Lord Simon touched his shoulder.
“You there, move off. We’ve needs bear our comrade home.”
Heinrich nodded and Emma laid a tender hand across Gottwald’s whitened face. She paused for a lingering moment, then turned away to spare the man scandal in death. The knight looked suspiciously at Emma but Heinrich quickly blurted, “She served his family as a child, sire, and … grew to love him from afar.”
Lord Simon shrugged and ordered four men to lift the corpse into a waiting cart. Emma collapsed when she heard Gottwald’s body drop heavy and hard atop the oak planks.
“I should have kept my distance, Heinrich,” Emma stammered. “In my love I risked shame for him … a shame we hid for so very long!” The woman released a trembling breath.
Heinrich helped her to her feet and walked her slowly home where the two sat quietly in the grass of Emma’s gardens until the woman was content to speak. “We loved in sin when we were young, Heinrich. 1 was near to taking vows in Quedlinburg and he was a squire like none has ever been. I saw him ride his stallion in the joust… ah … a sight to steal a young maid’s heart, for sure! His white hair was like flowing snow upon his strong shoulders, and his smile lit the world for me.
“He loved his God and felt only shame when sin bound us together. He swore to marry me, but I loved him too much to bring trouble to his family.” Emma paused to wipe her nose and eyes. The two rose to walk about the woman’s flowers. “He had been pledged to another … an alliance of families that would keep the peace for many. I dared not undo the wisdom of that betrothal.
“But he felt both duty and love toward me and used his influence to find me a place to raise our Ingly … and found me quills and the like … he loved my work.”
Heinrich was spellbound. “And … what of the mystery of All Souls’ Eve? Has he to do with that?”
Emma sat atop a log at her garden’s edge. She looked carefully at the young man. “I trust you, Heinrich, like no other. I’ve spoken no word of this to any. But secrets weigh heavy and I’ve become old and frail. It suits me now to share the burden.
“To answer you straightaway, aye… it has been Gottwald who once pledged to come each All Souls’Eve, or send a trusted servant, with some silver for our care or a commission for my work. He would play an hour or so with Ingly … I told the dear boy that the man was a caring friend who lived afar … and we read a psalm and prayed.” Emma looked at the sky above and her chin trembled. “Ah, dear Gottwald.” She turned to Heinrich and took his hand. “There was no more sinning, lad, none. But there surely was love.”
Chapter 13
THE GRINDSTONE AND A GIFT
The summer brought no rain upon the “Golden Ground.” In fact, throughout Christendom the skies were cloudless and bright for week after thirsty week. The monks in the cloister fasted more than their Rule demanded in hopes of ushering in an army of rain-heavy clouds.