Quest of Hope(90)

The monk waved and smiled and lifted his black robes as he trotted toward them. As he approached, he paused to dance and wrestle with Wil, then lifted little Karl up toward the sun. “Ha, a fine fat little fellow!” He walked toward Emma and Heinrich panting and smiling. “Peace be to you!”

“And to you!” chuckled Heinrich.

Emma laughed and handed the monk a flask of mead as Wil begged all to go to the stream.

“Should we?” asked Emma.

Lukas swallowed a long draught and wiped his mouth. “Aye! Of course,” he roared. “Let’s be off to the Magi!”

The sun was kind for October and filled the blue sky above with bright and brilliant warmth such as few had remembered on an autumn’s day. The group walked through the quiet forest and soon came to their favorite place where, before long, Wil and Karl fell fast asleep atop the limp ferns beneath the outstretched limbs of the Magi.

Lukas enjoyed being the abbey’s herbalist, but his strange brews and concoctions had some wondering about his sanity. He turned toward Heinrich and took the young man gently by the wrists. He pushed the baker’s sleeves toward his elbows. “Hmm. You suffer affliction of the skin similar to your uncle Arnold, only not so severe.”

Heinrich nodded. “Some days ‘tis worse than others.”

“Yes, ‘tis the flours and yeasts you work with. I’ve told y’before y’needs wash your skin morning and night. Here, I’ve a good balm of marigold. Keep it on whilst you sleep, and you’ll smell the better for it too!” Lukas paused and looked into Heinrich’s eyes. “Hard times can bring the itch as well. Have you hard times, lad?”

Heinrich shrugged. “No more than another man. I’ve much on m’mind with the bakery and m’land, rents and taxes, and the like.”

“And your wife?”

The baker grew silent.

Lukas narrowed his gaze. “And your wife?” he repeated.

“She means to do well for all, and she wants the best for her household. She’s got a gift in charcoaling the likeness of faces and…”

“And have you peace?” asked Emma.

Heinrich thought for a moment, then answered. “No more nor less than any other. Methinks I am doing well. I serve m’wife faithfully, feed my young ones, keep my vows, avoid sloth. I steal nothing. Ja, I’d say I am at peace.”

Emma and Lukas exchanged troubled glances. Emma set her hand lightly on Heinrich’s shoulder. “I almost never see you laugh,” she said softy.

“Laugh? Ah, Frau Emma. Who laughs?” Heinrich tossed a pebble into the stream.

Lukas nodded and poked Emma with a stick. “Aye, sister. Who laughs in this place but you and I?” chortled the monk. “And they all think us mad!”

Emma chuckled. “So it is! I beg your pardon, Heinrich, it seems you are not mad yet. But if I could, I’d make you so!”

Lukas scratched his beard and turned to the baker. “So, friend, you say you’d be at peace?”

“Aye.”

“Why?”

“Well, I… I do as I am required, I—”

“Then why do you never laugh?”

Heinrich darkened. “I’ve little enough to laugh about! My eyes burn at night, m’wife’s quick to find my faults, I wheeze in my bed, m’body aches for all its labors… I worry bout the tax … I’ve buried three … death and suffering are all around! Unlike some, I’ve no cloister to hide in!”

Lukas’s eyes twinkled. “Ah, so you’d be angry as well? Seems odd for a peaceful man.”

Heinrich bristled. “What’s your game? Methinks you’ve had too much mead.”

“Game? I’ve no game, good fellow. I think you fail to see yourself, ‘tis all. And that, my good friend, is an ailment common to most.” Lukas picked at a dry leaf. “To be at peace one must be free, and you, my friend, are hardly free.”

“Who is free? The yeomen? They are slaves to taxes. And even you are bound to a vow.” Heinrich’s voice was tight. “I … I do not fight against the way of things … I leave the world as it is and hope it does the same for me; that is the peace I have.”

Lukas nodded and said nothing for a moment. “Little room for dreams in such a life. Perhaps this is why you cling to your foolish vow. You have given others power to bind you, and they have darkened your eyes. I do confess, dear friend, I cannot understand how a man banished from the view of heaven’s hope can claim to be at peace.”

The baker was uncomfortable. He stood and heaved a stone across the stream. “I think my penance and vows, my faithful labors must please God. I keep my face toward the earth in humility … like you ought! When I hold to such things I feel right and good within m’self and it gives me hope enough.”