The tension of the onlookers was at breaking point.
Suddenly Count Georg von Landskron and Chassim dismounted, and the dignitaries of the city raised their hats and bowed. Because just then from the lane which led from the Gautor gate to the market square a huge horse appeared dwarfing its slight and fragile rider. King Conrad IV, though still a boy of fourteen years, did his utmost to make up for his youth by his posture and expression. He was followed by twenty heavily armed knights in the black and gold of the Staufers. The king looked over the crowd seriously and solemnly before directing his gaze at Count von Landskron, who like Chassim genuflected and bowed deeply. For a moment not a sound was heard except for the prancing and nervous snorting of the horses. Then a horseman sprang from his mount and hurried to hold the bridle and stirrup of the royal white horse so Conrad could dismount. All watched as he walked towards the count, smiled and touched his shoulders bidding him rise, then he embraced him in a friendly and cordial manner.
This gesture broke the spell. Cheers rang out from the crowd of onlookers and they changed to general shouts of joy which echoed across the square. The boy king turned around and waved genially as a smile stole into his soft features at the obvious affection of the people.
What a superhuman task this young man has, Anna thought, suddenly feeling pity for him. She saw one last cornflower in the basket of the flower girl who still pressed against her. Everybody’s attention was focussed on the king and the welcome ceremony, and Aaron, too, was completely absorbed by it. Anna knelt down, reached into the basket, took the cornflower and whispered into the little one’s ear: ‘Bring the flower to the king and I’ll give you a penny!’
She pushed the cornflower into one of the girl’s hands and the penny into the other. Dressed in a white tunic the little girl with her flaxen hair crowned with a wreath looked like an angel.
Anna looked up. The count was just introducing Chassim to the king who embraced him just as he had embraced the count. Then the king greeted the dignitaries of the city and with his hands gestured them to rise.
Nobody was watching the little flower girl who after a moment’s reflection marched right up to King Conrad, Chassim and the count who were turning waving to the crowd. To Anna’s horror the little girl didn’t go to the young king but straight to Chassim whom she must have thought was the king and, shyly tugging at his red cloak, handed him the cornflower with a curtsy.
Right then Anna wished the ground would open and swallow her, she was so embarrassed. But she could not take her gaze off the little girl and Chassim, who seemed to be asking her a question. The little girl turned around and pointed directly at Anna, who immediately moved back trying to hide in the second row. But she could sense that Chassim had seen her clearly. He thanked the little girl by dropping to his knees and stroking her head. He put the cornflower into the button hole of his jerkin, sent the little girl off and turned back to the king.
The three noblemen then mounted their horses, and the herald trumpeters lifted their instruments and sounded the signal for departure. Waving graciously to the still cheering crowd, the three rode off together through the lane towards the castle. Anna noticed that Chassim cast a glance back over his shoulder. Did he try to see again the stranger who had sent a little girl to him with a cornflower? No, it must just have been a coincidence, she thought sadly.
The mounted trumpeters were joined by the royal bodyguard and all fell in behind King Conrad and his companions.
Anna was very glad that Aaron had missed the whole episode. But where had he gone?
Just then the royal carriages came rattling along. The coachmen were shouting loudly and cracking their whips as they drove the horses and signalled to the crowd to clear the way for the rear guard of the entourage.
Anna looked around again and discovered Aaron on the far side of the cortège. He waved to her and pointed to a side lane that he was trying to reach. Gradually the crowd of onlookers dispersed, but because of the seemingly endless procession of carriages and horsemen Anna could not get across the square.
Finally the last car creaked past Anna as several children with snotty noses and dirty bare feet ran after it jeering. She set out to cross the square. She had almost reached Aaron on the far side when she heard a loud snorting and clattering of hooves and out of the corner of her eye glimpsed someone approaching rapidly from the left. It was a knight galloping recklessly to catch up with the royal retinue. ‘Out of my way!’ he shouted. Anna’s reaction was a fraction too slow and she was grazed by the flank of the warhorse and knocked to the ground. But as she fell she recognised the imperious voice and the hulking figure with the red curly hair despite his beard.
The knight turned and shot her an angry glance. ‘You ought to be more careful, you stupid woman!’ he cried as he rode off.
Anna remained lying on the ground for longer than necessary. She was not seriously injured; her shoulder hurt a little and she had a few scratches. In her shock her first thought was evil has caught up with me after all!
Gero von Hochstaden had come to Oppenheim.
What was he looking for?
Was it she herself?
No, that was not possible. As far as he was concerned, she was dead, drowned as Brother Marian.
Aaron came running and helped her up. ‘Are you alright?’ he asked anxiously.
Anna was beginning to shake and could not help it. With an unsteady hand she checked whether her hood was still covering her head. Yes, thank God, it was. He could hardly have recognised her, could he? She fervently hoped not.
‘I think so,’ she answered at last.
‘Does anything hurt?’
She shook her head. ‘No. It was my fault. My mind was elsewhere.’
‘Come. I had enough for one day,’ Aaron said and together they headed home. Anna did not say a word about having seen the young Count von Hochstaden.
Chapter XI
Gero rode as fast as his horse would go, past running children, marching foot soldiers, knights and carriages until at last he caught up with the end of the royal procession. As he fell in with their leisurely pace, he began to think about the day’s events.
His primary objective still was to find a place in the count’s entourage. In rough times like these, a well-trained knight who came equipped with a horse, armour and weapons had to be welcomed by any local lord. Gero would just have to be clever about it.
As soon as he was established, he would find his two comrades and send a message by carrier pigeon to his uncle. The message that King Conrad was staying at Landskron Castle was too important to entrust to Lutz or Oswald. Moreover, it would take two or three days to reach the archbishop. Gero wanted to be first with the news at all cost, and he was sure that it would increase his prestige immensely with his uncle.
He stood up in his stirrups to see better what was happening at the head of the column. He noticed that it had passed through the north eastern gate of Oppenheim and that the main part of the entourage did not go up the winding path to the castle, but turned right. Only the king, Count Georg von Landskron and his blue-clad companion took the road to the castle, accompanied by three soldiers with halberds. The herald trumpeters, bodyguards, foot soldiers and the numerous wagons were heading for a large meadow at the edge of the forest.
The tournaments and festivities which the Count of Landskron organised every year usually took place on the extensive plain below the castle. Much had already been prepared or was in the course of construction: a large paddock for the draught and riding horses, tents for the teams, fireplaces for cooking. As the carts and wagons arrived, they were admitted and unloaded. They brought weapons and even more tents as well as all that was necessary for comfort.
Gero rode closer and watched the lively hustle and bustle. The count’s archers, recognisable by their red and gold tabards, were practising when they were joined by a few soldiers of the king with their longbows. They had set up two straw effigies with targets on their chests and helmets on the
ir heads at a distance of a hundred paces. The archers stuck the arrows into the ground in front of them and tried to fire five, one after the other, as fast as possible. A captain in half-armour supervised the action. He criticised, praised and sometimes corrected their shooting posture and technique.
Gero knew something about archery, and in fact fancied himself an excellent shot. Perhaps this was his opportunity. He might manage to join the garrison if he made a good impression on someone in authority, such as the captain of the castle.
Meanwhile, as he dismounted and tied his horse to a stake, the king’s soldiers challenged the count’s men to a contest, and five men were selected to represent each team. The captain ordered the two targets, one for the count’s archers, the other for the king’s archers, to be moved further away so that they were now a good 130 paces away from the competitors. Gero took off his heavy outer clothing and put on his bracers and the leather finger protection which he had with him in his saddlebag and strolled to the scene of the contest with his longbow and arrows.
The captain, meanwhile, lifted his hand as a sign for the archers to get ready and waited until the first two had chosen their arrows and stretched their bowstrings. They took aim at the straw figures, and when the captain’s hand fell and he shouted ‘Now!’, the arrows flew. In rapid succession all five arrows were fired, and then it was the next man’s turn. Everyone tried his best but not every arrow hit the target. Some flew over it, while others hit the ground close in front, triggering loud laughter and jeering from the opposing team.
When all arrows had been fired, the royal archers proved best, with most hits.
Gero had watched attentively and then very calmly stuck ten arrows into the ground before him. The others hadn’t heeded him till he started to fire his ten arrows so rapidly and with such precision that everybody turned around in amazement. Each of Gero’s arrows hit the target of the count’s archers, the second last shot going right through its heart and the last knocking off the helmet.
Loud applause and shouts of appreciation greeted Gero’s display, and the gruff captain walked towards him to shake his hand. ‘Nobody will match that too easily, sir. Who are you?’
‘My name is Meinhard von Geldern,’ Gero replied. ‘And who are you?‘
‘I am the captain of the castle. Where did you learn to shoot so well?’
‘My uncle was an excellent teacher. But tell me – might you have use for somebody like me? I am also handy with the sword and the lance.’
The captain of the castle took Gero’s bow and touched the finely grained wood admiringly. ‘What a beautiful longbow. What kind of wood is it? Yew?’
‘Yes, that is correct,’ Gero replied proudly.
The captain handed him back the weapon. ‘Count Landskron always has use for capable men.’ He eyed Gero more closely. ‘I get the impression that you have what it takes to be a leader . . .’
‘I should certainly hope so,’ Gero replied and expertly unstrung his bow.
‘Follow me,’ said the captain of the castle as he walked ahead. Gero nodded towards the others, grabbed his horse by the bridle and followed.
That evening Gero looked around the crooked, narrow lanes of Oppenheim. It was gradually getting dark and he had left the castle with the excuse of saying goodbye to a friend.
He was feeling highly pleased with himself, as things had worked out better than he had expected. The captain of the castle had asked him some more questions about his origins and education which Gero answered to his satisfaction, and with that he was admitted to the castle guard as instructor of archers.
While negotiating with the captain, he even managed to catch a glimpse of the lord of the castle and his distinguished guest when the two appeared unexpectedly on the battlements of the outer wall.
The captain of the castle had immediately hurried to his lord and pointed out Gero, who was standing below in the outer courtyard. As soon as the king and the count looked down at him, Gero had reverently raised his hat and bowed low. The count briefly lifted his hand in greeting and then walked ahead with the king while the captain of the castle signalled to Gero that his appointment had been approved.
Afterwards a strong black-bearded soldier showed Gero the living quarters and stables as well as the well-equipped armoury. On inspecting the bows more closely, he commented on the small elm bows saying they were not effective and that he would train the archers in the use of the longbow, which had a far greater range and was more accurate.
Gero then went on a tour of Landskron Castle. Its layout was not unusual. It was built on a rocky hill top above the city, which made it difficult if not impossible for attackers to storm. Access was solely via a drawbridge that spanned the deep moat. The outer fortifications had battlements and towers, and inside this was a second encircling wall with further towers, the servants’ quarters and a shield wall with a gate through which one gained access to the inner courtyard. Here was the well of the castle, one hundred feet deep, the keep, the palas with its staircase and the castle chapel. In the palas, the reception area occupied the entire ground floor, and the upper floors contained the private rooms of the lords and ladies, with comfortable chambers fitted with open fireplaces.
Because of the royal visit the castle was swarming with soldiers, servants and farmers bringing provisions that had to be unloaded and stored. It had been easy for Gero to have a close look at everything. Eventually, having obtained permission, he left the castle and tramped down the winding path to the city to look for Lutz and Oswald.
In the backyard of a noisy tavern in a side lane he discovered their cart at last. Stepping into the gloomy tavern, Gero found his two companions in the farthest corner and sat down with them without saying a word. He ordered a beer and without much ado got down to business. ‘I’ve been admitted,’ he said.
‘How did you manage that?’ Lutz asked.
‘I’ll tell you some other time. Right now I don’t have much time; after all I am now subject to the captain of Count Landskron’s castle. So only this much for now: at first light tomorrow you must dispatch a pigeon with a message.’
‘And what is the message?’ Oswald asked.
Because just then the landlady brought the beer, Gero remained silent until she had left. Then he reached inside his boot for a small, rolled-up note, which he thrust into Lutz’s hand under the table. Then, in a few long draughts without stopping, he drank his beer, wiped his mouth with his sleeve and stood up.
‘See you soon,’ he said. ‘And don’t guzzle too much. I don’t want you to go around blabbing because you are drunk.’
Oswald and Lutz nodded. Gero turned and disappeared through the door.
Behind the choir screen hundreds of flickering candles bathed the chancel of the monastery church of Heisterbach in a reddish shimmering light.
The side door of the nave which led directly to the abbot’s rooms opened and the archbishop emerged, looking grave. Abbot Sixtus, his administrator, devoutly held the door before hurrying ahead to open the choir screen door through which Konrad von Hochstaden would enter the chancel.
In front of the altar crucifix, the archbishop fell on his knees before the life-size Christ on the cross and, closing his eyes, prayed. Abbot Sixtus, discreetly hovering in the background, started to feel uneasy after a while. It was after Terce, and there had never been so many affairs to go through and discuss, and the archbishop had never before kept such an agonisingly long dialogue with his God at this particular time.
Just then the door of the choir screen was thrown open and potbellied Father Antonius waddled in as fast as he could, breathing heavily. Spotting the abbot, he hurried towards him. But he slowed down when he noticed the praying archbishop, and continued walking towards the abbot in a more dignified manner. He whispered something in his ear. Then he pointed towards the messenger standing by the door of the choir screen, hat in hand.
Abbot Sixtus nodded and walked as noiselessly as possible to the altar, bowed, spoke softly to
the praying archbishop, straightened up again and waited. At last the archbishop got up and signalled to the messenger, who came over, bowed, kissed the proffered ring and deferentially handed over the message on the tiny rolled-up slip.
The archbishop, handing it back to him, said, ‘Read it out.’ The messenger cleared his throat and read: ‘King Conrad IV with his entourage arrived in O. Great cheering. Supposed to stay at Landskron.’
‘Was that all?’ the archbishop asked.
‘Yes, your grace.’
‘Good.’ The archbishop appeared thoughtful and took back the note. ‘Forget the message immediately, do you understand?’
‘I have never read it.’
The archbishop nodded. ‘Let Abbot Sixtus show you to your room and bring you some food.’
The archbishop waited for the messenger, Abbot Sixtus and Father Antonius to leave the chancel. Then he scrunched up the note and hurried through the door of the choir screen letting it close with a crash. With his cape fluttering, he took the path to the side door which led to the abbot’s residence.
Chapter XII
After an exhausting day Anna had retired to her room and let her thoughts wander. The surprise appearance of the young Count von Hochstaden in Oppenheim had brought up everything that she had thought buried in the depths of her heart again. Those memories were painful. The uncertainty regarding her parents’ fate tormented her as much as the question of what the archbishop would do if he learned that she was still alive.
She pondered how she might find out what had happened to her parents, but try as she might, she could not think of a way.
Aaron had a good idea of what was troubling her. He had asked her about it in the laboratory a few days before when she had broken a jar and nearly burst into tears over her mishap.
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