by C. D. Baker
Heinrich lay wide-eyed and trembling as a chilly, breezy dawn welcomed Weyer. It was November the second, All Souls’ Day—the day that warned of the coming Judgment Seat where Christ would judge all souls. The boy was aware he had sinned grievously the previous night, and he wondered how he might construct a confession specific enough for eternal absolution, while vague enough to avoid a beating. He further struggled over what secret penance he might do to secure his temporal forgiveness. Of course, he then wondered if secret penance was penance at all? He had been well instructed on the sufferings of Purgatory, and the lad feared what horrors his unremitted sins might earn him after death. He shuddered and began to sweat.
Reeve Lenard’s voice roared with the first light of dawn. “Where’s my dog? Someone’s cut the rope! We’ve a thief!” The man stormed along the empty footpaths as sleepy villagers poked their heads out-of-doors. “’Ave you scrumped m’dog?” Lenard blustered at one flustered neighbor. “Nay? And what of you?” he shouted as he turned to another.
Heinrich paled in his bed. Effi looked at him, suspiciously. She leaned close to his ear and whispered, “Did you?”
Heinrich opened his mouth, then shut it again. If he told her yes, she’d likely be punished for not telling Baldric. If he told her no, he’d be lying—another sin to be set to his account.
Effi persisted. “Did you loose his dog?”
Heinrich set his jaw and closed his eyes. “Just hush!”
Baldric stormed to the door. “What’s the noise out there?” He turned to the children now sitting straight-backed and fearful against the cold wall. “Something’s afoot! I can smell it. You, Herwin, what’s about?”
Herwin answered slowly as the church bells rang prime. He poked at the hearth coals. “Methinks Lenard’s dog’s been scrumped.” He cast an unwise glance at Heinrich. The glance did not go unnoticed.
Baldric came across the room in two bounding strides and grabbed the boy by the throat. “What can y’tell me of this?”
Terrified, Heinrich fought tears. Dare I lie? His mind raced.
“Well, boy? Have y’no tongue?”
“I …well—”
“Mein Gott! Y’little bastard whelp! Y’son of demons! Thief! If your grandpapa could know this he’d die again.” Baldric lifted Heinrich off the floor and tossed him across the room. He charged at the frightened lad and slapped him about the face and head, screaming oaths and cursing until Herwin grabbed the man’s shoulder. At the touch, Baldric slammed his fist into Herwin’s face, knocking the thin young man backward and onto the floor. Effi cried and bravely stood between her brother and uncle. But, with a quick swat of the back of his huge hand, the little girl went toppling across the room and fell onto little brother Axel cowering against the wall.
Heinrich, now bloodied and shaking, crouched with his arms protecting his head. Baldric grabbed the lad by his hair. “Come with me!” he roared. “We’ve needs see the reeve!”
Heinrich yelped as Baldric dragged him out of the hut and across the footpaths to Lenard’s hovel. When they arrived, Baldric lifted the boy’s face close to his own. “You have shamed me! You have broke the code; you’ve shamed yourself and your kin. You are dung to me now, can y’hear me? Dung!”
Heinrich wanted to vomit. The man’s heated breath was foul and his words were worse. The only comfort the poor boy had was the memory of Lenard’s grateful dog bolting down the village path.
“Lenard! Here’s your thief. Take the little bastard and do as y’will.”
Lenard turned purple with rage. “You? What sort of low and worthless bit of swine Scheisse are you? I’ve a mind to beat you senseless, you—”
A tap on the arm from his wife interrupted him. She leaned her face upward and whispered to him. “Aye,” grumbled Lenard. He took Heinrich by an ear and gave it a good twist. The boy howled. “I ought whip where y’stand, thief! Ach, m’Frau says we ought call the priest so’s we not sin in this.” He pointed to the circle of villagers now staring at him. “You … aye, you, fetch Father Johannes. The rest of you take a good look at the village thief! He sneaked into m’house whilst I slept and cut loose m’dog!”
Heinrich was humiliated as the village scoffed and mocked him. Little did he know how grateful many secretly were! A few suddenly accused him of other larcenies and losses, some throwing clumps of mud and small stones at the boy. Heinrich hid his face behind his arms and peeked fearfully between them at the taunting faces until his eyes fell upon good Emma and faithful Ingelbert, brave Richard and little Effi. Each of these pleaded with the others for mercy. At last, they elbowed their way to the lad’s side and stood with Heinrich until Father Johannes arrived with his newly assigned novice, Pious.
The priest huddled with Baldric and Lenard while the hayward dispersed the crowd to the fields. As the men discussed the boy’s fate, Heinrich stared at the novice who was glaring at him suspiciously. Humph! thought Heinrich. He’s certainly a well-fed little priestling! Indeed, young Pious was ample at the girth, puffed in the cheeks, and stood stoutly upon thick legs that swelled against the straining line of his outgrown robe. He sneered at Heinrich with a pompous pride that chased the shame from the lad and filled him with fury. Heinrich fixed a hard eye on the novice until the cutting words of Father Johannes turned his head.
“Thief!” scolded the priest with a slap across the boy’s head. “Bend your knee and hear me. God’s judgment is upon you this wicked morn. Your name is ‘Scrump Worm’ to your God, to your household, to your village, and to yourself. Dost thou hear me? Scump Worm!
“Yet in your thievery lies an even greater sin, ‘tis pride, the greatest of all sins. In your pride you have claimed the right to steal. In your pride, you have thought yourself above God’s Law. Woe to you, boy. Woe I say!”
The priest drew a deep breath and received an affirming nod from Lenard. He then softened his tone and bent toward the kneeling, stiff-jawed lad. “Though you have brought shame upon us all, your sins can be forgiven and the final purge lessened through your penance.”
Heinrich’s mouth went dry and his breath quickened.
“First, you must confess thy sin to me in the church for absolution by God’s grace. Next, thy good uncle shall pay fair restitution to Lenard for his loss and you shall settle with him for that. Then, hear this: You shall receive eight stripes with a willow wand for your theft. Do you know why eight?”
Heinrich shook his head and fixed his eyes on Emma’s.
“It is the eighth commandment which you have broken first. You have also violated the fifth commandment, so you shall receive five more strikes for dishonoring your uncle.
“Finally, and listen well boy, thy pride must be reckoned. The good monks in Villmar do keep their eyes to the ground lest any think themselves more than they are. Neither shall you seek a lofty vision of thine own, for vainglory is a great tempter and an evil thing. Therefore, I demand, this day, your vow to the Virgin Mother and the host of saints above, that you shall never lift your eyes higher than the spires of whatever holy church is in thy view. Do you so vow?”
Heinrich was nervous and confused. A mere boy, he lived in terror of the order around him and the eternal one to come. His eyes were wide and darted to and fro until they fell upon Emma’s once again. The blessed Frau looked at him tenderly and her own eyes begged him to refuse. She then shook her head vigorously. “No Heinrich … no …” she mouthed.
Heinrich hesitated until Baldric slapped him on the side of his face. “Answer the priest, worm!” he boomed. “Take the vow!”
Emma could contain herself no longer. She cried out, “No! ‘Tis an evil, wicked thing they demand of you!” She clenched her fists and turned on the priest with righteous outrage. “Black-heart! Serpent! Do not bind the boy to such a horrid, unholy vow!”
“Silence, woman!” shouted the priest. “How dare you speak! Take her away!”
Arnold stepped forward and fixed a tight grip on Emma’s elbow. He hissed into her ear, “Go witch, go with y
our freak child, else you’ll both have a high price to pay.” He squeezed her arm until she cried out in pain, and he dragged her away.
Father Johannes turned an icy glare on Heinrich. “Boy, you’ve a choice before you. You have broken the code of heaven and the code of thine own kin. Hearken my words and take the vow, else your rebellious soul shall face the Judgment in grave peril. And more! Your penalties will be passed to your brother and sister, and family to come!”
Heinrich, ashamed, confused, filled with terror and with dread, hesitated. He knew what he was condemned to do. No longer could he lie in the grass and find pictures in the clouds. No more might he follow birds across the blue sky, nor feel the noontime sun upon his chin. Yet he felt he must obey. He believed with all his tender heart that he had placed himself and those whom he loved in grave jeopardy. With a sad, tearful sigh, he nodded. “I… I do so vow.”
Martinmas passed with little notice, celebrated only by a liturgy none could understand. It was now mid-November and Weyer was busy with the slaughter. The abbey’s lay-bailiff, Herold, was about the villages insisting that the blood month yield well for the abbot. After all, though the monks were sworn to eat little meat, they needed to pay their tithe to Mainz with carts of salted, smoked, or pickled pork and pound upon pound of mutton. “So,” he proclaimed to the village men, “round up your swine and be clever with the slaughter, we needs use everything but the squeal!”
The villagers did as they were told—they nearly always did. The swine herdsmen marked the hogs with dyes as to their rightful owners and gathered them in the village pens. The best sows and boars were separated and saved for breeding; the rest were herded to meet the men who stunned them with heavy mallets. Once unconscious, the hogs’ rear legs were tied and hoisted upward while the slitters, including Heinrich and Richard, cut the throats for bleeding. The blood was drained into buckets and carried to cauldrons where women stirred in fat to make bloodwurst. Once drained of blood, the carcasses were scalded with boiling water, the hair scraped, and skins preserved. Once the slaughter was complete, every spare part would be put to good use.
Others worked at culling the herd in the sheepfolds. The youngest ewes were saved for springtime lambing and next year’s shearing. The older ones, however, were chased into pens where they were bled, skinned, and carved into sheepskins and meat, ground bone and fat.
At the end of several weeks, the villagers proudly loaded carts filled with the fruits of their labor. The products filling these barrels, kegs, bundles, and sacks would help pay the fines, taxes, tithes, rents, and fees still owed after shipping the abbey a full third of the grain crop just two months before.
The final days of November passed quickly, and just before Advent a cart bearing two strangers rolled slowly into Weyer from the Villmar road. The few villagers who saw them turned away, for outsiders were seldom welcomed. Heinrich, however, had just descended from the fields where he was helping plough a fallow strip and, in his exhaustion, nearly walked directly into the cart’s path. A man cried out in a foreign tongue and the startled boy jumped back. “I-I am sorry, sir, I did not see you.”
The man kept a tight rein on his ox and turned to the boy. “Reeve—?” he asked carefully.
“You needs see the reeve?” asked Heinrich.
The man nodded. The woman sitting next to him smiled.
Heinrich stared with amazement at the stranger. He was the largest man the boy had ever seen. The giant pointed to himself. “Telek,” he said, then turned and gestured toward the woman. “Varina.”
Heinrich barely heard the man. His gaze was fixed on the six fingers that hung on each of the man’s hands. He dropped his eyes to the man’s bare feet and the boy gasped. “And six toes on each foot!”
The woman chuckled. She spoke in heavily accented German. “Junge… I am Varina and this is my brother, Telek. The monks in Villmar named him ‘Goliath’… after a character in the Scriptures. They wish us to call him that, though he is not happy about it.” She smiled affectionately at the man.
Herwin caught up to Heinrich. “Greetings, friends,” he offered with a sincere smile.
“And greetings to you. I am Varina … this is my brother, Telek. We are Slavs, captured by Christian knights and bound to Lord Klothar of Runkel. We converted and have lived in Runkel for nearly two years. Now we are sent by the abbot to serve in this village. We are to find your reeve. ‘Tis all we know.”
Heinrich listened intently. His eyes fell upon the woman’s swollen belly.
“Ja. I am with child.”
Herwin stared at Varina. Though she was rather plain, he felt strangely drawn to her. She was blonde and blue-eyed with fair skin. Despite her advanced pregnancy, she was thin-framed, but had a broad, open face.
“They are looking for Lenard,” said Heinrich.
“Yes, boy, so I heard.” He motioned to Varina, “Follow me.”
As Herwin led Klothar’s slaves to Lenard’s hovel, Heinrich entered his own. It was past nones and there was only one hour of daylight left. Baldric had returned early and was furious to see the boy. “You’ve come home early while work can yet be done?” he shouted.
“Nay, Uncle. We needed return Gunter’s oxen… one’s footsore and we daresn’t keep it on the plough.” Heinrich knew Baldric had been drinking and he was frightened.
Baldric shoved the boy to the wall. “Thief! You listen to me, Scrump Worm. You’d steal a man’s dog and you’d steal a man’s time! You needs labor till dusk, any less is sloth—another sin. By God, y’damnable, wretched waif, were y’not the son of m’brother I’d throw you to the dogs. I work this manor hard both day and night. I put food enough into yer worthless belly and y’ve good wool on your miserable back. You repay me by shaming the good name of your grandpapa to the whole village! Now you come home sneaking to rest! By the saints! No more! By God in heaven, ‘tis enough. Y’d be in forfeit!”
Heinrich leaned against a far wall, trembling. He set an eye for a quick escape. Then he wondered aloud, “Forfeit…?”
Baldric grabbed Heinrich by an ear and dragged him into the rear bedchamber. He tossed the boy to the ground and fumbled for a box beneath a candlestand. He threw up the lid and grasped a folded parchment scroll that he held in front of the boy’s face. “Here, little man. Here is the birthright your grandpapa passed to you for your own lads should you ‘ave any. ‘Tis a promise for your sons to be taught in the abbey school… a vow from an abbot to a shepherd! Of course, I’ve no such gift for me! Seems m’blood was never as good as yer father’s. No matter, you’ve shamed our ways and have lost the right of blessing … you’d not be fit for it, you’ve broke the code again. Now watch, thief, sluggard. Watch it burn away!”
Heinrich stared openmouthed and confused. He knew little of the birthright but it hardly mattered now. Baldric stormed to the common room hearth and held the parchment to its flames. He smiled coldly in the failing light as the dry parchment smoked and flickered, then floated into nothingness out the smoke hole above. He dropped the final ashes to the straw-strewn floor and ground them with his heel. “It is done. Now things are set to right.”
Chapter 7
A SECRET REVEALED
It snowed lightly on the first Sunday after Advent in the Year of Grace 1182. Richard walked with Heinrich and pointed to the sky. “Look at the clouds. Methinks a storm is coming.”
Heinrich shook his head. “I cannot look up.”
Richard shrugged. “Ach, Heinrich. No one is here to tell.”
Heinrich was sorely tempted, but refused. And when he refused he felt suddenly good and clean, as if his shame were redeemed, if only for a moment. His eye suddenly caught a glimpse of a satchel lying half-buried in the snow by the side of the road. “Look, Richard. I’ve found something!” Indeed, the lad had found a set of quills, some sharp knives, and ampoules. “We needs take this to Father Johannes,” said Heinrich.
“Johannes? Nay, Heinrich, are y’dim? We should give them to Frau Emma. I’ve seen inks in
her hut.”
“But she’ll want to find the rightful owner.”
Richard paused. “Hmm. Then we tell her … we tell her a peddler lost them to us in a wager!”
“A wager! She’ll scold us for wagering, and besides, what would we have wagered?”
“You think too much. She’ll never ask such a thing.”
“And if she does?”
“Then I’ll have an answer.”
Heinrich wasn’t so sure. “Richard, methinks we’re about to lie again … more sin.”
Richard thought for a moment. “Then let me talk.”
Heinrich shrugged, and the two turned and ran toward the smoking thatched roof of the Butterfly Frau. They arrived to a warm welcome. “Ah, my boys!” exclaimed Emma. She smiled and held each one under her thick arms. “You’ve been growing again!”
“Frau Emma,” blurted Richard, “I… we’ve something for you.”
The woman sat down and wiped a wisp of long hair from her forehead. Taking the satchel from Richard’s outstretched hands she opened it carefully and her eyes widened. “Boys, where on this earth did you find these? They are marvelous! Look, here, goose quills, the very best! And they come from the right wing… most unusual. Hmm, and they are well dried and sharpened. Here, a burnishing knife, a leaf-knife, and … and gold powder! And here, too, good gall ink! Boys, you’ve quite a find. Someone’s suffered a loss, indeed.”
Richard cleared his throat. “Nay, Frau Emma. Heinrich and I won this for you in a wager.”
“A wager!” Emma’s face darkened. “You boys ought not be wagering, and what on earth could you offer in exchange?”
Heinrich knew she’d ask that! The worst always happened. Richard set a steady gaze at the woman, his eyes betraying an active imagination. “Now, Frau Emma. Do not be angry. The man was a thief by his own word, and not a thief like Heinrich. I mean a real thief.”