Courted Sanctuary

by Tara K. Young

Chapter 9

  As the wagon crossed the Vatlava River in mid-morning, Luitgard watched with tense fists as they approached Stare Mesto. She turned around to look at the castle behind them.

  "I thought my fabrics would be bought by the rich," she said, "Why are we ignoring the castle town?"

  "The rich will not buy directly from us," Justin said. "We have to seek out the merchants and a place to stay. The nobles live near the castle but it is Stare Mesto that will have what we need."

  Luitgard was not entirely convinced of his response. As she looked up at the castle once more, she saw the tops of the basilica's Romanesque towers and knew what was likely the bigger reason Justin wished to go to Stare Mesto.

  Though Luitgard knew she had travelled to Rome through this city, she remembered none of it. She could not even tell how it had changed, if at all. The buildings were wood and in some places close together. In others, there were large green spaces of gardens. The wagon stopped by a large, stone church.

  The man turned in his seat and said, "I am unfamiliar with Stare Mesto. Unless you know where to go, I will need to ask."

  Justin shrugged. When the man climbed down from the wagon and walked towards the church, Luitgard leaned forward.

  "I thought you had been here before," she whispered.

  "Just once but I did not want him to know that," he whispered back.

  The man returned several moments later and pointed down one of the streets that ran by the church. "There a several merchants wealthy enough to buy your fabric there," he said. "The day is early, and we are still hoping to reach Jihlava before nightfall so we must leave you here."

  Justin nodded his understanding.

  He and Luitgard climbed from the wagon and grabbed their bags. As the wagon trundled away, she began to panic. She was surrounded by Christians, in a Christian city. There were people everywhere. Carts and tables lined the streets. People chatted with neighbours and bargained with sellers. Many of them seemed to be speaking a different language from hers. The reality of what she had gotten into had hit. Then the fear of what would happen next followed with the weight of a blow to the stomach. What if they could find no buyers for the fabric? They were out of food and had no money for new supplies. Would she be able to make it back to her home? Would Justin even bother helping her?

  "Are you alright?" he asked.

  "Yes," she lied.

  "We will find a place to get food and rest as soon as we sell these," he said gesturing to the bags slung over his shoulders.

  "You speak the language?" she asked.

  He shrugged. "I'm sure one of the languages I know will come in useful," he said. "My first language is French and one of the bishops where I grew up was always slipping into Italian without realizing it. Combined with my Latin and German, I'm sure I can manage something."

  He began to walk in the direction the man had indicated and she followed. Carts and tables along the street were covered in fabrics, tools, earthenware, and all kinds of foods. The sight of vegetables made Luitgard's mouth water.

  Justin walked up to the fabric stall run by a woman with yellowed hands. She had fabrics of various colours. Seeing the woman's hands and the colours she had−greens, reds, and yellows−Luitgard was wary.

  Justin asked if she spoke German. When she confirmed that she spoke enough to trade, he showed a corner of the woad-dyed fabric and asked, "Would you buy these fabrics?"

  The woman sniffed. "I can't make a profit off those poorly made things. I sell only exotic dyed fabrics of the finest quality."

  Luitgard could not help herself. "I did not know honey and berries were exotic dyes," she said.

  Justin shot her a sharp glance to stay quiet and the woman looked as though she were about to reach across the table to strangle her.

  "You obviously do not know anything about fabric or dyes," the woman said loudly so that everyone nearby could hear.

  "We will look elsewhere," Justin said quickly before leading Luitgard away.

  "She is lying about what she is selling," Luitgard protested. "I know dyes better than she does. I have been making fabrics and dying since I was a girl!"

  "And she wouldn't be the first or the last to trick her customers," he said, "But we cannot afford to draw attention to ourselves."

  He led her by several more stalls, all selling similar fabrics to the first. As they passed a table that had several finally made combs and hats laid out upon it. The familiarity of them made Luitgard stop. They looked just like the comb Dragonfather had given her.

  The table was in front of a large house with an open door. Behind the table stood a girl who looked to be 13.

  Justin, who had not realized at first that Luitgard had stopped, backtracked to fetch her.

  "It doesn't look like they deal in fabrics," he said.

  "We do not deal in cheap fabric," the girl interjected. "If you want to see those, you need to speak to my father," she added before calling to him.

  A large man covered in several layers of embroidered fabrics stepped out of the house. He looked to be a pleasant man and was grinning.

  "These people are interested in buying some fabric," she said to him.

  "Selling actually," Justin corrected.

  The man's grin disappeared. "I deal in only the finest fabrics," he said.

  Justin pulled out the same corner of the fabric, causing the man's grin to return. "I am Arnold," he said. "Please, come inside," he added before leading them into the house.

  The walls of the room they entered were lined with shelves, each one covered in gold trinkets, hats, completed dresses, or fabric. There was a table near the far end of the room. Arnold indicated it with his hand.

  "Lay it out and let us have a look," he said.

  Justin did as instructed, unrolling one of the swaths of cloth. "Woad-dyed," he said.

  "Yes, yes," Arnold said as he looked it over and rubbed it between his fingers. "You are telling me the obvious, boy. But what is this fabric? It is thick like wool but soft like linen."

  Justin looked at Luitgard for clarification.

  "It is a blend," Luitgard explained. "We mix the threads together."

  Arnold looked up. "I have seen some attempt such blends before," he said. "Nothing has looked as fine as this. Will it last?"

  Luitgard nodded. "It is very durable," she said.

  "And how much do you have for me?" he asked, eying their sacks.

  "All that we have here," Justin said. "All of these sacks are full."

  "Good news. Goods news," Arnold said, nodding. "Yes, I will be very pleased to purchase this from you."

  Several minutes later and after much haggling by Justin, Luitgard and Justin were leaving the house feeling dozens of pounds lighter. Luitgard was sure she would fly away and did not miss the weight of the sacks. Justin had the bag of coins the merchant had given them tucked under his shirt.

  They turned down the street and towards the inn that Arnold had recommended. From the outside, it looked almost no different from Arnold's home but once inside, there were tables to sit at and stairs leading to the rooms upstairs. The tables were empty as everyone was outside. Even the innkeeper had been sweeping outside when they arrived.

  Justin paid for a room and for two bowls of soup. They sat alone at one of the tables as the inn keeper returned to his sweeping outside. Luitgard took the opportunity created by the solitude to say her prayer over her lunch before she ate. Though the soup was thin, the nourishment was welcome. They were nearly finished when Arnold hurried into the room.

  Though it did not look like he had actually been running, he also did not look like a man accustomed to much physical activity. He had sweat pouring down his face.

  "Boy!" he said as he came to their table and sat down. "Do you have any more of that wonderful fabric anywhere? Even if you have to make more?"

  Justin shook his head and apologized.

  "I will pay you to make more for me," he said.

  "We really can't," Justin s
aid. "We have to leave tomorrow."

  Arnold would not be deterred. "I have never sold fabric so fast or for so much," he said. "Let me convince you to become my supplier. Together, we could become as rich as kings."

  "We really can't" Justin repeated.

  "Then come to my home tonight for supper," he insisted. "Give me a chance to change your mind. At least give me that!"

  When Justin hesitated in his reply, Arnold added more quietly. "At least do that for me, or perhaps the king would like to know who has been using woad without the proper permission."

  Luitgard wanted to protest. They had violated no laws making her fabric and to say she had would be an outright lie, one that could greatly harm them. Justin knew her too well. She felt his hand on her knee beneath the table. He squeezed hard.

  "We will join you tonight," he said. "But it may not be possible to make any more for quite some time."

  Arnold waved his hand dismissively. "What is in Vienna except an old bunch of musicians and scholars?" he asked. "I am offering you gold beyond your dreams. Come to my house and I will make you see sense."

  "I never said we were going to Vienna," Justin said.

  A smile spread across Arnold's lips and looked at Luitgard, "A Germanic girl trying to sell fabrics to pay for travel from Stare Mesto likely means nothing else. I'll see you this evening."

  He did not wait for formalities to leave.

  "What do we do?" Luitgard whispered.

  Justin stared at the table in front of him. "Go to dinner," he said.

  That evening, reluctant as they were, they walked back down the lane to Arnold's shop. When they arrived, the table that had been on the street had already been moved inside and the door was shut. However, when Justin knocked heavily upon it, it took only moments for Arnold's daughter to open the door and welcomed them inside.

  "I'm Magdalena," she said as they entered the room.

  When Justin began to tell her their names, she stopped them. "Father already told me. He is quite taken with both of you," she said. "Follow me."

  Luitgard realized that where there had appeared to be a solid wall with shelves upon it earlier, there was an opening. A section of the wall was upon hinges so that it could open to the rear of the house.

  "Is the city so unsafe that you need to hide?" Luitgard asked, worried that they may be in for trouble on their way back to the inn.

  Magdalena shook her head. "My father wants as much space as possible devoted to making money," she explained. "This area is likely one of the safer ones in the city. They do not bar us in here at night like they do several streets over."

  Booming laughter echoed from the other room. Arnold's daughter smiled. "Father has been enjoying the wine for some time already," she said. "The sale of your fabrics have put him in a very good mood."

  Through the passage, the house opened into a room with a large table that was currently occupied by Arnold and two other girls who looked to be eleven and nine years of age. They looked like miniature versions of Magdalena. A fire was lit in a stone hearth on the long wall of the room. It appeared to be the only source of light, but there were so many logs upon the fire that it was sufficient to see clearly.

  On the far side of the room, there was a narrow opening. Luitgard was not sure what was on the other side, for Magdalena led them to the table and gestured for them to sit across from the other girls.

  On the table were bowls and plates filled with rolls and cheeses.

  "Good! You are here!" Arnold announced in a voice too loud for the space.

  "My little Dorota was just trying to bargain her way into some of your special cloth," he said. "Just like her father, she is."

  The eleven-year-old flushed and looked down at her lap.

  Arnold gestured at the nine-year-old. "This is my Anna," he said.

  "You are so lucky to have three girls," Luitgard said without thinking. She did not remember the Romans of her youth being very positive towards the women.

  "Indeed, I would be," said Arnold, "But I do not have three; I have five." He drawled out the last word and punctuated it with a wave of his finger. "My Katerina and Markéta are grown and married now," he explained. "Katerina is expecting her first child before winter."

  He lifted his cup and took a long drink from his wine. While he was occupied with his drink, a woman entered from the mystery room, carrying a large plate with a cooked bird on it. She looked just like the other girls but many years older. Luitgard assumed she was their mother.

  "The duck is ready," she announced as she set it on the table amongst the other plates.

  The smell of the roasted bird seduced Luitgard's senses. The sweetness made her mouth water.

  "My wife Klára is a magnificent cook," Arnold announced as he set down his cup. "I would never be so large if she were not."

  As she took a seat at the opposite end of the table from Arnold, she laughed. "He always says that but it is just his excuse to avoid paying for servants because he is too cheap."

  "And of course it is, woman!" he yelled with a smile. "The duck costs enough without paying someone to cook it."

  Klára smiled back at her husband before clasping her hands and bowing her head. While her daughters did the same, Arnold rolled his eyes. Justin chose to copy the girls but Luitgard did not feel right praying to the Goddess in a Christian household. She thought of her and in her mind hoped that her people would remain hidden and safe but with none of the usual language of a Mintharch devotion.

  After the prayer, Klára insisted Justin and Luitgard eat as much as they could.

  "How long have you been married?" she asked as they gathered rolls, cheese, and duck onto their plates.

  "Only just," Justin said without hesitation.

  "Your parents waited quite some time to marry you off," she said to Luitgard. "You are lucky to have found a man at all."

  Luitgard nearly choked on the bread she had put into her mouth. The obstruction turned out to be a blessing, for it prevented her from reflexively responding with offense.

  "Her father was very poor and sick and needed a nurse maid," he said. "He died last winter."

  Klára bowed her head. "I am sorry to hear that, dear. May he rest in peace."

  "Thank you," Luitgard replied, her sense having returned to her. Playing the meek and obedient wife was harder than she thought it would be. She had spent her entire life trying to prove how strong and capable she was to lead.

  Arnold set his cup down on the table with enough force that Luitgard looked at him. "You had only your father?"

  "Yes," she said.

  "And he was very poor and died only last winter?" he asked.

  "Yes," she said.

  He nodded and ripped off a large mouthful of duck but he did not stop watching her.

  The night wore on and they talked of the weather, the growth of the town, and the German immigrants who seemed to be passing through in ever greater numbers on their way to Jihlava. They continued to talk, and Arnold continued to drink. To Luitgard's astonishment, he began to seem clearer headed the more he drank.

  Finally, Klára led the girls upstairs to bed. Justin had insisted he and Luitgard take their leave for the night as well but Arnold wanted them to stay.

  When they were alone in the room, he looked at Luitgard. His eyes were clear and his face relaxed.

  "Tell me who you are afraid of, girl," he said.

  "I don't know what you are talking about," she replied, straightening her posture and focusing her eyes upon the fire.

  Arnold leaned back in his chair, the only one with a back on it. The dried and cracked wood gave a loud creak.

  "A woman does not pretend to be a friar's wife for nothing."

  A quiet gasp escaped her but she refused to look away from the fire. She hoped Justin would intervene but even if he had wanted to say something, Arnold continiued.

  "A woman does not make the finest fabric I have ever seen, with the most expensive and highly regulated dye, without anyone
else hearing about it. A woman does not make such a thing to sell every scrap and not intend it to start a business. Tell me why you are so afraid."

  "I am no friar," Justin said, still clinging to their lie despite how easily Arnold had seen through it.

  Arnold pursed his lips and nodded slowly. Then he stood and walked into the other room. When he returned, he said, "Then you will not be needing these back," before throwing Dominican robes at Justin.

  Justin's jaw clenched as he looked at the robes.

  "You forgot to take them out of one of the sacks," Arnold explained. "But that was not the only reason. I recognized you. You've been to Stare Mesto before. I have never forgotten a face my entire life. I saw you at the church, in those very same robes. When you came to my shop, I wondered if I was getting too old, if my mind was finally going. Then I found the robes in the sack and knew I was right."

  "Please do not tell anyone we have been here," Luitgard pleaded.

  Arnold collapsed back into his seat and looked at them. "Who would I tell?" he said.

  "You said earlier you would tell the king," Luitgard reminded him.

  Arnold laughed. "That was my bluff, girl," he said. "The nobles enjoy my wares but do not trust me, too many poems about rotten pedlars and merchants," he explained. "I'm also wealthy without any of their blood. My existence threatens them. The only reason the king allows me to continue my work is that I pay him handsomely through my taxes." He took a long drink of his wine. "I doubt the king or any of the other nobles around here would care what I have to say."

  "And the Church," Justin pressed.

  Lifting his glass, Arnold gestured to Luitgard. "You were too busy praying but your girl here saw what I think of such things. I made my own fortune without God's help and the priests have the nerve to tell me I would have a harder time getting into Heaven for it. God and I have a mutual dislike for each other, I think." He set his cup down and leaned over the table to get a closer look at Justin. "But why would a friar be afraid of the Church?"

  "I cannot say," Justin said.

  Arnold shrugged. "To be honest, you do not intrigue me nearly as much as your girl," he said, turning to Luitgard. "You are a puzzle, my dear, a puzzle I would greatly love to solve."

  "I am sorry," she said. "You have given us great hospitality and even greater help by purchasing the fabrics from us, but I can give you no answers."

  "Perhaps I could live with that," he said. "But I find it difficult without the promise of more fabrics from you."

  "And it would be impossible to get more to you ," she said.

  He took another drink from his cup. "There is only one thing I would treasure more than that fabric," he said. "If I could ever get another dragon scale, it would be the one thing I would never sell."

  "You're drunk," Justin laughed.

  Arnold looked into his cup as if to confirm for himself Justin's assessment. "It's possible," he said, "But dragon scales do exist. They glitter like the purest water rippling beneath the sun and are the rarest thing on earth."

  "Because they aren't real," Justin countered.

  "That's where you're wrong," Arnold said. "Dragons exist but keep themselves hidden. So long as they have every last one of their scales, they are invincible. The moment the first scale is plucked by the dragon itself, that is gone. With every flight, more scales will fall. The flesh not protected by the scales is fragile and vulnerable so dragons do their best to hide from predators. When the final scale falls, the dragon dies." He finished the last of the liquid in his cup, then sat staring at his hand still holding it. "A dragon's scale is valuable not just because it is rare but because having one means you hold a part of the life of the dragon itself. It is a powerful thing."

  "You missed your calling as a poet," Justin said. "You make it sound real."

  Arnold looked at Luitgard. "She knows I'm right," he said.

  She blinked and felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. "I have never heard such a thing in my life," she said.

  "Then you do not have one?"

  She shook her head.

  He shrugged before wiping his face with his palm. "Too much to hope for I guess." He took a deep breath. Luitgard noticed sweat had begun to glisten on his forehead. "Whatever you are trying to avoid," he said, "You will get no trouble from me. Your fabrics have won a place in my heart and so, you have too. If you need any help to get ready for the next part of your journey, let me know. And if you ever wish to request my help for any reason, I could always be persuaded for more of that fabric."

  "You are incorrigible," Luitgard said.

  Arnold smiled broadly. "My mind loves business," he said.

  "There is one thing you could help us with," Justin interjected. "We need horses for the rest of our journey. Do you know where we could get a good price?"

  Arnold scratched his chin. "I know of a man but he would take you for every penny you had on you," he said. "His horses are good but they are not that good. I can get a much better price if I buy them for you and you pay me back."

  "Thank you very much," Luitgard said. She found herself liking this man even though she doubted it wise to ever trust him.

  "I will have them at the inn for you first thing in the morning," he said with finality.

  Minutes later, Justin and Luitgard had said good-bye to him for the night and were walking back to the inn; Justin holding his rolled up robes under his arm.

  After taking a deep breath, Luitgard asked, "Do you think we can make it all the way to Rome? This is the first town we have come to and we have already been discovered by one of the first people we met. And we still have to get through Vienna without your mentor finding us."

  "We definitely need to be more careful," he said. "But I also think Arnold is especially astute. He would have to be to garner as much wealth as he has."

  "Perhaps you are right," she said, "But I am still terrified."

  He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "We will do this together. I promise."

  She chuckled. "That is not reassuring. It is possible for us to die together you know."

  "Yes," he said, "But that would be better than dying alone."