Pilgrims of Promise: A Novel (The Journey of Souls Series) Page 41

  The knight shook his head. “No. I belong with these, my brothers and sisters. They need my sword now more than ever.”

  “As do I.”

  Alwin released his breath and nodded. “That is good. That is good, indeed.” He looked about the heavy shadows now filling the wood and then abruptly tilted his head at the cries of three seabirds sweeping overhead.

  “Come, everyone!” shouted Frieda happily as she pointed. “Follow them! Believe me and you’ll see.”

  Chapter Twenty-four

  WAYFARERS ONCE MORE

  The wayfarers soon found themselves racing beneath the starlit summer sky. Wisely, they had kept off the roads, and they hurried overland according to the cries of the birds above. It is a strange night, Pieter thought. A blessed night, one touched by heaven’s magic. The birds seemed to be leading them northwest over rolling hills and past the dim torchlights of Lord Rolfhard’s hamlets that were scattered about the darkness like little golden coins. By daybreak the column passed Weilburg and came to the Lahn highway, where it paused to rest behind a screen of silvery willows.

  “The highway’s not safe, Wil,” said Heinrich.

  The young man nodded. “I agree.”

  Frieda pointed to the gulls sitting in the treetops above. “Should we ask them?”

  Wil shrugged. “They are seabirds, no doubt flying to the sea. We are traveling toward the sea as well. That does not mean they are angels guiding us!”

  Helmut and Tomas giggled, but Maria stepped forward. “You weren’t with us when we were lost by the Rhine!” she quipped. “I believe they are sent to help us.”

  A conversation ensued that bantered about all matters of the inexplicable. Friederich spoke of whispering trees and Otto of a fog that healed the sick. Wilda remained silent, though her mind was filled with memories of her life as a witch. She shuddered as she considered the dark side of such things. Others spoke of enchanted waters and devils’ springs. Some mocked; most believed.

  Pieter took a long draught of beer and listened carefully. He scratched Solomon’s ears and smiled. Finally, all faces turned toward him. “What say you, Pieter?” asked Heinrich.

  The old priest shrugged and thought for a long moment. “Well, I’ve had a long journey, my children, one often limited to the measurements of my senses. I have tasted fine food and touched the rough faces of mountains. I have smelled the fragrance of the rose and listened to the songbirds. I have seen the wonders of what God has made. I have grown in knowledge, and my mind has considered the great doctrines of Holy Scripture.

  “But I fear that I have oft been confined to that which my senses bring to me. My knowledge of things seen has held me captive. I have failed to go beyond what seems reasonable to my mind. So I say this: what we measure by our sight is truth in part, but we do, indeed, see through the glass darkly. Truth also dwells in the great Unknown.

  “My beloved, study to show thyselves approved. Use your minds well and do not be deceived by fools and their fantasies. But also, be still and know that He is God. It is good to increase in knowledge and to test things by reason, but I believe we must listen to the silence so much more; it is the way of faith.”

  Above, the birds suddenly cried out, and all eyes turned upward to watch them lift from their perches. The pilgrims said nothing as their three winged companions swooped into a great arc around them and flapped their way eastward.

  Alwin rose. “We should move. We cannot stay by this road much longer, for it is already beginning to fill. I say we keep to this side of the Lahn until we reach Marburg. It should take us about three days.”

  It was quickly agreed, and the company began on their way. They first traveled eastward, walking overland within sight of the sluggish Lahn and the highway paralleling its green waters. They looked longingly at the wagons rolling so easily along the road and wished for all the world that they might have the liberty to do the same. But at the sight of every company of knights roaring past, they were content to trudge behind the cover of the softwoods lining the narrow meadows of the river. Behind them the long, low ridges of lower Thurungia were gradually sinking lower. Ahead waited the lumpy mountains of the duchy’s heartland.

  It was on the feast of Lammas, Thursday, the first day of August, when Wil led his brave band across the bridge at Marburg and through the growing town’s gates. The column of thirteen souls and two kindly beasts made their way quickly through a throng of revelers toward the home of Alwin’s friend. The town was built on a conical mountain atop which was perched a menacing redstone castle. Brick-paved streets wound their way upward to the fortress like narrow serpents coiled around a stump. Lining the narrow streets were well-built houses and heavy-timbered shops that leaned over the passersby like curious onlookers.

  “Seems like a wealthy town,” said Benedetto.

  “Aye,” answered Alwin. “Its lord is clever and ruthless, but the folk are hardworking and honest, as I recall. My friend is a salt merchant and has made a small fortune with a contract from Ulm. He does a good business with the Templars as well. I escorted him and his silver to Paris some years past, and I once guarded a wagon of his salt from Ulm to Strasbourg.”

  Heinrich grumbled. He knew more about salt than he cared to remember. “How much farther?”

  “Soon.”

  The wayfarers struggling up the town’s steep hills were soon hot and perspiring. The summer sun beat upon them, and the buildings rising close by every side blocked any breeze. Paulus was heavily frothed with sweat and had slipped twice, dumping Pieter to the ground. The townsfolk howled as the spindly fellow bounced on the bricks with a wheeze and an oath.

  “Ach, stupid beast!” grumbled the priest as he fell a third time. He pulled himself up on his staff and shook his head. Aching, he bowed to the laughing crowd. “Ha! Fit as a young stag!” he cried as he beat his chest facetiously. He turned to his smiling companions and wiped his face. “God be praised! I could Ve shattered both m’Trips!”

  At last, as the column turned a corner, Alwin pointed to a three-storied house at the end of the street. “There!” he cried happily. “The one of brick and stone.”

  The knight ran to the door and rapped on it loudly. In a few moments, an usher answered, received Alwin’s introduction, and then disappeared within. Shortly after, a well-dressed man appeared and greeted the knight with a large smile. “Old friend! Brother Blasius!” he cried. “I would not have known you. Come! Come in, all of you! Hans!” he shouted to a servant. “Have the groomsman take the donkey to the stable. Jon, bring pitchers of beer, and hurry!”

  Within the half hour, the happy company was properly introduced and resting comfortably within the confínes of the merchant’s home. “You’ve come on the right day!” The merchant laughed. “I’ve guests in the hall making ready for their Lammas feast, but we’ve room for more.”

  “Ah, good Godfrey!” answered Alwin. “Any day in your company is a good day indeed.”

  Godfrey chuckled and then changed his tone. He leaned forward slowly. “Tell me, old friend, tell me the stories of you are lies.”

  Alwin paled. He should have known that the news of his desertion would have traveled from France to Marburg by now. In hushed tones he proceeded to tell the man the truth of his recent past.

  The others sat quietly, listening a little but mostly marveling at Godfrey’s clothing. The man wore an ankle-length, sleeveless, blue silk robe atop a white silk shirt. Atop his head sat a fancy red hat, complete with a large plume. A scarlet sash was wrapped around his waist and fastened by a large silver clasp. Each of his fingers bore a golden ring, and around his neck hung a golden chain.

  The merchant took Alwin’s hand. “I knew it, man,” he said. “Fear not. You’re safe here. My guests know nothing. You shall be ‘Alwin,’ knight errant.” He turned to the others. “Now, it seems quick baths might be in order? I’d rather smell my fare than all of you!” He laughed. Godfrey clapped and summoned his fuller. “Man, pour baths for each of these and hurry. I
’ve rosewater for the damsels and some good lye soap for the foul brutes they travel with! And scrub their garments.”

  The travelers bathed hastily, and their clothing was washed and returned to them well wrung but still damp. They were then escorted to the lord’s hall, where a table had been set for them near the others already eating. Ushers ran forward with freshly filled platters of the season’s bounty riding precariously atop their flattened palms. Trays of cheese and fresh vegetables, as well as roasted chicken, boiled hare, stuffed peacock, numbers of sausages, and baskets of bread were quickly delivered to the table. Red wine and beer flowed generously.

  Solomon was allowed to romp about the rush-strewn floor with the lord’s hounds. He eagerly gobbled the many secret offerings of the children and dashed about for bones tossed by others. It was a wonderful Lammas, the best any had remembered.

  The day brought back memories of times past for Heinrich and Katharina. Sitting alongside one another, they spoke in low tones of feast days gone by. Katharina giggled and groaned when Heinrich teased her about May Days, and he grumbled loudly when she recalled his poor efforts in bladder ball. “And once you wrestled Richard by the reeve’s own table. His wife was drunk and sleeping on the ground. He yelled from across the common, but it was too late! The both of you knocked the table atop the poor woman and spilt cherry preserves all over her face!”

  “And then the bees came!” Heinrich roared. The two laughed and looked fondly at one another. Their faces glowed in the warmth of their happy hearts, and beneath the table they held one another’s hands.

  At the end of the meal, Benedetto stepped forward to offer his thanks with a song. To the delight of all, the minstrel stood atop a stout stool and strummed his lute happily. Singing songs of his beloved homeland, he wooed all into a dreamy mood. Then, staring wistfully at the timber beams of the ceiling above, the man took a deep breath. He opened his mouth to sing, but it was as if another whispered the words.

  I’ll know a place where all is bright, where all is good, and all is right.

  I’ll know a time when all is done, when all is ready beneath the sun.

  I’ll know a song that I will sing, that I will offer, that I will bring.

  I’ll know a reason for why I came, for why I am, and why my name.

  The man stopped and let his words trail away. Surprised by the lyrics, he stared blankly at Pieter and then bowed his head.

  The diners clapped and praised the fellow, pleading for more. The minstrel politely declined and quietly went to his seat. A wandering discussion soon followed. A loud contest of ideas began, which quickly drew Pieter to its center. He listened carefully as Godfrey’s other guests shouted at one another about the ideas of St. Anselm and Abelard. The discussion grew heated and soon wandered to the political legacy of Bernard of Clairvaux, the logic of Aristotle, and the works of the Scot, Richard of St. Victor.

  “A dreamer!” shouted one. “A mystic of a time now past. A toast, I say. A toast to the true scholars, the children of Aristotle!”

  Pieter bristled. A time now past? Past what? he wondered. Past the nudgings of the Spirit, past the “peace that surpasses all understanding?” He could keep silent no longer. “Keep your blasted Aristotle! I’ll take the Scot and his ‘reasonable mysticism’!”

  A diner slammed his fist on the table. “Give me the Greek and his logic, and I’ll change the world!”

  Pieter rose. He took a goblet of and wine in his hand drank slowly. Calmed, he said, “My lords, there should be no war between faith and reason. Our faith is reasonable, though it does not stand or fall upon logic. After all, it stands on grace, and that, sirs, is not logical at all.”

  The diners fell quiet.

  Pieter went on. “But if the two become opposed in the life of a man, it is faith that shall always rule reason—”

  “Nay!” shouted a diner. “Reason shall prevail, and faith must find a home in it!”

  Others agreed.

  Pieter, however, shook his head. “No. Reason shall not prevail because it cannot prevail. I say this because of two logical points!” He smiled. “First, reason is a mere faculty of the intellect, while faith springs from the heart. It is the heart of man that ultimately rules his mind.

  “Second, unlike the intellect, faith has no bounds; it is a gift of the Infinite. The intellect cannot grasp truth because truth always enlarges itself just beyond our grasp.”

  A voice grumbled, “And why would that be?”

  “Because truth does not wish to be fully known,” answered Heinrich from his seat. All eyes turned toward the burly man with surprise, not the least of which was Pieter!

  The priest smiled. “Ja! ‘Tis so!”

  “No!” roared a merchant. The man stood and rested his hands in the folds of his robe. He looked down his long nose at the faces now turned toward him. “No, I say.” He looked squarely at Pieter. “You are a churchman, and no force on earth would more severely oppose the scholars than your Holy Church.” Murmurs of assent rippled around the table. The man went on. “My nephew is a student at university. He will be a doctor of philosophy in time. On Easter past, he shared with us the marvels of the ancients. The crusaders have brought back the works of Aristotle and Ptolemy, Socrates and Plato. In their writings we are discovering another way of thinking. Now, he says, the students are beginning to reject the dictates of others, even their professors. They are beginning to reason with their own minds, and in time, he says, that will change everything.

  “When a man can think on his own, he becomes a new man indeed. He becomes a free agent, unwilling to lose himself in some vague order of others. No, he will stand apart. This, sirs, is what is happening, and I for one welcome it! We will no longer be mindless, cowering sheep led to slaughter by the Church! No, sirs. We are freemen, free to think, free to serve that which is reasonable, and free to reject that which is not!”

  The diners rose, applauding. Godfrey, however, was anxious. “My dear guests,” he said slowly, “have a care. The world is what it is. The Holy Church will not be cast aside so easily. It will surely answer, and it shall do so with sincere zeal.”

  Frustrated, Pieter interrupted. “You need not cast away faith to find your freedom!” His voice was nearly desperate. “No, sirs, no! You boast of your fine minds, yet you do not understand. Faith is the way of freedom.”

  “The Church is a place of bondage!” shouted one. Others agreed loudly.

  “Listen!” cried Pieter. “I did not say that Rome is the way to freedom. I said that faith is the way. If not checked, your scholars will simply lead us into a new tyranny. Yes, yes, use your minds freely, but do not be so foolish as to deny the mysteries—for that is where truth also abides.”

  “And who should ‘check’ the scholars, old man? You and your—” A loud, rapid knocking at the front door interrupted the man’s speech. Godfrey rose and asked all for silence. He ordered an usher to the door. The man returned, ashen faced. He whispered into Godfrey’s ear. The merchant nodded and licked his lips nervously, then summoned another servant to his side. The three huddled anxiously as Wil and his fellows began to shift in their seats.

  Godfrey summoned Alwin. Drawing him close, he said, “Two Templars are at my door with some men-at-arms. My servant says they demand to speak with me.”

  “About what?” blurted Alwin.

  “They did not say, but you must leave.” Godfrey’s face was tight and pale. “Please, my friend. Take your companions and follow my servant to the rear. Disappear into the town. They’ll surely search my home and the stable, and that should take some time.”

  Alwin squeezed the man’s hand and motioned to Wil. No words were needed. The company rose quickly and hurried behind the servant toward the rear of the house as Godfrey offered an explanation to his perplexed guests. “Rest easy, all of you. We’ve some soldiers at the door who are searching for these others.”

  Godfrey stiffened and spoke sternly. “Now listen. We here are all men of business. We need one
another. I ask you to trust me.” He looked at the table’s vacated places and knew he could deny little. Fists were now pounding on his door. “Please, I will tell them our guests left an hour ago. I need you to keep silent on this.”

  The door burst open, and six knights charged into the house, shouting. Godfrey bowed as his guests stood. “Welcome. How can we serve you?”

  A Templar spat. He looked at the empty places. “Where are they?” he roared. “We’re told of a one-eyed man and an old priest with a knight and a company of youths. A peddler claims he saw them here!”

  Godfrey nodded. “Indeed, sir. Indeed they were. I thought them to be pilgrims in need.”

  The knight kicked at a hound. “Where are they?” he growled.

  “Ah, good sir. They left us, oh, perhaps an hour ago or more.”

  Another soldier looked at the perspiring guests suspiciously. He looked at the plates, still partly filled with food. “Why would they leave their food behind?”

  Godfrey faltered. The Templar stuck his finger in a sausage. “Still warm!” he cried. “Search the house!”

  Wil, Heinrich, Alwin, and the others ran desperately across the merchant’s rear courtyard and into his small stable. There they feverishly gathered their provisions and dragged Paulus into the alleyway. Behind them they could hear shouts and breaking glass. “Hurry!” cried Wil. “Hurry!”

  The desperate company followed the merchant’s servant down the winding descent of the town’s streets until he pointed them to Marburg’s eastern wall. “There, through that gate. Godspeed!” he cried.

  The pilgrims flew from the town and dashed across an open field toward the cover of a wooded slope. Maria dragged Paulus, and Wil and Tomas carried Pieter until they all crashed headlong into a thicket. Tripping and collapsing into their cover, the company abruptly spun about to see if they were being followed.

  “Can you see?” asked Frieda. “Wil, can you see?”

  Wil studied every horse, rider, cart, and peasant leaving the town gate. He turned his face to the roadway, to the riverbanks, and he stared at the many folks feasting outside the walls. “No. I don’t see them.”