by Ellin Carsta
Friedrich III, who’d held the office of the archbishop of Cologne for a quarter of a century, had worked for years to offset the huge deficits incurred by the mismanagement and plundering of the archbishopric by his predecessors Adolf and Engelbert. He succeeded with the support of his great-uncle Kuno, who tendered generous loans and helped to raise taxes to protect the archbishopric. On one hand, this had endeared him to the emperor, Karl IV, but it had also inspired ire in most of the nobility. For a short while after Karl’s death in 1378, unrest had reared its ugly head. But Friedrich was wise enough to put a stop to it before things got out of hand. Nonetheless, the voices of those who opposed the archbishop had become impossible to silence.
Accordingly, Johannes’s concern was not only for his official duties; he also took an interest in the archbishop’s personal welfare. He frequently and painstakingly assessed the mood of the commoners in town as well as that of the nobles. Now, because of a private matter, he was forced to turn his back on Cologne and on his employer. And on top of that, he had no idea when or if he would ever return to the city. But he had no other choice.
Veit protested when his mother told him he had to ride with his father. “I’m big enough and grown-up enough to ride on a horse all by myself,” he announced, but Madlen was too tense to entertain a discussion.
“You will ride with your father, and Cecilia will ride with me. And I don’t want to hear another word about it,” she said before Johannes had a chance to reprimand the boy. They helped their children onto the horses, then climbed up on their respective mounts and rode off, followed by Agathe, Gerald the guard, Ansgar the servant, and Ursel the housekeeper. In the convoy, three additional horses were loaded down with personal items and clothing. Hans, the other servant, stayed behind to maintain and protect the house. Madlen’s heart raced as she imagined never seeing their home in Cologne again.
They rode in silence for most of the first part of the trip. From time to time, Johannes attempted to break the silence. But even he got caught up in his own thoughts, worrying about what awaited them in Worms and how he should proceed. It was a heavy burden for him to bear.
After the long winter, plants had begun to timidly poke their little heads out of the still-cold ground. Madlen began to point out various animals and wild herbs to her daughter. She patiently explained the properties of each herb and how to use them to cure various ailments.
It warmed Agathe’s heart to see her niece engaging Cecilia with her simple but detailed explanations. How she had wished for her own children over the years! But it was not to be. After her marriage to Reinhard, she’d all but forgotten the horrors of her past, willing herself to leave bad memories behind. But when, after more than a year of marriage, she was unable to get pregnant, the memories came back to haunt her. She’d finally admitted to herself that she’d been fooling herself and her husband, that that fateful night so long ago had destroyed too much, had robbed her of the life she’d always dreamed of. After realizing the sad truth, she’d been tempted to confide in her husband. But although she believed he was a good man, Agathe listened to a little voice inside her head that advised her against sharing the horrid details of her past with her spouse.
She recognized the wisdom of this decision when Reinhard came home one day and told her about a dispute between his good friend Klaus and his wife. Klaus was a fisherman just like Reinhard, and he had recently discovered that years ago his wife had been taken by a man, apparently against her will. Oh, the profanities Klaus had used! And Reinhard did the same, cursing Klaus’s wife, calling her a worthless whore. For a short time, Agathe had dared to question him. She’d asked her husband if Klaus had wondered about the truth of his wife’s tragic story, or if he’d simply dismissed it as a falsehood. Reinhard’s scornful laugh was answer enough. In his opinion, most women were only too glad to give men what they wanted and then later claim to have been forced.
It was during this conversation that Agathe understood that she could never entrust her husband with the gory details of her past. Knowing that their future would be childless, she decided to convince him that the fault lay with him, yet she did not reproach him for it. For some reason, Reinhard believed her. At first, Agathe wrestled with her guilt about this lie, which invalidated her husband’s virility as well as his fertility. But the weight on her conscience didn’t last for very long. She came to despise the way Reinhard spoke about women who had been violated through no fault of their own. Soon it no longer bothered her that she had convinced him it was his fault her womb bore no fruit. She’d kept the secret until his dying day.
Still, the fact that she could not have children hurt her every day. Even now, as she observed Madlen and Cecilia chatting and giggling together, she was reminded of what she’d wanted most in life. Just thinking about it put a knot in her chest.
“Isn’t that right, Agathe?”
She’d been so deep in thought, Agathe hadn’t noticed that Madlen had been speaking to her. “Forgive me. What did you say?”
“That there was a time when those plants over there”—she pointed at a green-and-yellow clump of vegetation—“were used to cure many Worms residents of a terrible cough.” Madlen studied her aunt for a moment. “Are you feeling ill?”
“Oh, I’m fine,” Agathe responded, a little too quickly. She noticed Cecilia’s bonnet had slipped back a bit, allowing a bit of her freshly shorn head to show. She said to the little girl, “I was just thinking about when your mother lived with me in Worms. Those were frightening yet extraordinary days. She helped so many people. To this day, the whole city talks about her, even though she hasn’t lived there in well over seven years.”
“We both helped,” Madlen corrected, “but you are right, in many ways it was a stressful time. But living and working together at your house was simply wonderful.” She lovingly squeezed her daughter’s shoulder. “It was then that I met your father.”
“I can’t hear you very well,” Veit complained, turning around in his saddle and leaning past his father to look back at them.
“Agathe and I were just talking about the wonderful time we spent together in Worms before you and Cecilia were born,” Madlen called out.
Veit shrugged and turned back around. Evidently, he’d thought he was missing out on a more exciting story.
“Certainly there will be a lot of work for you once we arrive,” Agathe said, as her and Madlen’s horses trotted side by side. “If you like, I will gladly take care of the children. I could show them the city.”
“Oh, yes, Mother,” Cecilia said. “That would be lovely. Please say yes.”
Madlen kissed the back of her daughter’s head. Cecilia cuddled up closer to her. “It’s so sweet of you to offer, Agathe. You two don’t need to persuade me at all. I would have asked you anyway.”
Agathe smiled. “I am just glad we can find a silver lining in these difficult circumstances.”
“What’s so difficult?” Cecilia asked.
“As I already explained to you,” Madlen said, “your grandfather is very sick. That’s the reason we’re going to Worms. Your father must take over your grandfather’s merchant business.”
“Oh! Well, it doesn’t matter to me whether we live in Cologne or in Worms.” Cecilia hesitated. “Mother?”
“Yes, little one.”
“I don’t remember Grandfather at all, just Grandmother. Is that bad?”
“No, my beloved. You’ll get to know your grandfather in due time.” Madlen tried to sound cheerful. It was no wonder that her daughter could barely remember him. In the years since Cecilia’s birth, her grandparents had visited only once, and only because Peter was developing a business relationship with a nobleman who lived in Cologne and Elsbeth had insisted on accompanying him. Madlen knew Peter had been in Cologne other times on business but had never visited his son’s family. And, to be honest, that didn’t bother her one bit. Because Madlen’s children were so young, it hadn’t been practical for her to undertake the long journey t
o Worms, so she was grateful when Elsbeth found time to visit without her husband or made the effort to keep in contact by post.
“How much longer before we’re in Worms?”
Johannes heard his daughter’s question and turned around in the saddle to answer. “We just started riding. We’ll take a short rest when we get close to Siegburg, and then we’ll ride on to Uckerath. From there we’ll make our way to Altenkirchen, where we’ll spend the night.”
“That sounds terribly far away,” Cecilia said.
“So then will we reach Worms tomorrow?” Veit asked.
“No, not yet. Altogether, this trip will take four days,” Johannes stated.
Cecilia had already fallen asleep in her mother’s embrace by the time they reached Altenkirchen, just before the city gates closed. They had remained on the wide trade route, encountering several small groups of travelers along the way. Only after they’d ridden into the safety of the city limits did Madlen feel the strain she’d endured all day begin to melt away.
They found simple accommodations in an inn. The children stayed with Johannes and Madlen in their room. Agathe offered to share her room with Ursel, who thanked her for her friendliness and generosity. Ansgar and Gerald bedded down in the stables.
They all rode out before dawn. Veit could barely keep his eyes open. When Johannes mounted their horse, Veit leaned back and instantly went back to sleep. But Cecilia was wide awake and chatted amiably with her mother and Agathe.
They rode past Hachenburg and through Höchstenbach and Freilingen. They stopped to rest when they reached Wallmerod.
“How much longer must we ride?” Cecilia asked, starting to show signs of exhaustion. “I can barely sit one moment longer.”
“It won’t be long until we’re in Malmeneich, and after that we’ll be in Elz. Then it’s only a short way to Limburg, where there’s a cathedral and a castle,” Johannes said in an attempt to lift his daughter’s sagging spirits. “You will be so amazed!”
“But I don’t want to see a castle,” Cecilia said, pouting.
“I do,” Veit said. “Are we going to sleep in the castle?”
“No, my son. It’s reserved for the counts. But we’ll find a good inn and eat so much our bellies will get this fat.” Johannes stretched his arms in a semicircle out in front of him.
“So we will reach Worms tomorrow?” Cecilia persisted.
“The day after tomorrow,” Johannes said.
Cecilia rolled her eyes. “I’d rather go back to Cologne.”
“Believe me, we’ll be in Worms before you know it.”
When they mounted their horses again after a short rest, Cecilia leaned against her mother, closed her eyes, and fell asleep. When Madlen woke her up, they had reached Limburg.
During the third day of their journey, they made slow progress because the children frequently insisted on dismounting. At the foot of Kirberg Castle they rested and ate, then started in the direction of Wiesbaden. They were able to cross the Rhine in Mainz-Kastel that same day. Upon their arrival on the other side, they bedded down in a decent inn and fell fast asleep. They reached Worms the next day.
Shortly after they passed through the city gates, Agathe said good-bye and rode on to her own house. Madlen promised to follow her as soon as they greeted Elsbeth and Peter and assessed the situation.
A strange feeling crept over Madlen as they walked their horses up to her in-laws’ house. Johannes rode beside his wife, worry written in the lines on his face. He looked at her and tried to smile before halting his horse in front of his parents’ house. Ansgar dismounted his own horse and hurried over. He held his arms up. “Come on, Veit. Come on down to me.”
Johannes lifted his son and deposited him into Ansgar’s waiting arms. Then he swung himself off his saddle and stepped over to Madlen and Cecilia’s horse to help his daughter down. After he helped his wife dismount, they both paused for a moment. Madlen stroked her husband’s cheek. “We’ve overcome so much together over the years. Together we’ll overcome this, too.” He kissed her softly. Then Madlen took their children’s hands and climbed the steps to the house, Johannes behind them. Ursel, Gerald, and Ansgar stayed below with the horses. Before Madlen could knock, the door swung open.
“Madlen! Johannes! Thank the Lord!” Elsbeth stepped outside and embraced Madlen, then Johannes and the children.
“It’s so wonderful to see you, Elsbeth.”
“Come in, come in!” Elsbeth noticed the small group standing with the horses at the foot of the steps.
“Wendel, show the Cologners where the stalls and the servants’ quarters are.”
“Yes, my lady.” The servant, who’d been standing behind Elsbeth in the hall, walked past her and went down the stairs as Johannes, Madlen, and the children entered the house.
Madlen looked at her mother-in-law. “You look pale.”
Elsbeth embraced her daughter-in-law again. She could no longer hold back her tears. “I’m so happy you’re here.” She released Madlen, then pointed upstairs. “Peter is lying in his bedchamber. He doesn’t want to see anybody. I’m at the end of my rope.”
“I’ll take care of everything, Mother,” Johannes said firmly. Only Madlen knew him well enough to hear the slight tremor in his voice.
Elsbeth continued to sob. “I’m so sorry. I’ve tried everything, and I’ve held on as long as I could.”
“It was good that you sent Agathe,” Johannes declared. “Now we’re here, and we will make everything right.”
“Thank you.” Elsbeth looked at the floor; she seemed ashamed that she had to rely upon her son so much.
“And here are two little ones who want to tell you everything that’s happened since they saw you last,” said Madlen, nudging Cecilia and Veit forward.
After wiping away her tears, Elsbeth scrutinized her grandchildren. “What in the world happened to your hair?” she asked Cecilia.
“As you can see, a lot has happened,” Madlen said, satisfied that she’d distracted her mother-in-law from her woes, at least momentarily. “The fact that your grandson would like to become a famous barber-surgeon is one of the many exciting things you can catch up on with the children.” She winked at Elsbeth and was relieved when a smile spread across her mother-in-law’s face.
“Father?” Johannes entered the dark bedchamber, weakly lit by a small tallow candle on a chair near the bed. The room reeked of alcohol and human sweat, the odor stronger and more sour the nearer Johannes drew to the bed.
The room was silent except for the barely perceptible sound of low moaning.
“Father?” he repeated.
“Johannes?”
“Yes, Father. It’s me.”
Peter huffed. “It’s about time.”
Johannes sat down carefully on the edge of the mattress. “How are you, Father?”
“How should I be?” Peter spit out. “The Lord is taking away my eyesight, every day a little more. He’s punishing me and I don’t know why. I’m lying here and slowly rotting away. That’s how I’m doing.”
The stench of alcohol hit Johannes with even greater force as his father spoke. The younger man could certainly understand his father’s bitterness, but the drinking made the situation worse for his mother, and that infuriated him.
“I’m here to help now,” Johannes said.
“Now, yes!” Peter railed. “Where were you before now? With your archbishop, the oh-so-important Friedrich. And what about me? I am your father. You are my flesh and blood. It was your duty to stand by me when there was something to stand by. Now business has ground to a halt, and who knows how long before we have to sell off everything we own to the first scoundrel that comes along.”
“We came as soon as we got the news.”
“Pah! Your place should have always been here, in Worms. You should have managed my office like every other son does for his father. But you just had to be something bigger and better—a lawyer for the archbishop, no less! On top of that, you just had to marry a wo
man who could not be any lower in social standing. What kind of son does that?”
Johannes stood. “I’m glad to see you again, too, Father. Now, I must devote myself to the many tasks at hand.”
“I need some more schnapps. Tell your mother to bring me some more schnapps.”
Without another word, Johannes stepped away from the bed.
“Did you hear me, you good-for-nothing? I need some more schnapps!” Peter flung the empty bottle at his son, but with his poor eyesight he missed his intended target. Johannes stood perfectly still, burning with rage but forcing himself to stay calm. He bent down, picked up the empty bottle, and left the room, closing the door behind him.
Outside the room, he leaned against the wall for a moment and took long, deep breaths. He’d never had an especially good relationship with his father, and he knew that would never change. He was suddenly filled with anxiety. His father had once been a rich man. Was it true that the business was failing? With the considerable investments his family had made during its most prosperous times, it would take more than one short stretch of inactivity to lose everything, wouldn’t it? Johannes decided to check the books at the first opportunity, to see how things really stood.
He also needed to think about the possibility of returning to his real job in Cologne. He knew that he needed to give the archbishop a definitive time frame. Though His Excellency Friedrich III had been sympathetic to his situation, Johannes knew the archbishop’s kindness had its limits. The archbishop needed a lawyer he could rely on, and if Johannes was gone too long, His Grace would undoubtedly find somebody to take his place. And all this trouble because of a business Johannes didn’t want to begin with, which, to add insult to injury, evidently stood at the brink of bankruptcy. He might even be forced to invest his own hard-earned money to make it financially viable again.
