by C. D. Baker
As Mattias and his clerk took their places, an official and two more clerks entered. Heinrich knew they were not of the brethren. The official wore a mantle of white squirrel over a long, magnificently embroidered green robe. His legs were covered in fine breeches that fell to his shins where red woollen hose led to his well-oiled ox-leather shoes. From beneath his sleeves peeked the cuffs of a white linen shirt, and atop his head sat an otter cap. His companions were more modestly dressed but were clearly free men of means.
“Heinrich,” announced the prior as he pointed to the official, “this is Steward Hagan. Sire Hagan serves us from Runkel as did Erhard in years past. He handles our matters of law and accounting.”
The baker and his son nodded, curious.
Mattias went on. “We’ve two matters of business to discuss with you, my children, and know that Abbot Udo has been appraised of thine issues and has charged us to bring all to proper order. Firstly, in the matter of this, thy son, Johann Wilhelm: I do have in my possession the abbey’s pledge to your father’s father. I see you have brought yours likewise.”
Heinrich nodded.
“Our second point is a matter regarding thine inheritance of a holding once granted to our deceased tenant, Emma of Quedlinburg, of late a resident in Weyer.”
Heinrich chilled. Lukas told him that Blasius would be transacting all business regarding Emma’s lands. He feared any discussion on these matters without the counsel of either Lukas or him.
“Now,” continued Mattias, “I do freely admit that on matters of law I am not well versed, but it would seem we have some concerns regarding both. For this reason, I have yielded to the better judgment of our steward. He is a lawyer in the realm and properly trained in these things.”
All eyes turned toward Steward Hagan. The man was hawkish and cold. His beady, brown eyes were aimed dispassionately toward the pair of peasants staring blank-faced and nervously at him. “Heinrich and Wilhelm. Hmm. It seems we have some problems. It is my charge, under God, to protect the industry of the abbey so that future generations may benefit from its service to God’s kingdom on earth. I have discussed your grandfather’s … covenant… with the lawyers of the emperor and Archbishop Siegfried in Mainz, as well as the papal legate.”
Wil whispered to his father. Heinrich, now anxious and sweating, hushed the boy.
“To speak directly to the first point, we wonder by what right any man might coerce the services of these Holy Brethren?” The steward fixed a hard eye at the poor baker and waited for an answer.
Heinrich stammered, “I beg your leave, sire, but what is ‘coerce’?”
The man smiled. It was a haughty, wicked, condescending smile. “Ah, but of course. You are but a baker! I beg your pardon, friend. To answer you, ‘coerce’ means to force by threat. So I ask again, by what right are you forcing these good brothers to provide your sons with learning?”
Heinrich looked helplessly at the waiting faces of the others. He drew a deep breath and stared at the cracks of gray light filtering through the shutters. He wished for all the world he could run home. Oh, if only Lukas were here, he thought desperately. But Lukas was not there. “I cannot answer you, m’lord, I know only of a promise and …”
“Ah, of course. You know nothing of this other than what’s been told you by the other ignorant folk of your little village.”
Heinrich sat still and tried to swallow. His lips were dry and he looked about for a flagon of beer or mead. He nodded.
Hagan continued. “Hmm. Well, good fellow, I must needs tell you that your parchment is in some doubt. The realm cannot have its subjects taking advantage of its Lord Protectors through threats and slanders. And, as a point of law, a pledge under duress is not valid. Ah, your pardon. ‘Duress’ is the pressure of a threat, you understand?”
Heinrich nodded again. “But I only know of an abbot’s promise, I—”
“Enough, baker!” The steward threw off his mantle and leaned toward the confused man. No longer dispassionate, the man’s eyes burned with anger and with purpose, only to suddenly soften as poor Heinrich dropped his eyes. The man released a long breath. “Hmm. You seem to be an earnest fellow.”
Heinrich looked up hopefully.
“Perhaps we ought leave this matter for the moment and speak of the other.”
Relief came over Heinrich’s face and he relaxed.
Hagan slanted his eye ever so slightly toward the prior, but it was a look that did not escape the sharp eyes of young Wil. “I have been asked to review the wills of our vassal, Gottwald of Oldenburg, and of his whore, Emma.”
Heinrich bristled. “She was no whore!” he growled.
The steward smiled slyly, surprised at the spirit in the man. “Ah, Heinrich, I do sincerely ask your pardon. I had no right to use such a term for the mother of Gottwald’s bastard child.”
His wry tone belied his insincerity, but Heinrich had no ear for subtleties. “She was a good woman and I dearly loved her … and, yes, I pardon you.”
“Many thanks.” Hagan bowed his head sarcastically.
The veins in Wil’s young neck now bulged. He had a different instinct than his father.
“So, Heinrich, I was about to say that I have reviewed the wills carefully.” He held Emma’s will toward the fire of a wall-torch. “Nay, nay,” he chuckled, “you’ve no need to fear. I am only reading the witnesses to the woman’s name. Yes, yes, our own beloved Lukas and the Templar knight, Brother Blasius. Hmm. Well, no matter, all is in order here. I declare the woman, Emma of Quedlinburg, to have issued a proper charter of her earthly holdings and I concur that you, Heinrich the baker of Weyer, are her rightful heir by the declaration witnessed herein.”
Heinrich raised his eyebrows and released a long sigh. He looked happily at the prior. Mattias smiled. “So I am the proper holder to her lands?” Heinrich asked.
“Yes.”
Heinrich was relieved and delighted. “I am told the Templars store my rents and handle my fees and fines, taxes, and the like.”
“That is so,” answered Prior Mattias.
A long pause followed. Heinrich sat still, waiting for something else to be said. He stared about the circle of faces and began to fumble with his hands. “Well,” he finally offered, “it seems the light is failing. M’son and me want to see the schoolmaster, and we’ve more than an hour’s walk ahead and—”
“Heinrich,” interrupted the steward, “I have been authorized to propose an offer to you for your land.”
Heinrich’s heart began to race. He had often dreamt of negotiating his freedom. He had seen himself marching to the abbot’s door and gleefully bartering his new land as manumission for himself and his family. He imagined the abbot grunting and groaning and pleading for better terms. And in his fantasy he saw the prior on his knees begging for the baker’s charity, only to finally yield and grant the man his freedom and more!
“Heinrich!” Hagan bellowed. “Are you listening, man?”
“Oh, aye, of course, m’lord.”
“And what say you?”
“Of what, sire?”
“Of your price!” boomed the frustrated steward.
Heinrich licked his dry lips and looked at Wil. Oh, to set his household free! he thought. He turned to the steward. “I …I…”
“Ja? Ja?”
“I would offer Emma’s lands for … for the freedom of m’self, m’wife, and our children.”
Mattias’ clerk began to cough and the prior, himself, reddened. Hagan put a finger on his lips and frowned. “Manumission? You offer this as manumission?”
Heinrich was sweating. “Aye, sire, lord sire …”
“Prior Mattias,” Hagan began, “would you join me in the outer chamber for a moment?”
The two slipped out of the shadowed room and whispered beyond the heavy oak door. Heinrich shifted uncomfortably on his chair and smiled at his son. Wil leaned toward his father. “Vati, they’ll try to cheat you. I do not trust these men! Lukas says you needs be more
the fox and less the hare!”
The man nodded. “I am trying. ’Tis not an easy thing for me. I…”
The door opened and the prior and steward returned to their positions. The kitchener scurried in behind them and brought Heinrich and Wil tankards of cloister ale and wheat rolls. “Now,” began Hagan again, “you know I dare not speak untruths on behalf of the brethren.”
Heinrich nodded.
“So I speak truth when I say they would like very much to barter your land fairly and in accordance with their obligations as caretakers of that which God has given them. Now, it seems your land lies near some good ground that Lord Gottwald also granted them.”
“Ours lies in the very center!” cried young Wil.
Heinrich hushed him sternly.
The boy folded his arms and scowled. The steward and the spirited lad locked glares for a long pause before the man continued. “You ask much of us this day, Heinrich, and we are somewhat surprised. You are known as humble and devout, faithful to private vows. You’d be a man known for his industry and you are no thief, at least not until this moment.”
Heinrich looked confused. “Why this moment?”
“When you charge a man for bread, good fellow, how do you fix the charge?”
“The price is set by the abbey.”
“And how do you imagine they set the price?”
“I never think of such things.”
“Could you imagine they set the price in accordance to what is fair and necessary to all parties, that the price is set from charitable concern for the buyer as well as necessary concern for holy stewardship?”
Again Heinrich was confused.
The steward raised his voice. “Let me say it in another way! Do you think the brothers charge the very most they possibly can, or do they consider the buyers as well?”
The baker looked at the prior and scratched his head. “I surely do not know.”
“I see. And I understand, for you are no man of business. You give little thought to things as these, and why should you? What I am saying is that Christian dealings account for all sides’ welfare. You are charging a price for your land that considers only you! Greed, I think, is one sin in view here. And when one takes advantage of another, as in usury, it is called theft. Are your kin and kind thieves?”
“Nay. Scrumping is a grievous shame to us.”
Prior Mattias leaned forward. “Sire Hagan, it is true. The man is no thief, not since he was a youth.”
The steward nodded. “Hmm, most honorable.”
Heinrich drew a long, uneasy draught from his tankard. A clerk hastened to refill it as the prior now stood and set a gentle hand on the baker’s shoulder. Heinrich remembered a warning from Emma: “Be wary of the touch or smile of a churchman!” Heinrich drew a deep breath and waited.
“Worthy baker,” said the prior, “if you had thy freedom, what would you do with it?”
Heinrich answered quickly. He had often imagined exactly what he would do. “I should stay and labor at the bake-house and when m’boys were done their schooling we would travel as free men to other parts where they might work as lawyers or physicians, even men of commerce, and I should join a baker’s guild.”
“Ah, a dreamer are you? We did not realize.”
The steward and his men chuckled quietly as they snacked on bread, cheese, and a bottle of French wine.
Mattias continued. “You have no means of knowing this, but the abbey suffers lost revenue of every sort and we are in grave debt to the archbishop. We’ve given some thought to relieving our debt by offering bakeries and breweries to the archdiocese. Father Pious has already negotiated with us for control of Weyer’s bakery.
“Now, should we give the bakery to Pious, I doubt he would keep you in hire as a freeman. Ambitious men such as he lust for control and free men are difficult to manage. Now, we are not pleased by some of Pious’s ways but we have few choices at this time. But this goes beyond the point. I say this to you and I say it plainly: should we exchange thy land for thy freedom, you shall have no place of labor other than thy half-hide. Neither Pious nor we would employ you. And if you needs leave our lands, then your sons shall surely have no learning in the abbey school.”
Steward Hagan interrupted. “Of course, prior, we have not yet settled on that matter.”
“Ah, indeed, ‘tis still a question.”
Heinrich was now very confused and he looked desperately into the dwindling hearth hoping for some miraculous rescue. His mind was jumbled and his heart pounded. The steward took the floor again.
“I can see, man, that you are troubled.” Hagan spoke calmly, with an almost fatherly tone. “Here it is: your claim for your children is dubious, your inheritance intact. Your price brings problems, for if you barter your land for your freedom you shall have nowhere to enjoy it. And, if the brothers are willing to honor your parchment, your freedom shall surely forfeit it, for you’ll needs live elsewhere. Add to that the worry the brothers have for your soul. It is clear to us, men more accustomed to the temptations of business than yourself, that you are guilty of the sins of greed and ingratitude.”
“Ingratitude?”
“Aye. These Benedictines have cared for you and your kin for generations and have done so with generous hearts and at great cost. Now you wish to dismiss all thoughts of their kindness and charitable service in favor of your own gain. That, poor fellow, is ingratitude.”
Heinrich lowered his eyes. Indeed, he thought, perhaps I am wayward in this. Greed, theft, ingratitude, what else?
The steward let the man be for a few moments, then motioned for the prior to join him in the outer chamber once again. With a wink and a nod, the two left the room. Wil leaned over to his father. “I saw the steward wink! He’s a bad man, Vati, a bad man. I hate him! And I hate the prior and I ha—”
“That is enough!” scolded Heinrich. “You’re not to hate at all, least of all a monk! What devils you, boy? Now sit and say not another word.”
The prior and steward returned shortly and took a few relaxed moments to sip some wine and nibble on the tray of cheese now shared with Heinrich and his son. Prior Mattias folded his hands and spoke gently. “The day grows short and our steward would very much like us to close our business in time for thy safe return. He shall propose an offer I think shall serve all of us very well. Steward Hagan, would you explain?”
“Surely. Heinrich, Mattias has instructed me to make a most generous proposal. In exchange for the rightful deed to your land near Oldenburg, the abbey shall honor the pledge to your grandfather. And, though it was my counsel that such a concession was payment enough, they do most graciously and charitably offer you the rights of heritable ownership to the bakery in Weyer. You shall pay a fair rent and you shall keep the profits from the sales of your bread. They, however, shall set the price so as to protect both you and their other subjects.”
Heinrich was weary and his mind was numb. It seemed to him that the ancient pledge should never have been in question at all and perhaps Lukas or Blasius could help him claim it at a higher court. As for Emma’s lands, he was completely confused. If they bought it from him by granting his freedom he might be sent away only to find no employment elsewhere in these hard times. If he was allowed to remain, he’d have no job to pay his higher taxes and would have to offer military service or else pay the scutage. And Marta wants no parts of freedom anyway, he thought. Heinrich fumbled for words. “I needs think on this matter for some time, and—”
“Heinrich, I leave for Oldenburg on the morrow. You are aware that Lord Heribert is a cousin to the count in those parts. I must hurry there to secure the abbey’s new lands that Gottwald granted us. We are hoping all is not already lost to the armies opposing the pope’s emperor. You do understand, that if those lands are seized you’d have nothing to barter at all? If I were you I’d take this generous offer while I could. Also, I need tell you the abbot’s charity toward you is encouraged by the expediency of this arrangement. In other words,
you must agree now or the proposal is withdrawn.”
Heinrich ground his teeth. He stood to his feet and paced the floor. Dressed in his common homespun he felt powerless and weak. Perhaps I am being selfish, he thought. Perhaps their offer is best for all and maybe I ought take what I can while I can. He tried to avoid the accusing eyes of Wil.
Heinrich suddenly felt ashamed for doubting the world that ruled him. It was all too much to bear and the man yielded. “I… I accept your terms.” Heinrich sighed in resignation and collapsed into his chair, exhausted.
Chapter 16
LIFE
Heinrich’s hand shook as he accepted the offer with a few carefully witnessed scratches of a quill on parchment. The deal done, the baker was hurried out of the prior’s chamber and escorted to the novice cloister where he and Wil made a brief appearance before the abbey’s lay-instructor, Herr Laurentius.
Laurentius fixed an intimidating stare into the face of the lad who would become his pupil. Wil stood stiff-jawed and silent and studied his schoolmaster with equal determination while he received a brief orientation of the day to follow. The boy said nothing but finally offered a respectful bow as Laurentius finished his lecture.
“Thank you, m’lord,” said Wil. “I shall do m’best.”
“Aye, the lad shall work hard,” added Heinrich. With that, the pair stepped into the abbey’s courtyard and began their journey home.
After a long period of silence, Wil finally spoke. “He’s a terror. He held the rod like he loved it and I think he’ll use it often!”
“If he uses it too often I’ll use it on him!” boasted Heinrich. The two walked up the long slope leading away from Villmar and said little. Heinrich’s mind ran over the business of the day and he shook his head. “Methinks I should have done better.”
“Aye, you let them trick you.”
Somehow knowing that Wil was right, Heinrich hung his head.
The two finally arrived home in the dark hours of that most difficult day. Wil knew only that he hated everyone he had met and was in dread of the morning’s hike to his first day of school. Heinrich stared at his hovel door as nervous as a cat approaching an angry hound. He knew his wife would demand an explanation for all that had transpired, and he knew that his answers would likely be derided no matter what they were. He entered his home with trepidation.
