Read Online Beloved Pilgrim by Nan Hawthorne - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Nan Hawthorne
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old comrade of Baron
Reinhardt's from the Holy Land. He was a Frank, a knight, Gautier
du Visage Cassé, and no better a piece of work than Reinhardt
himself. He was tall with the muscular upper body of a swordsman,
but his long legs seemed wrong, as if his own had been cut off by a
Saracen and a skinnier man's legs sewn on to his trunk. He had
greasy black hair that hung in his face. It was a saving Grace,
since the long scar that gave him his soubriquet nearly split that
face in two. One eye was gone and his eyelid literally sewn shut,
the stitches black and ragged. His breath reeked. Even the Baron
winced when the man leaned into his face to make some bawdy
remark.
"Mon Dieu, Reinhardt! I did not know you were
a buggerer. This is a boy, is it not?" He examined Elisabeth who
stood silently next to the baron.
Reinhardt scowled but did not reply. He
gestured his comrade to a seat at the table set on the dais at the
end of the hall.
Gautier went to the dais, stepped up and took
the seat indicated. Reinhardt ushered Elisabeth before him up onto
the rise and seated her between him and the Frankish knight.
Gautier glanced around the hall. "Who died? Everyone is going about
with their chins scraping the rushes."
Reinhardt looked at Elisabeth as if waiting
for her to answer the man's question. She cleared her throat. "My
lord, my brother died quite recently."
"Her twin brother," Reinhardt added.
Gautier leveled his one-eyed gaze at her.
"Identical twins, or so it seems. Are you sure they didn't
mistakenly bury the girl?" He laughed at his own joke. "Well, can't
you get some dancers or jongleurs in to lighten the mood? It's like
mass in a poor monastery in here."
Reinhardt fingered his beard. "I regret to
tell you, mon ami, that I brought no such with me. Any entertainers
installed here at Winterkirche fled as soon as the young master
died."
She had realized what he said was true by the
morning after her brother's death. Not only had the minnesinger and
other musicians decamped as soon as they knew a returning Baron
Reinhardt would replace the young lord. Several of the servants had
gone as well. She understood their fear and only envied them their
ability to escape.
"Can it sing or dance?" Gautier smirked. He
was looking at her.
"No, my lord," she hastily responded.
"I told you, Reinhardt, it's a boy. And not a
very pretty one."
Reinhardt glowered. He gestured to a servant
for wine and changed the topic. "What do you hear of the new call
for crusade, my good fellow?"
New crusade? It was the first Elisabeth had
heard of it.
Gautier took the cup of wine the servant
placed before him. "His Holiness, the new pope, Paschal II I think
he styles himself, has called for it. There was a letter sent to
the Frankish churchmen. It seems that Baldwin thinks the Paynim
will try to take back Jerusalem. My brother, who is an abbot, says
he calls for 'all the soldiers of your region to strive for
remission and forgiveness of their sins by hastening to our Mother
Church of the East; to move their arses thither,' or words to that
effect." He considered his comrade-in-arms. "Will you go, mon
frère?"
Sitting back in his chair Reinhardt caught
the hopeful look Elisabeth flashed at him. "I am sorry to
disappoint you, my dear. I have been to the Holy Land and fought
for the Faith. Therefore all my sins, past and future, are wiped
away as the sun clears the dew. I have no intention of going back
to that scorpion-infested sun-roasted hellhole. Not for God, not
for the Pope, and certainly not for you."
Gautier laughed aloud. "Nor I, cher
Reinhardt. I have lands to control, sons to beget, Frankish whores
to bed and wine to consume. But you shall enjoy this. I hear His
Holiness singled out those who fled the Siege of Antioch, promising
they shall linger excommunicate and lightened of their lands and
goods, unless they go back and make men of themselves again."
Reinhardt slammed his cup of wine onto the
table before him, and slapping his thighs
Reinhardt's from the Holy Land. He was a Frank, a knight, Gautier
du Visage Cassé, and no better a piece of work than Reinhardt
himself. He was tall with the muscular upper body of a swordsman,
but his long legs seemed wrong, as if his own had been cut off by a
Saracen and a skinnier man's legs sewn on to his trunk. He had
greasy black hair that hung in his face. It was a saving Grace,
since the long scar that gave him his soubriquet nearly split that
face in two. One eye was gone and his eyelid literally sewn shut,
the stitches black and ragged. His breath reeked. Even the Baron
winced when the man leaned into his face to make some bawdy
remark.
"Mon Dieu, Reinhardt! I did not know you were
a buggerer. This is a boy, is it not?" He examined Elisabeth who
stood silently next to the baron.
Reinhardt scowled but did not reply. He
gestured his comrade to a seat at the table set on the dais at the
end of the hall.
Gautier went to the dais, stepped up and took
the seat indicated. Reinhardt ushered Elisabeth before him up onto
the rise and seated her between him and the Frankish knight.
Gautier glanced around the hall. "Who died? Everyone is going about
with their chins scraping the rushes."
Reinhardt looked at Elisabeth as if waiting
for her to answer the man's question. She cleared her throat. "My
lord, my brother died quite recently."
"Her twin brother," Reinhardt added.
Gautier leveled his one-eyed gaze at her.
"Identical twins, or so it seems. Are you sure they didn't
mistakenly bury the girl?" He laughed at his own joke. "Well, can't
you get some dancers or jongleurs in to lighten the mood? It's like
mass in a poor monastery in here."
Reinhardt fingered his beard. "I regret to
tell you, mon ami, that I brought no such with me. Any entertainers
installed here at Winterkirche fled as soon as the young master
died."
She had realized what he said was true by the
morning after her brother's death. Not only had the minnesinger and
other musicians decamped as soon as they knew a returning Baron
Reinhardt would replace the young lord. Several of the servants had
gone as well. She understood their fear and only envied them their
ability to escape.
"Can it sing or dance?" Gautier smirked. He
was looking at her.
"No, my lord," she hastily responded.
"I told you, Reinhardt, it's a boy. And not a
very pretty one."
Reinhardt glowered. He gestured to a servant
for wine and changed the topic. "What do you hear of the new call
for crusade, my good fellow?"
New crusade? It was the first Elisabeth had
heard of it.
Gautier took the cup of wine the servant
placed before him. "His Holiness, the new pope, Paschal II I think
he styles himself, has called for it. There was a letter sent to
the Frankish churchmen. It seems that Baldwin thinks the Paynim
will try to take back Jerusalem. My brother, who is an abbot, says
he calls for 'all the soldiers of your region to strive for
remission and forgiveness of their sins by hastening to our Mother
Church of the East; to move their arses thither,' or words to that
effect." He considered his comrade-in-arms. "Will you go, mon
frère?"
Sitting back in his chair Reinhardt caught
the hopeful look Elisabeth flashed at him. "I am sorry to
disappoint you, my dear. I have been to the Holy Land and fought
for the Faith. Therefore all my sins, past and future, are wiped
away as the sun clears the dew. I have no intention of going back
to that scorpion-infested sun-roasted hellhole. Not for God, not
for the Pope, and certainly not for you."
Gautier laughed aloud. "Nor I, cher
Reinhardt. I have lands to control, sons to beget, Frankish whores
to bed and wine to consume. But you shall enjoy this. I hear His
Holiness singled out those who fled the Siege of Antioch, promising
they shall linger excommunicate and lightened of their lands and
goods, unless they go back and make men of themselves again."
Reinhardt slammed his cup of wine onto the
table before him, and slapping his thighs
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