Beloved Pilgrim (7 page)

Elias raised one arm and drew it across his
forehead. "Lord Jesus, it's stifling in here."

Elisabeth listlessly moped about the manor.
She tried to smile and encourage the young men as they prepared to
leave for the Brenner Pass and Italy, but try as she might, she
could not maintain against her growing dread.

"Elias, rest a bit, you have servants who can
do all this," she said to him one morning as she found him with
Albrecht in his own chamber. She tried not to notice the rumpled
bed, the lack of a squire's pallet on the floor. She wondered what
the servants made of it, if they noticed.

"She is right, my lord," Albrecht inserted.
"You are tiring yourself out. Look at you, it's just an hour since
sun-up and you are already starting to drag."

Elias started to argue, but subsided, putting
down the gauntlet he was testing for loose screws. He yawned. "I
don't know what has come over me. I'll lie down for a while now."
He looked over at Albrecht. "Will you come back and sit with
me?"

Elisabeth stood quickly and, making a rushed
comment to her brother, followed the squire out into the corridor.
"Albrecht, wait a minute!" she called.

She reached him in the corridor and put her
hand on his arm. "You are worried about something, something to do
with Elias. What is it?" she asked. "When you said he should rest,
there was a look in your eye. Like you were worried.."

Albrecht said, "He has seemed pinched, tired.
That's all. I just hope is not becoming ill."

"Ill?" she repeated. "Dear God, I do hope
not."

Only days later she happened to pass through
the corridor as Elias came out of an alcove that was used as a
privy at night. He stood outside it, shaking. His face was suffused
with sweat.

"Oh my God, Elias!" she cried as she rushed
to him. She took his arm and led him to his chamber.

"Where is Albrecht? Send for him," he rasped
as she helped him lie back on his bed. "Hurry."

She went to his door and hailed a passing
servant. She returned to Elias's bedside, reached for the ewer of
water on the table next to it and the cloth that lay beside it. She
poured water into a large bowl and soaked the cloth, squeezed it
out and leaned to her brother.

He weakly took her extended wrist and asked,
"Did you send for Albrecht?"

"I did. They will bring wine and more cloths,
and he will come." Frowning, he released her wrist, letting her
wipe the sweat from his face.

"You are ill. We were afraid of that."

He looked at her. "We? You and the
servants?"

"Albrecht and I," she responded.

At that moment the squire came into the
chamber in a rush. He went to the side of the bed opposite
Elisabeth and sat. "My lord, are you well? What is wrong?"

Elias reached for his hand. "I am sick. I am
feverish and I just puked up more food than I even ate this
morning." He grimaced. "And it is coming out the other end
too."

Albrecht watched Elias's hand cover his own,
sighed, and let him hold it. "Oh Elias." He did not bother to say
the formal "my lord."

Elisabeth looked at them both. "How sad it
must be," she thought to herself, "to have someone who loves and
cares for you, but you can't let anyone see it." She stood. Aloud
she said, "I will go for a tisane that will help you sweat out the
fever."

Elias stopped her. "Albrecht, can you go get
it? I want to talk to my sister."

The squire glanced from one twin to the
other, then nodded and went out.

"Elisabeth, I know you know . . . about
Albrecht and me," the sick man said in a hesitant voice.

She nodded. "You know I do."

He glanced away and asked, "Do you hate
me?"

"Of course not! How can you ask that?"

He looked back with a grim smile. "I haven't
always been sure. You said so once, but sometimes you looked at us
with such anger."

She put her hands to her face. "Oh my God, I
am so sorry. There were just some times when I was confused or
jealous. But Magdalena told me that you love each other, just as
Father and Mother. I am just glad you have had someone to love like
that. That you do have someone to love." She looked quizzically at
him. "You don't think you are going to die, do you?"

He made his voice joking. "No, I don't. It's
just so much fun to get a rise out of you."

He laughed at her exasperated look.

She had taken her leave of her brother when
the squire returned with a covered tray. "I will let you talk." She
startled Albrecht by going up to him and leaning to plant a kiss on
his cheek.

The next time she saw him he looked at her
oddly, with a mixture of wariness, disbelief, and wonder. "Elias
said . . . " he whispered to her.

Interrupting she said, "Just love him."

Open-mouthed, he nodded. "I do, how I
do."

She smiled. "It's all right, then."

It was not all right. Elias lay in his bed
day and night, weak, shivering, and barely able to eat or drink. He
began to waste away. Michaelmas came and went.

Elisabeth was in her brother's chamber one
evening while he lay asleep on the bed. She did not care for
needlework but it was all she had to keep her hands busy. She
frowned at a misplaced stitch and muttered, "Damn!"

"Such language," came her brother's weak
voice from the pillow.

She looked up, saw his pale face smiling at
her. "Elias!" She went to sit next to him on the bed. "Are you
feeling better?" It sounded so thoughtless, this vain question.

Her heart wrenched as he shook his head. "No,
I am not. I know I am dying. Please do not argue with me on that. I
don't want to go through what we all went through with Mother
refusing to talk about it."

Elisabeth's eyes brimmed over with tears.
"Oh, Elias," she sobbed. "I cannot bear it."

"You must. For Albrecht's sake." Seeing her
eyes widen, he added, "Please, just hear me out."

She drew the back of her hand under her nose,
sniffed and nodded. "Yes," she said.

He struggled for the breath he needed to go
on speaking. "It grieves me to leave you, Elli, but I am sore
afraid for Albrecht. You are the only one who knows about us, you
and Magdalena. He is going to need you. He will need to mourn just
like a widow, but he won't be able to do it publicly. You must be
his bulwark." Elias's words petered out, his strength spent.

She looked deep into his eyes. Her first
impulse, a selfish anger that he loved his friend more than his
sister, was drowned by what she saw in his eyes. It was his love
for and trust in her that made him beg her to take care of the
younger man.

She put her palm on his cheek and tried to
smile. "I understand, my darling. I will be there for him. I
promise." His brow smoothed at her words. There was a new appeal in
his eyes. "I will send for him, so you can say your goodbyes." She
put her fingers to her lips and transferred a kiss from them to his
lips.

He mouthed "I love you," and she felt as if
her heart had squeezed to a hard knot in her breast.

When Albrecht came he took her hands and
searched her face. "He wants to say goodbye," she explained.

A sob erupted from deep in his
chest, and tears ran suddenly down his cheeks. He rushed to the
bedside. She quietly shut the door behind her.

She summoned Father Boniface to
give the young lord last rites, then firmly shut the door after the
old priest departed.

It was near midnight when the door
opened slowly and Albrecht stepped out. Elisabeth was sitting in a
window embrasure, in the low light of torches, and stood when she
saw him. They walked to each other and without a word put their
arms about each other. Albrecht began to weep inconsolably.
Elisabeth let her own tears join with his.

She drew him with her to the embrasure and
lowered herself to sit. She took him in her arms and held him,
rocking him and crooning soothingly as he gave way to utter
despair.

Elisabeth went through the motions of daily
life even after her brother had been laid to rest in the little
church next to their mother. Albrecht was nowhere to be seen,
having withdrawn from the preparations for Elias's funeral. Unsure
if he had gone entirely, Elisabeth waited, trying to hang onto some
sort of consciousness. She was Winterkirche now, at least until her
father returned. Would he, wherever he was, learn of his son's
death? Unlikely, as no firm news of him had come since he
departed.

Even now as tidings of the Crusade began to
trickle in there was nothing about Sigismund. Elisabeth heard that
indeed, not long before Pope Urban II passed away, the forces of
the Cross had taken Jerusalem. The Holy Father, the architect of
the Crusade, never knew of its success.

Elisabeth was sitting in what was now her
solar talking with her steward about mundane matters involving
tenants when a servant came in and bowed to her. "Mistress, the
squire Albrecht would like to speak with you."

"Well, bring him in! He need not stand on
such ceremony!" She sat up straight, smoothed her bodice, and
nodded to the steward. "We will finish later, Martin."

She stood to greet her friend as he came
through the doorway. Her face darkened at the sight of him, thin,
haggard. She came around the table and went to him and took his
hands. His eyes were cast down to the rushes on the floor.

"My lady, I . . . I . . . ," he began.

"Albrecht, my dear, come to the embrasure and
sit with me. I was afraid you had left us."

Sitting hesitantly by her he tried again. "My
lady, I came to bid you farewell-"

She did not let him finish, but interrupted,
"Farewell? Why?"

He looked up at her for the first time, his
eyes full of perplexity. "My lady, I have no place here. The lord
is in the Holy Land and my . . . the young lord . . . I was their
squire. I have no employment here now."

She stared at him, her lips parted. "Oh dear,
I had not thought of that. You have been part of our lives; I was
thinking you would somehow just stay here. That was selfish of me.
You want to be a knight. You can't do that here. Of course you want
to leave."

He hesitated, looked about as if for
guidance, then admitted, "I do not want to leave. This has been my
home, the place where I have been the happiest in my life . . . I
cannot be sure how I can . . . I don't know if I care about being a
knight, not without Elias, the young lord, I mean . . . " His voice
trailed off.

"Then why leave? I don't want you to leave.
There must be something you can do here. I promised my brother I
would look after you. Oh please don't go!" She took his hands in
hers and held tight.

"But, my lady . . . ," he appealed.

"Damn it, Albrecht, stop calling me that. I
am your sister. Stop being so damned servile."

Looking into her flashing eyes, he nodded
silently and glumly. "Thank you, my l . . . Elisabeth."

Woodenly the household returned to normal.
Elisabeth had acted in her mother's stead so long it came to her as
rote. One of her duties, now performed alone, was to greet
visitors. Preferring the comfort of solitude, Elisabeth performed
her duties, bearing with the few who came, mostly travelers, two or
three returning pilgrims, but none as disruptive as the one who
arrived one damp and miserable morning.

Taking her accustomed place on the steps to
the hall after the horn blast augured the approach of a mounted
party, Elisabeth composed herself with dignity. The gate opened and
the first of what sounded like a considerable troop of horses rode
in. Elisabeth did not believe her eyes at first. The banners, the
livery, the face-it was Reinhardt! She thought she might swoon,
though she never had done so in her life. He was alive and back
from the Holy Land. The solace of her solitude was fractured.

Reinhardt rode up to just before where she
stood, her hand to her mouth in surprise. "Happy to see me, my
dear?" he crooned mockingly. He waved off the groom who dragged the
mounting block near, and, throwing one leg up behind him, he deftly
dismounted to stand before her. He slowly drew his leather gloves
off, took one of her hands and kissed it. He looked about. "Where
is everyone?"

Elisabeth could not speak. Gratefully she
heard Albrecht approaching from behind her left shoulder. He spoke
solemnly. "Your Grace, I am sorry to inform you that this lady's
mother and brother have passed on. Lord Sigismund went to the Holy
Land many, many months ago."

Reinhardt stared at the squire. His eyes
shifted back to Elisabeth. "This is true?"

All she could manage was a nod. She saw
Reinhardt take it in, and then was disgusted to notice that a
satisfied look had come across his countenance. She could almost
hear his thoughts. "Mine! Then it is all mine!"

His men dismounted behind him. He turned to
Albrecht and commanded, "Boy, see to it our horses are taken care
of and provision made for my men's quartering."

Glancing over her shoulder at Albrecht,
Elisabeth saw his pressed lips. She looked quickly back to
Reinhardt, "My lord, you are of course more than welcome to
Winterkirche. How long do you plan to stay?"

Reinhardt smiled sardonically. "It talks!" He
sighed. "But have you forgotten? I am your husband. Until your
father returns, I am lord of Winterkirche."

"Damn," he breathed. He slapped his leg with
a riding crop and seemed to consider. "I will stay a fortnight,
then, and return to put my estates in order." He gave her an
annoyed look. "I suppose you cannot be ready to come with me that
soon."

"But your Grace," Elisabeth began.

A slow smile crept along his lips. "Cannot
wait that long, my love?" he said with a mocking leer. He took her
hand again and kissed it. "Christ, why are we standing out here? I
need a drink and a fire." He grabbed her hand and pulled her along
after him up the steps and into the hall.