Eifelheim

The Krenk, always wooden in expression, seemed to stiffen the more. “You… know of such journeys — question.”

The Heinzelmä

“The journey to heaven…,” Dietrich suggested, to be sure he understood.

The Krenk pointed skyward. “’Heaven’ is up there — question.”

“Ja. Beyond the firmament of the fixed stars, beyond even the crystalline orb or the prime mobile, the unmoving empyrean heaven. But, the journey is made by our i

“How strange that you would know this. How say you ‘all-that-is’: earth, stars, all — question.”

“’The world. ‘Kosmos’.”

“Then, hear. The kosmos is indeed curved and the stars — and… I must say, ‘families of stars,’ are embedded within it, as in a fluid. But in — another — direction, neither width nor breadth nor height, lies the other side of the firmament, which we liken to a membrane, or skin.”

“A tent,” Dietrich suggested; but he had to explain ‘tent,’ as the Heinzelmä

The Krenk said, “Natural philosophy progresses differently in different arts, and perhaps your people have mastered the ‘other world’ while remaining… simple in other ways.” It looked again out the window. “Could salvation be possible for us…”

The last comment, Dietrich suspected, had not been intended for him to hear. “It is possible for everyone,” he said cautiously.

The Krenk beckoned with its long arm. “Come, and I will explain, although the talking head may not own the words.” When Dietrich had come hesitantly to his side, the Krenk pointed to the darkening sky. “Out there sit other worlds.”

Dietrich nodded slowly. “Aristotle held that impossible, since each world would move naturally toward the center of the other; but the Church has ruled that God could create many worlds should He wish, as my master showed in his nineteenth question on the heavens.”

The Krenk rubbed its arms slowly. “You must introduce then me to your friend, God.”

“I will. But tell me. For other worlds to exist, there must be a vacuum beyond the world, and this vacuum must be infinite to accommodate the multiplicity of centers and circumferences needed to provide places for these worlds. Yet, ‘nature abhors a vacuum’ and would rush to fill it, as in siphons and bleeding cups.”

The Krenk was slow in answering. “The Heinzelmä

Dietrich laughed. “But then each body would have two natural motions, which is impossible.” But he wondered. Would a body placed beyond the convex circumference of the prime mobile possess a resistance to its natural downward motion. However, the creature had suggested also the sun as the center of the world, which was impossible, for there would then be parallax among the fixed stars when viewed from the earth, contrary to experience.

But a more troubling thought intruded. “You say you fell outward from one of these worlds across the ‘sun-ridge’ to fall upon our own?” Satan and his minions had fallen in just such a way.

These Krenken are not supernatural, he reminded himself. Of this, his head was convinced, however doubtful his bowels.

Further discourse clarified certain matters obscured others. The Krenken had not fallen from another world, but had rather traveled in some fashion behind the empyrean heavens. The spaces behind the firmament were like a sea, and the insula, while in some ways like a cart, was also like a great ship. How this was so eluded Dietrich, for it lacked both sails and oars. But he understood that it was neither cog nor galley, but only like a cog or a galley; and it did not sail the seas but only something like the seas.

“The aether,” said Dietrich in wonder. When the Krenk cocked its head, Dietrich said, “Some philosophers speculate that there is a fifth element through which the stars move. Others, including my own teacher, doubt the necessity of a quintessence and teach that heavenly motions can be explained by the same elements we find in the sublunar regions.”

“You are either very wise,” said the Krenk, “or very ignorant.”

“Or both,” Dietrich admitted cheerfully. “But the same natural laws do apply, not so?”

The creature returned its attention to the sky. “True, our vehicle moves through an insensible world. You can neither see, smell, nor touch it from this existence. We must pass through it to return to our home in the heavens.”

“So must we all,” Dietrich agreed, his fear of this being fading into pity.

The Krenk shook its head and made a smacking sound over and over with its soft upper and lower lips, quite unlike the loose flapping of their laughter. After a few minutes, it said, “But we know not which star marks our home. By the ma

The creature’s words puzzled Dietrich. How could the Krenken come from a different world, and yet claim also to have come from a star which lay embedded in the eighth sphere of this world? He wondered if the Heinzelmä

But his thoughts were disturbed by the sound of shoes on gravel outside the door. “My houseguest returns. It would be better if he does not see you.”

The Krenk leapt to the open windowsill. “Keep this,” it said, tapping his harness. “Using it, we may speak at a distance.”

“Wait. How should I call you? What is your name?”

The great yellow eyes turned on him. “As you will. It will amuse me to learn your choice. The Heinzelmä

Dietrich laughed. “So. You play your own game.”

“It is no game.” And with that, the creature was gone, bounding from the window noiselessly into the Lesser Wood below Church Hill.

VIII. October, 1348

Michaelmas to the Feriae Messis

Michaelmas came and with it the a

Everard presided at a bench before the great tree, and the jurors sat by to ensure that no custom of the manor was violated. Richart the schultheiss brought forth the Weistümer, the village by-laws, written on parchment and sewn into a book, and he researched it from time to time on the rights and privileges recorded therein. This was no mean task, as rights had amassed over the years like clutter in a shed, and one man might own different rights for different strips of land.