Eifelheim

“And where are they now?” said Dietrich. “Only names in songs.”

Thierry drank from his goblet and handed it to his junker to fill again. “A song is enough.”

Gregor turned his head up. “But it really ought to be…”

“What?”

The mason shrugged. “I don’t know. Glorious. To save Jerusalem.”

“Ja. It is.” Dietrich was silent a moment, so that Gregor looked over at him. “The first who took the cross did so from piety. The Turks had destroyed the Church of the Holy Sepulcher and barred our pilgrims from the shrines. They were not so tolerant as the Arabs, who held the Holy City before them. But I think many went also for land, and the vision grew soon tarnished. The legates could not find enough volunteers, so that Outremer lacked reinforcement. The Regensburgers assaulted those who took up the cross; and the cathedral chapter at Passau preached a ‘holy war’ against the papal legate, who had come recruiting.”

Gregor threw his head back and laughed. “Stag’s Leap.”

“What?”

“Why, the knights, after chasing the Saracens out of the Alps, forgot to stop and tried to leap all the way to Outremer!”

The Hochwalders entered Freiburg by the Swabian Gate, where they paid the Graf’s tollkeeper an obole for each hide and four pfe

The party entered a small square called Oberlinden, and so to the tavern called The Red Bear, where Everard arranged for lodgings, “although you, pastor, will probably stay with the chapter at the Dear Lady Church.”

“Always tight with the pfe

“Thierry and Max have taken their men to the schlossberg,” the steward said, indicating the stronghold perched on the hill east of the town. “Bad enough to share a bed with the likes of this gof,” wagging a thumb at the mason, “but the fewer bodies we cram into our room, the more comfortable we’ll all be. Gregor, walk the priest to the minster and pay the guild for a stall in the market. Find where our wagons are to go.” He tossed Gregor a small leather pouch and the mason caught it jingling in mid-air.

Gregor laughed and, taking Dietrich by the elbow, steered him from the i

They breasted a flood of tradesmen, soldiers, guild masters in rich coats of marten; apprentices rushing about their masters’ business; miners from Ore-chest Mountain that gave the town its lead and silver wealth; country knights gawping at the buildings and the bustle; Breisgau spinsters toting baskets of thread for delivery to the weavers; a man wearing the dank smell of the river and balancing a long pole on his shoulder from which dangled a multitude of dripping fish; a “gray monk” crossing the square toward the Augustiner.

The town had been founded in the great silver rush, a hundred and fifty years before. An oath-band of merchants had taken lots fifty shoes by a hundred at an a

From Salt Street, they passed through a narrow alley to Shoemaker Street, pungent with leather and uncured hides. Small rivulets flowed through cha

“Such a great city!” Gregor cried. “Each time I come down here it seems grown bigger.”

“Not so great as Köln,” said Dietrich searching the passing faces for the first widening eyes of recognition, “nor Strassburg.”

Gregor shrugged. “Big enough for me. Did you know Auberede and Rosamund? No, that was before you came. They were serfs who held a manse in common near Unterbach, which they farmed to a gärtner — I have forgotten his name. He ran off to the ‘wild east,’ became a ‘cowknight’ on one of those big cattle drives. I suppose he lives now in a ‘new town’ under Flemish Rights and battles the ferocious Slavs. What was I saying?”

“Auberede and Rosamund?”

“Ach, ja. Well, those two were hard workers, and cu

“Did they ever buy their freedom?”

The mason shrugged. “Heyso never went after them and after a year and a day, they were free. He farmed their strips to Volkmar, as was his right — it was salland, after all; but the women still send a man of theirs to tend the vineyard under the lease, so I think everyone is content with the arrangement.”

“One serf less,” said Dietrich, “is one more manse escheated to the lord. Coin is valued more than hand-service. The folk on a manor were once called a familia. Now, all is money and profit.”

Gregor grunted. “Not enough of it, if you ask me. Here’s the Minster-place.” The square was raucous with the clatter of hammers, creak of pulleys, snap of canvas, curses of workmen, as they erected the booths for the market. Above them soared from the bustling square a magnificent church of red sandstone. Construction had begun soon after the town was chartered, and the nave was built in the style of that day. The choir and transept had been added later in the modern style, but with such skill as to present no clash in overall appearance. The outer walls were adorned with statues of saints beneath protective stone canopies. Under the eaves, modern gargoyles gaped and leered and, during the rains, vomited the water ru

“I’d think the whole thing would collapse of its own weight,” Dietrich said. “The Beauvais choir vault was only a hundred and fifty-six shoes high, and it collapsed and killed the workers.”

“When was that?”

“Oh, sixty years ago, I think. I heard it spoken of in Paris.”

“Those were more primitive times — and the masons were French. They need all those lights because old-fashioned clerestory is too weak to illuminate the interior. But then, as you said, there is not wall enough left to hold up the roof. So they use those ‘striving-pillars’ to brace the wall and disperse the weight of the roof.” Gregor pointed to the row of outer pilasters.

“You’re the mason,” Dietrich said. “I heard that the Parisians finished their great Church of Our Lady three years ago. I don’t think this one is done yet. The tower wants a spire. Is that the emporium across the square? I think you must go there to have a stall assigned. Which way is the Franciscan church?”

“Straight through Minster Place to the other side of the main street. Why?”