"Good morning to you, sister," I returned. "Is it possible for an honest man to purchase some hot food from you?"
She laughed heartily at this. "Sir, if you were a thief and prepared to pay, you would receive the same fare. We have little coin, these days, and a pfennig or two would not go amiss when the time comes to go to town and buy ribbon for a new frock. My daughter is marrying two months from now."
She ushered me into the dark warmth of the cottage. As was typical of such places it was simple and neat, with rushes on the flagstones and a few holy pictures upon the walls. I noted from the pictures that these people were still loyal to Rome.
She took my helmet and cloak and put them carefully upon a chest in the far corner. She told me that she was about to bring a meat pie and an apple pie from her oven, if I could wait but quarter of an hour, and that she could offer me some good, strong beer of her own brewing, should I partake of such drink. I said that I would greatly welcome a sample of everything on her list and she retired to the kitchen to fetch the beer, chatting about the uncertainty of the weather and the chances of the various crops.
When she brought the beer I remarked that I was surprised the War had not touched them. Her little round face became serious and she nodded. "We believe that God hears our prayers." She shook her head. "But I suppose that we are luckier than most. There is only one road into the valley and it goes nowhere, after our village, save the forest. You must have travelled a very great distance, sir."
"I have indeed,"
She frowned as she considered this. "You came through the Silent Marches?"
My ordinary caution made me lie. "I circled them," I said, "if you mean the lifeless forest."
The woman crossed herself. "Only Satan's followers can inhabit those marches."
I knew that she had tested me. For if I had admitted to having travelled through the Silent Marches she would have known that my soul was Lucifer's, and I doubt if I should have been able to have enjoyed her hospitality as much as I did. Both pies were soon forthcoming and they were both delicious.
As I ate I told her that I was an envoy for a prince and that I could not divulge his name. My mission was to attempt to bring peace to Germany, I said.
At this the good frau looked pessimistic. She picked up my empty plate. "I fear there will be no peace for the world until the Day of Judgement, Your Honour. We can merely pray that it comes soon."
I agreed with her wholeheartedly, for, after all, if my Quest were successful, Judgement Day must surely follow rapidly upon Lucifer's repentance.
"We live," said she, "in the century in which the world is bound to end."
"That is what many believe," I agreed.
"You suggest that you do not, sir."
"I might hope for that event," said I, "but I am not convinced that it will occur."
She cleared away the dishes. She refilled my stein. I was offered a pipe of tobacco from her husband's jar, but I told her that I did not take it. Her husband was at work in the fields, she told me, and would not be back until that evening. Her daughter was with her husband-to-be, helping with the spring planting.
All this wonderful ordinariness had begun to lull me and I thought that perhaps I might stay with these people for a while. But I knew if I did so I should not be fulfilling my pledge to Lucifer and might bring His vengeance not only upon myself but upon these people, also. It comforted me to know that there was one small corner of Germany where War and Plague were unfamiliar.
I finished my beer and asked directions for Nџrnberg. The woman was vague, for she had never travelled very far from her village. But she gave me directions for Schweinfurt, which I decided to follow until I came to a larger settlement and more sophisticated people.
I left the woman with a piece of silver, which, had she known its origin, she would not have taken with such joy or such gratitude, and was soon upon my way.
The track wound through the valley, climbing gradually to the hills on the far side. I rode through widely spaced pines, over loamy, reddish soil, and looked back frequently at the cottages and farms with their heavy, peaceful smoke and their sense of dreamy security.
The track led me to a wider road and a signpost for Teufenberg, the nearest town. It was almost sunset when I embarked upon this road, and I hoped that I might come upon an inn or at least a farm where I could beg a bale of hay in a barn for the night, but I was unlucky. I slept again in my cloak, in a ditch by the side of the road, but was undisturbed. I rose in the morning to warm sunshine and birdsong. Butterflies flew through the clumps of poppies and daisies at the edge of the track and the scents of those flowers were delicious to my nose. I regretted that I had not purchased a tittle more beer for my journey, but I had expected to be in Teufenberg by now. I promised myself that I would at least break my fast at the nearest inn, and when, by noon, I turned a bend and saw the carved gables of a substantial-looking hostelry, with outhouses, stables, and a little cluster of cottages at the back, I was glad of having made that promise.
The inn was called The Black Friar and it stood upon the banks of a broad but shallow river. A good-sized stone bridge spanned the river (although it seemed possible to ford it without wetting the thighs) and farther up on the far bank I saw a mill, its wheel working slowly as it ground corn. I guessed that both mill and inn were, as was quite common, owned by the same family.
I almost cantered into the courtyard, looking up at the wooden gallery, which went the entire circumference of the place, and crying out for the landlord as I dismounted.
A black-browed fellow, very heavily built and with red arms to match his nose, came through a downstairs door and took the bridle.
"I am Wilhelm Hippel and this is my tavern. You are welcome, Your Honour."
"It looks a well-kept place, landlord," I said, handing him my cloak as an ostler appeared to take my horse.
"We think so, Your Honour."
"And well-stocked, I hope."
I noticed a familiar peasant craftiness as he hesitated. "As best it can be in these times, sir."
I laughed at this. "Have no fear, landlord, I am not about to requisition your food and wine in the name of some warlike prince. I am on a mission of peace. I hope to be instrumental in putting an end to strife."
"Then you are doubly welcome, Your Honour."
I was taken into the main taproom and here enjoyed a mug of beer even better than that which I had had from the woman in the village. Venison and game were presented to me and I made my choice, feasting well and chatting with Heir Hippel about his trials and tribulations. These appeared extremely minor in comparison with those of men and women who had been directly touched by the War, but of course to him they were large enough.
There were robbers on this road, he warned me, and although they did not give him much trouble, some of his guests had been robbed and badly beaten (one even killed) during the previous autumn. The winter had not been so bad, but now he heard that the robbers were returning, "like swallows in spring," he said. I reassured him that I would journey warily. He said that he was expecting two or three more guests shortly and that it might be wise if we all travelled together to Teufenberg. I said that I would consider the idea, although privately I determined to continue alone, for I did not want the company of merchants or clerics on their slow, reliable horses.
In the shadows of the far corner, half-asleep with his tankard in his hand, I noted a surly red-headed youth dressed in a stained blue silk shirt with cuffs and collar of tattered lace; red silk breeches, baggy and loose after the Turkish fashion, tucked into high folded-over riding boots. He had on an unbuttoned leather waistcoat of heavy hide, of a sort which swordsmen often wear in preference to a breastplate. There was a long, curved sabre propped near him on his bench, and round his waist I detected a long knife and a pistol, both in black and silver, looking almost Oriental in design.