The Scribe(72)
Her curiosity getting the better of her fear, she took advantage of the men’s absence to inspect the few sacks waiting to be unloaded. Disregarding the consequences, she took her knife and made a cut in the corner nearest to her, then sank her hand into its contents with just enough time to grab a handful of grain and run back to her corner in the stables.
The men soon returned. The first to arrive quickly discovered the torn sack and blamed the other one for the damage. They accused each other and argued until the third one, who seemed like he was the boss, arrived and separated them with a few choice blows. One of the men then left, soon returning with a lit torch, which the boss grasped, casting as soft glow on his red hair. They unloaded the remaining sacks and then set off without going back into the stable.
When she knew she was alone, Theresa ran back down the path, imagining the red-haired man breathing down her neck. She remembered him stabbing his fat opponent in the tavern and she thought that at any moment he would appear from behind a tree to cut her throat. Not even when she was inside the city walls did she feel safe.
She arrived at Helga’s house with her heart in her throat. Entering through the back door, she made sure Helga was still in the tavern and quietly headed to the loft where she found Hoos half-asleep. Seeing her, the young man’s face brightened, but he grimaced when he heard that she had not brought him a horse.
“I tried, I swear,” she lamented.
Hoos cursed through clenched teeth but told Theresa not to worry. The following day he would find a way to escape.
Theresa kissed him on the lips and he returned the gesture. “Wait a moment!” she interrupted. She jumped up and went down to the tavern.
Before long she returned, humming a silly song to herself. She sneaked up to Hoos and kissed him again. A beautiful smile spread across her face. “You have your horse,” she announced.
She told him that, though he may not approve of it, she had asked Helga about the down payment she’d given her for their board and lodgings. She explained that she needed the money, and that if Helga returned a portion of it to her, she would pay her back with interest before February.
“At first she refused, but I reminded her that I have regular work, and I promised that in addition to recouping the loan, she would receive an extra fifth part on top of it. Still, she wanted to know what the devil the money was for.”
Hoos looked at her anxiously, but she put him at ease. She had told Helga that she needed a horse to accompany the friar on his country outings. Hearing that, Helga not only believed her but also recommended a merchant who would give her a good price. In total she had returned fifty denarii, half of her down payment. It would be enough to buy an old nag and enough food for the journey.
“And she didn’t ask why you couldn’t accompany the monk by walking alongside his horse?”
“I told her my ankles hurt. Listen, Hoos, before you go, I would like to ask you for something.”
“Of course, if it’s within my power.”
“In a few days’ time, when you arrive in Würzburg…”
“Yes?”
“The thing is, when you found me at the cabin—I lied to you. I wasn’t just there by chance.”
“Well, don’t worry. If you didn’t want to tell me then, you don’t have to tell me now.”
“I was scared, but now I want to tell you. In Würzburg there was a fire.”
“A fire? Where?”
“It wasn’t my fault, I swear it wasn’t. It was that wretched Korne. He pushed me. The embers flew everywhere, everything caught fire, and…” Tears welled up.
Hoos took her in his arms. “Promise me you will find my father and tell him I’m well. Promise me.”
“Of course. I promise.”
“Tell them I love them, him and Rutgarda. Promise me.”
Hoos stroked her face, and she felt calmer. Suddenly Theresa remembered the parchment that she had found hidden in her father’s bag. For a moment she thought about entrusting it to Hoos to deliver to him, but she decided against it. Perhaps it was a private document and that was why he had hidden it.
“Take me with you,” she asked.
He smiled tenderly at her. “I’ll find your father and tell him not to worry, but you can’t come with me. Remember the bandits.”
“But—”
He stopped her with a kiss.
When the last candle had been blown out, Hoos asked her to come to him. She accepted, not fully knowing why. The young man embraced her tenderly to protect her from the cold, but though they were soon warm, they didn’t want to separate.
Hoos was the attentive man she had always yearned for. His arms held her tightly while he covered her in kisses. He explored her body, traveling undiscovered paths, caressing her slowly and enveloping her in his breath. She let herself become intoxicated, noticing the shameful appetite that burned inside her. She had never felt this way before and couldn’t interpret that bundle of sensations—the struggle between modesty and eagerness, between fear and desire.
“Not yet,” she begged him.
Hoos kept kissing her anyway, exploring her with his lips—caressing her pubis, her belly, her erect nipples. She delighted in his firm arms as he savored the smoothness of her breasts. She trembled when he parted her legs. As she felt him enter her, her body arched with pain. Even so, desire made her press herself against him as if she wanted to possess him forever. Then she surrendered to his motion and the fire that consumed her.