We arrived at the edge of the orchard, by the fence that divided it from the vineyards. On one side, the slow-moving band of the Glan shimmered in the sun. It was a secluded spot where we could talk at ease because Volmar had just shared with me confidential information from the scriptorium, where he now trained as a scribe.
“How can you be sure it’s not just another rumor?” I was skeptical. “There have been so many these last few weeks, and they all turned out to be false.”
“Father Abbot is quite certain this time.”
“But the messengers didn’t even bring a copy!”
“They were in a hurry to get to Mainz with the announcement,” Volmar explained. “It was so urgent they hadn’t even waited for copies to be made, but they assured Father Abbot that the archbishop’s trusted man would deliver one to us as soon as it was ready.”
Apparently, representatives of the emperor and the pope had signed a concordat in the town of Worms, not far from Bermersheim, four days before. The agreement was supposed to regulate the relations between the monarchy and the Church and end the conflict that had torn our land apart for so many years.
“And your task will be to make copies for the abbey?” I asked to confirm. I could barely contain my excitement at the thought of so important a document being available there.
“Yes,” Volmar said proudly, “together with Brother Bertolf.”
I gazed over the river, thinking. A solution to the crisis would benefit not just the parties involved, but ordinary people who bore its brunt. I wondered about the details of the agreement that managed to satisfy both sides. “Brother Wigbert told me how many privileges and rights the Church and the empire have claimed for themselves over the years,” I said. “It seems that what they want above all is to be able to meddle in each other’s affairs. I cannot imagine how they were able to reconcile such ambitions.”
Volmar shrugged. He did not have much interest in high matters of state and was more absorbed by the prospect of being able to copy the concordat than its contents or future success.
“Can I ask you a favor?” I turned to him, biting my lip.
“Of course.”
“Would you let me read your copy when it is ready?”
He hesitated. “It would be difficult to get you inside the scriptorium without anyone noticing.” But my gaze must have been so imploring that he added, “I might be able to take it out for a few hours.”
I leaped to my feet excitedly, and we went back to work, laughing and chatting until we broke for a midday meal of bread, cheese, and wine. Resting in the shade of a tree, I was suddenly reminded of a trip I had once taken with Griselda to the forest which she had turned into a picnic by bringing a bit of food from the kitchen. She was gone now, having taken her leave after the Feast of the Assumption.
“Brother Wigbert has always been good to me, but until Griselda arrived, I had been lonely.” The urge to confide came unexpectedly, and I knew it was my guilt speaking.
“It must have been hard.” Volmar’s tone was sympathetic. “It was not easy for me at first, either, and I at least had the company of other boys.”
“My circumstances were special.”
He nodded. My story was in some ways similar to his own. He had also been given to the Church at an early age, but nobody had attempted to impose total seclusion on him.
I shook my head to dispel those thoughts. “But it all turned out rather well, don’t you think?” I swept an arm toward the abbey. “This place has truly opened my mind to ideas I did not know existed. I am grateful for that, and I am happy now.”
“Despite the attack?”
“Yes.” I thought back on that near-disaster two months before. “It was terrifying, but we stayed and fought, and that made me feel strong.” I paused, then lowered my head. “Losing a friend is much worse because there is nothing you can do about it.”
“I am your friend too.” There was a note in Volmar’s voice I had not heard before. When he was with the other novices, his voice was as loud and as militant as theirs during the recreation hour when they sometimes played in the courtyard until Prior Helenger came out and put an end to the merriment. But now there was a tenderness in it that made it strangely sweet. “And I am still here,” he added, sending my heart fluttering like a bird batting its wings inside a cage.
“I know.” I heard my own voice borrowing his emphasis. “You are a dear friend.”
His gaze, when he turned his head, made my heart skip a beat altogether. We were sitting shoulder to shoulder, and he shifted toward me so that our faces were closer than ever before. I was frozen in place. The next moment, his lips were on mine, tentative and timid at first, then increasingly more assured, powered by some unseen force. Blood swooshed from my head and seemed to all go into my fingers and toes. I felt dizzy, but there was also a heaviness in my limbs that made me want to melt into the ground.
Volmar’s hand found mine, then moved up my arm and stopped at my shoulder, hesitating for a moment before sliding across my chest. My belly tightened into a knot, painful but not unpleasant, and when his fingers brushed my breasts again under the thin fabric of my robe, the knot relaxed and flooded me with a warm and tingling sensation. With effort, I broke away from him. But we
