Theresa went quiet with embarrassment. The fact is she knew a fair bit about parchments, but almost naught about anything else.
“And even if the water was flowing,” he added, “throwing them into the river wouldn’t solve the problem. No doubt those men were part of a scouting party, and sooner or later the river might carry the bodies to their companions.”
“There are more Saxons?” she asked in fright.
“Just a small band—but fierce as wild animals. To be honest, I don’t know how they got through, but the passes are infested with them. In fact, I lost three days skirting the mountains to avoid them.”
Skirting the mountains… that could only mean Hoos had come from Fulda, so he wouldn’t know what had happened in Würzburg. She gave a sigh of relief. “Anyway, your arrival was heavensent,” she said, watching Hoos clean the blood from his hands by rubbing them on the snow.
“Well, the truth is I’ve been here for a couple of days,” he replied. “Yesterday, I had decided to spend the night in the kiln, but as I approached the site, I noticed light in the house and saw that it was those Saxons. I didn’t want any trouble, so I thought I would sleep in the shed instead and just wait for them to leave. When I awoke this morning they had gone. However, I searched the forest to make sure. After a while, I decided to head back home and that was when I saw that they’d caught you.”
“They must have gone out to hunt. They came in with squirrels.”
“Probably. But tell me… what were you doing in the house?”
Theresa blushed. She hadn’t expected that question.
“I was near the kiln when the storm took me by surprise.” She cleared her throat. “I remembered the house and I went to take shelter there. Then those men came out of nowhere.”
Hoos furrowed his brow. He still could not understand what a young woman was doing alone in these parts.
“What will we do now?” she asked, trying to change the subject.
“I need to start digging. As for you,” he suggested, “you should take care of that bruise on your face.”
Theresa watched Hoos go back into the house. She had not seen him for some time, and though his face had hardened, he still had his curly hair and kind countenance. Hoos was the Larsson widow’s only son to give up the trade of quarryman. She knew this because the woman was constantly boasting about his appointment as fortior of King Charlemagne, a position she knew nothing about, except for its strange name. She estimated that Hoos was around thirty years old. At that age a man would normally have fathered a couple of offspring. But she had never heard the Larsson widow mention any grandchildren.
Hoos eventually returned to the shed with the spade he had used to dig up the earth. With a weary gesture he threw it to the ground beside Theresa. “Those men won’t be causing us any more problems,” he said.
“You’re soaked.”
“Yes, the rain’s pouring down out there.”
She screwed up her face but didn’t know what to say.
“Are you hungry?” asked Hoos.
She nodded. She could have happily eaten a whole cow.
“I lost my mount crossing a gorge,” he grumbled. “The horse and my supplies are gone, but in there,” he said, pointing at the house, “I’ve seen a brace of squirrels that could ease our hunger, so you decide. Either we go back in the house, get warm, and fill our bellies, or we stay out here until the cold takes us to our graves.”
Theresa pursed her lips. She did not want to go back into the cabin, but Hoos was right: They would not last much longer in that shed. She stood and followed him to the house, but at the front door she stopped in her tracks as a shiver ran down her spine.
Hoos looked at her out of the corner of his eye. He felt sorry for her but didn’t want her to notice. Kicking open the door, he showed her the empty room. Then he put his arm over her shoulders and they walked in together.
The warmth from the firewood comforted them like a hot broth. Hoos added an armful of logs to the fire, which was spluttering away lighting the room with a soft glow. The fragrance of hot chestnuts filled her lungs and the smell of roasting meat piqued her appetite. Theresa looked at the tidied belongings and blanket near the hearth. For the first time since the fire, she felt safe.
She hadn’t yet fully settled in before Hoos had the squirrels and chestnuts ready. “Those men knew where to look for food,” he said. “Wait a minute.” He went off and soon returned with some clothes. “I took them from the Saxons before burying them. Take a look. There might be something you could use.”
Theresa wolfed down some food before turning her attention to the garments. She examined them closely before choosing a scruffy-looking dark woolen coat, which she used to cover her legs. Hoos chided her for discarding a thicker fur because it had bloodstains on it, but he was pleased that she decided to keep the knife that the big Saxon had tried to stab her with.
When they finished eating, they fell silent for a while, listening to the rat-a-tat of the rain on the wattle roof. Then Hoos went to peer through a crack in the wall. He guessed that it would be night soon, though a gray darkness had already settled over the heavens some time ago.
“If the weather keeps getting worse, the Saxons will stay in their hideouts.”
She nodded.
“Aren’t you the scribe’s daughter? Your name is…”
“Theresa.”
“That’s it. Theresa. You would come to the kiln sometimes to collect lime for tanning parchments. I remember the last time I saw you. You had so many pimples on your face you looked like a bilberry cake. You’ve changed a lot. Do you still work as an apprentice at the parchment-maker’s workshop?”
Theresa’s face hardened, annoyed at being compared to a cake. “Yes. But I’m not an apprentice anymore,” she lied. “I took the examination to become craftswoman.”
“A woman in such a position? Good God! Is that possible?”
Theresa fell silent. She was accustomed to talking to laborers whose greatest talent was pelting dogs with stones, so she merely lowered her head and curled up under the coat. After a while, she slowly stood up again and looked at Hoos more intently. From close up, it was apparent that he was taller than she had first thought. Perhaps even a full head taller than any of the laborers she could remember. He seemed strong and sinewy, probably from his work in the quarry. As Hoos continued to look out through the crack in the wall, she imagined him as one of those great shaggy dogs that lick children affectionately, enduring their mischief with patience, but then could tear anyone to pieces in an instant if they tried to lay a finger on him.
“And what do you do?” she asked. “Your mother boasts about your position in the court.”
“Well,” he smiled, “you know what mothers are like when they talk about their sons. You would be wise to believe only half of what they say. Give them some words of admiration, and then quickly dismiss the other half.”