AT THE PEACE

AT THE PEACE Chapter 1 Bamberg, near Nuremburg, July 1648 The horse was tired. It was afternoon on a cloudless July day and the horse had been carrying his master since sunrise without complaint. This was an achievement even for a Belgian workhorse, because the man was as large for a human as the horse was for a horse. Together they were an awesome sight, the man a burly ursine creature atop a burly equine creature. Seeing the first signs of a town, the horse expressed his solitary complaint, a soulful whinny, to which Bishop Anton Schmidt responded by patting him gently on his neck. “I know I’m not easy to carry,” he said, as he slipped from the saddle relieving the horse of its burden. Even garbed as a belted Franciscan friar to discourage robbers, one could see it was an unnecessary precaution, as the robes failed to disguise the size and strength of the man wearing them. Besides, if you looked you would see the large sword carried among the supplies on the packhorse in tow. In fact, Anton did not look like any familiar figure in the church, neither Franciscan nor bishop. His face added to the puzzle, with features that were pleasing: large round blue eyes, prominent cheek bones, thick lips and a broad jaw. If only those features were viewed, they would accord with his size, and identify him as a man from some peasant family, but when other features were added to the mix, refinements as they were, including an unmistakable hauteur in his bearing, his appearance perplexed. Nonetheless, he was a bishop in this German town for a very specific purpose; and the next morning, the authorizing documents from the Aulic Council and the Vatican in hand, he would attend to this purpose before proceeding to Frankfurt. This was not his first visit to Bamberg, an Upper Franconian town in Bavaria, situated near the conjunction of the Regnitz and Main rivers, and constructed across an expanse of seven hills. As he oriented himself, his eyes sought the four towers of the grand Bamberg Cathedral, a place that had brought him great pleasure when he first visited as a young priest, serving as part of the retinue of his mentor. He stood there with his eyes on the towers, then on the edifice itself. It was an immense structure, bold and intimidating, yet welcoming through any of the four curved portals, three accessible regularly, the fourth only on special occasions. He remembered his feelings of security and peacefulness as he entered and made his way through the nave, light streaming through the stained-glass windows, balancing the solemnity of the dark gray stone walls. He recalled pausing midway at the organ, enchanted by the exhilarating sounds engulfing him. His spirits lifted and he was filled with gratitude at being in this splendid cathedral; he kneeled and prayed to celebrate the experience. He would have given anything to repeat that experience, but this visit to Bamberg would not be pleasant at all. Immediately upon passing through the city wall encircling Bamberg stood an inn and stables, and standing in front, snaring the first opportunity to earn a coin, was the innkeeper, eyeing Anton warily. Franciscans were not known for the gold in their pockets. Had Anton approached uniformed as a bishop, the innkeeper would have sped to his side, regaling him with the comforts of his establishment. Instead, the innkeeper remained in place, waiting for Anton to approach. Little effort needed to be expended for a friar, when he could even be a mendicant seeking something for nothing. “Yes?” the innkeeper said brusquely. The man was neither very big nor noticeably small. Rather he was suitably sized to maintain order in a rowdy establishment and to get the necessary work out of lazy servants. Closing the distance between them, Anton let his horse crowd the space. “Your services.” “And what would they be?” “Whatever you provide for other travelers. Care for my horse, a place to sleep and a meal. It’s for one night. Now tell me your charge.” The innkeeper stared at Anton and made a shrewd guess that he was not a friar and maybe not a religious at all, so he quoted a price excessive for a friar, less so for a merchant, and trivial for a guest with means. Anton nodded in agreement, and handed the lead to the stable boy, waiting for his cue to take the horses. Before he did, Anton took a saddlebag with some of his possessions and pulled his sword from its place. “I am Bishop Anton Schmidt,” he said, introducing himself. “Now show me where I can rest.” He let the innkeeper lead the way. The innkeeper was pleased that his suspicions about the identity of his guest were correct. Despite his humble robes the man could well afford the charge for the night. The innkeeper was also curious, as he had never had anyone of that rank stay without flunkeys hovering, eager to impress everyone with the importance of their prelate; nor had he ever seen a sword-carrying priest. Did he have business in Bamberg or was he just passing through? Normally the proprietor’s impulses would be to gossip, flying all over town chattering about this mysterious visitor, seeking to discover whether anyone had heard anything; but with this stranger he would mind his own business and not invite anybody’s interest in whatever placed Bishop Anton in Bamberg for a night. Chapter 2 Near the Cathedral, but separate from it, and even closer to the river, was Anton’s destination. Designated as the Malefactor’s House, it contained a torture chamber, a jail, and a hall filled with long tables and chairs where judges confronted suspects. There was also a chapel. The place was used to hold and try mostly women, accused, and inevitably thereafter, convicted of being witches. On occasion men were held as well.