Chapter 9: How Lieselotte of Rennenberg Becomes the Baroness and Ingeburg has to Leave Pelle

That same evening, Sigfrid Baron of Birkenhain was entertaining important visitors. Rudolf, Count of Rennenberg had arrived with his youngest daughter Lieselotte for whom he was seeking a marriage. He had even brought the girl along and if the negotiations went as planned they would have the wedding before the Count returned to his lands.

The haste was due to the fact that the Count had remarried after his first wife’s death, and his new wife did not get along at all with his daughters. Thus, he had already married off his older daughter and now it was Lieselotte’s turn.

Sigfrid was quite agreeable to the prospect of taking the girl as his wife. She was young and uncommonly pretty, and whilst her dowry would not be great, having the Count as father in law was an advantage in itself. Had the Count not been in a hurry to find a husband for his youngest, a lowly Baron would not have been considered. The Baron’s mother, the Noble Ermegart, was also excited over the prospect. This was too good an opportunity to pass.

When Sigfrid, his mother, and his guests sat for supper in the Great Hall of Birkenhain Castle, the negotiations had already reached their goal. The Count had offered Sigfrid a village of two-hundred souls as dowry, together with a toll-free right of way “for eternity” between Birkenhain lands and this new exclave. In addition, the Count offered a mutual pact of military support. Seeing that the Count was a powerful lord, with close to four hundred men-at-arms under his command, this was a welcome guaranty for Birkenhain’s safety.

Thus, before his assembled retainers and vassals, Sigfrid announced his engagement with the noble Lieselotte and his impending wedding a fortnight hence on a Sunday. As a man, his vassals jumped up to cheer him and his bride-to-be.

The Baroness Ermegart smiled with deep satisfaction. Her son had won a fine bride and a powerful father-in-law. Her only worry was that the young girl would be unhappy in the castle, with all the servants already older and with no companions her own age. She had not brought any of her own companions either as her departure from Rennenberg had been made in haste.

With the announcements made and the toasts offered, the wine flowed freely and Sigfrid and the Count were in boisterous mood telling amusing stories. The Count had just recounted an episode where he had put the Bishop in his place when Sigfrid countered with the tale of how he had married the daughter of his mother’s rival to a lowly collier.

“You should have seen the faces!” he fairly yelled at the end of his tale. “That shrew, Greta, just moved her mouth like a dying fish, the girl cried, and the poor collier tried to escape!”

The whole upper table laughed at this. Ermegart, after at first smiling with a certain relish over the humiliation of her erstwhile rival, sobered somewhat. New thought entered her mind and she spoke up to her son.

“Sigfrid, my son, much as I delight in the misfortune of that woman Greta, I fear you have done great injustice to the girl in your desire to spite her mother. Like it or not, that girl is of your dear father’s own blood and yet you married her to some forest dweller. I like not the thought I must tell you.”

Sigfrid, slightly drunk, dismissed his mother’s chiding.

“Her mother asked me to find a good husband for the girl and by my troth, so did I. He’s but a young fellow and not misshapen, and he’s the best by far of all the colliers in my lands. It is him whom I pity. She’s likely as much of a shrew as her mother.”

“Still, my son, we should make certain that she is faring well. Remember, it is your father’s blood that flows in her veins. Make them join the deputation from Lemdalen at your wedding.”

“If that is your wish, it is but small, Mother,” Sigfrid laughed. “Holla, Neidhard, see to it!”

Neidhard was the tax collector and overseer of the tillable lands. He shrugged and nodded.

“Your will shall be done, Lord!”

In the further course of the evening, an attentive observer would have noticed a satisfied smile on the Lady Ermegart’s lips. The plan she was formulating in her mind would solve her worries over her new daughter-in-law’s happiness. If the girl Ingeburg was a true daughter of Greta she would jump at the chance which Ermegart planned to offer.

The Baron’s overseer had visited the village and the outlier cabin where Pelle and Ingeburg lived. The Baron would celebrate his wedding two weeks hence with the youngest daughter of the Count of Rennenberg. Each village was to send three couples, a newly wed couple, a middle aged and an old couple to attend the wedding as well wishers. Lemdalen was to send Breno, the village elder, and his wife Berta, Rudlo and Hedwig, and the only newly wed couple, namely Pelle and Ingeburg.

Pelle and Ingeburg felt a mix of apprehension and excitement hearing this news. Pelle also felt the time pressing. He had to fire his kiln if he had to be in Birkenhain in two weeks. With regard to the celebrations, he consoled himself with the thought that there was nothing he could do anyway. It was the Baron’s will after all, and they would share in the food and drink the Baron was sure to offer his guests, high and low.

For the next week, however, the firing of the kiln was the most important consideration. Pelle started the fire close to the flue and then worked with the stoppers until a steady, diffuse smoke emanated from the pile. From then on they had to watch carefully for cracks and holes in the coating, lest the fire went out of control and consumed rather than charred the wood. It was a boring task but not taxing, leaving them with ample time for other activities for as long as those could be done close to the kiln.

They used the first week of comparative leisure to effect repairs and amendments to their tools. Pelle even brought their table to the creek and sanded it freshly whilst watching his kiln. Ingeburg washed and aired the bedding which had taken the brunt of their nightly activities. Then, whilst she was watching the kiln, Pelle applied a fresh coat of linseed oil to the wood framework of the cabin or renewed a few damaged shingles on the roof. They camped out at the kiln at night, and more than once they consummated their love under the starry sky.

By Tuesday of the next week Pelle stoppered the vents of the kiln to let the fire die down and by Thursday he found that the pile was cooling down already. This gave them time to prepare, and Ingeburg cleaned her favourite dress, but also Pelle’s finest linen shirt, his breeches, and his deerskin vest. Come the Sunday morning they rode the wagon into Lemdalen where the other two couples joined them on their wagon for the ride to Birkenhain.

The town of Birkenhain was bustling with activity. The feudal wedding was the single most festive occasion in many years and the Baron’s subjects were in a expectant mood. Unlike his scheming and philandering father, Baron Sigfrid was well liked. Yet with no heir to the title many people were afraid who would eventually follow the Baron. Lieselotte of Rennenberg looked healthy, and therefore people hoped for an heir to guarantee stability in their little corner of the world.

The three couples from Lemdalen announced their arrival to the tax collector and they were told where to stand during the ceremony. All but the first four pews had been removed from the church to yield more standing room. Pelle and Ingeburg found themselves towards the back of the church. Once ushered in they had to wait for almost two hours before they heard the cheering of the crowd outside that signalled the arrival of the noble personages. It took another hour and their feet were getting tired before all the noble guests were properly seated and the hubbub died. Then the shawm players started and everybody craned their head to catch a glimpse at Baron Sigfrid as he stalked into the church in his knightly attire, followed by five pages who carried his train. His mother, the old Baroness Ermegart, walked a half step behind her son all the whilst gazing sharply over the assembly.

When Sigfrid finally stood at the altar, the Count of Rennenberg led his daughter into the church and towards the front. A veil covered her face, but everybody could see that her gait was strong and her body seemed firm and womanly.

Once Lieselotte stood by her groom’s side, the Abbot of Tosdalen appeared and started a flood of Latin words which nobody understood. Having dealt with the monks in his childhood Pelle knew that even they did not understand the Latin but rather repeated the words as they had learned them by heart. Again, Pelle felt a cold anger as he regarded the abbot.

The count was then asked whether he was willing to give away his daughter and he affirmed this. Then the baron was asked whether he accepted Lieselotte’s hand in marriage and he too said his ‘Aye, I do.’

The Abbot then launched into a long-winded speech in Latin, interrupted every few sentences by a short interlude from the shawm players. It seemed to take forever and Pelle grinned inwardly, thinking that he much preferred the short ceremony in which the drunken priest had first join him and Ingeburg.

Once the Abbot finished his sermon they all had to kneel whilst he offered bride and groom the communion both in body and blood. This seemed to tie it and Sigfrid offered his arm to his new wife. Together they walked along the aisle and towards the door followed by their noble guests. Pelle and Ingeburg, along with all the other commoners, had to wait until all noble personages had cleared the church before they were allowed to move towards the exit, too.

In the church square tents had been erected where food and drink were given freely to all the folks in attendance. Both Pelle and his wife were self-conscious, not being accustomed to big crowds, and they stood to the side. It was there that they were found by the Corporal Gebhard of the Baron’s guard.

“Quick, Pelle!” he almost shouted. “The Lord commands you and Ingeburg to the Great Hall!”

Pelle showed his surprise. “Who? Me and Ingeburg? Why?”

“Don’t ask, just come!” Gebhard urged them.

Bewildered, they followed the guardsman up the Market Street which led to the castle. For the first time in his life, Pelle saw the castle from within. He craned his head to see everything whilst Gebhard hurried them along. Ingeburg was confused too. She could not remember any of the buildings, yet the whole layout seemed familiar to her.

There was no time to clear their heads as Gebhard ushered them into the hall. Moving along the wall, Gebhard led the young couple toward the dais where the table for the Lords of Birkenhain stood. He bowed.

“My Lord, the collier Pelle and his wife Ingeburg!”

The Baron was in good spirits. He appraised the couple as they knelt before the dais.

“Holla, Collier! I see you have not killed the shrew yet?”

Pelle desperately tried to clear his head. “No, my Lord! I found that she is not bad at all, and I thank you for giving her to me as my wife.”

He felt Ingeburg’s hand on his arm. She pressed it gratefully.

“And you, fair Ingeburg, almost-sister of mine? How do you like the husband I found for you?”

Blushing prettily, Ingeburg looked up and returned the Baron’s look frankly. “I, too, thank thee, oh Lord. You found a good husband for me indeed.”

“The Collier knows how to tame a shrew I fancy!” Baron Sigfrid laughed, and the rest of the table laughed with him. The Baroness Lieselotte raised her eyebrows since she had not been privy to the story of how Sigfrid had given Ingeburg to the Collier. His mother, the Noble Ermegart, shook her head and stood from the table. Ignoring Pelle completely, she placed a finger under Ingeburg’s chin and lifted her face.

“Follow me, Greta’s daughter,” she commanded.

After casting an apprehensive look at Pelle, Ingeburg hesitantly followed the Baroness.

“Never fear, Collier! You’ll have her back soon enough,” Siegfired joked and again the drunken nobles laughed at Pelle’s expense.

Meanwhile, the Baroness had led Ingeburg to a small chamber where she bade the girl sit.

“I haven’t seen you in all those years. You were a pretty child then, and you have grown into a beauty, Ingeburg.”

“Thank you, Lady?” Ingeburg answered, not sure what to make of the opening statement.