Chapter 20: How Ermegart Is Named and Justice Is Spoken

The baron with his train arrived by the tenth hour. Pelle welcomed his liege lord whilst a proud Ingeburg stood at his side. She hugged the beaming Baroness Lieselotte who herself was big with child but would not pass on the opportunity to pay the visit to her beloved companion. Pelle felt mixed emotions seeing Lieselotte carrying his child. He had become a little fond of her in the nights spent together, but he feared to show any undue familiarity.

The baron was jovial to the point of outgoing. Within hearing of the villagers he praised Pelle’s achievements. Only when seeing Margrite shuffling in the background — she had volunteered to help with the serving — did his lips get thin. After offering refreshment, Pelle led his visitors, nobles and commoners alike, to the church. Father Ortwinus stood ready, and the Holy Mass commenced immediately.

An excited whisper rose among the villagers when the Baroness Ermegart rose to stand in as godmother to her little namesake. Rudlo the Smith wearing his best tunic served as godfather, almost trembling with pride and excitement. The little girl protested with angry cries when water was poured over her, but soon enough she calmed in her godmother’s arms. The baroness’ eyes were brimming with emotion and when the ceremony closed, she hugged Ingeburg with feeling.

When they left the church again, the Baroness Ermegart sought out Hunold.

“It is time that I made peace with Greta,” she said. “Will you bring her along to the feast?”

Poor Hunold swallowed and stammered. “I ... We ... She is still - umh - n—not hers—self.”

“Bring her anyway. No grandmother should be locked up in her chamber when her first grandchild is baptised.”

“Y-yes, Lady,” was all that Hunold could answer.

The feast was a great success. Marja, Luise and Elsa, with Hedwig’s help, had outdone themselves with their cooking. This was best proven by the fact that the baron secured one of Marja’s deer liver pastries for himself and his wife, afterwards praising its taste as the finest he had ever sampled. The roasted mutton, Hunold’s contribution, also disappeared with alarming speed, and the fine Tosdalen Ale shared the mutton’s fate.

By the end of the second afternoon hour, the baron rose from his chair and toasted his hosts.

“I raise my glass to my reeve, Pelle of Lemdalen, and his wife, my dear sister Ingeburg. May their daughter match Ingeburg’s beauty and gentle disposition, as well as Pelle’s upright character and sharp mind, and she will be the flower of Birkenhain lands!”

When the cheering ebbed away, the baron had another announcement.

“‘Tis a sin to end this merry feast, but my reeve and I have to do our duty for Lemdalen and the lands. Margrite, Helge’s daughter, step to the fore!”

Margrite complied shuffling forward, her head bent in shame and to the scornful comments from the villagers. When she stood in front of the baron, she looked up showing her bruised face and red eyes.

“My Lord asked for me?” she said with a cracking voice.

“Indeed I did, lying wench. Is it true that you slandered Luise, a maid of good repute, so she would be caned and shamed in the stocks?”

“To my shame, I did, Lord.”

“And did you instigate two lads, Bartel and Nithart, to join in the slander?”

“I did, Lord,” she answered with a distinct tremble in her voice.

“Did you speak a false oath before me?”

“I did, Lord.”

“Why then did you slander a girl who was your friend?”

“M-my father made me do it. H-he a-and M-Markward, the reeve. They made me so they could have their w-way with Luise whilst she was locked in the stocks.”

“She’s lying again!” the former reeve of Lemdalen shouted angrily.

“Step forward, Markward, and speak for yourself,” the baron countered with barely suppressed anger.

“Lord Sigfrid, I always served only you. I brought Luise up for trial because Margrite and her friends lied to me. She has always been a shameless liar from when she was a young girl. I had to reprimand her more than once!”

With a scornful smile, the baron looked at the former reeve. “Why, Markward, didn’t you assure me back then that Margrite was an honest and God-fearing girl who could be trusted?”

To that, Markward found no answer. Meanwhile Pelle brought forward Margrite’s mother. The baron regarded her for a moment.

“Speak, woman. Did your husband conspire with the reeve to have Luise slandered?”

Taking a desperate breath, the woman nodded. “Margrite told the truth. Both Helge and Markward the Reeve had been breaking her will for months, and they made her memorise all the accusations. I have long been quiet, for I feared them both, and my cowardice has brought shame and unhappiness over my only child. I shall speak up now to end this. My husband Helge was behind this, so Margrite could marry Hanke, Hunold’s son, in Luise’s stead. The reeve was in it so he could break Luise’s maidenhood. I overheard them more than once and I shall swear to it.”

“Like mother, like daughter. They are both lying harpies, my Lord!”

The baron ignored him completely. He looked at Pelle.

“My Reeve, what else did you find?”

“I found that you were cheated out of rent, Lord. In the ledger it is written that Helge worked twenty tagwerk of your land. For that he paid rent. Yet, when we walked his tilled lands yesterday we found he works at least thirty and five for which he paid the rent to Markward. He admitted to it under questioning.”

“Bring him forth then, so we may come to the bottom of this.” Pelle and Gebhardt went to fetch their prisoner who looked bewildered and frightened.

“Is it true that you paid rent to the reeve and not to me, for fifteen tagwerk of tillable land?” the baron asked sharply, his eyes boring into the flickering eyes of the farmer.

“Yes, Lord. Mercy, please! I only did it under orders of Markward!”

“Why, you cowardly liar!” the former reeve shouted angrily. “It was Helge, Lord, who came with the idea, and he paid me only half the rent for those fifteen tagwerk!”

The baron smiled maliciously and winked at Pelle. Then he sobered and looked around in the crowd. Finally, his eyes found Luise who stood at Tjark’s side following the proceedings with a sombre face.

“Collier Tjark, bring forth your wife!” the baron commanded.

Tjark complied, and they both stood before the baron. Sigfrid of Birkenhain made a face and shook his head, but there was no way out of it for him.

“Luise, Tjark’s wife, I did you injustice by believing the slander against you. You were shamed in the stocks, and had it not been for Ingeburg and Pelle, worse would have happened. What has happened I cannot change. Yet, I feel that you and your stout husband who stood by you during your trials should be compensated. You were cast out by your father?”

Luise nodded, a sad smile on her lips.

“Then I shall make myself your guardian and give your husband a dowry worthy of my ward. Come to Birkenhain when you next deliver coal, and you will receive a chest of the finest linen and a set of fine copper pots and pans. Tjark, your allowance will be raised to a full dozen deer every year for your sustenance and your wife’s.”

Luise’s eyes went big hearing that. She blushed pink, but she bowed courteously as she had once learned as a young girl when she had played Ingeburg’s lady-in-waiting under Greta’s tutoring.

“I thank you, my Lord, for restoring my honour before all of Lemdalen’s people.”

“‘Tis but the least I had to do, Luise. Now, tell me: What shall be done with your slanderous friend Margrite? For offering a false oath to my face the stocks await her. But for slandering you and causing you shame and pain, should she suffer a proper birching?”

Luise made a face when she felt the responsibility and she cast a glance at Margrite. Her hatred at Margrite had waned over the winter when she realised how much better her life had turned out in the aftermath of her trial. Tjark was a far better husband for her than Hanke could have ever been. Yet, the sting of the public shaming was still felt. Just then, she caught Ingeburg’s eye, and she knew the only proper answer.

“Lord, much as I felt hurt and shamed then, I know how much worse my fate would have been had not Ingeburg pleaded for mercy on my behalf. Margrite is with child now, and a caning may cause her to lose the fruit. That I would not want on my conscience, not for anything. I also know the cruel treatment she received from her father and the foul reeve. They poisoned her soul. I still remember with fondness the Margrite I knew who was my best friend and Ingeburg’s. I beg you, Lord, spare her the caning!”

“Gentle Luise, you speak well, but Ingeburg knew you were wronged. We cannot let Margrite off without penance.”