Chapter III
The day that Joachim and his father were scheduled to depart for the King's fete dawned amid much frantic activity as the household staff hurried about in a rush to check that all necessary provisions, clothing, necessities, and small tributes were securely and properly packed and loaded onto the Baron's carriage. Karl Armster oversaw the preparations from his perch upon his newly broken horse. The animal was nervous and intimidated by the flood of people yelling and moving about so close to it, but the horse remembered the goads that had lashed its sides, and it feared the man on its back more than anything else, so it stood stiffly, fine tremors running through its tense muscles.
Two hapless young boys dropped a chest containing a part of the Baron's tribute. Small bottles of rare and expensive spices rolled through the dust of the courtyard while the Baron roared in anger. Face flushed, he leapt from his mount and cuffed the two soundly, berating them for their mistake. The other servants said nothing, and they kept their eyes averted. Everyone present seemed suddenly preoccupied with their current tasks. When one of the boys began to cry piteously, Karl Armster boxed his ears in admonishment, screaming at him the entire time.
Joachim observed the entire scenario from his position behind a tree. After Norgard had brought breakfast to his quarters the two of them had snuck unnoticed through the scullery. There were so many last minute tasks that needed to be done for the Baron's departure that the kitchen had been nearly deserted; only a few hearth boys were present. Since they were too small to be of any use in loading the carriage, the boys were about their usual task of keeping the kitchen hearth fires burning. One of them had looked up at Joachim in awe before Norgard pressed a finger to her lips. "Shh!" The little boy covered his mouth and smiled gleefully. "My brother." she explained once they were outside.
"He's terrified unto death of the Baron, so he won't say nothing." Norgard reassured him. Joachim took in his surroundings, still unable to believe that he was outside, that he had disobeyed his father by not waiting in his room for the Baron's summons. The kitchen garden was bursting with greenery; tiny plants still dripping with dew peeked up from the rich dark soil and the scent of herbs and fresh life was invigorating. Some of the fruit bearing shrubs had begun to blossom, and the local bee population droned lazily in contentment. The sky was cloudless and Joachim had to shield his sensitive eyes with one hand in order to see where he was going. The pair made their way to the garden wall, whereupon Norgard unbarred the door and led him outside.
"I still cannot believe that I am doing this." Joachim muttered. He had to stop several times in order to catch his breath, and his chest was beginning to ache from the exertion. The kitchen maid was ruthless. "We have to hurry! If your father or anyone else catches sight of us it's all over!" She wrapped his arm about her shoulders and supported his weight as they made it around the corner of the manor. The din from the courtyard grew louder, and Norgard cursed. "Now how are we to slip past all of them?" The nobleman leaned against a tree for a moment before he heard his father roaring angrily.
"Ah! Unlucky for them, but perfect timing for us!" Norgard crowed as she threw her brown cloak over Joachim and led him across the courtyard at a run. In truth, she was carrying the young man, whose heart had quite given out. Joachim clung to his friend and was literally dragged across the open ground. Karl Armster was preoccupied and she meant to make the most of it. "That's just luck, that is!" Norgard panted as she shifted her hold and gripped his shoulder more tightly. As the two burst through a flock of chickens they cackled in agitation and shook their wings, kicking up dust in their eagerness to be away from these strange creatures.
By the time they reached the cemetery behind the parish chapel, Norgard was flushed and grinning from the excitement, and Joachim was paler than usual. She settled him on a gravestone and laughed at his expression. "Right, I'll be 'round here keeping an eye open for unwanted company." She trounced off, the sun catching at her hair and transforming it into a golden nimbus.
Joachim remained seated for a few minutes as he tried to slow his breathing. His heart was still racing nervously, and his white doublet twitched with every beat. He regarded his chest morosely and stretched his sore legs. Joachim reminded himself to thank Norgard later, because he knew that he could not have made this excursion on his own. He staggered as he rose to his feet, and he stood shakily for a moment before tightening his fingers around his cane and purposefully setting off for his goal.
The newer gravesites were furthest from the chapel, so he braced himself for the long walk. As he meandered through the haphazard rows of headstones, he allowed himself a brief pause at each stone which signified the resting place of one of his ancestors. He felt a prickling on his skin as his fingers made contact with the cool surface of the markers. His heritage was here, as were the great Armsters his father was so proud of. Joachim drew in a shaky breath.
When I am gone, dead and buried, will there be a descendant who will come to my grave? Will they stop at my headstone and remember me, and if they do, what will they think? How will they remember me? The weakling? The disappointment who left nothing but an heir? Or will they think "Ah, he was kind. Fate dealt him a cruel hand, but he still fulfilled his duty." Will I be revered for such a thing? Visibly shaken, Joachim was breathing harshly, eyes wide and dilated in panic. Perspiration trickled between his shoulder blades and he shivered uneasily. He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and tightened his grip on his cane. He was weeping now, and his sobs drifted in the wind, which moaned softly in sympathy. "Oh, God! I…I don't want to die!" Joachim screamed harshly and cast himself down to the earth in his desperation to touch something which was real and permanent. He grasped at his head, alternately pulling at his hair and burying his face in his thin hands. All the long while his screams, shouts and pleas were caught up in the wind. Finally, Joachim snatched up his cane and used the nearest grave marker to pull himself to his feet. He left wet tear stains on the stone, which he dabbed at absently with his sleeve. His face was red and swollen, and his eyes, nose and throat burned. As he walked on, he was unable to control the pitiful whimpering sounds deep in his throat, and he rested his heated forehead on his palm.
The chapel had been built next to a wooded area, and he soon found himself stumbling through bracken and tree branches which grasped at his jacket and hair like greedy fingers. An unnoticed root sent him sprawling, and he howled in anger and pain. He struck out at the root with his cane, much as a small child lashes out in the midst of a tantrum. He was noticeably weaker when he pulled himself once more to his feet. The front of his body felt like one dull ache, and his legs burned from the exertion. He scanned each stone in desperation. When I find her, then I shall rest, though I feel as if I can go no further!
At last, when Joachim was ready to turn his back and relinquish all hope; he found it. His cane slipped from numb fingers and clattered unnoticed against a stone. Joachim stumbled forward with his hands outstretched, and fresh tears blurred his vision as he beheld the site of his mother's final slumber. She had been buried in a glade, and the overarching boughs of oaks and rowans seemed poised to protect her. A weeping willow cast its mantle over the grave like a shroud, and Joachim touched its trailing branches with reverence as he fell to his knees before her. "Oh…Mother. Mother, I'm here." he stroked his fingers over the engraving lovingly as he read her eulogy:
Here Rests Anna Kathryn Armster
Beloved Wife
Loving Mother
God Keep Thee
God Keep Thy Son
1006 - 1026
"My age. She was my age." Joachim groaned as he stretched out by her grave, resting one palm on the grass where his mother's face would be. "Mother, why did you leave me?" he sighed. He was completely drained by the morning's events, and his body was bruised and aching from its numerous falls. Though he grieved deeply, Anna's son felt that he had no more tears. His hand was warm where it lay, and he turned his face, resting his cheek against the cool, damp earth. The soft sounds of birdsong and the unconcerned hum of insects lulled him into sleep. As he closed his eyes, he heard a gentle lullaby and felt a soft hand lovingly caress his face. Only the wind, only the wind.