The Column of Burning Spices: A Novel of Germany's First Female Physician (Hildegard of Bingen Book 2) by P.K. Adams

Author:P.K. Adams [Adams, P.K.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Iron Knight Press
Published: 2019-01-31T20:00:00+00:00

17

September 1149

I came to the edge of the pit along with Agnes, a kitchen servant, who was pulling a cart filled with flagons, mugs, and trays of honey cakes. Every day at noon, she brought refreshments for some two dozen workers who were digging the foundations for the church in the northwestern section of St. Rupert.

“It is never too early for that.” Achard came up, grinning and wiping his brow. Even though the summer was coming to an end, unrelenting white heat was pouring from the sky. “You are in a fine mood today, ladies,” he added, noting the smiles we could not quite suppress.

The pit’s depth exceeded his height, and Agnes had to kneel at the edge to pass the heavy flagon, pleasantly cool from the cellar, to his outstretched hands. A moment later, the mugs were distributed among the sweaty and sunburned men, quiet as they expected more watered-down monastic wine. But when they started pouring, they erupted in cheers.

“We began brewing our own beer, Master Achard, and this is the first batch,” the girl said merrily. “And it is fitting that it should be ready on the hottest day of the summer.”

The men drained their cups in long gulps. “This is just what we needed, eh, boys?” the master exclaimed, and they nodded enthusiastically.

“We thought you might like it.” Agnes laughed as she passed down another jug and a plate of cakes. Looking around, she asked, “Have you got far to go before the foundations are all dug out?”

The pit lay at our feet like an enormous cross. The top faced east, in the direction of the herb garden and the Nahe, while the foot, where the main doorway would be, pointed west toward the woods along the Rhine.

“Another week for the nave, I reckon,” he replied, taking another draught of the beer and wiping his mouth with his sleeve. “Then we will secure it with those granite blocks.” He nodded toward the slabs of gray stone ranged along the far wall. They had been delivered from the Count von Stade’s quarry a fortnight before. Since then, the stonecutters had been busy cutting and filing them to appropriate sizes and shapes.

“God give you strength to continue your work, Master Achard,” Agnes said. She collected the empty cups, then went back to the kitchen while I stayed behind.

“I was wondering when you would come to check on us, Sister,” the master said cheerily, climbing a ladder out of the pit. He and I were getting along well. Achard was competent, hard-working, and fair with his men, who evidently looked up to him. But I had also come to respect him for his honesty. He had considered various options for modeling the church after Saint-Denis, and had concluded that while some of the features would be possible to replicate, others would be too costly, or the size of the church would make them infeasible. I was disappointed not to be able to have a decorative tympanum carved with biblical scenes, but his arguments were valid.

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