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By Root 1904 0

followed were mild and fruitful; the harvest was the best the village had had in years. But in Heilagmanoth, snow fell, and the wind drove in from the north in icy blasts. The window of the grubenhaus was boarded up against the cold, snow drifted high against its walls, and the family stayed indoors most of the day. It was more difficult for Joan and Matthew to find time for lessons. On good days the canon still went on his ministry, taking John with him—for Matthew he left to his all-important studies. When Gudrun went into the forest to gather wood, Joan would hurry to the desk where Matthew bent over his work and open the Bible to the place where they had left off the previous lesson. In this way Joan continued to make rapid progress, so that before Lent she had mastered almost all of the Book of John.

One day, Matthew withdrew something from his scrip and held it out to her with a smile. “For you, little sister.” It was a wooden medallion attached to a loop of rope. Matthew ringed the loop around Joan’s head; the medallion swung down onto her chest.

“What is it?” Joan asked curiously.

“Something for you to wear.”

“Oh,” she said, and then, realizing that something more was needed, “Thank you.”

Matthew laughed, seeing her puzzlement. “Look at the front of the medallion.”

Joan did as he told her. Carved into the wooden surface was the likeness of a woman. It was crudely done, for Matthew was no woodworker, but the woman’s eyes were well made, even striking, looking straight ahead with an expression of intelligence.

“Now,” Matthew directed her, “look at the back.”

Joan turned it over. In bold letters ringing the edge of the medallion, she read the words “Saint Catherine of Alexandria.”

With a cry, Joan clasped the medallion to her heart. She knew what this gift signified. It was Matthew’s way of acknowledging her abilities and the faith he had in her. Tears welled in her eyes. “Thank you,” she said again, and this time he knew she meant it.

He smiled at her. She noticed dark circles around his eyes; he looked tired and drawn.

“Are you feeling well?” she asked with concern.

“Of course!” he said, just a shade too heartily. “Let’s begin the lesson, shall we?”

But he was restless and distracted. Uncharacteristically, he failed to catch her up when she made a careless error.

“Is there anything wrong?” Joan asked.

“No, no. I am a little tired, that is all.”

“Shall we stop, then? I don’t mind. We can go on tomorrow.”

“No, I am sorry. My mind wandered, that’s all. Let’s see, where were we? Ah yes. Read the last passage again, and this time be careful of the verb: videat, not videt.”

THE next day Matthew woke complaining of a headache and a sore throat. Gudrun brought him a hot posset of borage and honey.

“You must stay in bed for the rest of the day,” she said. “Old Mistress Wigbod’s boy has the spring flux; it may be that you are coming down with it.”

Matthew laughed and said it was nothing of the kind. He worked several hours at his studies, then insisted on going outside to help John prune the vines.

The next morning he had a fever, and difficulty swallowing. Even the canon could see that he looked really ill.

“You are excused from your studies today,” he told Matthew. This was an unheard-of dispensation.

They sent to the monastery of Lorsch for help, and in two days’ time the infirmarian came and examined Matthew, shaking his head gravely and muttering under his breath. For the first time Joan realized that her brother’s condition might be serious. The idea was terrifying. The monk bled Matthew profusely and exhausted his entire repertoire of prayer and holy talismans, but by the Feast of St. Severinus, Matthew’s condition was critical. He lay in a feverish stupor, shaken by fits of coughing so violent that Joan covered her ears to try to shut them out.

Throughout the day and into the night the family kept vigil. Joan knelt beside her mother on the beaten earth floor. She was frightened by the alteration in Matthew’s appearance. The skin on his face was stretched taut, distorting his familiar features