The Story of the PuppeteerByG. A. LanePresented by theFoundation for the Advancement of Studies in theArts, Sciences, and HumanitiesUnder the auspices of the Woodsculptors Guild Academy of Ancient Craft and Mistery1st. Ed. Published by the Tulsa Puppet FoundationTulsa, Oklahoma 1994* * * * *2nd. PrintingString & Rod PlayersNew Orleans, Louisiana 1997

The Story of the PuppeteerBy G. A. Lane

Third Edition Published by theFoundation for the Advancement of Studies in theArts, Sciences, and HumanitiesU. S. A.Under the auspices of the Woodsculptors Guild Academy of Ancient Craft and MisteryText and illustrations copyrighted by G. A. Lane: 1994, MXMIV ~ 2011, MMXI All Rights Reserved

1PART I

A New Home

* 1 *

The year was 1256 AD. Jacques du Planc stepped from the timber framed doorway of his modest cottage to greet the cold, crisp November air. The sun was just below the eastern horizon, and the sky was illuminated by iridescent hues of orange, purple and blue. Only the brightest stars could be seen dotting the canopy above.

"BRRRR, Jacques murmured as he drew his woolen coat tightly across his chest and made his way to a nearby cistern to draw a bucket of water. The small village of Capetville, located a few miles west of Reims in Northeastern France, had been the home of Jacques' family for several generations. Not in his recent memory had the icy clutches of winter arrived so early in the year. Jacques stood wondering how the people in the village would get by if the weather continued to get worse.

As he lifted the bucket of water from the cistern and replaced the lid, Jacques once again turned his eyes toward the eastern horizon. There, surrounded by the brilliant backdrop of the morning's first light was the towering facade of Notre Dame Cathedral, which was under construction in the town of Reims.1 "Well, at least there is work to keep us busy," he thought to himself. Yes, at least there was work to be had.

The stillness of the morning was broken by the sound of the cottage's creaky shutters as they flew open to meet the new day. "Good morning Pappa."

"Good Morning Jean, my son. And what are you doing up at this absurd hour of the morning?"

"It is cold in here, Pappa. I have been awake for some time now, trying to stay warm."

"If you are cold, why do you waste your time complaining? Start the fire in the oven. I will be in with the water as soon as I speak to these trees over here. Be quick about it, though. Your mother will be wanting to fix our breakfast soon."

"Yes Pappa," yelled Jean as he pulled the shutters closed.

"Ah my son, Jacques thought as he made his way to the latrine, "you too will have a wife someday. Then these cold nights will not bother you so much."

When Jacques returned to the cottage, the warmth from the oven was already driving the chill from the air. He emptied the water into the cauldron that was heated by the fire and set the bucket on the floor by the doorway. Then he stepped over to the cutting board where his wife, Mary, was busy cutting off portions of salted pork leg to use as seasoning for their breakfast of grain cereal and eggs.

Jacques grabbed Mary tightly around the waist and gave her a big kiss on the side of her neck. Mary slapped his hand away and shyly whispered, "Jacques, the boy is watching." Jacques winked at Jean and said with a grin, "Yes, I know the boy is watching."

____________1Acording to the Encyclopaedia Britannica 11th. Ed. published in 1910, A Gothic structure was built on the site of an earlier Romanesque cathedral which burned in 1211 AD. The major portion of its construction took place during the 13th & 14th centuries. It was initially called Notre Dame Cathedral. However, another Gothic cathedral called by the same name was begun in Paris in 1163. Being a more popular place of worship to the people of France, and certainly of greater importance to the government and the Papacy, the Paris structure retained the name Notre Dame. The structure at Reims came to be known simply as the Reims Cathedral.

Jean was embarrassed to watch this playfulness that went between his father and mother. Although he had seen them carry on like this before, in recent months there was something about the event that stirred unexplainable emotions deep within him. In order to hide his discomfort, he busied himself by setting the bowls, cups and spoons on the large wooden table that stood in the center of the room.

When they were all seated and the food had been blessed, Mary turned to Jacques and asked, "Tell me what makes you in such a good mood on a cold morning like this?"

"What makes me in a good mood? I will tell you what makes me in a good mood. My son, Jean, is now thirteen years old and ready to become a young man." Jacques reached out his hand and ruffled the curly, red locks of hair on Jean's head. "Today he will come with me to the Academy. I will introduce him to the other apprentices, find him a good journeyman to work with, and he will learn the craft of woodworking like his father and his grandfather before him. And if it were not for those seven bells ringing in the church tower out there, I would stay home today and show you how happy this makes me."

Mary's cheeks turned red as she paused for a moment to smile pleasantly into her husband's eyes. Then she turned back to her meal and spoke in a direct tone of voice. "Yes, we could spend all day expressing our happiness to each other. I am happy for Jean too, but the bells are calling the village to work. There is much work to be done. You will be late to the Academy if you do not finish your meal and get going."

"I suppose that you are right, my love," Jacques said quietly. "I suppose that you are right."

* 2 *

Jean was fortunate to be going to the Academy with his father. Jacques was one of only three masters at the Woodsculptor's Guild Academy of Ancient Craft and Mistery at Reims. This made him a very well respected man at the Academy and helped insure that Jean would be made apprentice to one of the most skilled journeymen: perhaps even one that Jacques himself had trained.

When they reached the center of the village, Jacques, Jean and a number of other men gathered at the well. This is where the women would come later in the day to draw water for the cisterns. Soon, a loud creaking noise was heard and a large wagon drawn by two oxen rolled out from the livery barn. It grumbled toward the gathering at the well.

The team driver wore heavy leather boots and breaches. His shirt was woven from fine strips of leather and wool yarn, and draped around his shoulders was a calf-length leather coat. In his hand he held a long pole with leather thongs at the end which he used to steer the ox team. It was by his attire that one could tell that this man was a driver of teams and hauler of freight by trade.

When the wagon had come to a stop, the driver set the brake and laid the steering pole on the seat, resting the thonged end over the yoke that tied the team to the wagon's tongue. He stepped down and lifted two barrels from the wagon. These he filled with water from the well to provide refreshment for the oxen and himself during the course of the day's labor.

As the driver was making ready the wagon and the team, the men who had gathered began loading their tools into the wagon. They each climbed aboard and found a seat on one of the rough wooden benches that lined the wagon's bed. The journey to Reims was no faster by ox wagon than it was by foot, but the team could carry all of the twenty or so men, their heavy tools and then some without becoming tired. Also, the ride allowed the men to talk among themselves before the day's work made them too busy to do so.

The team driver, having finished loading the barrels, climbed up to his seat at the front of the wagon. He lifted the steering pole and gave each of the oxen a tap on its side. "HEAM HUP. HEEEAH. OOVEHOUT," he yelled in a seemingly foreign language. With a jolt and a jerk the wagon pulled away from the well and began the five mile trek into Reims.Jean sat quietly looking out over the countryside that lay between Capetville and Reims. In all of his thirteen years he had not ventured beyond the small section of cultivated land that surrounded the village. He had only been to Reims on three occasions. Once to watch the Festival of the Bountiful Harvest: and twice he traveled there with his parents to trade for supplies and tools that could not be found in the village. As he sat looking out he wondered to himself, "What a big place the world must be." To the north there were hardwood forests from which came the beautiful oaks, elms, birches and walnut trees that kept the carpenters' hands busy. To the south there stretched a lush valley that gradually rose into foothills and mountains. That is where the quarrymen cut the stones used by the masons who were working on the cathedral. "Someday, I would like to go there and visit the ends of the earth," thought Jean.

"I see that you have your boy with you today, Jacques, interrupted a burley looking man with a long gray beard, cold blue eyes and a sharp, pointed nose. "Are you going to make a wood cutter of him, or would you consider trading him to the masons where he can ride the scaffold to the very top of the cathedral and look out over all of God's creation?"

"I am going to be a master woodsculptor like my father, Jean quickly interjected in order to counter any thought of such a deal.

"I see that you are, my boy. And with that small pouch of bread and cheese to use for your tools, I will wager that you will make a good one. Here, my name is Charles du Ponte." The man extended his hand for a shake. It looked as though it had been hewn out of stone and placed at the end of his arm to replace the real hand. It was twice the size of Jean's hand, but he took it carefully and shook it. He feared that his own hand might get crushed in the process. "We master masons and master woodsculptors stick together on the job, so I suppose I will be seeing a lot of you from here on," Charles joked.

"Charles! He is just a boy starting out. Don't go filling his head with grand ideas on the first day, said Jacques.

"Oh, I am only funning with him, Jacques. But I will say this much, if he takes anything from his father Capetville will soon have another fine carpenter to her credit."

Jean beamed with pride to hear Charles du Ponte, the master mason, pay such a compliment to his father.

Jacques and Charles soon became involved discussing a point of business concerning the construction of the cathedral. This did not interest Jean much, and they were still two miles from Reims. With nothing else to occupy his thoughts, Jean once again set his mind to dreaming of how good it was to be entering his manhood. Now he had the chance to look out to the ends of the earth and wonder at God's creation: maybe even from the highest scaffold in the cathedral.

Charles du Ponte

* 3 *

Anton Gillette held the blade of his drawknife up to the window next to his workbench. The edge glistened in the early morning sunlight. Not yet satisfied with the blade's sharpness, he lowered the knife to the bench and continued stroking it with the whetstone. "Just a few more touches here: and we knock this feather off here. There!" he exclaimed as he set the stone aside, licked his thumb and carefully ran it along the sharpened edge. "Now that is what I call a tool for the working man." He laid the knife on the bench and began arranging the rest of his tools in preparation for the day's work.

Anton, you keep that drawknife so sharp I might want to borrow it for shaving my beard." The voice that came from behind was well known to Anton Gillette.

"Jacques du Planc, only the fool would think of shaving his beard with such a cold winter in the air. Besides, I am a carpenter, not a surgeon. My tools are for the shaping of wood, not the shaving of men." Anton said this with a smile as he turned to greet the man who had trained him in his craft.

"Still, I often wonder why you Gillette boys spend so much time keeping your knives sharp," replied Jacques. "Here, I want you to meet my son Jean. He is beginning his training as a carpenter, and I want him to work with you."

Anton took Jean's hand and shook it firmly. "I have heard much about you, Jean. It is a pleasure that Jacques has brought you to me. We are just beginning the models for the chancel and the choir section at the cathedral. Your help will make the work much easier for all of us. You like to work, yes?"

"Oh, I am good at work. I help my Momma in the house all day long. And Pappa has shown me how to fix the bucket and he lets me help him repair his tools. He has even taught me to make brooms from the small trees that grow near our cottage. Yes, I like work." Jean was proud to be entering the workplace with such advanced knowledge to his credit.

"Ah, you know how to make brooms. That was my first job as a boy. I assume that you also know how to use them?" Jean smiled at the inquiry. "Good, good. I can put you to work this very day," Anton concluded.

"Anton," interrupted Jacques, "we need to discuss the terms of the boy's training. Can you find something for him to do just now?"

"Yes Jacques. Jean, come with me." Anton got up and motioned for Jean to follow him into the adjoining room. There Jean found himself in the midst of an awkward array of timbers and strangely shaped pieces of wood. The floor was cluttered with wood shavings and small blocks of wood. Finally Anton spoke. "Jean, I want you to take that broom over there and sweep up these wood shavings. Leave these small pieces of wood lying where they are. They are important parts of the model I am building. Over there is a dustpan you can use to carry the chips to the wood bin next to the oven. I will be in the next room speaking with your father and will return when we are finished. Be careful not to move any of these patterns." Anton waited for Jean to give an affirmative response, then he returned to the other room where Jacques was waiting.

"Anton, I need to know how much you will be paying the boy. Mary has told me that she is once again with child. I will not be able to help you as much as I would like." Jacques was usually a very confident fellow. It was not often that Anton had heard him speak with such concern in his voice.

Anton did his best to hide the smile he held within as he responded to Jacques' question. "Well Jacques, you know what they are paying us for this job. And of course you remember how it was when I first came to work with you? Surely you do not expect Jean to be earning the journeyman's wages his first year as an apprentice."

"Yes, yes, I recall these things, and I cannot argue with you about them. But I also know that you have other work that you do to help make your salary better than the other journeymen. Is it not true that the baker's daughter visits you often in the evenings and brings you the extra bread that she manages to sneak past her father's careful eye?"

"Yes, well, . . . Anton started.

"You know Anton," said Jacques pensively. "I know a butcher who is very impressed with the talent you have for sharpening your tools. The edges on your knives have not gone unnoticed. He wants me to ask if you will sharpen his tools in exchange for a leg of lamb and a bit of salted pork now and then."

"It is true about the baker's daughter, and the extra meat would be nice to have. But what are you getting at?" Anton's hidden smile began to wane as he listened to Jacques spell out the terms of Jean's apprenticeship. He sat quietly as Jacques continued.

"You are a fortunate man to have an income that you do not need to spend on food, clothing, tools, materials, and to keep your comfortable little shop which your father provided for you when he died. I do not begrudge you for your ability to make a savings from your extra earnings, and neither does any man of good character that I know. I only wish that you would help my son learn this wise management of his affairs as you have learned it. As for his keep, I would not expect you to pay him more than five pennies for the week's labor plus provide him with lodging and food."

Anton was humbled that Jacques du Planc, a man who had less to show for his work that did Anton, but who by all rights should have more, would be so complimentary of his ability to manage his affairs. He thought for a moment then replied, "I was only earning three pennies a week when I came to you. But if Jean is able to accept the responsibility of learning the wisdom of these things you have mentioned, then he is well worth the extra pennies. He will be comfortable in the loft where my younger brother slept for so many years. It will be good to have the company once again. If you will ask the butcher to visit me this evening I will make an arrangement with him to exchange the sharpening of his knives for the extra meats."

"Thank you Anton. I knew that I could count on you to be fair in this matter." Jacques and Anton shook hands to confirm that an agreement had been reached. "I must be gone to work now. I will see you next week when we begin erecting the falsework in the cloister, said Jacques.

Anton called to him in a loud voice, as he was nearing the doorway to leave, "Jacques, tell Mary that I am happy to hear that she is with child again. And God bless you both."

"God bless you too, Anton," replied Jacques as he turned and left the room.

When Anton entered the room where he had left Jean, all of the chips had been swept away. The small pieces of wood were sitting unmoved on the floor, and the broom and dustpan were neatly placed against the wall where Jean had found them. Jean was seated on a small bench near the window. He was watching the masons as they moved and placed the large stones that provided the foundation for a bridge that would span the stream which separated this part of Reims from the cathedral. He recognized Charles du Ponte, who was making certain that the workmen were organized and working as a team.

"Well Jean, you do your work well. And you do it so quickly too. I am indeed fortunate that your father has brought you to work with me."

"Where is Pappa? Is he waiting for me in the other room?" Jean hopped from the bench and walked to the center of the room where Anton was fitting the small blocks of wood together into a web-like pattern.

"No, your father has gone to the cathedral to work," Anton said. "You will be staying here with me. We have agreed that you will be earning five pennies a week for your work."

Somehow it did not surprise Jean to learn that his father had left him with Anton. Still, his heart sank with the knowing that he would not be home to have dinner with his family that evening. "Momma," he thought. "How would she get the housework all done without him?" A tear started in his eye.

"Now, now. Your folks will get along just fine without you." Anton reached out and firmly set his hand on Jean's shoulder. "Five pennies a week! That is more than any of the other carpenters' apprentices are earning. Come on. We have work to do."

* 4 *

Jacques arrived home a little later than usual that evening. Over his shoulder he carried a leg of lamb which he took to the cutting board and hung on the hook that was built into the stones that lined the niche. Mary sat quietly near the oven. She was sewing a patch onto the jacket she had started as a Christmas gift for Jean. Jacques knelt down beside her. He moved to kiss her on the cheek, but she turned away in order to hide the tears that filled her eyes. Jacques placed his arm around her and kissed her on the top of the head.

"The boy will be alright, Mary. I have known Anton Gillette for many years. He is well liked by all who meet him, and his talents as a carpenter approach those of a master. There is no one I would rather have training our boy Jean." Jacques words were a comfort to Mary as she thought of how nice it was to have a second man in the family. She sighed and turned to Jacques to receive the kiss he had offered, then she said quietly, I suppose that you are right, my love. I suppose that you are right."

The dinner was a little better than usual that evening. And although the chill of winter was upon them, the bed did not seem quite as cold as the night before.

* 5 *

Living with Anton Gillette was more interesting than Jean had expected. The first day they began assembling the model that had been laid out on the floor. "Hold this post upright while I fit the curved beam into that slot," Anton instructed. "Now let's do the same thing with these other three." The model began to take shape.

When each of the four corner posts were fitted together with the arched beams Anton moved a small bench into the center of the model and helped Jean lift the pieces so that the ends of the beams rested like a cross on its surface. With Jean holding the ends steadily in place, Anton slipped the web-like pattern into the center of the model and inserted pegs to hold it in place. Next he removed the bench, leaving the model free standing in the center of the room.

"That, my friend, is the beginnings of a falsework." The model formed a small arched dome that was supported by the four posts at the corners. "Now let's place these pieces around the edge and install the ribs to support the webbing." The structure became more solid with each piece that was fitted into place. Soon, they were ready to start bending the webbing.

Anton instructed Jean to build a hot fire in the oven while he laid out a large number of thin wooden slats on the floor. He began by laying out large cross on the floor with a piece of chalk. Next he took the slats and placed them perpendicular to the lines. The shorter strips he set near the center and gradually made them larger as he moved to the edges. Soon there was a square about five feet by five feet with the four triangular assemblages forming its surface.

The fire in the oven was hot by the time Anton had finished, so they began the process of bending the webs. "We will start with the shorter pieces so that we can step into center of the model and work our way out," said Anton. He took one of the short slats and laid it on top of the oven. In a few moments steam began to rise up out of the wood. He quickly grabbed the piece with a pair of tongs and set it onto an arched, iron form that stood nearby. He lifted a heavy wooden beam that was curved to match the shape of the form and set it on top of the slat to press it into shape. Within seconds the slat had cooled. Anton lifted the beam and removed the web. It had retained its curved shape.

They carried the newly shaped web to the model. Anton took a small saw and tapered the ends of the piece so that it would fit snugly into the grooves that had been cut into the curved beams. The ribs supported the web from underneath. "There," said Anton, "a perfect fit." The two of them spent the rest of the day shaping and placing the remaining slats until the webbing was finished. As a final touch, Anton had Jean slip under the model. He handed him two long boards which they attached diagonally to the upright posts to form a cross bracing.

"Now let us see if we know what we are doing," said Anton. "Come here, Jean, and climb up onto this bench." Once Jean was up onto the bench which was sitting against the edge of the model Anton instructed him, Now very carefully climb out into the center of the falsework. Support your weight on the beams until you reach the center."

Jean looked at Anton, wondering if he was being serious.

"Go ahead. We must know if the structure will carry the weight of the stones that the masons will be placing on top of it, said Anton. He added an encouraging gesture.

"CREEAAK." The model groaned as Jean set his weight upon it. But it did not seem to move or give way, so Jean continued to climb toward the center. When he reached the web-like springing at the center, Anton instructed him to lie out across the webbing, spreading his weight as evenly as possible.

Anton walked around the model and shook it here and there. He kicked at the posts to insure that they were stable, and he tried to twist the model out of shape. It remained solid. He laid down on the floor and slid himself underneath the cross braces that held the corner posts together. As he looked up at the underside of the webbing he smiled and exclaimed, "Jean du Planc!"

"Yes Anton," replied Jean.

"I think we have earned our wages for the day, Anton continued. Let us go to the Academy and have dinner with the boys." Anton slipped out from under the model, helped Jean down, and the two of them began cleaning up and putting the tools away.

Anton Gillette fitting the falsework model* 6 *

The Woodsculptor's Guild Academy of Ancient Craft and Mistery was only a short distance from Anton's shop. When Jean and Anton arrived, Anton knocked out a series of rhythmic taps on the door. Soon a small hatch flew open and a glaring set of eyes peered out at them. "Who goes there?" The voice from the other side was muffled.

"It is I, Anton Gillette, and I bring with me my new apprentice."

"And how do you wish to enter," returned the voice?

"I wish to enter on the level," was Anton's reply.

"Then please do so with all haste." The door opened. Anton and Jean entered the room.

Anton shook hands with the young man who had opened the door, then he turned to Jean and spoke. "Jean du Planc, I want you to meet Richard Bourden. He is finishing his fourth year as an apprentice here at the Academy and will soon be made a journeyman."

"I am pleased to meet you, Richard." Jean held out his hand.

"I am pleased to meet you too Jean. I know your father well. I have been working with him to build the full scale falsework for the cloister. It is much bigger than the model that Anton has built at his shop. We will begin assembling it next week, and I expect that you will be there to help us." Richard shook Jean's hand and the three of them moved to the large sideboard where they began filling their plates with bread, cheese and slices of roasted calf leg.

"You see, Jean," said Anton, "the Bishop likes to keep his workers strong and healthy." Jean had never seen so much good food in his life. He concluded that he was going to enjoy being Anton's apprentice very much.

As the dinner was nearly finished, a group of men stepped to the front of the room. The oldest one began to speak. "Gentlemen, gentlemen, may I have your attention," he said in a loud, clear voice. "As you all know, the work at the cathedral is moving along quite well. But I have a bit of bad news for you. It looks like we will be having a very rough winter this year. This will make it difficult for the woodsmen to harvest timbers from the forest. I am going to ask each of you to exercise great care when using the materials that we have now. We cannot afford to waste anything this year. I know that this will make our jobs more difficult, but we can manage if we are sparing." The room became quiet as the man continued.

"We will be building the falsework for the cloister next week. After this we will start work on the chancel and the choir. Anton Gillette, you have the model for the cloister at your shop. Is it fully assembled now?"

"Yes," replied Anton. "Jean du Planc and I finished the work this afternoon."

"Good," said the man. "We will be using it as the model for the chancel. It can be modified to create a raised platform for the altar and provide a separated area for the choir. I will come to your shop tomorrow to show you the new design." The man made a few more brief announcements, then he rapped a gavel on the bench and drew the meeting to a close.

* 7 *

The bells at the cathedral were tolling out the eight 'O clock hour when Jean and Anton returned to the shop. The crier outside announced that all of Reims was quiet, safe and secure. Anton turned to Jean and said, "You will be staying up there in the loft. You may as well go make yourself comfortable. I am expecting some company, and we wish to have some privacy."

Jean climbed up to the loft and began arranging his bedding. The mattress was stuffed with straw but was soft enough. There was an old wool blanket neatly folded at its foot, and there was a rolled up bundle of furs to use for a pillow. Jean lay down and drew the blanket around him. Just as he was about to drift off to sleep, there was a quiet knock at the door.

Jean could not help noticing that there was a crack in the boards that formed the floor of the loft. Through this he could plainly see the doorway and the table below. Anton moved to the door and opened it. In stepped a beautiful young girl with a most attractive figure and long, blond hair. It was Suzanne, the baker's daughter.

Anton whispered something into her ear, they kissed each other and stepped over to the table. Jean turned over and closed his eyes because he did not particularly care to watch the two of them as they kissed and petted each other. He could not quite make out what they were saying, but he had a general idea what all the laughing, oo-ing and ah-ing was about. Finally, he heard Anton speak up. "Not tonight. I have Jean du Planc staying with me, and I don't think he is asleep just yet." How right he was.

Jean turned back over to watch as Suzanne was getting up to leave. Somehow, her breasts did not seem as large as they had when she came in, but there were two loaves of bread sitting on the table. "Good night Anton, my love. I will see you again on Sunday." She leaned over and kissed him.

"Good night my love, said Anton, and thank you for all you have done."

Anton closed the door behind her. He blew out the candle on the table and walked into the other room where he kept his bed. Jean said a short prayer for his mother and father and quietly drifted off to sleep.

* 8 *

Erecting the falsework for the cloister turned out to be a major task. This was the first time Jean had actually seen his father at work at the cathedral. The timbers that were cut to form the corner posts, beams, ribs and webbing were huge compared to the small pieces he and Anton had fitted together to create the model. Jacques du Planc was positioned high up on a scaffold overlooking the workmen as they hoisted the pieces into place, slipped the joints together and inserted the tree-nails that were used as dowels to secure each joint. Anton had set Jean to work with Richard Bourden making certain that the pieces were arranged in an organized manner and ready to be used by the journeymen.

By noon, the four corner posts with their arched beams had been erected and tied together at the top by the springing. Most of the men, including Anton, Jean, Richard and Jacques returned to the Academy where they enjoyed a meal of stewed greens, bread, cheese and wine.

It was Jean who finally interrupted the silence. "Pappa, how is Mamma? Has she asked about me?"

"Your mother is doing fine, though she misses you very much. She wants to know how you are doing. Are you learning many good things from Anton?" Jacques raised his eyebrows and looked at the boy inquisitively.

"Yes, Pappa. Anton is teaching me all about making models. He is also showing me how to make my own tools and keep them in the toolbox he gave me. And the butcher's knives, they are the sharpest in all of Reims."

Jacques smiled at Anton and said with a gentle nod, "Good, I am glad that you are keeping busy and not out playing in the streets like some of the other boys in the town." Jacques winked at Anton who bowed his head and continued eating his meal. "Is there anything else?" Jacques turned back to Jean.

"Anton has given me my wages for the week. He said that I should send a penny home to Momma for safe keeping. Will you take it to her for me?" Jean opened a small pouch he carried in the pocket of his trousers. He removed a small bundle of cloth which he unfolded to produce the shiny piece of copper. He eagerly handed it to Jacques, knowing that there were four more which were his to spend.

Jacques took the penny from Jean and said, "Excellent. I know your mother will be happy to hear all of this good news, and she has just the perfect place to hide your savings away." Jacques motioned for Jean to finish his meal then spoke up so that the rest of the men could hear him. "I believe that we can finish webbing and bracing the falsework by the end of the week. Do you agree?"

They each nodded or mumbled in general approval of this idea.

* 9 *

Jean was amazed at how easily the model for the cloister was modified to form the model for the chancel. First they raised the original structure up onto a platform so that it stood about three feet higher than before. Next, they built three more models like the first, leaving one side of each unwebbed. Then they placed the new structures around the raised one with the unwebbed sides facing the center.

"We will stretch beams from these springings to the rails on the raised form which is now the centering of the new model," said Anton. "Then we will make rails to go from the bottom of the domes to the posts at the center. The ribs will curve from the bottom rails to the top beams, and the webs will lie across them like the horizon. This will make an arched ceiling to the choir domes on the side and the altar at the back. Can you see how this will work?" Anton waited for Jean to answer.

"Yes, I can imagine all of this," replied Jean. "But what do we put here in the front?"

"This will be the nave. Eventually, we will remove this webbing and rail to extend a long vaulted ceiling out here. It will look like a big upside down boat. That is why we call it the nave. The people will sit there so they can look up and see the beautiful stained glass rose over the altar and the carved images of Saint Mary and the Christ Child." Anton sometimes wondered if this was true; or maybe it was that the clergy and the choir members needed a high place so that they could look down and see all of the people who had come to worship. In any case, there was work to do.

The farther from the centering they worked, the more time it took to cut and assemble the pieces. Not only were they covering more area, but also each piece had to be specially cut and beveled in order to join the arches and the domes securely together. Still, the work progressed smoothly.

One evening while Anton and Suzanne were away having dinner at the baker's home, Jean laid out his bedding on the floor in front of the model. Anton had placed a small bench at the back of the model to indicate where the altar would be.

As Jean lay there daydreaming, he imagined that he could see and hear the Bishop and the priests as they performed the mass. Then he imagined that he could see Jesus hanging on a cross above the altar. Roman soldiers walked across the altar to stand beneath the crucifix. One of them raised a spear and stuck it into Jesus' side. The Savior raised his head and said, Forgive them Father. They know not what they do."

Jean closed his eyes to pray. Anton found him sleeping quietly when he returned to the shop. He blew out the candle and retired to his own bed for the night.

* 10 *

RAP, RAP, RAP. . . The sound of the gavel caught everyone's attention. The men who had gathered at the Academy for the evening meal quickly ended their conversations. "Gentlemen, gentlemen, may I have your attention please. We have a great deal of business to discuss this evening and we need to get on with it."

The elderly man who stood at the podium, surrounded by his three officers in charge of detail, had a clear and melodious voice. It was he who usually called the meetings to order and brought news from the other craft guilds in Reims. Jean had learned that his name was Adrian Philip Jacqued Eleusius and that he was a distant cousin of the late Philip Augustus, the great King of France. The members of the Academy addressed him as Les Grand Monsieur du Eleusium. Jean placed his elbows on the table, clasped his hands together to make a resting spot for his chin, and watched Adrian intently as he continued.

"I am very pleased with the progress that has been made on the construction of the chancel. The masons have been shaping the stones and will be able to cover the falsework to protect it from the weather before the worst sets in. However, I must also give you the discouraging news. The main portion of our available timbers are tied up in the falsework. We will not be able to remove them before early spring at best.

"As I announced several weeks ago, the woodsmen will not be cutting new material from the forest this winter. We will have to make do with what we have. This means that the heavy construction will cease for the time being, and many of you will be left idle for the winter. We do not want this to happen. Therefore, we are forming a new class to study the carving of figurines which will be used to decorate the building as we proceed. Jacques du Planc has been chosen to direct the class. If you are interested in taking the course, you should see him after the meeting. We need a certain number of you to engage in this work, so the Steering Committee may contact you if you have not already made plans.

"Now as you all know, the Festival of the Bountiful Harvest is only a week away. The Merchants' Guild, the Masons and the Weavers' Guild have all put together a fine program of food and entertainment for their part. The Bishop himself will be making the dedication. I want this Academy to do its part also.

"We all have something to give and something for which we are thankful. Perhaps the Lord has blessed you with extra meats and bread." Although Adrian was addressing the group as a whole and moved his eyes around the room to insure that this was so, the brief moment when his eyes fell upon Anton made his meaning clear to one young man at least. "If you have extra wine in your home or your wife has put aside extra cheese, whatever you wish to have blessed, bring it to the Festival. We will be gathering at the northeast corner of the Square of Saint Remi beginning at the stroke of ten in the morning.

"Are there any questions concerning the announcements I have made?" The room remained silent. "Then I will adjourn the meeting so that the committees may have time to meet. And please see Jacques du Planc before you leave."Les Grand Monsieur du Eleusium rapped the gavel once to indicate that he was finished, and the sound of eating and conversation slowly rose in the great hall of the Woodsculptors' Guild Academy of Ancient Craft and Mistery.

* 11 *

The only way to attend the Festival of the Bountiful Harvest, Jean soon found out, was to put on a bright shiny smile and be most thankful that the Lord has put you at the right place at the right time. He and Anton spent the night before preparing the bundles of food that they planned to take to the Square. They stayed up later than usual talking and drinking wine. Suzanne made her usual rendezvous with Anton, so it was nearing the midnight hour when they finally got to sleep.

Jean awoke to the sound of eight bells. He was still groggy from the reverie of the previous night. "Eight bells," he thought, "I am late for work. Anton will be angry with me." Quickly, he climbed from the loft and made his way into the other room, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he went. There was no fire in the oven. He blew out his breath and watched the steamy cloud that puffed out and rose into the air. He moved to the oven and cleaned out the ashes. Next he began stoking it with wood chips, shavings and smaller scraps of wood that were stored in the wood bin. There was very little waste in Anton's shop. Soon the fire began to rekindle from the bed of coals that had been left from the night before.

He wondered if there was any water. Fortunately, it had rained during the night and the cistern was nearly full. Jean took the bucket and filled the cauldron that adjoined the oven. Next he went to see why Anton was sleeping so late. When he opened the drapes to Anton's sleeping closet, he found the space empty and the bed neatly made. Finally, Jean remembered that this was the day of the Festival. Surely Anton had not gone to the Square without him. Besides, it was only eight 'O clock.

Before Jean could piece together the mystery of Anton's strange disappearance, he heard the door in the other room creak open then close again with a slam. "Jean . . . Jean du Planc. . ." It was Anton who spoke. "I hope that you are building the fire and heating the water. I am feeling dirty and want to take a bath." Anton entered the room to find Jean standing by the fire in his heavy, linen night shirt. His long, red hair stood out like the Medusa's, his eyes were puffed up and barely opened, and he was shivering from his teeth to his knees from the cold. Anton let out a laugh to see such a pathetic sight. He walked across the room, making as much noise as possible. When he reached Jean, he slapped him on the back and said in a seemingly amplified voice, "Wake up, my boy, we have much to do before we go to the Square."

Jean winced at the pain in his head. "Please Anton. I am not feeling good after last night."

Anton smiled as Jean filled a bowl with warm water and went into the other room to clean up and get dressed.

Jean discovered that Anton had been to see the butcher. There was a large portion of salted ham on the dinner board, and a basket of eggs lay beside it. When Jean was nearly dressed, Anton entered the room carrying two steaming mugs. "Here, drink this tea. It will make you feel better."

"Oh, thank you," said Jean as he took the mug. "I do not like to feel so bad."

Anton chuckled and said, "Good. Perhaps we will not have to spend our fortunes buying wine in this home."

"Yes," replied Jean, "I prefer this tea to the wine."

"Oh, you want tea from the Orient. Your keeping will cost me everything I own if you develop a taste for it. No, the tea is only for the festival times, so please enjoy it while you can." Anton made it clear that they were being blessed with a special sort of fare on that particular day.

It was nearly half past nine by the time they had boiled the eggs, roasted the meat and filled themselves with a tasty meal. Let's hurry," said Anton, we will be late if we do not get moving." They rinsed their plates, mugs, knives and forks, then Jean placed them neatly away in the sideboard. "Here, you take charge of the meats." Anton handed the small bundle to Jean. It was heavy for its size. "I will carry the other things to be offered for the blessing."

"Anton, what does it mean to offer something for the blessing?" Jean spoke in that tone of voice which indicated he was prepared to learn an important lesson. Anton had come to recognize it in the weeks they had spent together.

"Well," Anton started, it means many things. But when we offer something to be blessed at the Festival it pleases the Lord and he causes us to have more of it in the future."

"Then you mean that when we offer the bread and the meat we will have more of it in the future?" asked Jean.

"That has been my experience, was Anton's reply.

Jean reached into his pocket and pulled out his small pouch of pennies. "Then I want to offer some of my pennies. Will that please the Lord?"

"I think that will please Him very much. Jean, you amaze me. I know of one thing for which I can be thankful on this special day."

The two of them stepped from the doorway and into the stone paved street where they joined the procession that led to the Square of Saint Remi. When they got there they went to the northeast corner and found the board that had been designated as the spot where the members of the Academy would meet. Many of the men had already gathered, and others arrived as the hour approached ten.

They began laying out their offerings on the board. Soon it was so full that new arrivals had to leave their bundles down below where they could not be seen. "Do not worry," Les Grand Monsieur du Eleusium reminded them. "The Good Lord knows what you have done, even though it is not seen by the others, and whatsoever you have done will be amplified and returned to you." He greeted each of them with a smile and firm handshake.

Jean was standing looking out over the Square when someone grabbed him from behind and squeezed him so tightly that he could hardly breathe. He looked down and immediately recognized the arms that held him. Quickly, he spun around to cast his gaze upon the face of his apprehender. "Momma, he cried.

"Jean, I have been missing you so much. Are you doing well?"

"Yes Mamma," said Jean as he wrapped his arms around Mary and kissed her on the Cheek. "I did not know that I would see you today. Surely the Lord's blessings have begun already."

"Surely they have, my son. Surely they have. Come, let's go find your father. The Bishop is about to begin the dedication."

* 12 *

The festivities soon began. The Bishop in his miter and the priests in their frocks were a splendid sight to behold. Once the dedication was over, the people began to move around: greeting each other and sharing portions of the food they had brought. Nearly everyone in Reims and many people from the outlying villages had gathered. Jean had never seen so many people in his life. A group of needy orphans was brought to the center of the Square. They were allowed to fill their plates before the rest of the people. Then a group of choral singers began their hymns of praise to the Lord. The whole of the Square was filled with life.

Jean was standing with his mother and father when Richard Bourden walked up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around and Richard whispered to him, PSSST! Come here. I want you to help me do something."

Jean stepped away from his parents and asked, "What is it?"

Richard handed him a basket and said, "Here take this and start filling it with food. Meet me back here when you have finished. If anyone asks you what you are doing, say that you are gathering food for a sick person who could not come to the Festival."

Jean lifted his eyebrows and said, Oh, I see." The two of them went about their business of filling the baskets.

When the baskets were full, the boys met back at the rendezvous point. Richard said in a hushed tone, "Come on. Let's get going so we can be back before anyone misses us."

"But where are we going?" asked Jean.

"There is a family at the edge of town. They are from the south and are traveling back home for the winter. They are stranded here without food. We are going to help them get on their way before the guards discover them, explained Richard.

"From the south! You mean they come from the mountains where the quarries are," Jean inquired?

Richard was amused by Jean's naivety. "No, you silly! I mean they are from the south where Jesus was born. Come on. You ask too many questions."

The boys traveled through the streets until they reached a stream which seemed to keep the town from spilling out any farther. They came to an old wooden bridge away from which led a narrow, muddy road that disappeared into the nearby forest. Richard looked around to make certain that they were not being watched, then the boys made their way into the woods. After a while they came upon a wagon and a team of horses. The wagon was enclosed like a small cottage. It was brightly painted with decorations and ornaments all around it. Richard rapped on the side of the wagon to let its inhabitants know that he had returned. A man with long, curly black hair and a beard popped his head out. His eyes were black as night, and his face was wrinkled with the lines of age and roughened from exposure to the elements.

"Oh, it is you my boy," said the man as he climbed down from the wagon. He wore the strangest cloths Jean had ever seen. His coat was woven from brightly colored wool and topped off with a vest of furry skin from a long-haired goat. His leather breaches and boots were carefully stitched and decorated with elaborate engravings. There was certainly nothing lacking in the handiwork of these people. Soon, another man, looking much like the first but younger in years, came down from the wagon. Before long, a whole family of eight stood before Jean and Richard. "And what have you brought with you?" asked the older man.

Richard set the baskets on the ground. "We have as much meat, bread, cheese and fruit as we could gather without making ourselves obvious," he said as he reached inside his coat and withdrew a jug which he held out to the man. "And here is some wine to keep you warm inside."

The man took the wine and said, "You do a great service to those who are traveling and are unable to provide for themselves. May the Good Lord bless you for your kindness. We have no way of paying you except to give you something we have brought from the south." The man told his son to bring a certain box from the wagon. The boy returned holding a small chest with a curved top. The older man lifted the lid and took out a few small items.

"You say you are a carpenter. Here is a piece of ebony wood which comes from the land far to the south where the men are as dark as the wood itself." Richard took the piece of black wood and held it in his hand. It was heavy and hard. The man continued, "This wood is very rare in these regions and you must think of something special to make from it: perhaps a doll or a statue of your Saint Madonna. Next, I would like for you to have this knife and sharpening stone which belonged to my brother who is now dead. He was good at shaping things from wood. I do not have his talent, but I know he would like for these to belong to a craftsman of the same art." Richard could not believe that the man was giving him such treasured possessions as his brother's tools and the rare block of wood. He felt humbled by the gesture.

The man turned to Jean and asked him, And what do you hope to accomplish in life?"

Jean smiled and said, My father is a master woodsculptor. I am learning the craft just as he did, and someday I will teach other men how to build the beautiful things from wood also."

The man shook Jean's hand and said, "Well, I did not know that I would have to supply two carpenters in one day. I have no more tools I can give, but maybe there is something here for you too." The man reached into the box and lifted out a beautiful, wood-carved doll. It was dressed like a court jester with a huge grin on its face and a large lump under its chin. "This is one of my brother's carvings. He was very famous in the south for making such dolls as these. It has a name which is Guignol." He handed the doll to Jean then took off his scarf and added it to the gift saying, This is his blanket. Keep Guignol wrapped up in this for safe keeping."

Jean, like Richard, was astonished by the beauty of the gift and thought that maybe the Lord had noticed the pennies he had set out to be blessed. He gave the doll one more look, wrapped it up and carefully tucked it under his coat.

Finally, the man began to speak in a serious tone. "I have one more request to make of you boys. This is my daughter Allessia." He pulled the girl to the front. "We will be traveling through some very difficult territory, and for reasons I will not take time to explain, it would be most dangerous for us to have the girl along." Richard seemed to understand the problem, although Jean remained perplexed. "I want you to take her with you and find her a place to stay in the town. She is a good worker and will more than pay for her keep." Allessia looked to her father with a shocked expression, as did the man's wife. The man nodded firmly at both of them then continued to speak to the boys. "We will be back this way soon, if not next spring, then the spring after that. We can have the girl join us at that time."

Jean and Richard looked at each other wondering what to do, but the matter seemed to be decided by fate. "I think we can find a good home for Allessia," said Richard as he silently said a prayer for the girl. "But you will need to dress her in plain clothes so we can sneak her into the town unnoticed." To this, the man agreed. He set his wife about the task of clothing the girl in the appropriate garments.

Soon, Allessia was dressed. She hugged and kissed each member of her family as they loaded back into the wagon. Then she stood aside with Jean and Richard as they watched the wagon pull out of sight down the muddy road into the forest. Allessia sniffled and wiped away a tear that was rolling down her cheek. She lifted her head and looked into Jean's face. His heart skipped a beat as their eyes met. She was beautiful. Her hair was long and dark and was filled with lovely curls. Her eyes were brown and her round, red lips seemed to press closer and closer to his own as they stood there looking at each other.

"Come on you two. We have to go, said Richard as he started down the road. Jean took Allessia's hand. They smiled at each other and began the journey back to town.

* 13 *

The trio made their way carefully through the streets of Reims. It was to their advantage that most of the people were attending the Festival at the Square. This made it easier to travel without being seen. Still, Richard knew that the King had guards posted about to insure that there was not any disturbance in the town or illicit trade in the streets. If not the King's guards, there would be other outposts designed to insure that such trade would take place without detection. However, these two elements were of less concern to Richard than the eye of the Pope, who was always on the lookout for possible sources of discontent or opposition to his authority.

They soon came to a small chapel a few blocks from the Square. Richard scouted out an isolated spot in back of the building where they could talk quietly without being overheard. "Now what are we going to do?" he asked Jean, who remained captivated by Allessia's beauty and the thought that they were still holding hands.

"I don't know. You are the one who got us into this; you told her father she could stay. Didn't you have any plan when you said all that?" Jean expected Richard to be the leader. After all, he was the oldest.

Richard decided to let honesty prevail. "I did, but I didn't," he said. "I figured things would work out as they went along. I do know that we have to find a place for Allessia to stay until we can find a permanent home for her. It is bad enough that she is a Gypsy, but if they find me with this piece of ebony or you with Guignol, there will be a hundred question and probably trouble for it."

Richard thumped his fist against his palm as he thought. Finally he raised his finger into the air and said, " I know! Let's take her to your place. No one ever goes there."

"No one except Suzanne, and the butcher, and his Pappa, and Les Grand Monsieur du Eleusium," thought Jean. "But what about Anton," Jean started?

"Anton can keep a secret," Richard insisted. "Come on. We need to get back to the Festival or there really will be a lot of questions."

Jean raised his hands into the air and shrugged his shoulders. He took Allessia by the hand once more and they headed out for Anton's shop.

When they got to the shop, Jean took Allessia up to the loft. "Here, this is where I sleep. No one can see you up here. But if someone should come around before I get back with Anton, cover up with this blanket and lie real still."

Allessia patted the mattress and fluffed up the bundle of furs that Jean used for a pillow. Then she took him by the hands. Their eyes met once again. Jean was prepared to hold that gaze forever, but Allessia closed her eyes and kissed him on the lips. Jean was left speechless. "Thank you for saving me from my brother," she said in a quiet voice.

Although Jean did not understand her meaning, he felt a great sincerity in her words. "I have to go now," he said as he removed the doll and handed it to her. "Keep Guignol for me. I will be back when the Festival is over." He started to turn away and leave, but something stopped him. He turned back to Allessia and returned the kiss she had given him. "Thank you God," he thought as he climbed down the ladder. "Can you please bless this moment also?"

Jean helped Richard find a safe spot to hide the piece of ebony and the tools, one that only he would have occasion to get into, then they left on their way back to the Festival. After the boys had gone, Allessia made herself comfortable in Jean's bed. She wrapped his blanket around her, took a deep breath and sighed.

It was nearly four 'O clock when they returned to the Square. They soon found Mary and Jacques. Richard became less secretive as he bid Jean farewell. "So long, Jean," he yelled. "I will see you Monday at the Academy and we can talk some more about the carvings you have in mind."

"Yes," yelled Jean. "And thank you for showing me around the town."

Jacques looked at Jean and said, "Ah, you and Richard have been thinking about the woodcarving class. I am glad you two are getting along so well. Richard is a good boy." Mary smiled and put her arm around Jean. They spent the rest of the afternoon as a family. Jean wore his bright shiny smile throughout the evening.

* 14 *

On their way home from the festival that evening, Jean began to worry about what to do. It was clear to him that he could not keep Allessia hidden in his bed in the loft forever, although there was something about the idea that appealed to him. Still, he had doubts over how Anton would react to the boys making him involved in all of this. The situation seemed to have no resolution. Finally, Jean stopped Anton just outside the door to the shop.

"Anton, I have to ask you something important." Once again Jean spoke in his, 'I want to learn,' tone of voice.

"Yes, what is it, Jean?" Anton looked inquisitively at the boy while he rubbed his belly and stretched out for a yawn as if to indicate that the question should be brief.

"What do you do when you want to keep a secret?" Jean was the epitome of sincerity as he spoke.

"Well, I have always found it best not to tell anyone," said Anton.

"But what if you have to tell someone in order to keep others from finding out?" Jean continued.

"Then you say your prayers that you can trust the other person. Is there something you want to tell me? What did you do today, Jean?" Suddenly Anton was not the friendly companion that Jean was used to. Jean felt that he was standing in the very presence of Les Grand Monsieur du Eleusium himself: or even worse, the Pope. But he knew that there was no stopping the matter now. Anton had to be told or else sleep in the street, and that would never do.

"Anton, we have a house guest," he began. "She is sleeping in my bed in the loft."

Anton chuckled as he replied. "We have a house guest and SHE is sleeping in your bed? You are setting me up for some kind of joke, aren't you?"

Anton turned to enter the shop, but Jean stopped him once again. "No, I am not joking. There is a young Gypsy girl staying in the shop, and I need for you to understand what happened today."

"Alright," said Anton, "I am beginning to believe you. But if what you say is true, then we should not be discussing it here in the street." Anton opened the door and motioned for Jean to enter. "I hope for your sake that you are not trying to put me on."

When they were safely inside, Jean climbed the ladder. Allessia was curled up in the corner fast asleep. Jean shook her to wake her and she mumbled something almost unintelligible, "No Simon. I am your sister. Put the knife away." Jean shook her again and she woke up. She looked up at him with her big brown eyes and said, Jean, my friend. It is you." She rose up and hugged him. "This is twice you have saved me from my brother."

"Is that what you were dreaming about? I heard you say something about the knife." Jean looked at her, wishing that he could place his head inside of hers and know all that was going on in there.

"I cannot tell you right now. But thank you for being here with me." Again she reached up and kissed Jean.

His heart thumped in his chest as he spoke. "Come on, I want you to meet Anton."

They climbed down the ladder together and sat at the table where Anton was waiting patiently. "I see that you were not joking with me," he said. "Now tell me, what is the meaning of this?" Anton sat quietly as Jean told him everything in full detail, then he spoke. "What you have done is good in a way, but you have created a serious problem by doing it. You understand this don't you?" Jean did not speak, he simply nodded his head yes. Next, Anton addressed the girl. "What is your story? Why are your parents so willing to leave you behind like this?"

Allessia pouted, then she buried her head in her hands and began to cry. "I don't know. I think it has to do with my brother, Simon. Pappa found him being mean to me and the furry of the devil came over him. He did some really bad things to Simon. Then he turned on me."

"What was it that Simon was doing?" asked Anton.

Allessia looked at Jean. She tried to smile, but her face was the mirror of the pain she bore within. She turned back to Anton and spoke, Please Mister?"

Anton smiled to comfort her then spoke to Jean. "Go into the other room and light the fire. I want the shop to be warm this night."

Jean looked at Anton as if betrayed, then he started, But. . . ?"

"Go on," said Anton. "If there is something for you to know, I will tell you tomorrow." Jean left the room to do as Anton instructed.

"Now what is this thing that caused the trouble between you and your brother?"

Allessia took a deep breath and began telling her story. "It was not my fault. I was at the stream taking a bath. Simon should not have been there. He had a knife that was my uncle's, and he came into the water with me. He began telling me how pretty I was without my clothes on. Then he grabbed me by the hair and kissed me. Mister, I was so afraid that I did not know what to do. He had the knife. I started screaming, so he put the knife at my belly and threatened to cut me all up. Pappa came running to save me. He grabbed Simon by the hair and dragged him to the bank. That is when the furry began.

"Pappa hit Simon in the face several times. When Simon fell down, Pappa started kicking him until he looked like he was dead. Then he came after me. I was standing there naked and afraid. Pappa looked at me all over. He just kept staring at my body. Then he clinched his teeth, raised his hand and slapped me so hard I passed out. The next thing I remember was being in Mamma's arms with a blanket wrapped around me. She was holding me tightly; Pappa was kneeling on the ground crying."

Anton stroked his beard as he listened. "It must be very hard for you to tell me this. I am honored that you trust me. Can you tell me the rest?"

Allessia continued her story. "Momma and Pappa had a long talk that night. They would not let us children hear what they said. It was the next day when Pappa went into town and found Richard. Jean has told you the rest, except that Pappa gave Simon's inheritance to Jean and Richard for their help and to punish Simon."

"What do you mean he gave Simon's inheritance to the boys?"

"My uncle was a woodcarver, and he made beautiful dolls and toys for the children in the villages of the south. Simon was going to work with him and learn the trade. My uncle was taken prisoner by the Pope. Pappa said that he was killed. He left the knife, some pieces of wood, and his favorite doll, Guignol, to Simon as his inheritance. Pappa took these away from him for what he did to me." Allessia felt relieved that she had shared her feelings with someone: someone as trustworthy as Anton.

"Then you mean that the boys have the doll and the other things?" Anton asked.

"Yes," was her simple reply.

Anton scratched his head and thought for a moment. "We can talk more about this tomorrow. I want to have Richard here also. But for now, it is getting late." Anton got up to go get Jean, but Allessia stopped him. "Mister, please don't tell Jean what I said, about my brother I mean?"

"It was a bad thing that happened," said Anton, "but I do not think that any lasting harm has been done. You are still in one piece and out of harm's way. I do not see any reason why Jean should know about this." He smiled and rubbed Allessia on the head. "You understand that now you are becoming a beautiful young woman? You must be careful how you behave when you are around young men like Jean and Richard. We do not want any more trouble like this, do we?"

Allessia bowed her head and said very quietly, No, Mister."

Anton called Jean in from the other room, then he addressed the two of them together. "It is too late to make other arrangements this evening, so we will all have to stay here together. Allessia, are you comfortable in the loft?"

"Oh yes, she said. "I could sleep in Jean's bed forever."

Anton scowled at her briefly to remind her about her behavior, then he chuckled to himself. "Alright! Then you sleep up there. Jean, you will sleep in my bed tonight. I am going out for a while and will bed down by the fire when I return."

Anton took care to insure that the two of them were bedded down and the candles were out, then he slipped out into the night, carefully securing the door to the shop behind him.

* 15 *

Jean awoke at seven bells, which was his usual time to begin work around the shop. Even though it was Sunday morning, he still had chores to do. As he climbed out of bed, he noticed that Anton had not slept by the fire as he said he would. He did not lie to Jean. He simply had not come home yet. Jean went about his business of cleaning and stoking the oven. He filled the cauldron with water then made his way around the room, making certain that the tools and patterns were in order. As he waited for the water to heat, he went to the center of the room and sat cross-legged in front of the chancel model which was still assembled there.

He looked at the altar, trying once again to imagine the crucifix and the soldiers that were there the night Anton was away. Jean had done this several times before, but the image had not been clear since that first time. "Perhaps it was not my imagination that placed them there," he thought. He closed his eyes and wondered if it was right to see something like that: something that no one else had seen.

"You remember seeing it, don't you?" A still small voice whispered inside his head.

"Yes, I remember it very well." Jean responded to the voice. "There were the priests and the soldiers, and Jesus was hanging on the cross. How could I forget?"

"Your memory is a blessed thing," continued the voice. "Someday you will show the others this memory that you carry with you. There is a way, and you will know it soon."

Jean's daydream came to an end. He looked up to see steam rising from the cauldron and quickly got up to finish his chores. He filled a bowl with the warm water and carried it to the other room. "Allessia," he yelled as he set the bowl on the table. "Allessia, are you awake?"

"Yes Jean, came the voice from the loft. "I woke up when I heard the bells and have been talking to Guignol," she said.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked.

"Yes I did. This bed is so comfortable, I have not slept so well in my life," she replied.

"You had better come down and clean up. I have a feeling that Anton will be home soon."

Jean watched as she climbed down from the loft and made her way to the table. Her hair was a bit messed up and her eyes were still droopy from sleep, but she still managed to smile at him. Jean could not help noticing that she was beautiful, even in this ragged state. "There must be something besides appearance that makes people attractive," he thought. "Good morning sleepyhead," said Jean.

"I am not so sleepy, but good morning to you just the same." She gathered her robe around her and sat down at the table.

Jean was expecting a short peck on the cheek, but she just sat there smiling. "I will be in the next room cleaning up," he said.

"I will come to you when I have finished dressing," she replied.

When Allessia entered the room where Jean was waiting, she was clean and pretty and was holding Guignol in her hands. She walked right up to Jean and kissed him. "You thought I did not like you, didn't you?"

"Well, I thought that you did after the things you said to me yesterday. Maybe you are just a little slow in the mornings, said Jean.

"Yesterday was big day for me. I am still having a hard time knowing what to think. And I am trying also to remember what Anton told me last night," she replied.

Jean accepted her apology then turned his thoughts to the doll. "Tell me about Guignol," he said.

"What do you want to know about him?" Allessia stooped and set the doll on the floor where they both could look at it.

Jean squatted next to her and asked, Why is he smiling?"

"He is laughing at the Pope," she said.

Jean was a bit shocked that someone would dare to laugh at the Pope, but it was just a doll so he continued, Why is his throat so big?"

"They call that a goiter," she said. "The more he laughs, the bigger it gets."

Jean thought for a moment then said, "You mean that the goiter is caused by laughing and the more he laughs, the bigger it grows?"

"No. They say that the goiter grows because Guignol does not eat fish from the sea, she replied.

"Oh," said Jean as if he understood the whole matter. "Tell me why Guignol laughs at the Pope."

"He laughs because the Pope makes him live in the mountains and won't give him fish to eat," she said.

"Then why won't the Pope give him fish to eat?" Jean asked.

"Well, the Pope won't give Guignol fish because he lives in the mountains and laughs at him." Allessia just looked at Jean with a straight face as if to say, "There! What could be simpler than that?"

"Wait a minute," said Jean as he stood up and started laughing. "This does not make sense. Why does not Guignol just stop laughing at the Pope? Then the Pope will let him come down out of the mountains and have fish to eat."

Allessia thought really hard trying to decide how to explain. "There are many people who live in the mountains, and it is a hard life. The Pope does not give them fish to eat either. The people come from miles around just to see Guignol laugh because he makes them laugh too. If Guignol was not willing to make this sacrifice, there would not be such laughter and the people would lose hope. You see, the goiter does not hurt Guignol because the Lord blesses him in spite of it. Would you let me show you how Guignol works?" asked Allessia. Jean eagerly said, yes, and so she told him what was necessary to make a show.

They moved to the workbench where Jean found a long stick of wood. He carefully rounded and tapered one end of it so that it would fit snugly into a hole that was whittled into Guignol's back. Next, Allessia took the doll by the new 'control rod' and danced it across the bench. "It works just fine, she said. She instructed Jean to take a seat in front of the chancel model where he had been before. Then she went to the other side so that she was facing him. She took off the robe that covered her Gypsy garments and covered the vaulted arch at her end of the model. "Are you ready for Guignol?" she cried.

"Yes, I want to see Guignol now," yelled Jean.

From beneath the curtain popped the little doll. Framed by the model of the chancel, it now seemed as big as life to Jean. Guignol danced from one end of the altar to the other then stopped in the center of the 'stage' and began his speech about the Pope and the fish and how the people would get by in spite of the hardship. Jean laughed all the while.

"Well, what do you think?" asked Allessia when she had finished.

"You are very good at that," said Jean.

"Thank you," she said, "but I am not nearly as good as my uncle was. He could make all the people laugh when he played with Guignol. I think that is why the Pope put him in prison and killed him."

Jean bowed his head and said in a solemn tone, "I am sorry to hear about your uncle. He must have meant a lot to you."

Allessia hugged Guignol in her arms and began to cry. "He was the best, Jean. He was the best."

They stood silently for a while, then Jean finally spoke, "We need to put Guignol away now. I know that Anton will be home soon." They took Guignol to the loft, wrapped him in the scarf and tucked him carefully into the bed.

* 16 *

The first stop Anton made when he left the shop that night was to see Suzanne. The conversation went along as usual. They hugged and kissed, and she slipped him a small loaf of bread to carry with him when he left. However, the mood began to change when Anton reluctantly took Suzanne into his confidence and told her about Allessia. She listened to him as he explained how the boys had helped her family. She seemed most interested when he told her how the boys had brought the girl to town to save her from her brother. Then her face began to redden and her eyes began to glow as he explained the rest.

"She's what," she screamed.

Anton covered her mouth and put his finger to his lips as he looked around to see that no one had overheard her. "I said she is staying at my shop."

He removed his hand and she screamed out once more. "Oh no she's not!!!" She jumped up and began pacing around the room. "You listen to me, Anton Gillette. I am not going to have that, . . . that, . . . that GIRL staying in your home."

Anton got up, chased her down and grabbed her from behind to keep her from hitting him. "I do not want to keep her, but I need your help to find a place for her."

She wriggled free and ran around the table to get away from him. She slapped her hands down on the table and glared at him. "Not this time, mister. You get her out of your shop, and you do it quick or you are not going to see me coming around. Do you hear me?"

"Good Lord! Everyone in the town can hear you," he said with a grin.

She picked up the loaf of bread and threw it at him.

"What is the matter with you, Suzanne. I have never seen you act this way. For heaven's sake, she is only a child. Besides, you have never even met her. How can you be so angry at someone you do not know?" He stood there with a puzzled look on his face.

"I am not angry with the girl," she recanted as she began to calm down. "I am just wondering how you could do something so stupid."

"Oh, now it is my fault. I did not know that the boys were going to bring her home. Listen, you have to help me out of this." He bade her to sit down as he slowly did so himself.

"Help you out! What do you want me to do? I don't know what to do with some new girl who just plops out of the sky into our laps," she said.

"Well don't you know someone who can take her in? Could you bring her here to the bakery to help you work?" Anton suggested.

Suzanne tried to concentrate as she thought. "Anton, I love you, but I have to be honest with you. We do not have space for her here at the bakery. With the hard winter coming on, the other shops have all the help they can afford. This is not a good time for any of us." She tried to smile, but the thought that they were too poor to help made her feel sad inside.

Suddenly, she had an idea. "Since it was the boys who got you into this, why don't you go to see their parents and make them help you out. You know Jacques du Planc. He knows nearly everything that goes on in this town. He is good at talking people into doing things that they did not expect to be doing."

Anton began rubbing on his beard. "You know Suzanne, you are right. I knew I married you for some reason."

Suzanne smiled and said, "I am glad you have not forgotten. I was beginning to worry that you only wanted me for the bread and to help you out of impossible situations. When are we going to tell my father?"

"I think that maybe he knows already, said Anton.

"You know that I am afraid you might run off and leave me here alone," she said.

Anton petted her hand and said, "Not you, my love. Not you. But if I am going to see Jacques du Planc I had better hit the road. I do not like having to wake him up to talk about this."

Anton and Suzanne both stood up. He circled the table and kissed her. "I know I can trust you to not tell anyone about this, he said.

"Anton, I wish that you had not told me all of this. You can be certain that I won't be talking about it all over town." As he was leaving the room, Suzanne called to him, "I am sorry about the bread. I will replace it as soon as the ovens are working again."

Anton was amused by the scene at the bakery as he made the five mile hike to Capetville. He did not come out this way very often and was glad to get out of the town for a change. The sky was clear and the air was warmer than usual. He tried to count the stars as he walked, but they were too many for his mind to comprehend so he turned his thoughts back to the journey and began counting his steps. One by one the groups of one hundred passed by. "One hundred," he thought. That was the highest number he had ever counted out. It seemed so large when he tried to imagine it, but here he had counted it off fifteen, twenty times, and the distance still lay ahead of him. "Surely there is so much more to God's creation than can ever be known by the small people of the world." Such mysteries as these occupied his mind until finally he found himself standing before the doorway to Jacques du Planc's cottage.

Although the night was still and quiet, Anton could see rays of light shining through the cracks in the shutter, so he knocked softly on the door. "Who is it? What do you want?" After some shuffling and thumping around inside the cottage, Jacques appeared at the door. He looked out at Anton and said, "Anton Gillette, what are you doing here in Capetville at this hour?"

"Jacques, I have a serious problem. It concerns Jean and Richard Bourden. I need your help." Jacques was keenly interested to hear that Jean was in some sort of trouble. He quickly welcomed Anton inside.

After Anton explained everything to Jacques, he said, "I really do not know what to do about this. I simply cannot turn her out into the night like an animal, and I am afraid to think what the church would do to her if they found out that she is a Gypsy."

Jacques sat quietly next to Mary who had joined them at the table. "I am thinking something, but I will have to sleep on it before telling it to you. Will you stay here for the night? We can go back into town together in the morning."

"But Jean and Allessia are at the shop alone together," said Anton.

Jacques patted him on the shoulder to set his mind at ease and said, "They should be sleeping by now. Besides they will not be likely to expose themselves to any more trouble than they already have. I know my son well enough to be certain of that. You sleep in Jean's bed over there. We will talk more in the morning."

That was the end of the conversation. Anton made himself comfortable in Jean's bed and soon fell asleep. Jacques blew out the lights and climbed into bed with Mary. Once again, a peaceful quiet fell over Capetville for the night.

Capetville,France Cir 1256 AD* 17 *

Richard Bourden took a deep breath as he opened the door and found Anton, Jacques, and Mary du Planc standing in the street outside his home. "Good morning, Richard. I see that you are dressed. Good. I need for you to come with us. There is a special project that requires immediate attention, and we will need your help." Jacques left no doubt that there was serious business at hand as he spoke.

By this time Richard's father had joined them at the door. "What! Who is it Richard? Tell me who it is," he said as he tugged at Richard's sleeve.

"It is Jacques du Planc, father. He needs me to help him do some work this morning."

"Oh. Good morning Jacques. Isn't it a little strange to be working an apprentice on a Sunday morning?" The man extended his hand, hoping that Jacques would find it and return the greeting.

"Good morning, Paul. Yes, it is unusual, but we have an emergency and need Richard's help. It will only take an hour. He will be home to walk you to mass, said Jacques.

"Well if he has to go, I guess he has to go. You come straight home, you hear me Richard."

"Yes sir," said Richard as he turned his father around and closed the door behind him.

The walk to Anton's shop was cloaked by silence. Richard began to sweat in anticipation of the chewing out he was about to receive from Jacques du Planc. When they finally arrived, Anton knocked to alert Jean of their presence then opened the door. Jean was surprised to find that his father and his mother had come along with Richard and Anton. Still, he was relieved to see them both there.

Mary looked at Allessia. "And this is the girl. Well, with a little fixing up and some chores to keep her busy, I suppose she will do, she though as she moved to take a seat next to her.

"You boys sit down. I want to do some talking. That goes for you too, Anton, Jacques began. "Jean, your mother and I do not like coming into town so early on a Sunday morning. But since we are here, we plan to attend the mass. You will go with us. Now, Anton has told us what has happened here. I spoke with Mary last night, and I think we have a solution to the problem. Because Jean is no longer in our home, the housework is almost too difficult for Mary. As you know, Mary will be having a child in the spring. She is wanting someone to help her out. In fact, she has been praying about this for some time. It was yesterday at the Festival when she told me that she felt the Lord was going to bless her in this way. Allessia is it?" He turned his attention to the girl. She shook her head yes but did not speak. "You will be coming home to live with us, he said.

"Now for you boys! Anton says that you have some things that Allessia's father gave you. I want to see them." Jean got up from the table and gathered the piece of ebony and the tools and set them on the table. Next, he went to the loft and got Guignol. Jacques carefully looked the items over. He picked up the knife and said, Good quality, don't you think?" He handed the knife to Anton for inspection. "I suppose this wood carves quite well," he said as he picked up the piece of ebony. He laid it back down and took Guignol from Jean. "Hmmm," he turned the doll around and observed it from every angle. "Hmmm! Yes, this is a fine sample of woodcarving. I will have to study some of these strokes for my class."

Anton, Richard and Jean were confused that Jacques was making a blessing out of what they thought was to be the end of them all. "Richard," Jacques broke the silence. "In a different situation, an action such as you have done would put your bid to become journeyman in severe jeopardy. It is not proper for an apprentice to take such matters into his own hands. And to bring a new man like Jean into it with you makes it that much worse. You should have come to Anton or me before you acted. But I am feeling that something was in the air yesterday that was beyond our control, so I will recommend you for the new position when I speak to Les Grand Monsieur du Eleusium. You may keep these things. I trust that you will be attending the woodcarving class." Jacques grinned as he awaited Richard's yes answer.

With these matters settled, the group ate a quick meal, gathered themselves together and headed out for the mass. This was Allessia's first time to attend a service where the Pope's men were watching everything. She was a bit uncomfortable, but when Mary put her arm around her, she knew she was welcomed. Maybe she would even get to eat some fish, finally.

PART IILessons Learned

* 18 *

The winter came on strong after the Festival of the Bountiful Harvest. Most of the people of Reims stayed indoors during the day, and only the homeless and the dangerous made the streets at night. Needles to say, Jacques' woodcarving class filled up quickly when the men realized that there was no other work to be had. It was there that Jean began to learn the skills that would later bring his vision of the crucifix and the soldiers to life. It was there that he came to understand that what he had seen, although it was a singular event, and to his knowledge unseen by any other person, was real. He took time each night before bed and each morning when he woke up to recount the things that Jacques was teaching the class until he felt certain that he could recite the whole lecture in his sleep. It was a joy to watch Jacques as he took the group of men with their vast array of talents and began honing them into that tool, that instrument by which the beautiful woodcarvings at the cathedral would be shaped.

"Here we have a block of wood," he began. "Now tell me, where did this block of wood come from?"

"It was cut from the trunk of a tree," one of the students yelled out.

"Very good," said Jacques. "So where did the tree come from?"

"The tree came from the forest, was the next answer.

"I see that my students are well informed," Jacques continued. "The next question, I am afraid, is not so easy. Where did the forest come from?"

The room fell silent for a while, then a few brave souls began to venture guesses. "It grew from the seeds of the older trees that have died." "I say that it did not come from anywhere. It has always been there and the trees grew there so they could be together like the people in the towns." "I disagree. I think that God put the forest on earth when he created the Garden of Eden so that the people could use the trees for shelter and to make work for their hands."

A few more responses were forthcoming before Jacques finally brought things back to square. "These are all good answers. We can see that there are many different ways of looking at the situation," he said. "Can anyone tell me how many forests there are?"

Anton felt he had the perfect answer, so he stood up and addressed the group, I think there are more than one hundred. But since one single forest will provide all the timber that we would need to do our jobs, why should we take the time to count them all?"

"Anton, you have such a clear understanding of what I am getting at," Jacques said. "Let me tell you what I mean. You see that we have heard several ideas about where the forest came from. If we continued, we would hear more and more ideas until we had a whole forest full of them, and then a hundred forests and so on. But we have not come here to count the forests. We have come to create the woodcarving from the block of wood.

"Anto