Hildegund
As she walked down the street, Hildegund noticed an open doorway that was crowded with a group of men, laughing and drinking. This seemed like the type of place where Grimbert could have spent the night. These men might have the answers she was looking for. "Excuse me?" she said, the words coming out meekly. No one turned around. Hildegund bit her lip, took a deep breath in through her nose, and gathered herself up. "Excuse me?" she said more assertively.
"Yeah?" a portly dark-haired man slurred in response, "What can I do for you, sonny?"
"I'm looking for someone. He didn't make it back to the inn last night, and this seems like the sort of place where he might have stopped for some, um, entertainment," she borrowed the innkeeper's turn of phrase.
"This is a fine establishment," the man nodded in agreement. "But I wasn't here last night, so I couldn't help you," he paused and turned his head. "Hey, Lorenzo, you were here last night?" he called over to a friend.
"Yeah, what of it?" an olive-skinned man with bright green eyes and a scarred cheek turned and walked over to join them.
"This little boy is looking for someone. Did you see any, uh," the man turned back to Hildegund, "What did you say he looked like?"
"He's German, darker hair to his shoulders, bearded," she said, looking back and forth between the two men.
"I didn't notice anyone new last night. I know most of the regulars," Lorenzo told her. "There are lots of men in Tyre, and nearly as many barstools. Keep looking my young friend, he'll turn up."
Hildegund thanked the men before continuing down the street.
She stepped through the doorway of each bar or tavern that she passed and spoke to many people, but she learned no new information. Her shoulders slumped, she began to shuffle back towards the city gates. Maybe the guards would have information to share.
"You looking for your daddy, sweetheart?" A rouged woman called out as Hildegund passed.
It was like being struck by an arrow, the pang of mourning hit her so sharply. Her father would never have left her on purpose. After a brief hesitation, Hildegund responded, "He's not my father, but I am looking for the man who I traveled here with."
"Are you all alone?" the woman purred.
Something tensed inside her stomach. A warning not to reveal too much. "No, I have other companions," she lied, "we split up to go looking for him."
"Well in this city, if a man doesn't want to be found, there are plenty of places for him to hide," she raised her eyebrows suggestively.
"I'm just looking for information. Maybe you could help me."
"The one way I can help you is by giving you some advice, sweetheart," the woman leaned down and whispered, "by asking so many questions, you might be giving some people the idea that you need their protection."
"What do you mean?" Hildegund whispered back.
"A sweet thing like you, in a place like this? Forget your man and move on," she winked, "Trust me."
"I'm not ...," Hildegund didn't know what to say. She almost said not a girl, but then thought better of it. She wasn't used to being spoken to in this tone, in this way. Sweet thing? That description did not fit the way she saw herself. Joseph was not a sweet thing. And Hildegund had never been called a "sweet thing," even when she had dressed like a girl.
"Honey, look around. You will see plenty of beggar boys, but there are no beggar girls. But being a boy doesn't make you safe. Someone might notice how pretty you are. Your delicate hands, your soft cheeks."
"No one's ever called me pretty before," Hildegund stammered, still at a loss for how to respond to this woman. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment.
"I've upset you," the woman cooed. "Listen, honey, I'm just offering you some sage advice, and you'd be smart to follow it. Don't draw any extra attention to yourself unless you want people to take notice. You hear me?"
"I'll keep that in mind," Hildegund replied. She felt shaken by the encounter. And confused. Had the woman known her secret? Hildegund hadn't had to think much about her new identity as Joseph. Especially lately. Being a boy had been so natural to her that sometimes she forgot that she wasn't always this way. Nevertheless, the harlot's words had reinforced the dangers that Hildegund would face if anyone ever found out that she had been born female.
But stick to the shadows? How could she get any answers if she didn't ask the questions?
Unsettled, but also determined in her mission to find Grimbert, Hildegund stopped by the entrance to the city.
Two armored guards stood under the shade of a cloth awning. Perspiration beaded their foreheads, yet they stood unwavering and intimidating. Hildegund approached them with caution. "Excuse me? Could you help me?" she did her best to keep her voice even.
When they nodded she continued, "I'm not sure if you were on duty last night or this morning, but one of the pilgrims in our party has gone missing, and I'm looking for information." She kept the small lie about not being alone, just in case.
"A missing pilgrim?" one of the guards asked in a deep baritone.
"Yes. We have traveled from the Holy Roman Empire. We got in late last night. He went to stable the horses, but never made it to the inn. I hope he wasn't hurt or injured in any way. He was a man about this tall," she held her hand to illustrate Grimbert's height, "He was stocky, longer dark hair, had a..."
"Last night there was no reported violence involving a German," the second guard cut her off before she could finish her description.
"Did you check the stables?" the first guard rumbled, revealing more patience than his colleague.
"Yes, that's where I started." Hildegund paused, not sure how much to reveal. "The stable hand said that a man fitting the description I gave had dropped a horse off for the night, but had left hurriedly this morning. But that doesn't make sense."
Hildegund noticed that the second guard seemed to roll his eyes in exasperation, but the first guard tilted his head and pursed his lips in thought. "Hm, a man did leave the city soon after sunrise. I couldn't say if he fit your description exactly. Many pilgrims pass through this gate every day. I wish you luck."
"Thank you for your time," she said, the words turning to dust in her mouth. She could feel herself falling apart. Her heart pounded so hard that her ears throbbed from each deafening boom. The tips of her fingers felt numb.
They could be mistaken, she told herself as she turned back towards the inn where she was staying. A desperate hysteria began to bubble up in her chest. She started to walk faster. Then she started running. Grimbert had to be back at the inn. This nightmare had to be over. She rushed back in the dining area and the same man from this morning looked up, startled by her hurried entrance. "Is he here?" she almost shouted, which drew the attention of the other patrons.
The pause before he spoke took forever. Entire seasons took place. Babies were born, grew old and died. Time stood still on the sword's edge of hope before it crashed into the waves of despair. "No, I'm sorry," he looked sympathetic, but he didn't stop his work. There were several people sitting around the dining area, and he continued to serve them. "It is still early. If you go to your room, I will let you know if he shows up."
The man turned away from Hildegund. After all, it wasn't his problem that she had been abandoned. The knot that had been growing in her stomach grew tighter, and Hildegund slowly plodded up the stairs back to her room.
The words of the stable hand and the city guards echoed in her mind, but Hildegund couldn't comprehend it. Couldn't make this information fit into her ideas of how the world worked. Grimbert couldn't have left the city with all of their belongings in tow. This had to be a mistake. A simple misunderstanding. Grimbert was a good man and had been a trusted friend.
Well, hadn't Adso said that he didn't trust Grimbert? She had scoffed when he suggested that Grimbert wasn't an honorable man. But he was right. Adso was right. Grimbert was a drunk. A lout. A no-good-worthless leech.
Oh, how she missed Adso! He would know what to do.
She lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling, passively letting her brain send a cascade of images of hopes and fears past her eyes. She was flooded with emotions. Disbelief. Anger. Despair. Every new thought brought a different feeling to her gut. It was like her heart, soul, and mind couldn't agree on how she should absorb what she had learned. She could feel herself sinking, wallowing in the despair of it all.
The thought struck her like lightning, white hot and burning.
Grimbert was the only person in this half of the world who knew Hildegund. Everyone else knew Joseph. Everyone else assumed she was a boy. No, not assumed it. Knew it. To the entire eastern world, she was a boy.
She hadn't realized it until now, until this moment, but when she was with her father and Grimbert, there was always the fear that they would accidentally call her the wrong name or use the wrong pronouns. They saw her as a girl in disguise. But was that how she felt?
She thought back to that first day she put on male garb. Pulling on riding pants and buttoning on the leather vest. The joy that had flooded her veins had almost made her dizzy. She had been able to let out a breath she didn't know that she had been holding her whole life.
Without Grimbert there, maybe she could be freed from Hildegund entirely. She could just be Joseph.
She was alone and no one could help her except for herself! She was not some poor helpless damsel! She might be a farm boy in distress, she smiled at her own joke, but she was no damsel.
She... no... He was the eldest son—the only son—of the master weaver of Loconge! And that was what she, err, he had to remember. He had been trained by his father to work in the shop. He could read and knew his numbers. He was a capable young man and because of that he would find a way back to Loconge.
He didn't know how, but he knew that as Joseph it was at least possible. This possibility was a light on the horizon, steering his ship through unsafe waters. It was a bright ember in a bed of coals, just needing a bit of breath to bring the fire back to life. It was a bright green shoot rising out of a once barren field. It was this possibility that Joseph clung to as he drifted off to sleep.