Naturally, the schoolteacher turned towards the main door, expecting the monk to start out at once for the Realschule in the center of Brno. It was some distance and they would have to walk through a lot of snow. But much to his surprise, Mendel turned in the opposite direction and clumped down the tiled corridor towards the back of the main building. Dutifully, Makyatta followed him.
"I won't be long," Mendel apologized to his friend, "but I must collect something before we set out."
He opened a large oak door and hurried quickly down a short flight of stone stairs. As the pair descended the smell of cooking arose to greet them, and at the bottom of the stairs they entered the Monastery kitchen.
"Dobre rano," said a round, friendly monk sitting at a well scrubbed pine table. He took another mouthful of ledova kava, the cold weak black coffee to which he was addicted.
"Good morning," Mendel replied, picking his way cautiously though the thicket of the Czech language which he had yet to master. Then, switching back to German, introduced Makyatta to Brother Victor, the Monastery hospitallier, vintner and master cook.
Brother Victor held out a greasy hand and shook that of Herr Makyatta with a surprisingly strong grip.
"Welcome to my pivince," he said with a laugh, referring to his kitchen as a cheap restaurant.
"Je tu volno?, replied Makyatta with a chuckle, entering to the spirit of the exchange by asking in Czech 'Is this seat free?', a traditional piece of etiquette when sharing a table with other eaters or drinkers.
"We cannot stay," Mendel said hurriedly before Brother Victor could offer some of his famous hospitality. "We are on our way to the Realschule.
"Then you will need this," said Brother Victor reaching behind him for a package wrapped in waxed paper and tied with a length of string. He handed it to Mendel. "It is only some veprovy kyta, (pork leg) and a few other scraps. As you know, the 'zabijacka' was not well received this year, and that is all I have left."
"I am sure it will be well received where it is going," replied Mendel mysteriously.
Seeing the look on Herr Makyatta's face, Brother Victor enlightened him. "This is food for Mendel's sparrows," he told the schoolteacher, and went on, much to Brother Gregory's embarrassment, "The governors of the Realschule give four parish boys a free education, but little else." He sniffed. From a sense of Christian duty the good burgers of Brno paid, from their own pockets, the necessary fees to send four sons of the 'less fortunate' classes to school. This charity, however, was sternly not taken too far, and certainly did not extend to providing a decent meal once a day.
"Brother Gregory has often championed their cause," Brother Victor continued, "but despite his many pleas, these children regularly go hungry. Our good Brother, here, has become their unofficial guardian, and takes food from our kitchen to help their families survive, especially in the winter."
"It is the least anyone would do," said Mendel, turning red.
"Brother Timothy came up with the name 'Mendel's sparrows'," said Brother Victor, "He said they reminded him of the birds we feed every day with the crumbs from our table." It was clear what Brother Victor thought of Brother Timothy.
Once again, Mendel was in a hurry to leave. "We will be late," he told them, picking up the parcel of food and adding it to the book he was already carrying. "Classes start in less than 30 minutes, we must move quickly."
"Of course, zaplatim prosim," said Makyatta, getting to he feet and using the traditional phrase 'I'll pay, please' Czech's say when they wish to leave a restaurant and request to pay for their meal.
Brother Victor burst our laughing, "Come back any time," he called after them as the schoolteacher and the red monk hurried away up the stairs.