Crusade of Tears: A Novel of the Children's Crusade (26 page)

Pieter shrugged his shoulders and, wounded by her words, slinked back to his bench. The party was over.

Chapter 12

THE EDGE OF THE PIT

K
arl and Friederich foraged the nearby villages and returned to the others happy to present Georg with a full set of clothing. “We found a miller who’d part with this all for but eight pennies!” boasted Friederich.

Georg offered a halfhearted smile and politely restrained comment on the selection. Wil, however, was all too eager to offer his. “You spent nearly a shilling for these moth-eaten tatters? You ought know better than trust a miller.”

“No tatters here!” snapped Karl. “The tunic’s a good wool and the leggings are heavy linen. We’ve even a flaxen undersuit and, look here, we’ve leather shoes with but one hole at the heel.”

“Karl,” sighed Wil, “this ‘good wool’ is threadbare at the shoulders, the side splits run beyond their seam, the leggings are badly worn in the seat, and both knees have holes. The shoes are dry and cracked. What’s wrong with you, y’dolt? You’ll not be a merchant, ’tis plain to see.”

“But, Wil,” said Georg, “these are far better than the blanket I’d be wearing now!”

Karl interrupted. “And look. I squeezed the miller to give these shears as well. We needs present ourselves proper to Basel and we’ve all need of a head shearing.”

“You’re mad, Karl!” laughed Wil. “And stay clear of me with those clippers of yours!”

“I’ll be as Mother says is right to be. She says that others fail to offer trust when we’re off our proper way, and—”

Wil spun on his heels. “Speak not of Mother’s endless instruction! I’ve no regard for such and I’ve less regard for others’ trust.”

Karl was unprepared for the rebuke. “I only thought it good for us to appear properly shorn for the city and for the Feast of Assumption…. You do hope we’ll get there?”

Wil did not answer but a bright-eyed Lukas added that he thought a feast was “a fit remedy for our troubles.” Others echoed his remark and soon a lively discussion ensued in which each dirty-faced crusader described his particular idea of a good and proper festival. They chattered of tables heaped high with early fruits and steaming venison, of minstrels and jugglers, of bright colors and laughter. Oh, what dreams they shared, what joyous visions revelled in their sparkling eyes!

While the others chattered and gibbered, Georg addressed a more immediate concern and shuffled off behind a clump of small bushes to change into his new wardrobe. And, after a succession of long, strained grunts, he emerged from his cover to return to his comrades with what modicum of dignity his new attire might stubbornly yield. The shocked children fell abruptly silent and looked carefully at their red-faced companion as Wil studied the poor boy from head to toe. “Karl and Friederich, ’tis clear y’gave no thought to the boy’s size, y’ignorant fools.”

Karl glanced at Friederich and struggled to decide whether to beg for pardon or release a hearty laugh! Georg’s linen breeches gripped his thighs like wet silk, exposing every bulge and crease to eager critics. They stretched to a place just below his knees, far from his ankles which they ought to cover. His shoes were far too big and Wil thought them to be like giant buckets planted at the end of his stout legs. His poor tunic was strained over his belly, the side seams gaping and the edges curling just above his hips. His sleeves clasped his forearms not halfway from his elbow, and his armpits suffered with every chafing swing of his arms. Each step brought the sound of ripping and popping as he waddled uncomfortably toward his rollicking friends.

“Perhaps if I bend a little, this shall yield to follow my figure some better, say, Karl?” Georg asked sheepishly.

“Well, methinks you unfamiliar with the clothing of a peasant, but—”

“The clothing of a peasant?” Wil interrupted. “This is more the clothing of a madman!”

That remark sent the wheezing children into another chorus of belly laughs while Maria plucked a small wildflower and tucked it in the poor lad’s belt. “Perhaps this shall help?” she tittered kindly.

Georg looked down at the little flower squashed indelicately between his belt and his paunch and his face suddenly brightened. “Look at me,” he roared. “Just look at me!” The cheerful boy laughed and laughed a good, hearty laugh, an honest laugh—a belly-shaker and a tear-maker—the kind of laugh that good friends share.

When the crusaders finally quieted, Karl offered a sincere apology to Georg and the two clasped hands. He then commanded all the boys to assemble so that he could shear their hair and make them the kind of “proper Christian soldier” that they ought to be. Reluctant, but submissive to such a familiar charge, they formed a row, each nervously waiting his turn as Karl went to work quickly, clipping and chopping and pulling at their stubborn locks. It seemed that he was finished before any could react and the boys soon stood grimacing at each other in disbelief. The little warriors looked like poorly-shorn sheep waiting for some sympathetic shepherd to herd them from view! But the proud barber was oblivious to all grievances and cut his own red curls before stuffing his rusty shears in his blanket.

Karl flopped down on the grass next to his brother, who simply shook his head at such a pitiful spectacle. The two sat quietly as the day slowly passed, each lost in thought. Below them was the faithful Rhine dotted with struggling ferries and a few passing sailing ships. Beyond the river were the city’s walls and merchantmen’s homes which overlooked them from within. Beyond that waited a beautiful world of rising, green mountains against a rich, blue sky. “Oh, how beautiful, Wil. How truly beautiful. If only I might be an angel and fly high above. It is such a wonder.”

Wil hesitated for a moment before answering. “I would’ve wagered you to see it that way. Nay, poor, unsuspecting brother, what I see is a world to be conquered; a giant fortress of opposing walls which we’ll scale.”

“Ach,
Wil, can y’not see the beauty in it? Are you blind to those deep shadows growing in yon valleys … and oh, how beautiful the green. I have ne’er seen such green before…. And the look of the city, and the banners and flags, and …”

“Y’ve seen green before, and y’ve seen shadows … humph … more shadows than you’d ever dare admit. Aye, and y’ve seen a blue sky and y’ve seen pretty colors—so what’s new in it?”

Karl shrugged his shoulders. “I’ve … I’ve … no answer, but when I look there, m’eyes do prove the world to be a better place than what you and others charge. The world is a place of beauty and hope and … and good things to come!”

“So ’tis true? Ha. Speak to Lothar about hope, Karl, and tell Maria how very comely is her arm. What of the good news for those hanged from that accursed tree? By God, Karl! You are blind to the world as it truly is. You needs open your eyes and see how to overcome it or you’ll be lying ’neath a stony grave before you scrape a whisker off that angel face.”

Karl was woefully unprepared to counter. “You … you have always thought yourself to be the better of us all.”

Wil smirked. “Now you see the world as it is … at last. By the saints, you’ve stumbled upon truth. Aye, I am not wont to err like most, nor shall y’find me a servant to any man. Nay, all I need are these good arms of mine. And you’ll ne’er find me cowering in battle, never! I see the evil in wait all around and I am its better.” Wil jumped to his feet and smiled a haughty smile, a self-serving, offending smile—a hate-maker and a heartbreaker—the kind of smile that wounds.

Karl stubbornly rose and stared at the unyielding face of Wil. “We cannot both be right. Perhaps in time
you
shall learn.”

Wil dismissed the remark and abruptly planted his hands on his hips. He looked beyond his brother and barked to his company, “Set the column. It shall be dark soon enough and we need to find the old man. I fear he’s fallen into more trouble with that splendid wit of his.”

The children promptly gathered and obediently followed Wil toward the bank of the Rhine and the busy path leading to the docks. “We’ll need some silver to cross.” Wil reached into his satchel and retrieved the fare. He handed his pennies to a grizzled ferryman and soon the crusaders were packed tightly aboard a wide-bottomed boat. As the grunting oarsmen pulled them closer to the south shore, they could begin to hear the snapping of the city flags. To these young children of the German heartland it seemed as if they were about to enter the portals of the City of Zion, and they were suddenly nervous.

“Methinks we ought sing!” cried Karl.

With a roll of Wil’s eyes, the company disembarked and gathered on the crowded dock to sing a chorus of hope.

A snicker wound its way through the alehouse as a sheepish Pieter succumbed to the ale-maid’s rebuke. He shrugged and sought sympathy from the smiling stranger when his heart seized. “
Mein Gott,”
he exclaimed. “My children!” Pieter abruptly stood to his wobbly feet and begged his new friend to come with him.

“I’ll escort y’to the bridge but then I’ve needs be on m’way.”

The pair hurried through the crowded streets as Pieter grew insistent. “I am excited for you to meet my little lambs, good friend. You heard it said, ‘A look into the eye of youth adds a year of good life’!”

Friend slowed his pace. “No,” he said slowly, “I find children an unbearable reminder of m’own dear lads, and I fear such pain.”

Pieter stopped to catch his breath. “Poor stranger, your sadness weighs on me, but I am most certain you shall find my brave little band a blessing. They are oft so eager, so determined, and so very stouthearted. I vow they shall touch your heart and bring hope to your weary soul.”

The two soon passed through the wide gate and hurried to the docks when Pieter suddenly recognized the familiar melody of his beloved children. A huge smile spread across his weathered face and he grabbed Friend by his tunic and pulled him through a surging crowd toward his flock now climbing up the bank. “Ho, ho, my children!” Pieter bellowed as he stumbled toward them. “’Tis so very, very good to see you. I humbly beg your pardon for my delay.”

Wil’s scolding eyes would have said enough but the lad felt compelled to press his complaint. “You’ve been spending time with a tankard of poor hops,” he said sharply. “I can smell your breath from here and I can see you need this fellow to steady you.”

Solomon jumped playfully on the priest and the old man rubbed his scruffy ears.
No judgment from this one,
grumbled Pieter to himself. “Ah yes, indeed, lad … you ne’er fail to go straight to the mark. My prayer is that you shall learn from my counsel and not my example.”

Wil surrendered. “By heaven, Pieter, you do frustrate me. I’d be a liar to say ’tis not a relief to find you … though, be sure, we’d be certain to press on without you. Now, I trust you’ve found us some food and a lodging for tonight?”

“Ah,” fumbled Pieter. He directed his eyes to Karl. “Ah, boy, ’tis good to welcome you to Basel and I trust—” Pieter stopped and stared. “Dear lads, what has happened to your poor heads?”

The girls began to giggle but the remark bore sudden indignity among the boys who abruptly stuffed their crosses back into their belts and growled at Karl. “Ah, so I see,” continued Pieter. “Methinks you to now have the look of fine, disciplined soldiers, quite unlike this scoundrel here,” he said with a wink, pointing to Wil.

Having stood in the way of others passing by, the company followed Pieter and his odd companion through the city gate and to a quiet corner of the fish market. “You’ve not yet answered my question,” pressed Wil.