Crusade of Tears: A Novel of the Children's Crusade (31 page)

Pieter smiled at the frustrated patient. “A faithful envoy brings healing.”

“Begone!” boomed Bernard, clutching his jaw.
“Mein Gott
… the pain!”

“Very well, then. We’ll be on our way. I do so respect a man who is able to make a difficult decision quickly. But I must confess, I oft wonder which to be the more difficult for prosperous men of commerce such as thyself: taking advantage of others or holding fast from being taken advantage of? It seems to a poor pilgrim as myself that the guarding of such plenty is, indeed, a wretched burden. Ah, but what little I must know—blessing to all.”

Pieter turned toward the door and whispered to Wil, “To the pure show yourself pure, but to the crooked show yourself shrewd.”

The secretary winced as Bernard pounded his fist on a table. “Come hither, y’miserable, doltish thief. Come fix my tooth, y’heartless madman!”

Dorothea now entered the room with the supplies that had been requested and set them on the table by Bernard’s couch. “Is all well, Father?”

Bernard fell back and groaned. “Nay, ’tis not all well. This … this … Teuton you’ve brought me has a cold heart and—”

“Ah, Papa, his old head is white with wisdom and his fingers nimble with the arts of healing. You must rest easy and on the morrow you shall be happy for his coming.”

Bernard grunted, too exhausted to argue and always quick to yield to his daughter’s gentle lead. “
Ach
!” he groused. “Give me the order to sign.”

Pieter checked his herbs carefully while the secretary handed Bernard a parchment with a sly wink. Bernard nodded approvingly and turned it over to Pieter. The world-wise priest was not unaccustomed to the games of commerce and he read the document carefully by the window’s better light. He set the parchment down and smiled. “I thank you, my generous and good lord. May God prosper and bless you and thy issue for generation upon generation. But I do see something. I see …”

“Enough. Enough! I know what you are about to say. I cannot spare all that you asked, but I grant you exactly one-half of what you’ve asked!” Bernard cried. “Now fix m’cursed tooth!”

By now the nobleman was near tears and Dorothea cast a scolding look at Pieter. The old man hesitated for a moment and stroked his beard. “One-half does not take proper care of my children. But I am neither heartless nor unreasonable, so I shall do this for you, my lord: I’ll take away half thy pain for what you’ve offered.”

Bernard’s twisted face flushed red with rage and he glared at the priest incredulously. “You ask too much. Where is your charity?”

“Ah, that,” answered Pieter. “Mine is well placed in favor of my lambs … and might I inquire where I might find yours? I vow to you that your pain shall leave this room afore I do; of that you can be certain. And I pledge your tooth to stay in its place. You shall enjoy relief and shall retain your tooth but, as added blessing, you perchance eternal gain. For there is no doubt in my mind that our Holy Mother sees His lambs huddled in the cold and is moved to reward those who offer them care.”

Pieter paused and watched Bernard tap the table with nervous fingers. “Now, here I stand, offering you both earthly relief and eternal wealth, and all the while am slandered as a common thief and demon.” He raised his long, bony nose high in the air as if he were the inculpable victim of incredible slander. “I must confess to you, my lord, I find this most difficult to grasp and I do suddenly fear more for your soul than your tooth.”

The outmaneuvered Bernard squirmed on his couch and looked for help from his stunned daughter, who fought hard to not smile at the irony of the moment: Her cunning and shrewd father, burgher of the town, a man feared by nobleman and peasant alike for his ruthless wit and savvy, lay cornered and cowered by a beggar priest.

A sudden bolt of pain racked the lord and he clutched his jaw. “Old man,” he whined, “listen to me. By all appearance it would seem that we do revel in bounty, but we’ve had a lesser harvest than in times past. Your terms are much for a single tooth. I… I will meet your demands by half, plus half again. I beg this to be enough.”

Pieter knew he had found the limit. Even Wil’s eyes implored him to have mercy. “Blessings on you, sire. I am humbled by your faithfulness to our Lord.” The contest won, the priest now silently implored his Maker for help.
Lord, m’memory of these things does fail
me.
Forgive my insolence and guide my mind and my hands. Restore my thoughts by Your grace, and may Wil and this wretched servant of Yours leave this place alive!

Pieter smiled cautiously and dabbed the perspiration now beaded on his forehead before reaching tentatively for his herbs. He withdrew root of peony and mixed it slowly with oil of roses and soaked the linen in the mixture. He placed it gently on the submissive man’s forehead. “Uh … this shall help relieve the pain. You must be certain to sleep this afternoon with this linen on your head. Daughter, you must keep the linen soaked with this solution.”

Dorothea nodded.

Pieter hesitated for a moment but suddenly began to work with growing confidence. He smiled a little as he watched his hands move deftly, as if directed by another Mind. He quickly took vinegar, oil, and sulphur; mixed it into a thin paste; and promptly placed it atop the sore tooth. He then gently rubbed the paste into the gum for several minutes hoping something would happen, and, to Pieter’s delight, Bernard mumbled that his pain was easing. Pieter set the mixture aside and instructed Dorothea further. “You needs place this substance on his gums every two hours through this day and night, on the morrow and the morrow next.”

Bernard was now lying comfortably with the wet linen on his brow and the concoction kneaded well into his gums. Having eased the pain, Pieter turned his arts to the cause of the trouble. He paused for a moment, then smiled as his memory came alive with the exact remedy. The old priest took a candle of mutton fat and rubbed seed of sea holly at the base of the wick. He lit the candle and sat behind Bernard with a half-filled bowl of water readied on the table. Pieter carefully positioned Bernard’s head on his lap and held the candle above the nobleman’s jaw. He gently pulled Bernard’s lip away from the inflamed molar and skillfully lowered the candle close to the tooth so that the hot wax and melted herb could drip onto the rim of the gum. This was intended to kill the worms that were known to sometimes bore the roots of teeth.

Bernard was then instructed to rinse his mouth with warm water and spit into the clay bowl that Wil was holding. The boy wrinkled his nose as Pieter poked about the murky spittle for evidence of the elusive worms.

Pieter repeated the procedure several times over the next hour and at last pronounced the tooth restored.
“Ja, ja
. ’Tis a proper remedy, I am certain of it. Rest well, sire, your complaint has been resolved.”

Bernard sighed and smiled weakly, grateful beyond measure for the relief. He ordered his secretary to direct his overseer to honor the terms of the agreement. “Well done,
Vater,
well done. I feel like a new man.” He leaned close to Pieter’s ear and whispered, “I do admire your skills … both of dentistry and of commerce.” Bernard winked. “Ah, but now give me leave for I must sleep. May God’s mercy follow you.”

Pieter bowed respectfully, nudging Wil to do likewise, and the pair followed Dorothea quietly out of the house and to the main gate. The waiting band of dirty-faced children raced toward them and waited expectantly for a full report. Pieter, his own relief equaled only by that of Bernard’s, grinned a happy, mischievous grin and picked his favored Maria off her feet. “God has been good to us this day, children,” he proclaimed. “We have been blessed by this fair lady’s master with provisions enough!”

The children restrained a hearty cheer and circled the smiling Dorothea. Frieda and Gertrude took the graceful woman by the hand and touched her fine garments. “M’dear lady,” offered Gertrude, “such a beautiful gown and cape. I’ve ne’er seen better.”

Dorothea stroked the girl’s tangled brown hair and thanked her gently. “And you, my little one, have such beautiful eyes.”

Gertrude’s round face flushed and she turned away. No one had ever told her she was beautiful before, and the thought of it warmed her in a pleasing, though unfamiliar way.

By nones, two soldiers appeared from around a corner escorting a bent old man and his heavy-laden oxcart toward the hopeful children. “
Ja, ja
… good day to all. I bring the master’s order to you.” The man stopped and coughed violently. “There is fever about the villages … be warned.” He pointed to the cart and motioned for the children to unload it. “Aye, ’tis yours, children, come.”

“All lend a hand … pack every blanket and satchel … and be quick to it,” ordered Wil.

As the others raced to unburden the cart, Maria approached the perspiring man and offered him a tiny flower. He wiped his face and gave the girl a hug as he wheezed a tender
Danke.

It took but a little time for the happy crusaders to properly pack their new provisions, kneel with Pieter in a heartfelt prayer, and bid Dorothea farewell. Then, with the wooden walls of Olten behind them, the faithful children set their course toward the wide valley leading to Burgdorf and the Feast of the Assumption.

Jon I and his brother Jon II, Lukas, Otto, Maria, Frieda, Gertrude, Anna, Georg, Karl, Conrad, Manfred, Jost and Albert, little Friederich, Pieter and Solomon, Wil and all his other soldiers had once again been joined by their wandering, but oft returning companion—Hope. The terrors of Basel were fading quickly, as were the images of the battlefield and the heavy sadness of friends lost. It was as if the band was starting its journey afresh, far from fear and free from the sufferings it had so recently endured. It seemed to most that God was with them after all, and they pressed into the late day hours renewed and encouraged.

The crusaders followed the Aare River south from Olten, intending to march along its comfortable banks until a sharp westward bend that Pieter knew. They soon found a small road to follow in the center of a wide plain leading to Burgdorf. The group was merry and glad-hearted, many singing or laughing along a river somewhat swollen with the heavy rains that Lord Bernard said often plagued the region this time of year.

The day was rapidly shortening, especially with the darkness cast by a bank of heavy clouds sagging toward the company from the south. Pieter cast an eye upward, then scanned the flat landscape. “Bernard’s secretary cautioned me of harsh storms on this side of the mountains.”

About three furlongs upstream, a new mill was standing near the river’s edge. It had been built at an inside bend in the river where the bank had been dug away to form a deep pond, dammed on one end to feed the mill’s wheel. It was a clever way to control the force of the water. Beneath the wheel the water was immediately returned to the river via a narrow, deep ditch. Wil spotted the mill. “There, Pieter. We can weather the storm there.”

The sky suddenly turned angry and the children raced for the cover of the mill, only to find its door locked and its windows shuttered fast. A few heavy drops of cold rain began to drop as Wil and Pieter groused about the secured mill. “There, on the bank.” Wil pointed to a sheep shed set at the base of the dam about a stone’s throw from the turning wheel. “Would be cover enough. Out of the wind and a good roof.”

Pieter nodded and the wind began to howl. “Hurry, then.”

The company scampered along the low riverbank and rushed beneath the short roof of the three-sided shed, grateful, to be sure. The shed had a good thatched roof, recently repaired by the look of it, and its planked walls guarded them from the wind suddenly blasting sheets of rain. Karl retrieved a fresh flint granted by Bernard, and pulled some dry thatch from the underside of the shed. Others darted to the river’s edge and dashed back with float-wood and sticks. Soon a small campfire was snapping and all were happy again.

Night fell upon them like the dropping of a black curtain and a dreadful stillness abruptly blanketed the plain. For a few precious moments only the nervous whines of Solomon and the lapping of the nearby river could be heard. The group stared into the darkness hoping the storm had only been a passing squall.

Then suddenly, as if the night had simply paused to catch its breath, the wind shifted to the east and a stinging rain began to pour and pound atop the river valley in violent torrents. The air turned icy-cold and the frightened children balled together as thunder cracked and lightning blazed across the sky. In the next moment, a horrible gust roared around the shelter’s edge and smothered the pilgrims’ fire like a scoffing giant snuffing a choking wick. The band now sat in utter darkness.