Crusade of Tears: A Novel of the Children's Crusade (60 page)

A scrawny girl with long red hair tied behind her back looked at him sadly. Her face was sallow and her limbs but skin on bone. Pieter thought her to be about seven years old.
“Ich habe hunger, Vater
,” she said. “And so tired and lost.”

Pieter’s eyes moistened and he reached to hold her. Fearful of his touch she pulled away.

“Oh, m’precious lamb,” he said. “Precious little lamb, do not be afraid.”

She looked at him from round, green eyes. “I have walked far but I have no one.”

Others began to slowly gather around, wary, but each dirty face belying a yearning for comfort and protection. Pieter smiled at the ring of hopefuls staring at him.

“And you, good lad, and you,
Mädel
, and you … and you … I give m’blessings to all.”

A brave boy of about fourteen years stepped forward on his swollen bare feet. His sandy hair was long and dirty. His face was smudged with grime and drawn with hunger and his blue eyes were runny and bloodshot. “M’name is Helmut of the lands of Lord Ohrsbach near Bremen … and … and I wish to go home.”

Pieter sat on the ground and nodded as his crusaders now encircled the newcomers. To some of his fellows it seemed that their guide had suddenly aged a hundred years. He did not speak at first, but studied the anxious throng of
kinder
leaning toward him. At last he answered the waiting boy. “And so you shall, dear boy, so you shall.”

He turned again to the red-headed girl. “And what is your name, my dear?”

She hesitated for a moment, but answered with a sob. “I am Ava and I don’t know where I am from.”

“Do any of you know Ava?” Pieter asked the others.

None answered.

“Then, my dear Ava,” he said, “you shall be my friend and together we’ll find your home.”

Pieter beckoned Gertrude to his side and introduced Ava to her. Gertrude took the newcomer by both hands and they each smiled. The old man looked around the growing circle. “Listen to m’words,
kinder
. Any wishing to be m’friend is welcome. But first, I must help m’other friends embark on their journey.”

Pieter leaned hard on his staff for his heart was heavy and he was so very, very weary. But the faces that suddenly brightened around him lifted his spirits. “Now all of you, save Wil, wait here and do not move. Greet each other and talk to none other than yourselves until our return.”

“Wil, methinks the sea did not open. If you must press on, then we needs find a ship for passage.”

“Then let us find a ship,” answered Wil. A glint of determination flashed in his eye and Pieter suddenly felt uneasy, concerned the young man’s self-reliant pride may have been rekindled.

The two left the others behind and began a search along the docks for a ship bound for Palestine. For the better part of the day their search proved fruitless as they suffered the mockery of nearly every ship’s crew they engaged. But they had surely endured more outrage than the oaths of mere seamen and their persistent quest finally led them aboard
Madre Maria.

“Ho there, my good
Capitano
,” announced Pieter, “I seek passage for some pilgrims to Palestine.”

The captain strode toward Pieter and laughed like the others. “Ha! Is that so? Pity, you are too late,” he said. “Seven shiploads of your fair-faced whelps left this very port some time afore St. Michael’s Day.”

“Ah, I see. And when was St. Michael’s?

“Ha! Just two days past. And ‘twas quite a feast, indeed!”

Pieter’s face tightened and his skin flushed. “Could not this city spare a bit of feast for the poor
bambini
left behind?”

“Humph. Poor children left behind? The little devils never stop pouring from the mountains. We gather them up and ship them away as fast as we can, but still they come. And thousands left here for ports south … and some for Rome.

“The wretches that infest these docks are fever-bearers and thieves. Soon they shall be rounded up like rats and drowned.”

Pieter stamped his staff onto the deck. “These are children!” he roared. “Poor, helpless children!”

“Not so helpless,” added a sailor walking by. “Not so helpless that they cannot steal. When I was a boy we’d ‘ave been hanged for less.
No.
They are getting just what they deserve.”

“And what might that be?” growled Pieter.

“Stay by the docks this night,” said the sailor, “and see what happens to those who cannot hide … especially those little yellow-haired girls.”

Pieter’s fury rose like a raging Leviathan from deep waters and between his clenched teeth he pronounced a curse on the grinning seaman. “On you I cast damnation. May thy soul howl in torment through all the ages to come, may…”

Wil took Pieter by the arm and quieted him as the sailor laughed his way into the ship’s hold. When the priest’s anger quelled he turned a hard eye to the amused captain. “I say again,
Capitano
, what ship might be leaving for Palestine?”

The man stroked his short black beard and answered, “For a price, old man, I will see what I might learn along the wharf. But I suppose your brood has no fare? Nor do they have the strength to pull the sweeps … nor hang a sail….”

Pieter snapped a quick reply. “Indeed, sir, you are off the mark. I have less than a dozen of children and they’ve coins to pay.”

The captain laughed. “And I’m sure they’ve shillings enough for a distance as this! Ah, but I’ll see what I can find.”

Pieter thanked the man and walked with Wil to the edge of the dock. The two sat on the weather-worn planks and stared at the horizon. “I hope to never forget such a sight, Pieter,” Wil said. “It seems the sun is going to drown in all that water.”

“Watch and remember. Smell the smells, hear the sounds, taste the air; aye, even touch the rough wood under your young fingers. Feel life, lad. Feel it with all you can!”

Suddenly Heinz raced up to the pair. “Father Pieter! We need you soon. The others tell us we needs hide when the torches light.”

Pieter returned to the anxious flock and raised his hands over them. “Fear not. You shall be safe this night; you’ve numbers enough.”

Wil called to his crusaders. “We’ve a matter to settle,” he said in hushed tones. “We may have found passage.”

The children nodded.

Wil turned to the newcomers. “Do any wish to join us?”

Most shook their heads and a voice muttered timidly, “We … we just want to go home.”

But one boy stepped forward. He was a quiet-spoken lad. “M’name is Paul from Cologne and I should want to go.”

Conrad clasped his hand. “Then welcome.”

Gertrude had been whispering with Frieda and she stepped forward. “Wil?” she asked in a trembling voice, “would you be angry if Paul used m’place? Methinks I’d rather stay with Pieter and these others; I want to go to Maria and Anna.”

Wil looked compassionately at the nervous girl. He set his finger under her drooped chin and lifted her face toward his. His throat swelled. “Of course, dear Gertrude, you may stay.”

“Do any others of my company wish to stay with Pieter?” asked Wil loudly.

Most shifted on their feet, but none wished to remain. Satisfied that all was properly settled, Wil led the entire company toward the far end of the city docks where Pieter gave them some instructions. “We’ve business to attend; then we’ll return. Gather wood for a large fire and if we are delayed, stay together.”

Wil and Pieter hurried back to the
Madre Maria
in hopes of news. “The stars be with you, old man,” announced the captain. “I’ve found your whelps passage with a friend of mine, but the cost is one shilling each and my fee is one as well.”

It took a moment for Pieter to translate the words to Wil. The boy stiffened and wagged an angry finger in the man’s face. “We are on Holy Crusade. How dare you demand so much?”

The captain folded his arms and shrugged. “The lad’s barbaric tongue means nothing to me. Tell him he pays, else he may march back the way he came.”

Pieter bowed respectfully. “Good sir, we’ve not enough but you may have all we have.” Pieter tossed him six pennies. “As for you, we have three pennies for your trouble. Now what’ve ye learned of the ship?”

The man complained. “’Tis not the bargain!”

“The price is reduced … so which is our ship?”

“There,” pointed the man angrily. “Two slips away waits the
San Marco.
May the demons of deep water have your souls.”

Pieter and Wil walked across the dock and stood before the ship rocking gently in the fading light. It seemed to be a good ship, stout and high-sided, with a single row of sweeps and two sturdy masts. It had a hardy look about it, a strength wrought by many seasons on the sea. Wil’s heart fluttered with excitement.

But Pieter was uneasy. He sensed danger but dismissed his feelings abruptly as he followed Wil up the boarding plank. The two stepped, unchallenged, on to the warped deck of the
San Marco
and stood quietly to study the vessel.

Wil was bursting. He raised his face and strained to see the tops of the masts. He had only ever seen the boats of the river; stout, single-masted cogs, or flat-bottomed barges, or simple ferries. But this was so much more. He ran his hands along the smooth oak railing and admired the shipwright who had so skillfully crafted it.

“I see you like my little boat,” boasted a tall, thin man who emerged from a lantern-lit cabin. “My name is
Capitano
Gaetano and I speak your tongue. This big
furfante
is Otavio, my mate. I am told you seek passage to Palestine.”

Pieter nodded.

“Si.
’Tis plain your stars are in proper place. This ship sets her sails with the morning tide. We’ve a shipment of medicines and arms for hospitalers in Acre.” The man smiled. “It would bring us luck to escort a company of God’s chosen.”

The captain raised his eyebrows and turned his look to Wil. “
Ragazzo
, you might like to know that the first of your crusaders are safely bound for Jerusalem. We’ve heard the infidels have begun to faint just at the word of it!”

“You are certain?”

“
Si
…. as certain as I might be of the word of the sea. Perhaps it is true and perhaps it is not, for sailors are a clever lot.”

Pieter was not amused at the man’s repartee; he’d have been more content were the captain less clever and perhaps, better still, dim-witted.
Let him know the sea and his ship and no more. He’s a quick tongue and a cunning look.

Further, Pieter felt growing apprehension toward Otavio. The priest set a hawk’s eye on the burly seaman and chilled. Otavio stood tall and as straight as the mast behind him, a white shirt hanging loosely from his huge shoulders and a silk sash girding his large belly. His broad head was covered with a red scarf knotted on one side. A single, golden earring glowed in the dim light of the ship’s torch and his thick hand rested all too comfortably on the hilt of a silver-edged cutlass that was clearly his familiar companion.

Captain Gaetano continued. “I believe my friend has told you our fare?”

Pieter momentarily reconsidered, then yielded.
“Si,”
he said slowly. “Here is all we have.” He set a modest pouch of silver in the captain’s hand.

Gaetano threw his head back and laughed. “Now I am certain you to be a priest! I have yet to meet one who was not a scoundrel. The agreed amount, my friend, was a shilling for each passenger … perhaps fifteen I am told?”

“Well, that was the proposed price, but I told your fellow that we’d be happy to offer all we have and there it is.”

Gaetano tested the weight in his spread palm and feigned disappointment. “Ah,
Padre!
You wound me. I must feed them and hear their whinings and … ah, no matter. Perhaps God may bless the voyage all the more for m’loss.” Gaetano tossed the bag to Otavio and smiled. “Be here afore first light or we needs set off without you.”

Pieter and Wil returned to the waiting children and announced the news. “We’ve a ship and sail on the morrow’s dawn!” proclaimed Wil triumphantly. His fellows cheered and closed around him to hear his tale of the ship and the exciting news of Nicholas and the first wave of crusaders.

“We’re told our brothers and sisters are near Jerusalem, that the infidels are in fear! We’ll surely rescue Palestine … just as promised!”

The children were soon caught up in wild chatter of sailing ships and ocean waves and Saracens. Finally, Pieter interrupted the celebration and herded his evergrowing flock to an open field at the edge of the docks.

“There is always strength in numbers,” he said. “Even if we are but children and an old man.”

Wil ordered the fire be built and his followers were directed to share the last of their provisions with the others. Pieter found two drunken soldiers with whom he exchanged prayers for the souls of their departed mothers for their guard over his growing flock. And, after a meager meal, a bit more chatter, and a few quiet prayers, some two-score children fell fast asleep in the warm glow of a bold campfire.

Well before dawn and some before lauds, Pieter awakened and wandered among the slumbering innocents clustered all around. He fell to his knees and prayed God’s mercy on each and every one … those with whom he had traveled so far and those whom he had just met. When he had laid his hands on the last of them he crawled to a distant corner and lay prostrate in the dew. “Dear God,” he groaned, “I’ve neither the strength to bid my beloved farewell, nor to return o’er the mountains with these others.” He felt truly weary and overwhelmed.