Crusade of Tears: A Novel of the Children's Crusade (54 page)

The red-faced merchant spun around and snapped, “You … you …” He could not help but notice the expectant crowd now leaning forward in eager anticipation of his answer. He then plunged his fingers again into his strongbox and threw a handful of coins at Pieter. “That is plenty enough for the Holy Church this day.” The man attempted a hasty retreat.

Pieter watched the pennies spin at his feet and winked at his spellbound crusaders. He called after Constantino, “Oh, kind and honorable man?”

The merchant froze in his steps. He feared to face the priest and answered where he stood.
“Si? ”
he boomed.

“When thy boats are unloaded would you offer one last charity to these faithful servants? Could you find in thine gracious heart enough kindness to have some oarsmen row us over the river so we might continue our journey?”

Constantino punched his fist into his hand and looked once again at the expectant crowd. Utterly vanquished, the man closed his eyes in defeat and nodded.

Pieter thanked him again and turned to the audience. “If ever a Pavian could earn a blessing, it would be the honorable Constantino, I am certain of it.”

The crowd melted away and the crusaders waited by the dock for their transport, each begging Pieter to tell the story of what had just happened. The old man sighed, not eager to share such a tale, and not particularly proud of his accomplishment. But theirs was not a companionship of secrets, and he told all.

When he finished, Karl narrowed a hard look toward Pieter and scolded him. “I confess, Pieter, I sometimes think you to be the most godly man ever, and at other times I think y’to be but a wicked, black heart! We had no promise of payment—I believe y’to have lied. Is it not so?”

Pieter was well aware of his occasional excesses in judgment, but the arrogant piety in the boy’s rebuke did not draw him to repentance. “’Do not be over-righteous, why destroy thyself?’”

“Ha! You give me words of Scripture to defend your evil? By truth, Pieter, you do confound me so. I…”

Wil had enough. “Still the little saint… is it to be St. Karl of Weyer?”

The others laughed.

“Wrong is wrong and I know I’m on the mark to—”

Pieter interrupted. “Perhaps you are right to rebuke me, Karl, right indeed.” The old man sighed. “Methinks you needs now take these coins and cast them into the river—that ought be proper penance.”

Karl looked at the pennies and hesitated. “That isn’t the point. I just don’t know why y’made a fool of the man and used your wits as a weapon against him, all the while claiming the Church and things holy.”

“When I was young, Karl, I would have beaten that arrogant belly-hog for striking your brother without cause,” Pieter replied. “But I am not young and so, instead of violence, I am left only with treachery; a wicked choice to be sure.” He extended his hand toward Karl. “Good lad, I meant not to steal from him, nor did my lies bring me joy. I was angered by his ways and thought him deserving of some justice. Perhaps I ought not be so inclined; perhaps ‘tis never a time for treachery.”

Pieter paused and then smiled. “Ah, but cunning has its place.”

Over the next days the crusaders marched south and slightly westward across the plain of Lombardy, passing by the stone-walled village of Sommo and crossing the wide Po River at a shallow ford. Their provisions were holding fairly well, as each day they successfully gleaned grains from the ample fields stretching in all directions. Though hand-threshing with heavy, flat rocks made for a husk-laden gruel, the crusaders were grateful for full bellies.

The march was easy and took them to the narrow Scrivia River, which they followed southward toward Tortona. The sandy soil of the plain was kind to the crusaders’ worn feet and they arrived in good spirits at the ancient town. Though they were not discontented with their present lot, they nevertheless looked forward to what bounty might be waiting for them behind the walls just ahead.

Wil led his company past an agreeable porter and into the town’s marketplace on the day before Sabbath. The folk were busy with preparations for St. Michael’s Day less than a week ahead. “I had been so certain,” said Wil, “that we would be at the sea long before St. Michael’s. I am beginning to wonder if there’d be a sea at all!”

The old man chuckled. “Ah, my son, there surely is a sea and I count us perhaps a week away. We needs pass over the edges of Piedmont into the mountains of Liguria and then you shall smell the sea in the air.”

“Can’t we linger for one day of feast somewhere?” pleaded Frieda.

A chorus of others agreed. “Just one day?” begged one. “Aye, Wil, we can surely spare a single day!”

Wil hesitated. “I think we needs press on. I’d not be pleased to miss Nicholas and the others for one day of feasting. But this day is already by nones and the town seems friendly enough. We can stay here until the morrow.”

Happy for any rest, the children followed him into the market square where they were immediately struck by the town’s bright hues. Gardens of flowers, fine tapestries, and snapping pennants adorned the otherwise drab, gray-stone buildings. The sky above was a brilliant blue and the sun sparkled overhead. Feast or not, it was a good day.

“The free towns in these parts are wealthy,” instructed Pieter. “Here the clever and the shrewd find much opportunity to prosper, and a person willing to work hard might build a good life.”

As they rounded a corner Pieter’s eyes widened. He grinned mischievously and pointed to a large bathhouse. “Ha! Look in there,
kinder.
You shall see tiled pools of water where, for a few pennies, one can soak in the comfort of a warm bath until he wrinkles like a shriveled grape.”

Frieda’s cheeks pinked.

“Oh, don’t blush, my dear,” said Pieter. “The gentlemen bathe separate from the ladies, of course.”

The pilgrims tittered and whispered among themselves. Otto winked at Heinz and approached Pieter with a sly grin. “You’ve some shillings in your pouch. Some here think we ought spare a few pennies to bathe with the rich.”

Pieter hesitated for a moment. He took a long look at his dirty-faced flock. “Hmm … you did already bathe in the Ticino … but… you’d still be a filthy litter. Your skin, Conrad, is almost as dark as your hair. And you, Karl, and you, Wil, and Heinz …
Ach.
You do Christendom some shame.
Mein Gott
, Otto, your freckles are hidden ‘neath the filth!”

The children laughed. Gertrude held out her smudged arms and compared them to her sister’s. “Wouldn’t
Mutti
like to see this, Frieda? She’d take the bristles to us for sure.”

The company began to plead for a swim in the baths. “Wil, we needs smell some better or the beggin’s in peril,” pleaded Heinz. “And what of the other crusaders ahead? What’ll they think of us?”

Wil seemed unsure. “I… I … there may be better uses for our money and …”

The crusaders would not yield and they raised a chorus loud enough to waken the Roman spirits that once dipped in these same baths! Wil finally conceded. “
Ach.
Go then. Frieda, take the girls where y’must, and the rest follow me.”

The delighted pilgrims cheered and patted Wil on his back as giddy Pieter danced in the dusty roadway. At last, a bit of frolic for the weary band; a proper remedy dispensed in proper time!

The excited children raced toward the bathhouse, cheering and screaming like playmates racing toward the Maypole. Wil counted out the payment to a reluctant keeper and led his boys to a slippery, tile-floored chamber where they ripped away their soiled tunics and leggings. Then, to the utter dismay of the lords and noblemen relaxing in their docile waters, the grimy, wiggling, raucous crowd of little Germans crashed into the quiet water, splashing like schools of famished carp in a spring rain!

The frustrated lords growled and barked at the howling boys.
“Fermatevi… Andate via! ”
But suddenly they fell silent, dumbstruck as if gazing upon some horrid, ancient ghost just risen from a moldy tomb. If the pesky boys were not penalty enough for the indignant bathers, Pieter surely was; a frightful vision not soon to be forgotten in the baths of Tortona!

As naked as the day of his long-ago birth, the old man defied the most artful words of the most learned scribe. He stood at the poolside, blind to his own appearance, though, judging by the grimaces of all who dared gaze his way, he ventured a guess that he must look worse than he imagined. Nevertheless, his vanities were placed elsewhere and he stood there content and grinning, his lone tooth hanging ever proudly from his smooth gums. His blue eyes twinkled, his wispy beard fluttered and frolicked in a light draft; but, oh, the bleached, white skin draped on such old bones. And the ribs, oh, the ribs!

Suddenly a voice boomed from the water, “Have mercy on us,
nonno
, and hide yourself in the water … quickly!”

The whole pool burst into laughter. “No, no!” cried another. “If he gets in, I want out! ”

So, midst the roars and laughs, heckles and jeers of friends and strangers alike, Pieter gingerly walked across the slippery tile and down the marble steps into the warm waters of the ancient bath.

In the other courtyard the girls timidly stepped into their own bath, giggling at the sight of the wealthy
matrone
soaking their ample bodies in the healing waters. Despite the unwelcome grunts of the bath’s patrons, the girls were soon scrubbing their filthy skin with scented French soaps and tittering at the sight of themselves. The gentle bath was good medicine for their aching bodies and soothing to their heavy hearts.

But, alas, the pleasures were as short-lived as the bath-master’s patience, and the company was soon commanded to leave. After a few complaints and a brief exchange of angry words, the crusaders found themselves clothed again in their leggings and tunics, gowns and robes and marching behind Wil toward the town’s center.

“I overheard two remarkable things in that bath,” said a most relaxed Pieter to any who would listen. “Two remarkable things, indeed. First, I learned that the astronomers of Cathay believe that a metal needle can be made to always point north. This would mean a new way to navigate.
Ach,
this is beyond my ability to believe.”

A metal needle?” quizzed Karl. “What would a metal needle know?”

Pieter shrugged. “I am simply telling you what I heard; and those who spoke it were well traveled and seemed truthful enough. But, it seems unlikely God would be pleased with such a thing. Methinks it good to look upward for direction,” mused Pieter, winking.

“And what is this second thing?” asked Karl.

“Ah, yes. This amazes me as well. The mathematicians have proposed a new idea. You understand how we use shapes for numbers? Good. You needs listen: They intend to use a small circle on parchment to mean … nothing.”

“What?” blurted Wil. “Nay. How can something mean nothing? Is this another of your riddles?”

“Ach,
nay. No riddle, boy. They’ve named it ‘zero.’”

“We’ve no need of such a stupid thing,” grumbled Karl. “Why would we want to add a shape that adds naught?”

“Indeed.” Pieter scratched his head. “Hmm, a symbol that means nothing. ‘Tis most peculiar.”

Conrad overheard part of the conversation. “What means nothing?”

“A circle means nothing.”

“Nay, a circle means a circle, Karl. Are you mad?”

“Nay. A circle means zero.”

“What is zero?”

“Nothing!” snapped Wil.

“Ha! Methinks you all to be mad.”

Pieter laughed. “’Tis a strange world we travel, m’lads. I only wish I might see what things shall confuse and confound
you
in your old age.

“Oh, and more, children, m’old brain’s failed me again. I had forgotten to tell you of something in Pavia.”

The children slowed their pace again. “It was the place where the great Carthaginian general, Hannibal, won a battle over the Roman general Publius Cornelius … something.”

“And why do we needs know that?” asked Wil.

“Ah. Because Hannibal did what we have done. He crossed the Alps with an army, though he first crossed the ocean and his company rode on animals—animals that you have never seen, called elephants.”

“Eh?”

“Elephants.”

Otto’s ears cocked. “And what does an elephant look like?”