by R W Sowrider
“Indeed, that is amazing,” Rowen replied. “It’s more of a good guess in a game of chance than a miracle per se, but nonetheless, I welcome you as an esteemed disciple.”
“Indeed,” the boy repeated, clenching his fist and teeth in triumph. “A miracle of miracles.”
No sooner did the dice-guessing boy leave than did another youngster approach.
“Messiah,” he said, kneeling in front of them. “You will never believe the miracle that I experienced.”
“Go on, my friend.”
“Just this very Sunday, I was on a hill just like this one, and I put my hands on the ground and the heavens and earth flipped upside and whizzed and whirred and I realized that I was levitating. And then in the blink of an eye, the heavens and earth flipped upside down again and bang , I was back on my feet. Have you ever heard of such a wondrous miracle?!”
“Oh, you sweet thing,” Sera said, patting the boy on the head. “That’s what we call a cartwheel. You did yourself a cartwheel.”
As Sera’s words washed over him, he stared off into space with a look of self-awe. “A miraculous cartwheel. ”
“Just a cartwheel, my friend,” Rowen said. “But nonetheless, I am very impressed.”
“Does this mean I get to be in your group of miracle-workers?”
“Yes, my friend. I would be happy to have you as a disciple.”
“Woo-hoo!” the cartwheel boy shouted as he joyfully sprinted down the hill. But as he reached the halfway point, he stopped suddenly, looked back to make sure that Rowen and Sera were watching, then head-planted himself into the ground in an epically failed cartwheel.
“Why does everyone think they need to perform a miracle to be one of your followers?”
“Not sure.”
“It’s so weird.”
“Yeah, but whether they’ve performed a miracle or not, the important thing is their belief. Belief in God. Belief in miracles. And belief in God’s will.”
***
Once the number of Rowen’s disciples outnumbered his entire town’s population, he knew that the time was at hand.
So on the third Sunday of the third month, he gave a sermon on the hill that would change the fate of the world.
“Peace be to you,” he began, raising his hands high in the air.
“And also with you!” his followers replied.
“I have wonderful news.
“Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior, has spoken.
“He said, ‘Restore the Holy Land to its rightful inhabitants.’
“He said that only we can do it.
“The Father and Son grow weary of the heathen occupying Jerusalem; those foul creatures who continue to commit atrocities against the true believers.
“For too long, the wicked have oppressed with tyrannical violence our religious brethren in that hallowed land.
“On a daily basis, the unclean unleash dogs on our people.
“They use our fathers as slaves, our siblings as punching bags, and our mothers as pelvic punching bags.
“No longer can we sit idly by, watching in silence.
“The time has come to put an end to the persecution and rape.
“For the sake of the one true faith, for the sake of the world, and even for the sake of those ignorant barbarians, this war must end.
“And we, my faithful followers, are the ones to do it.
“We are the only ones who can.
“Many of our predecessors heard of the atrocities committed in the Holy Land and some of them made gallant attempts to stop it.
“King Richard, in the name of God, gave up everything he had to try to right the wrongs committed against the true believers. Unfortunately, the power of evil was too strong and he failed in his quest.
“It is no secret why. While he was righteous and just, his followers were flawed.
“Three times thereafter, our fellow Christians took up the cause and failed.
“They know not why. But I know. All of us here know.
“They lacked faith, resolution, and purity of heart. Some even sought personal gain.
“It is a common thing among adults. In their youth, when faced with grave injustice, their hearts burn to remedy the iniquity. But as they age, the fire retards and rather than thinking of others, they become selfish cretins, caring only about food to eat, a roof to sleep under, and a wife to beat their children with .
“I do not blame them. Such is nature. And if their heart turns cold, surely they will be defeated. Surely, they will fall prey to the wicked heathen whose destructive desire knows no bounds. Who continue to commit their atrocities in the Holy Land to this very day.
“‘Who can win?’ some may ask. ‘Who can possibly oust an army of hell-sent demons?’ ‘Whose hearts are pure enough to defeat the infidels once and for all?’
“Why the answer is simple. And everyone here knows it.
“It is us !
“Like King Richard, I pledge to give up everything and devote my life to this noble cause. I ask that you do the same.
“They will disparage us as mere children, but it is precisely us mere children who can succeed.
“Jesus Christ has told me so.
“It is because we are faithful, and we are pure, and we are innocent.
“Only the innocent can defeat the wicked.
“This may come as a surprise to some, but there is something even more surprising: Unlike our predecessors, we need not bear arms.
“They thought that spilling blood was a necessity.
“But that was their downfall.
“Jesus Christ did not preach murder.
“He preached mercy and forgiveness.
“Those shall be our arms. We shall march with faith, purity, and innocence and retake the Holy Land with mercy and forgiveness.
“Nary a drop of blood will be spilt. For it is God’s will as told to me by Jesus Christ our Lord and Savior.
“We will begin our Crusade when the new moon rises.
“Some will tell us not to go. We will ignore them.
“There is nothing for us here, but there is the glory of God there.
“Here, there is brackish water, unleavened bread, and only our hands to do cartwheels with. There, the rivers flow with milk and honey, the fields teem with fresh baguettes, and the streets are filled with wooden hoops and sticks.
“Yes, my friends. When the land of milk and honey is ours, we shall, with bellies full, roll those hoops with those sticks. We shall race them up and down the streets while giggling so hard that we fall over in pain.
“We depart at the new moon. First, we will march to the capital where King Philip will provide us with provisions, transport, and an escort to Jerusalem. I will see you all again soon, my friends.
“Praise be to God!”
“Praise be to God!” the crowd roared back, bursting into applause and tears of joy.
***
When Rowen informed his parents of the news, his mother greeted him with a long, impassioned embrace.
“We’re gonna miss you, my sweet boy.”
“I’m gonna miss you too, Mother.”
“I’m so proud of you. I always knew you were special.”
“Thank you, Mother. I have trouble believing it myself, but it is God’s will, and I’m blessed to be His servant.”
“We believe in you, honey. And we know that you will help to spread good in this world. Don’t we, Papa?”
“Quit smothering the boy, you’re gonna make him go soft.”
“But you believe in him, Papa, don’t you?”
“Yes, yes,” Rowen’s father said, uncomfortable with all the emotion rippling through the room. “I believe in the boy. I mean, I believe in his passion. His ability to give a coherent speech on the other hand …”
Rowen’s mother shot him a how-dare-you-question-the-Son-of-God’s-surrogate’s-speech-giving-skills look. “What do you mean, Papa? His speech was magnificent. Did you not see how fervent his followers
became? They cannot wait to march.”
“Yeah, sure,” Rowen’s father replied, defensively. “He stirred them up good. But what was with the King Richard stuff? I hope you weren’t being serious there, Row. You were like, ‘Just like King Richard, I’m going to give up everything I have for this just cause.’”
“That’s right,” Rowen replied, defiantly.
“You don’t have anything to give up! King Richard had a kingdom and castles. He had riches and court wenches. You’re just an 11-year-old with absolutely nothing worth anything. Hell, it’s been your lifelong dream to move out of this dump.”
Rowen’s mother, despite being his biggest supporter, couldn’t help but giggle. “Plus,” she chimed in. “Like two seconds after he said he’d give up everything for the cause, he said there wasn’t even anything here for him.”
“Mind yourself, Woman!” Rowen replied, vexed.
But his father couldn’t help but let out a derisive snort-laugh. “I’m sorry, Row, I think you’re a heck of leader, I do. All I’m saying is that you’re lousy at not contradicting yourself and looking like a boob. But I’m sure the Crusade thing will go fine.”
***
When Sera informed her father of the news, he greeted her with a warm hug, then led her through the entrance hall and armory hall, up the east stairwell, through the parlor and dressing room, and into the corner library before withdrawing from the room by himself and locking the door.
“This is your new home until the day after the next new moon.”
“But Father,” Sera protested in desperation. “You cannot do this. You know that I must go with Rowen. You know that it is God’s will.”
“Well, if that’s what God wants,” Sera’s father replied as he bolted the door with a great thud. “Then I’m sure He’ll come down and open this door up for you.”
***
Sera awoke the next morning to find her father standing stone-faced above her with a breakfast tray. “I am very sorry, my little cabbage, but I forbid you to ever see that boy again.” He paused for a beat before unleashing a ridiculously cheerful smile. “But on the bright side, here’s some pomegranate, onion soup, and bread pudding.”
“But Father …”
“I know what you’re going to say. You wanted apple sauce, but I’m afraid apples just aren’t in season!”
“Father, please …”
“I’m sorry, my sweet. I’m afraid that that’s the end of the discussion. I hope you’ll be in a better mood when I see you tomorrow. Your mother will bring you lunch and dinner. Do be a good girl and don’t give her any trouble.”
***
Sera had much better luck with her mother in the sense that she was at least able to get a sentence out. “Mother, I must go. I feel it in my heart. I must go with Rowen.”
“My dear sweet child,” her mother replied, gently stroking her soft hair. “I understand what you’re feeling. But you must remember that you are young, and sometimes your emotions get the better of you. Sometimes you feel like something is the most important thing in the entire universe, but then a year or two later you’ve forgotten all about it. You have a crush on a boy. I did too when I was your age. But when you get older you’ll see that that’s all it was. A crush. Someday, you’ll meet the right man for you, and this man will give you the life that you deserve, not tear you away from your family to go on some outlandish fool’s errand that can only end in disaster.”
“No, Mother, it’s not that. I mean, I like Rowen, but it’s not about that. God has shown us that we must go. The miracles that Rowen performed are proof. He will lead us on a Crusade and the righteous will again inhabit the Holy Land as God intends.”
“Sweet Sera. Even if I agreed with you, there is no changing your father’s mind. He loves you too much to allow you to go on such a dangerous escapade. You can see that, right? He’s doing this because he loves you. If something were to happen to you he would go mad with grief and regret. You must understand that.”
“But what about the miracle? Rowen cured Father of his paralysis. Surely, Father cannot dispute that. Surely, Father cannot doubt that Rowen has been touched. God will protect us. You need not worry.”
“Oh, I don’t know, darling.”
“Yes, you do. And you must convince Father as well. Please , Mother. Convince him.”
***
The subsequent days ticked by in almost exactly the same fashion. Sera’s father refused to allow her to finish a sentence while Sera continued to beg her mother to change her father’s mind.
The only thing that changed was the food that she ate and the utterly unnecessary reason her father gave for not giving her what he thought she wanted.
“I know what you’re going to say. You wanted crust-less herb quiche, but I’m afraid that all the herb quiche I could find had crust!”
On the fateful morning that the Crusade was to begin, Sera remained silent until her father finished his needless explanation and marched toward the door. “I love him, Father.”
His body stiffened as if he had been stabbed in the back. Slowly, he turned around. “I thought you discussed this with Mother,” he said sternly. “I thought you understood that it’s just a schoolgirl crush.”
“It is not. I love him. And with each passing day I’ve spent locked in this room, my love for him has only grown stronger.”
“Your feelings have only appeared to grow stronger because I have forbidden you to ever see him again. It is a mirage. You will see.”
“I care not for forbidden love!” Sera roared back. “I care only for Jesus. And for His faithful servant. And I will follow them both. Do not forget who cured your disability! Our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ through the living prophet, Rowen. They will deliver us the Holy Land. And I will be there to witness, and God willing, to help.”
Sera’s father fell to his knees, weeping. He could no longer fight it. For it was God’s will.
Well, to be more precise, it was Dionysus’ will.
***
By the time the Children Crusaders arrived at the capital, they were an army.
Each time they marched through a town, mobs of enthusiastic youngsters full of faith, purpose, and freshly performed miracles, joined their ever-growing ranks.
“Your Majesty,” Rowen called out on the entrance steps of the royal palace, making sure that all in attendance could hear. “I present you with a letter from Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior.”
It had taken quite a while for the king to emerge from his palace, but that he did at all was a testament to the movement .
Rowen and Sera gazed at each other with hopeful eyes as King Philip II read the letter.
The journey thus far had been trying, but many kind souls had selflessly offered their assistance throughout, so they were in good spirits. While their mutual feelings had continued to blossom, until now they had not even so much as held hands, knowing that their campaign hinged on their virtue and chastity.
As Rowen clasped Sera’s hand for the first time, the moment was ruined by the king’s disparaging laughter.
“Putain de merde !” he cried, incredulously. “Jesus has anointed you, a girly-faced boy whose nads have not yet dropped, as his prophet?”
“Yes, your majesty. You must have heard of the miracles.”
“And he wants you to march to Jerusalem to drive out the heathen?”
“Yes. Where others have failed, we shall succeed.”
“And he further wants me to provide you with, and I quote, ‘transport, escort, and provisions including daily rations of meat pies, sweet crepes, and cheese waffles’?”
“If the meat pies are an issue, we can be flexible.”
“Get out of here, you little turd. Tout suite !”
“But …”
“Begone! Now! You have given me a great laugh, which I thank you for, but I can no longer stand the sight of you. You are making my stomach upset and if I am caused to vomit you will swing from the gallows. Vamoose!”
> King Philip II looked up at the throngs of believers outside the palace gates who were staring at him in shock. “Scram, children!” he cried. “Go back to your homes. Back to your parents. This boy is no prophet. He’s just a delusional toddler with a mole on his face that looks like a booger. It is a sign, alright. A sign that he will be executed after his face makes me puke.”
** *
The journey to Marseilles, on the Gulf de Lyon, was much more arduous.
While Rowen’s followers had not been discouraged by their harsh treatment at the royal palace, no longer did their numbers grow. Further, villagers along the way offered them little to no help.
Yet somehow they arrived at the port as faithful as ever.
Until, that is, they were faced with a vast blue sea that for all intents and purposes was a dead end.
“What shall we do?” Sera asked.
“Fear not, kind Sera,” Rowen replied. “God will shepherd us through. Just like He did for Moses and his flock of fugitives on the banks of the Red Sea, so too will He part these impenetrable waters for us now.”
At the precise moment that Rowen pompously lifted his arms toward the Mediterranean, Dionysus—administrator of mischief—did absolutely nothing.
The wind blew.
The seagulls cried.
And that was it.
Sera looked at Rowen with concern.
Rowen nodded his head resolutely and strengthened his grip on his staff. “It will be a miracle !”
At the precise moment that Rowen shouted ‘miracle,’ Dionysus snort-laughed.
…
“A MIRACLE !”
…
“Ummmm, Rowen,” Sera said, timidly. “I’m not really seeing a miracle here.”
Rowen felt as if he had been kicked in the gut.
“Greetings, good children,” a man called out from behind them. He was big-boned and had a bulbous nose, lively eyes, and scraggly mullet. His shifty smile also revealed a distinct lack of premolars. “It appears you are in need of some assistance.”