Crusade of Tears: A Novel of the Children's Crusade (The Journey of Souls Series)

by C. D. Baker

  Wil stood stiffly and pondered his dilemma as the disquieted company waited for his orders. At last he set his fists on his hips and announced, “Heed my words. We’ll hold here and get what we may but shall advance by terce. Now bite your tongues and follow me.”

  Wil led the grumbling children to the opened gates of Olten where the gatekeeper bade them a gruff welcome. But they had barely stepped through the gate when the town’s magistrate suddenly charged toward them with a small troop of guards. “Begone, you fever-laden whelps,” he commanded. “We’ve no need of you or the sickness you bring.”

  Pieter was too tired to be either angered or intimidated by the brash order and lumbered toward the man with Solomon close by his side. “None here is sick,” he sighed. “And I do expect thee to offer Christian benevolence to each of these helpless lambs.”

  “Christian benevolence?” scoffed one of the guards. “You’ll ‘ave the points o’these lances if you fail to turn away… now!”

  Ignoring the remark, Pieter looked beyond the blustering magistrate at the quiet town within. To his wise eye something seemed amiss, for it was far too still, certainly far too hushed for prime. Only a few folk were about and they seemed to move awkwardly as if laboring to avoid making the slightest sound. Pieter thought them to be like frightened mice tiptoeing by a sleeping cat. “Is there some trouble? Sickness perhaps?” asked Pieter.

  “Nothing you need bother with,” advised the magistrate. “Now begone.” His tone was harsh, but restrained.

  “I am skilled in medicine,” persisted Pieter. “I have been trained at the university in Salerno and would be most pleased to exchange my services for some food and perhaps some cloaks for these poor children of mine.”

  The magistrate’s temples tightened. “We’ve no need of yer services. Now for the last time, be off.”

  “Ah, my good friend,” he began rather loudly, “I fear that you’ve missed my words. I say, again, that I am here as thy willing servant and seek only modest provision for these children.” Pieter hoped his raised voice might reach a ready ear inside and indeed his hopes were satisfied. A young lady approached the magistrate and, with a slight brush of her milk-white hand, dismissed the officer and his men. By her dress and demeanor it was clear to Pieter that she was of some noble standing, and he thought her to be among the most beautiful ladies in all Christendom.

  She stood quietly, studying Pieter and his flock with a wary, though kindly eye. She wore a long, blue, silk dress draped with a beautiful red cape tied securely to her neck. Her blonde hair hung in long braids at the sides of her creamy face and her head was adorned with a rose wreath. “My name is Dorothea and I am the daughter of Bernard, the burgher of this town and lord of the manor lands at large.”

  Pieter bowed. “My lady, I am in thy service.”

  “My father lies inside these walls suffering from the agony of a fouled tooth that has defied all his physicians and his apothecary, and, ah, the witch as well. The slightest sound adds to his misery, and so he has ordered silence in the marketplace. I suggest you hush your tone or you shall surely bear his wrath.

  “The hoofs of all beasts are ordered bound with heavy cloth and it seems that even the birds do sit quiet and fearful on our rooftops. Now I should think, Pater, if you could work some sorcery and end his agony, you would find him a most grateful and generous benefactor for your little band.” She smiled.

  Pieter’s eyes twinkled and he bowed more deeply. “Indeed, I am so skilled, my fair lady.”

  Solomon knew his cue and promptly raised a friendly paw. Dorothea smiled briefly at the shaggy dog and beckoned Pieter to follow her. “We shall see. But I ought warn you, it might not go well with you should you fail.”

  Pieter smiled politely, then hastily ordered Wil to grab the satchel of remaining herbs and join him. “Aye,” whispered the boy. “And y’others wait beyond the wall and keep your tongues tied.”

  The walls protecting Olten were constructed of a combination of tall, unstripped timbers, sawed planks, and sections of mortared stone. The streets were somewhat rutted and surprisingly soiled with unshoveled manure. Apparently none thought it wise to engage in labors other than those most necessary. Pieter and Wil quietly followed Dorothea past long rows of narrow, two-story homes with steep, thatched roofs where nervous residents watched the three from partly shuttered windows. Wil strode through the town boldly, his long, golden hair flowing proudly over his hood, but Pieter was stumbling along, desperately working to remember the treatment for toothache. His distraction cost him the pleasures of the beautiful flowers that adorned many of the street’s windows and the bounty of the town garden surrounding the fishpond.

  The trio turned a final corner and approached a shuttered, three-storied timber-and-mortar home. A tall linden amply shaded nearly all of one side and the other was bordered by a delightful garden of flowers and sundry vegetables. Several soldiers fidgeted at the front door. Suddenly the howls and the angry shouts of a man in pain pierced the silence. Dorothea proceeded, unflustered by the outburst, though her companions paused briefly at the doorway. Upon entering the parlor, Pieter and Wil dodged several attendants scurrying past them with trays laden with roots and herbs, steaming compresses, and a menacing assortment of dental instruments.

  As the priest and his young friend entered Bernard’s room, an exasperated physician and apothecary were arguing with the angry lord. “Sire,” the physician pleaded, “this misery can be ended with a simple extraction.” He clicked his crude pliers near the face of the raging Lord Bernard whose brown, baggy eyes widened in terror at the very thought of such a remedy. The lord snagged the physician’s ear with one grasping hand and with his other clutched the poor man’s throat.

  “You shall relieve this pain and I’ll surely keep my tooth!” he bellowed. “Or, by God, I’ll have your brainless, Lombardian head in a basket.” The physician jerked himself out of Bernard’s grasp and fell away.

  “There is nought else for cure, mein Herr. I fear you must needs heed my colleague,” offered the apothecary timidly.

  Bernard slammed a fist onto the table by his side and roared, “I’ll not allow some Italian dimwit to grab about my mouth with that contraption.”

  “But sire, begging your leave, ’tis no con—”

  Dorothea’s gentle voice interrupted the physician. “Vati,” she said, “I have found a more delicate healer who comes to us from the lands of the north and swears an oath to help you.”

  Bernard’s physician and apothecary stood aghast, quite offended at such a contemptible incursion as the likes of Pieter! “Nay,” blurted the apothecary. “Na—”

  “Silence, fool!” thundered Bernard. “I’d be the one to say ‘nay’ or ‘aye.’” He studied the newcomers, curling his lips as if to bark again. A pain twisted his hardened face into a schoolboy’s grimace. “By the saints,” he moaned, “’tis a fine predicament I’d be in. I’ve a choice of being butchered by a lunatic from Lombardy or a Teuton with only one tooth of his own.”

  He turned to Pieter. “Your empty gums are a tribute to your skill.”

  Pieter grinned sheepishly.

  “And you, whelp,” Bernard blustered at Wil. “What brings you here?”

  Wil was not the least bit ruffled by the raging nobleman and answered calmly, “I’d be here to help this good priest mend your foul mouth.”

  Bernard mumbled and held his jaw for a few moments. He stared at Pieter again. “Priest indeed. Ach. Well, by faith, I should rather put myself in the care of someone of your many years than these other idiots…. So, be about your trade. On with it.”

  Pieter turned to Dorothea. “Ah, my dear lady, I’ll need a few things. I have need of vinegar, oil, and … sulphur. I should also like a candle of mutton fat. And …” He dug into his satchel, praying to recall what else his remedy required. “I have seed of sea holly, but I should like a tub of water.” He suddenly brightened. “Oh, yes, I’ll also need a mixing bowl and a piece of linen.”


  Bernard groaned loudly and begged Pieter to hurry. Pieter had him lie on the bed and peered into the man’s opened mouth. “Ah, good fellow. You needs say when I’ve found the culprit.” Pieter winked at Wil before bouncing his wooden poker atop a red-gummed molar.

  “Aaah!” roared Bernard as he leapt to his feet. “Y’dung-brained dolts! I’ll flog the skin off both yer cursed backs, I’ll p—”

  “Ah, ’tis good, m’lord, aye, we’ve the proper tooth. You would’ve been displeased had I served the wrong one, eh?”

  “What? Aye, you’ve the proper tooth, ’tis sure, y’son-of-satan. Now you had better heal it, or I swear on m’dear Margot’s grave y’shall hang from a rope by next prime.”

  Pieter folded his arms. “You’ll not be threatening me or the lad, and I’ve no intention of helping until we’ve settled our terms. After all, I’m a steward of a company of young crusaders and must needs provide their care.”

  Bernard clutched his jaw. “And what terms, y’sly fox?”

  “Your lovely daughter, Dorothea, entreated our services with an assurance of a fine price.”

  “You dare bargain with me when I suffer so?” growled Bernard.

  Pieter restrained a smile. “Truth be told, I am confounded to know a better time.”

  Bernard leaned forward and pressed his nose against Pieter’s. “You are a shrewd one,” he grimaced. “I hope you are as good in medicine as you are in commerce. Name your price.”

  “As a man of the cloth,” Pieter said slowly, “I have no desire to take profit from thy most unfortunate circumstance, so my humble request shall be modest.” He motioned to Bernard’s secretary who had been huddled at his corner desk, far from harm’s way. “Good sir, please note my simple needs on thy parchment.”

  The secretary pulled his hood tightly over his narrow head, nervously dipped his feather into the ink, and waited.

  Pieter raised a brow at Wil and continued. “I should like five pecks of oats, five pecks of millet, ten of rye, fifteen pounds of salted pork, fifteen pounds of salted fish, twenty pounds of sausage—properly spiced. I should like five baskets of fresh apples, several hands of cherries, a half of salted or smoked venison, some tripe, several heads of cabbage, a basket of leeks, one of turnips, and some sweet honey in wax. I should also like …” Pieter put his bony finger on his bearded chin and thought for a moment.

  Wil took the pause to glance at the eye-popping lord whose face was contorting in a most unbecoming manner. Pieter cleared his throat. “I should also like twenty-three woolen capes for the children; twenty-three heavy, woolen blankets; and three good long bows with hunting arrows—or a French crossbow with straight bolts.”

  The perspiring secretary gawked at the bold priest and cast a tense peek at his dumbfounded master.

  “But, while you consider the matter,” added Pieter, “allow me to examine this vexing tooth—oh, I do wish Dorothea would hurry so that we can relieve this awful pain.” Pieter pried his spindly fingers into the befuddled lord’s mouth and pressed onto the molar.

  Bernard reared his head back, howling. “You devil of the north! You black-hooded, dung-breathed … you … you one-toothed son of a demon! Keep your thieving fingers out of m’mouth. What kind of cursed priest would pilfer a man in pain! Impostor! I’ll never grant your terms! I’d rather have that mad Italian shove his iron claw down my throat than be plundered so.”

  “Ah, yes, well, my son,” answered Pieter calmly, “the ransom of a man’s life is his riches, but the poor hears no rebuke.”

  “Eh? You give me riddles when I need help?”

  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 thought
s 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.