THE DAVINCI ECHO

4 The King of Jerusalem

 

The huge children's army moved slowly along the banks of the Rhine, along an old road in the direction of Basel. Leonardo, Mariecke and Dolf were in the rearguard. Although they felt fit enough and could have been in the  front guard, Dolf suspected the student of deliberately delaying in order to be able to pick up exhausted and sunken children here and there and to give them a lift on the donkey for a few hours. They had relieved the animal of the luggage and hoisted it on their own backs. It was not uncommon for the faithful donkey, who turned out not to be half as stubborn as Dolf himself, to walk along with three or four children on his back. Two of them were really sick. They did not sing, refused to eat of the bread that Dolf offered them and stared at them with feverish eyes. Dolf was convinced that if he put them by the side of the road, they would not even protest, but would lie still until death put an end to their suffering.

 

He had stopped asking questions for the time being. The rhythm of the journey, the steady march along the bad, hot road, the monotonous singing around him, caused a kind of numbness that silenced all curiosity. Although the heat was less oppressive than the day before, he was sweating heavily in his winter clothes. He had taken off his jacket and tied it around his waist. After an hour of walking he also took off his sweater, but his pale skin threatened to burn immediately under that bright July sun and there was no other option than to put the much too thick sweater back on. His pounding shoulder hurt less now and his feet, in the thick winter shoes, could tolerate the bad road. But how those countless barefoot children survived on the pointed stones was a mystery to him.

 

For Dolf the entire procession, kilometers long, consisted of an writhing, anonymous mass. Apart from Mariecke, he did not know a single one of them. He did sometimes catch a glimpse of the beautifully dressed young boy, whom he had also noticed the day before. He darted here and there through the rows of children. He seemed terribly busy, and his light voice sometimes cut through the singing. Every time Dolf saw him he thought: Such a small meddler. But then he immediately forgot about the kid. He was worried about the two little ones who were sitting mute and sick on the donkey's back.

 

Suddenly the whole great procession stopped. In the distance, church bells rang and the children reacted automatically. They dropped down or spread out along the verges in the grass. As if warned by an invisible command, they sank to their knees and began to pray. Mariecke too. Even Leonardo. Dolf thought that he should follow their example, this seemed to be common habit. A furtive glance at his indestructible watch told him it was twenty past twelve. Apparently those bells rang in the noon as a kind of lunch break.

Mariecke knelt in front of him and Dolf looked straight at the soles of her feet. He couldn't resist the temptation and carefully touched them. She didn't even notice. What his fingertips met was calluses, a layer of dirt, the bloody crust of a newly healed wound, also embedded between calluses. How could the child walk on it? But it didn't seem to bother her much. Perhaps she had walked barefoot all her life, even in the dirty streets of old Köln, even in winter.

 

After the prayer, the children settled in as easily as possible and began to eat the remains of their food. Those who had nothing left, or were already finished, leaned back with their eyes closed to gather strength for the next few hours. Suddenly Dolf saw another one of the monks he had noticed in the morning. In his dark cloak, on sandals and with a hard, impassive face, the man strode past the resting children. His stinging dark eyes slid inquisitively over their rows. Was he counting them?

 

'Is that one of the leaders?' wondered Dolf. 'Who actually organized this crazy crusade? This morning I saw two monks, with that strange boy dressed in white. Now one of them is walking along our kilometer-long march and looks at us like a general inspecting his soldiers. Yesterday afternoon when that child fell dead on the road, that’s when he had to be there!' 

 

Now that he was sitting, and was no longer numbed by the endless foot by foot, swish, swish, swish, the questions came to him again. He longed to discover the secret of this Children's Crusade. And who better to inform him than Mariecke, who had apparently been there from the beginning?

 

As soon as they set off again, he took her by the hand and began, 'When did you leave Köln?'

 

He had to repeat his question three times before she understood what he meant. She giggled, like a girl who hears the teacher say something strange in the school class.

 

'You talk so strangely,' he caught.

 

'I'm from a different country.'

 

'That's true.'

 

Mariecke's Köln dialect actually resembled Dutch even more than the posh Diets that Leonardo spoke to him. But she spoke her words with a kind of croaking that Dolf had to get used to first. But he quickly took over from her, and then the conversation went reasonably well.

 

'When did you leave Köln?'

 

Ten days before Pentecost.'

 

'Why did you join?'

 

'Nicholas brought us the message. He spoke for the new church. Oh, he spoke so beautifully. No one could resist him.'

 

'Nicholas?'

 

He had heard that name mentioned before. Mariecke pointed in front of herself, to the endless stream of children.

 

'Nicholas has heard God's angels,' she said enthusiastically. They spoke to him and conveyed God's will to him.'

 

'The angels ordered Nicholas to assemble an army of children?'

 

Dolf asked incredulously.

 

Mariecke nodded.

 

'It was a miracle,' she said cheerfully. 'A real miracle.

 

'And I was there!'

 

'When the angels spoke to Nicholas?'

 

'No, later. When Nicholas preached on the church square. In Köln.'

 

'And then?'

 

'Then we took up the cross and followed him. Many children from the city. Many children from the country. It was beautiful…'

 

'Is it not nice anymore?' Dolf asked.

 

The girl looked up at him questioningly.

 

'Don't you like it anymore now?' he repeated. 'Was it disappointing to you? Do you regret running away from home?'

 

She seemed to have understood only the last words.

 

'I don't have a house.'

 

'But in Köln?'

 

'Not in Köln either. I'm an orphan...'

 

Dolf was stunned. Could a pretty doll like this child with her flawless face, be an orphan, an outcast, wandering through the streets of a big city, cared for by no one, living on alms? Dolf could hardly imagine it.

 

'Don't you have a father, no family?'

 

Mariecke shook her head.

 

'And no mother?'

 

'She's dead.'

 

So an orphan after all. Nobody's child. No wonder she had joined Nicholas, who had apparently promised the children golden mountains.

 

'What did the angels say to Nicholas?' he further inquired.

 

'God wanted Nicholas to gather as many children as he could find. They all still had to be virgins. Then God would lead them to the Holy Land, first over the mountains and then to the sea. And the sea will part when Nicholas stretches out his hands to it. This way we can walk to the Holy Land, without getting wet or drowning. Nicholas will then bring us to Jerusalem and... '

 

'But there are the Turks!'

 

'God sent us, God will protect us. He will strike the Saracens with blindness and scorch them with His lightning. He will split the earth to swallow them up, for they are devils and children of the devil. And we will always be allowed to live in that beautiful, white Jerusalem and never again suffer hunger and cold. And we will always be lucky. We will plant flowers on Jesus' tomb and take care of the holy places. We will receive the pilgrims and feed them.... '

 

That was more or less Mariecke's story. It was clear that she was repeating words that had been told to her countless times. Dolf blinked his eyes. What kind of children could be fooled into believing such utter nonsense? Who had whispered this insane undertaking to Nicholas? Was Nicholas an impostor, or a madman who thought he heard voices and suffered from hallucinations?

 

'Who are the monks?' he asked sternly.

 

'Dom Anselmus and Dom Johannis. Two holy men who came to Köln with Nicholas. They said that Nicholas was a holy boy and had heard God's message. They told us that Nicholas, when he was watching over the flock of sheep one day in the spring, had seen a great shining cross high in the sky. From the cross came the voices of the angels. They told us that, so it's true.'

 

'Is it true because they say it?' asked Dolf urgently.

 

Mariecke looked at him in amazement.

 

'They are ordained priests... they can't lie!'

 

'No, of course not,' Dolf muttered hastily. He thought of the stinging eyes of the monk who had inspected the troops during the lunch break.

 

'Who was he?' he asked Mariecke.

 

'That was Dom Anselmus. We love Dom Johannis the most.'

 

'Do those monks take good care of you?'

 

'I don't understand you.'

 

'Do they make sure you get good food? That the sick are nursed? That those left behind don't get lost?'

 

Mariecke blinked.

 

'Who cares for all those thousands of children?' Dolf kept insisting. 'God takes care of us,' Mariecke exclaimed, who finally realized what he meant.

 

'Always?' asked Dolf skeptically.

 

'You're a stupid boy, Rudolf of Amstelveen,' Mariecke said impatiently. 'You have also seen for yourself how the citizens of Speyer brought us food this morning. God had tasked them to do so.'

 

'And do you believe, Mariecke, that the sea will move aside for you?'

 

'Yes. Dom Anselmus says that the sea also parted for Moses. The sea always gives way to a holy saint.'

 

Holy, you get to hear that word in every sentence, Dolf suddenly thought furiously. With that, those children are convinced and deceived. Because it is not possible for adult people to take the delirious shepherd boy seriously, is it?

 

'The Archbishop of Köln himself escorted us out and blessed us all,' Mariecke said dreamily. 'That was so beautiful…'

 

It's getting crazier, Dolf thought. But then again, these are medieval people. Of course, they know the story of Moses who made the waters of the Red Sea give way so that the Jews could reach the other side safely, as the waves closed again over the cohorts of Egyptian warriors, who chased the fleeing Jews. They believe unconditionally in that story. Why could such a miracle not be repeated? The children are now running after Nicholas to see that. To split an entire sea so that they can walk on the bottom to the Holy Land, as if that were a walk of half an hour! Can they even imagine the sea? But they want to see that miracle, the hope of it keeps them going, and gives them the strength to travel thousands of miles on foot. Am I the only one in this thousand-strong children's army who knows that it is not possible?

 

Mariecke pulled his arm.

 

'Are you mad at me?' she asked pouting.

 

Apparently she was startled by the expression that had come on his face. Reassuringly, he squeezed her skinny shoulders.

 

'Not with you, dear Mariecke.'

 

'With whom?'

 

He didn't know that himself.

 

'Wouldn't it be better to leave the Crusades to someone like Godfrey of Bouillon?' he asked grimly.

 

Mariecke cooed, literally. He would understand anything of this sweet child!

 

'Godfrey of Bouillon has been in heaven for a long time!'

 

A few years came to Dolf’s mind. 1096, First Crusade.

 

'You're right, Mariecke, I'm confused with time. I actually meant Richard Lionheart.

 

'He's dead too, I've heard it told,' Mariecke said sadly. 

'But there are others like him: knights without fear or blame, with armor and good horses and archers. They have to liberate the Holy Land. That is not work for unarmed children.'

 

 Reproachfully Mariecke looked at him.

 

'You are the son of a nobleman, Rudolf. How can you talk like that?' 

'My father is a clerk and nothing else,' Dolf snapped at the end of his patience. When he saw tears in her eyes, he immediately regretted his outburst.

 

'Come on Mariecke, I didn't mean any harm. I think you are sweet.' That comforted her again.

 

Mariecke picked up a fallen child, whom Dolf, deep in thought, would have walked past. As the day progressed, the number of stragglers and dropouts began to increase again. How many children's lives would this journey claim every day? the boy wondered desperately. And what could he do to help them? He couldn't carry them all. For a moment he caught a glimpse of the quick boy in nice clothes. He carried a small child on his back and rushed forward with it. That kid had to be strong! Leonardo's donkey almost succumbed to the sick and injured little ones. The student himself supported a child with each arm who could hardly move forward. Mariecke took care of the children who were carried by the donkey and who were always in danger of slipping off. Dolf had four children in tow. Around him he saw many children carrying or supporting little ones. So they were not as indifferent to each other as he had thought yesterday, in his first bewilderment. But that did not prevent him from constantly seeing a few sinking to their knees that no one looked back at. The hot long day began to take its toll.

 

The rearguard, in which they found themselves, adofced so slowly that they were in danger of losing contact with the main group. Dolf also started to feel his legs. Thirst tormented him. According to his watch, it was almost half past five. A day ago, he still had hope. No, he was not allowed to think about that anymore. He had his chance, and another had flashed to the twentieth century in his place. Dolf was alive now, in 1212, he shuffled along a stony road in the direction of the sea in the hot summer afternoon. He no longer wanted to delve into what he could have been. He had to try to maintain himself in this unfriendly era.

 

'Maybe I can stay with Leonardo in Bologna,' he thought vaguely. 'I am a clever mathematician who knows the secrets of the Arabic School. If I focus on Latin, I can later teach at the university he talked about. Or I can become a scribe. They have a lot of use of them in this century. I just have to get through the difficulties. Maybe in my old age I can put my experiences as a stranded time traveler on paper for posterity.'

 

Although Dolf was not aware of it, he was already busy adapting.

 

At last they reached the field where the camp was to be set up for the night. The ones that did not fall over from exhaustion, swarmed out to gather wood. Others tried to reach the river for the usual fishing, but they returned disappointed. The bank was too swampy and a wide reed bed prevented them from reaching the water. No fish tonight.

 

They could quench their thirst in a slow-flowing stream that stumbled across the field in the direction of the river. Despite the fact that it had been very hot for days, the field was still soggy. It had probably rained and thundered here for a long time last night. Dolf looked around and thought that the location of the encampment had been badly chosen. Another shower like that and they would wade in mud up to their ankles.

 

Leonardo followed his gaze and seemed to guess what was going on inside him. 'Don't worry, Rudolf. No thunderstorms tonight. The sky is clear. That means a cold but dry night.

 

Dolf had no understanding of weather forecasting. At home he would look at the newspaper in the evening, or watch TV and then he knew exactly what to expect when he wanted to go camping with friends. But he trusted Leonardo and was relieved to go in search of firewood. 

 

That was also scarce here.

The little wood the children found was damp, or much too fresh. Some children were very handy in building and lighting campfires, as if they had been scouts for years. Others did not do as well, and spent hours trying with too big branches and bad technique. Dolf collected as much fuel as he could find. He was not worried about himself and Leonardo. Even if it was going to be a cool night, they could handle it. But the thinly dressed Mariecke? And the two sick children who had been shivering on the donkey all day? Dolf suspected that they had caught a cold during the storm that night. If they didn't get warm, they would get pneumonia and then it was over with them. Those poor kids had no resistance. When they had the fire going, Leonardo took the last of his food supply from his travel bag. A bag full of dried peas, some herbs, a chunk of bread. Dolf thought that they could cook soup from it if he had a pan. He said to Mariecke: 'I'll see if I can borrow a pan from someone. You keep watch with the sick ones and let them drink now and then.

 

Searching, he walked across the huge camp. He saw many children who were already asleep. Others were busy roasting food of unknown origin. But he saw much more. He discovered many shivering, feverish children. How many had caught a cold during the storm last night? He saw wounded children whose broken feet were not bandaged. Whose bruised knees were full of blood, scabs and flies. He saw children with head wounds, ulcers, nosebleeds, swollen eyes, swollen ankles. And no one seemed to be able to do anything for them.

 

Most children, however, were healthy and cheerful. They wrangled with their reluctant fires, tried to prepare something like a meal with the last remnants of food from Speyer. They teased each other, played, sang songs, at some fires even music was made on wonderful instruments: flutes, a shawm, a primitive but wonderful instrument. Bells rang far away. In the entire area there was not a house, nor a village to be seen.

 

Around a smoking fire, Dolf finally found four boys, sitting quietly together. Next to them was a cold iron pan. He asked if he could borrow it from them.

'You're finished eating anyway…'

 

It turned out that the boys had had nothing to eat.

 

'Bertho has already given away our last loaf of bread this afternoon,' one of the boys said shyly. Dolf's strange clothing made him suspicious.

 'Then come and sit with us, Dolf suggested. 'We're going to cook soup.' 

 

In one of the boys, he thought he recognized the good swimmer from the previous evening. After some whispering, they got up and followed Dolf, who brought them to Leonardo. Mariecke immediately went to get water for the soup.

 

'Look!' said Leonardo, who did not object to the fact that four more hungry people had arrived. In his hands were two speckled eggs.

 

'How did you get that?' 

 

'Found them among the reeds. It's full of nests there. But there aren't many intact eggs left.'

 

Nevertheless, the four boys ran away to see if they could find anything. They came back after half an hour with six eggs and a very young, dead duck, almost still a chick.

 

The soup became a strange mishmash, thick because of the eggs and the peas, spicy because of the spices, but all in all it tasted better than Dolf had expected. Leonardo had a wooden spoon, with which Mariecke could pour some of the brew into the sick children’s mouth. Grateful, they looked up at her. Then the girl, the student and the boys ate the rest by taking turns putting the pan to their lips. It wasn't much what they got, but it warmed them.

 

'Nice,' Dolf said with satisfaction when they sat together a little later. He now had time to take a closer look at the four boys. They exchanged their names. The largest of them (Dolf estimated him to be about fourteen years old) was called Frank and was the son of a tanner from Cologne. Why he had joined the children's army was not entirely clear. The 'swimmer’s name was Peter. He was a short, stocky boy with hard fists and he claimed that he must have been about twelve years old. He had grown up on the shore of a lake, east of the city of Cologne on the domain of the archbishop. The third was smaller, and called himself Everard. His father was a woodcutter and Everard had never seen anything in his life but forests and hunting parties of the Lord, and he knew everything about forests and animal life. The fourth, another big, strong boy, was called Bertho and refused to tell anything about his former life.

 

'I'm a crusader now, and that's what matters,' he said.

 

Still, he seemed like a nice boy to Dolf.

 

Dolf introduced himself in the usual way as Rudolf Wega of Amstelveen, a name that the others were visibly impressed by.

 

He pointed around:

 

'This is not a favorable place for a camp.'

 

Everard immediately agreed with him.

 

'We should have walked a little further.' He pointed to the south. 'Over there the bank seems to be higher and there is forest.'

 

'Who decides where the night is to be spent?' demanded Dolf.

 

'Nicholas,' said Frank without hesitation. 'He is our leader. But usually he lets Dom Anselmus advise him.'

 

'The monk?'

 

The boys nodded diligently.

 

Dolf stood up.

 

'I think it's time I went and talked to that Nicholas,' he said.

 

Bertho seemed so shocked by that announcement that his mouth fell open.

 

'Can one of you take me to him?' Dolf continued.

 

'You can't just do that,' Bertho began hesitantly.

 

'He can,' Mariecke shouted fiercely. 'Rudolf is of noble blood.'

 

Apparently, that idea could not be talked out of her head.

 

Frank now stood up too.

 

'Come with me,' he said calmly. 'Further on, behind that bush, his tent is pitched.'

 

'His what?' Dolf was sure he had misunderstood.

 

'His tent, with the covered wagon.'

 

'I want to see that!'

 

Side by side, they found their way through the camp. Most children were already asleep. The fires smoked and went out. In the distance, bells were ringing again. You could hear the chiming of the clock almost all day long, but Dolf put more faith in his watch, which was waterproof, shock-free and precise and which wound itself. According to that watch, it was now almost half past eight. As always, after a very hot day, mists rose from the river and the fields, which clung clammy to the sleeping children and obstructed the view.

 

'You have a nice bracelet there,' said Frank, who had seen Dolf looking at his wristwatch.

 

'Yes, a gift from my father.'

 

'Is it silver?'

 

'Stainless steel.'

 

'Damascan steel?'

 

'Something like that.'

 

'Is your father rich?'

 

'Quite,' Dolf said at ease. Compared to the medieval people, his father was extremely rich. In the twentieth century, dr. Wega was a moderately salaried scientist.

 

'Then why did you run away, if you had it so good at home?'

 

Frank continued.

 

'Just for the adventure.'

 

Frank nodded with satisfaction. Apparently that was also the reason why he had joined the Children's Crusade.

 

After a long walk, they reached a slightly higher part of the rugged field. Here the ground was less swampy. When they were in front of the grove, they saw a good fire, around which sat a circle of people and children. Although it was already dusk, Dolf saw an old, round army tent behind the campfire. He also saw two white oxen quietly ruminating by the bush. A little further on was an ox wagon with a white canopy, carefully guarded by about twenty boys with clubs in their hands. Nicholas apparently did not take any risks.

 

The group around the blazing fire was eating. The smells that the food gave off made Dolf and Frank's mouth water. The few mouthfuls of soup they had eaten had not been nearly enough to satisfy their hunger. On the spit above the fire hung more venison. Dolf recognized bird shapes. Apparently these children had managed to outwit a few waterfowl.

 

The group consisted of the boy dressed in white, two monks and eight children whose high ancestry could be read from their clothes, manners and fine hands. The agile little boy that Dolf had seen before was also there.

 

Surprised, with mouths full, they looked up at the big boy who appeared so suddenly in their midst. But Dolf had once again got something in his head and was heading straight for his goal, with blind stubbornness, keeping his wits well together.

 

'I am Rudolf Wega of Amstelveen,' he said clearly and solemnly. As always, the name made an impression. The thin monk, who was called Dom Anselmus, raised his hand for a moment. Dom Johannis, much younger, fatter and friendlier, nodded at him. Nicholas made a movement as if he wanted to get up, then changed his mind. The beautifully dressed children looked on curiously. They were so tense that they forgot to chew.

 

.... and I'm hungry,' Dolf said calmly, pointing to the roasting spit. The little meddler immediately handed him a piece of meat and moved aside a little.

 

'Sit down, Rudolf of Amstelveen. You are welcome.'

 

Apparently, this elite group regarded him as one of their own: a child of noble parents. Although Dolf's clothing had to puzzle them. Dolf beckoned Frank to join him, which the others did not seem to like very much. They exchanged a disapproving look.

 

'Who are you?' asked Dom Anselmus sternly. Frank introduced himself. Dolf, who understood that the difference in class between the free citizen’s son and the baron children had to be eliminated, so he quickly put an arm around Frank's shoulders.

 

'He's my friend,' he said. The others remained silent. The little meddler shoved a piece of meat at him anyways. 

Dolf thought him at once a very nice guy. When he was satisfied, Dolf took a good look at the elite circle. The children looked back, curious and a little suspicious. He noticed a beautiful girl in a long dress woven of fine linen. She was hung with jewelry and she wore a cross on a silver chain that sparkled with jewels. The boy next to him wore a deep red robe, yellow leg coverings, a belt stitched with silver in which hung a beautiful dagger with precious stones in the hilt. The other children were no less beautifully decorated. The boy dressed in white was of course Nicholas.

 

Dolf began to speak. He muffled his voice so that his strange accent would not be too noticeable and because he wanted to hold the attention. Those who speak softly are listened to sharply.

 

'Since yesterday I have joined the Children's Crusade. I want to go with you to the Holy Land to help conquer the White City,' he said to prove his loyalty. The monks nodded to him, while Anselmus's eyes slid over his sturdy figure.

 

'I come from Holland, where people talk and dress differently than here,' Dolf continued, to explain everything that was foreign to him. And that was a lot! That announcement was also taken notice of.

 

'… but what I have seen of this children's army,' said Dolf, now coming to the heart of the matter, 'I don't like very much. I am deeply moved by what I noticed. The well-being of all these children is close to my heart. Yet I saw many sick people, for whom no one cared. I saw children who sank down by the roadside from exhaustion. I saw wounded people for whom no one did anything. I have seen children die on the road, others drown. Father,' he suddenly turned to Anselmus, 'this crusade is badly organized. It can be much better.'

 

The monk frowned but said nothing. Johannis suddenly showed a lot of interest. Nicholas raised a hand.

 

'God watches over us, God takes care of us,' he said like a robot. 

 

'God will certainly not blame us if we give Him a helping hand,' Dolf let slip. Concern rippled through the circle.

 

'Have you come to lecture us, Rudolf of Amstelveen?' asked Dom Anselmus threateningly.

 

'Yes. When I said I was hungry, a piece of meat was immediately handed to me. I am grateful for that. But there are still eight thousand, maybe ten thousand children here in the field who are hungry. And what is being done for them?'

 

'God will feed them,' Nicholas said again, just a little too quickly.

 

Dolf now turned directly to the shepherd boy. 'Nicholas, listen to me,' he said gravely and slowly. 'God has instructed you to bring these children to the Holy Land. In addition, God has placed the responsibility for those children on you. It's up to you to keep them safe and sound and without major loss bring them in front of the gates of the White City. The journey is long, the dangers are great. But with good organization and the use of common sense, we can prevent a lot of suffering. It cannot be God's will that most of these children perish on the way. God has appointed you to be a leader, but leadership means care for the flock entrusted to you.' 

 

'Rudolf of Amstelveen is right,' said the beautifully dressed boy next to him. 'When my father went to war, he made sure that his warriors had good food along the way.'

 

Dom Anselmus snapped, 'Shut up, Carolus.' But Carolus did not allow himself to be silenced.

 

'You don't know, because you were always in front,' he shouted. 'But the chaos in the back was something terrible. I have complained about this before and I am glad that Rudolf of Amstelveen now agrees with me. 

 

Thank god, that is at least one supporter, Dolf thought gratefully. 'Rudolf of Amstelveen is mistaken,' said Dom Anselmus coldly. This is no ordinary crusade. We did not set out to shed blood and to reconquer Jerusalem with sword in hand. We will chase away the Saracens with our pure innocence.'

 

'I know,' Dolf replied calmly. 'But we certainly did not set out to die of hunger, cold and misery. All these children,' he pointed around, 'all these children expect to see Jeruzalem. As it is now, less than a tenth of them will complete the journey. Because their leaders don't care about them. While they don't let themselves lack anything.'

 

And again, this time reproachfully, he pointed to the remains of the meal, to the tent and the covered wagon.

 

'You don't walk, you ride. You do not feel hunger. You don't catch a cold when it rains and the stormy wind howls over the camp. You choose a place for the night without wondering whether it is suitable for thousands of children who do not have a tent to find shelter.'

 

'The oxen were tired,' said the jewelry girl.

 

'This is a vast plain with room for everyone,' Nicholas defended himself.

 

'But it is swampy and exposed. Last night many children caught a cold, tomorrow they will be sick. What is being done for them? Who takes care of them, gives them hot tea, keeps the fire burning for them?'

 

Gradually, Dolf had lost his cool. He was starting to get agitated.

 

'Listen, Nicholas. God will pour out many troubles on this children's army, but not to destroy us. It is your job, as leaders of the Children's Crusade, to make sure that the children get through it well and all appear at the gates of Jerusalem. God has given a mission not only to you, Nicholas, but to all of us! And because God wills it, we must do it, as best we can. At the moment things are not going well at all. Every day many children die of hunger, thirst, fatigue. And this is just the beginning... God cannot have intended that, Nicholas. He certainly wants us to suffer, but He also requires that we help each other and accomplish the task that has been assigned to us. That is why we need to organize ourselves better. That is why we must use our opportunities, child by child. In honor of God.'

 

'Amen,' said the boy next to him.

 

Oof, I talk like a preacher on the television, Dolf thought shamefully. Where did I suddenly get such a pious sermon from? Has the madness of the Children's Crusade already got to me? I know that nothing can come of it…

 

But he saw that his speech had made a deep impression. The little boy next to him clapped his hands enthusiastically, made a cross, and finally embraced Dolf.

 

'You are a true son of your noble father, Rudolf,' he cheered. The two monks remained motionless. Anselmus's stinging eyes did not let go of the strange boy. But a warm smile spread on Johannis' round face.

 

'Rudolf of Amstelveen, I believe you are a valuable asset,' he said warmly. 'May I hear a few suggestions from you?' 

 

Dolf had already decided those for himself that day. 'To start with, we have to split the children into groups, each with its own task. There are so many that this can't be difficult.' He started counting on his fingers. 'In the first place, we need to have security guards. For this we can choose the biggest boys and girls, who then have to equip themselves with some kind of weapon like a bat, for example. They are responsible for the safety of the children. Their task will be to protect us day and night from external attacks, and to prevent disturbances among the children. We also need large groups of hunters, who can provide a large amount of fresh meat every day. I've seen that the land is teeming with wildlife.' 'Wait a minute,' shouted Nicholas angry, 'of course that's not possible. That's poaching!'

 

Dolf pointed to the roasting spit.

 

'Then how did you get wild ducks tonight?'

 

'They were shot by Carolus,' said Nicholas. The boy next to Dolf nodded enthusiastically. He pointed to the tent. Next to the opening was his self-carved bow, with a quiver next to it.

 

'I can hit a bird in flight,' he said happily. 'I can hunt without a falcon.'

 

'And isn't that poaching?'

 

'Sometimes...' Nicholas shrugged. The subject seemed to bore him.

 

'Did you mean to assert, Nicholas,' said Dolf angrily, 'that the wildlife in the fields and forests through which we pass is protected?'

 

'Protected?'

 

The misunderstandings due to the language barrier threatened again.

 

The wildlife belongs to the gentlemen whose domain we travel over. Only the lord is allowed to hunt it. You cannot expect the holy children to violate the partridges and roebucks of a great lord!' 'Well, I can,' Dolf said. He turned to the little sniper. 'What do you think of it, Carolus?'

 

The kid was jumping for joy.

 

'I will form the hunting groups,' he shouted. 'I will teach them how to make bows and arrows. And hunt they will, you bet! Even where it is prohibited. Because Rudolf of Amstelveen is right: the children have to eat.'

 

'A nobleman who poaches?' cried one of the other noble children.

 

The others remained silent.

 

'That's not poaching, that's doing God's will,' Carolus screamed.

 

'And besides, I am the king and I have the sacred right to form a hunting procession. Isn't it, Rudolf?'

 

Dolf didn't understand what the boy was talking about, but he nodded because he found that little Carolus very sympathetic. And if he would prove capable of shooting meat for the children's army, Dolf was already okay with it. Whether it was against the law or not - hunger breaks all laws. 'We will also need fishing crews,' he said. I have seen children who can swim well, and others who have nets. But only the swimmers should be included in the fishing teams, for the others that is too dangerous. He turned to Frank. 'Could Peter organize those fishing teams?'

 

'Yes,' Frank said without hesitation. 'Peter is half a fish himself and he has friends among the children.'

 

'Wonderful. Carolus trains the hunters, Peter the fishermen. Who do we put in charge of the security guards?'

 

'I will,' said a stout kid. Those guys there at the covered wagon are also under my command. But I believe that Rudolf is right, the whole camp must be guarded. Children are sometimes taken away at night.'

 

Dolf shivered. The knight's son turned out to be called Fredo, and he seemed to rejoice at the prospect of forming a kind of armed force. Dolf nodded.

 

'We also need a sick team that can take care of the wounded and the children who get sick along the way. That is why we have to organize the march differently during the day. Boys lead the way with sticks or bows and arrows to keep robbers and scrupulous scum at a distance. Behind them come groups of small and weak people, with older children between them to help them if necessary. We can use the ox cart for the transport of children who are no longer able to walk. As soon as we reach a large city, we have to try to accommodate the sick and wounded there. You are healthy, you can walk! Behind the little ones there must be others who can get along well, who can then catch the stragglers. The tail of the army must be re-formed by strong, well-armed children to be able to absorb an attack in the back. In this way, no children will be left unnoticed to die who knows how miserable. Do you agree, Fredo?'

 

'I think it's a very good plan,' the boy nodded.

 

'Do I have to walk?' asked the girl with the jewelry anxiously. 'I don't want to.'

 

Dolf looked at her fine shoes for a moment, they were not much more than silver-plated slippers. She certainly wouldn't get very far.

 

'Who are you?' he asked.

 

'Hilde of Marburg.'

 

The name didn't mean anything to him, but it sounded rather noble.

 

'If you are willing to look after the sick, you can ride in the ox cart,' he said. Hilde nodded with relief.

 

Carolus turned directly to Dolf.

 

'I haven't ridden much,' he said, I didn't think it was entirely fair and besides, it is the job of a king to take care of his people. And I can run very well.'

 

Dolf smiled warmly at him. He started to like the feisty Carolus better and better. He wondered what had motivated this child to join the army of outcasts.

 

'You talk as if you are used to giving orders, Rudolf of Amstelveen,' Dom Johannis now said. 'How big is your father's domain? Are you the eldest son?'

 

Dolf sat up high. At fifteen years old, one meter sixty, he was at least as tall as an adult of that time. They had to think him for at least eighteen years old. His height and the certainty with which he performed intimidated these medieval people. For a fifteen-year-old from Dolf's time, all this was very normal. In the thirteenth century, only noblemen dared to boast so high. Dolf decided to exploit the impression he had made to the utmost.

 

'Forgive me,' he said. 'It hurts me to talk about the past and my childhood. I would ask you not to ask any questions. I can't answer them without getting into trouble.'

 

The children in the circle nodded understandingly. They too preferred not to think back to the castles they had left, with strict lords, rough soldiers, stinking serfs, and the boredom of the long winters.

 

In Jerusalem, the heart of the world, it was always summer, the flowers bloomed all year round.

 

After he had cut off all questions about his origin, Dolf continued with the unfolding of his plans.

 

'The camp for the night must also be set up differently from now on. We must prepare ploughs of wood gatherers, cooking crews and watchmen. What we need are large cooking pans and as many food bags as possible. The food that we have caught or received during the day must be collected by the security guards and they must keep it until the evening. Then the cooking teams can work over large fires and feed the entire children's army. At night, large boys and girls, well armed, have to stand guard on the outside of the camp.'

 

Carolus was nodding, and Fredo too, but Dom Anselmus said stiffly: 'That's all going to take too much time. We will hardly make any progress and before autumn arrives we must be over the mountains.'

 

Dolf answered:

 

'We will have to get used to it in the first few days, but once each child has understood what is required of him, you will see that everything is much easier and that we move faster.'

 

He looked for a moment at the other monk, Dom Johannis, who smiled heartily to him. He seemed to be a nice man. Carolus shouted: 'Rudolf of Amstelveen is the walking wisdom. A good organization is necessary for an army. Rudolf, you can count on me.' Because Carolus' word apparently had authority, the other baron's children hardly dared to raise objections. Dolf decided to take it a step further, because he saw that Nicholas was looking dark and shaking his head all the time.

 

'All these children,' he said, pointing in the direction of the sleeping camp, 'come from somewhere, and they have learned something. For example, there is a boy sitting by my campfire who grew up in the woods and knows all about animal tracks. Carolus will be able to take a lot of help from such boys in his hunting procession.'

 

'What's his name?' asked Carolus excitedly.

 

'Everard. Tomorrow morning I will send him to you, it will certainly please you. Because if we want to form good and useful departments who can all provide the children's army with food and protect it from dangers, we must let the children choose their own work as much as possible. Each of them knows something that he can apply for the benefit of all.

 

Those words were met with general surprise. In the Middle Ages, every person knew his place. He was born there and proved true to his rank. Of course, even in the thirteenth century, you could make a career. Society did have some flexibility and the very intelligent generally managed to improve their position. But letting every child choose his task, for the common good at that, was something so completely new for this elite group that they shook their heads in bewilderment.

 

Dolf, however, knew what he was doing. He knew the value of a person who enjoys doing the work that suits him best. Seeing how far astonished the others were, and understanding that he had said something difficult, he quickly passed on to another subject.

 

'I heard Dom Anselmus say something about mountains there. Which route do we actually follow to the Holy Land?'

 

The map of Europe was quite firmly in his head. He wondered how these people would actually know the way.

 

He received an answer from the friendly Dom Johannis.

 

'At Geneve we will reach the sea.'

 

'Geneve?' asked Dolf. 'I don't understand that. What shall we do in Geneve?'

 

'God has commanded Nicholas to bring the children's army to Geneve,'

said the broody Dom Anselmus briefly.

 

Well well, Dolf thought. Then he startled.

 

'But then we have to cross the Alps!'

 

The monks nodded and Dolf felt his blood turn to ice. What did the Alps look like in this time? Were there roads? Yes, of course there were. The Romans had already crossed it more than a thousand years earlier. And Hannibal with his elephants. Still frightened by the idea of having to conquer the grimmest mountain range in Europe with some eight thousand helpless children, Dolf stared pensively ahead. Wouldn't that end in a terrible way? He knew the Alps. How many times had he been to Switzerland, Austria and Italy with his parents? But then they drove in a comfortable car, on asphalted roads, by which restaurants, hotels and picnic areas were set up. Police cars patrolled and the cars of the Road Help toured. Where little could happen to you as a traveller. He was well aware that this time it would be different. Bad, narrow roads, along dizzying abysses. Criminals lurking to rob unsuspecting travelers. Barons who demanded toll, if they didn't cut the throats of the travelers first in order to plunder them. 'So over the Alps to Geneve,' he said out loud. 'And what next? Geneve is still thousands of miles from Jerusalem.'

 

He knew what the answer would be, but he wanted to hear it from the mouths of adults. He heard it.

 

'God will perform a miracle with the sea and make the waters turn away, so that we can reach the Holy Land on foot.'

 

Do those monks believe that themselves? Dolf wondered.

 

For some time he had noticed, outside the circle of light of the fire, a dark figure who seemed to listen attentively to their conversation. He thought he recognized Leonardo in it, with his club. What was he doing here?

 

'If we have to cross the Alps,' said Dolf, digging into his memories, 'then I propose to take the Brenner Pass. It is not that high and dangerous.'

 

'The plan is to travel on the old road of Mont-Cenis,' Anselmus replied stiffly. 'That's the shortest way and I know that route. I once made a pilgrimage to Rome.'

 

'I know that road too,' Dolf shouted, half panicked. 'And it’s terrible, almost as bad as the Great Saint Bernard!’

 

A surprised silence followed. Dolf turned red.

 

'I've traveled a lot,' he said softly.

 

His mother did not like to fly. She loved the beautiful views too much to skip whole sections on her travels, she used to say. That is why the Wegas had always gone on holiday by car, touring all the pass roads in the Alpine region. Dolf’s father also found pleasure in this and even refused to use the large car tunnels. That way you saw something of the world. Like all inhabitants of a flat country, Dolf was fond of mountains and wild landscapes. He had always enjoyed those trips to the fullest. But now…

 

'Let's turn east at Strasbourg,' he suggested, 'then we will go through the Black Forest, through Bavaria, we will pass the Karwendel mountains, because behind it lies Innsbruck. Beyond Innsbruck begins the Brenner Pass. We then walk straight to Bolzano. I admit that it is quite a detour, but it is the only option if we want to get those eight thousand children over the mountains in one piece. 'No,' Anselmus said impatiently. 'Such a detour is pointless. In addition the Karwendel Mountains are teeming with robbers.' 'Oh well, that must be the case everywhere in the mountains,' mustered Dolf innocently.

 

'Have you been there?' asked Carolus excitedly. 'Do you know the mountains?'

 

'Yes. I have traveled all the passes.'

 

Of course they didn't believe that.

 

Dom Johannis said softly: 'On Mont-Cenis there is a famous abbey where travelers can find shelter and food.' 'Eight thousand at the same time?' sneered Dolf. 'Or even just four thousand? Because we will have lost at least half of the children before we get to that point.'

 

The dark figure outside the circle of light suddenly came forward. It was indeed Leonardo. Leaning on his club, he said calmly: Forgive me for having followed this meeting of such illustrious company. I'm Leonardo Fibonacci da Pisa, an itinerant student on my way to Bologna. Out of pity, I have joined the Children's Crusade for the time being. I also know the Alps and some pass roads and I can tell you that Rudolf of Amstelveen is right. The Mont-Cenis is impossible, that journey will cost thousands of small children their lives. There at that terrible altitude nothing grows anymore, not a bush, and it is icy cold. The children will die of hunger, they will freeze in the freezing nights... The Brenner is not so high and not so inhospitable.' 'The bears of the Karwendel will destroy us,' Anselmusur said gloomily.

 

'Bears?' asked Dolf in shock. After that he could have bitten off his tongue because Nicholas immediately shouted:

 

'I hear you don't know anything about the mountains.'

 

Dolf was taken aback for a moment, but Leonardo was not.

 

'Are there no bears and wolves on the barren Mont-Cenis?' he asked harshly. The monks had to admit that.

 

God have mercy, bears, Dolf thought. I hadn't counted on that. And wolves too! What awaits us?

 

The student, leaning on his club, calmly looked down on the company. He was slim and not much taller than Dolf. But he was powerful, especially because of his imperturbability and self-confidence. Dolf admired him, especially when Leonardo tapped his club loosely on the ground and calmly remarked:

 

'Oh well, with this friend I don't have to shy away from any bear.'

 

Little Carolus, who almost exploded with sheer enthusiasm, screamed: 'How can we ignore the advice of two experienced travellers?'

 

'Quiet,' said a girl in a blue cloak. 'I'm afraid of bears and wolves.'

 

In the meantime, Dolf had regained his attitude.

 

'We are all afraid,' he said, 'but with the necessary preparations and a group of brave hunters and security guards, we will be able to keep the wild animals at bay.'

 

They continued to meet late into the night. Finally it was decided to abandon the trip over the feared Mont-Cenis and to choose the road that Dolf and Leonardo had proposed. The girl with the jewelry had fallen asleep against Carolus' shoulder. She was a very beautiful girl, with long blond braids and no older than twelve years old. The feisty Carolus had put an arm around her and looked down on her blond head lovingly.

 

'Is Hilde your sister? Dolf asked.

 

'Hilde of Marburg is the daughter of Count Ludwig,' Carolus whispered. 'She was raised at the court of her uncle, the archbishop of Cologne in the monastery of course. The archbishop ordered her to go with us. She will become the queen of Jerusalem.'

 

'That's not bad,' Dolf let slip.

 

'And I—,' said Carolus dreamily, 'I will be called king of Jerusalem. I will live with my bride Hilde in a white palace and always be happy.'

Children's dreams, children's fantasies, touching and unreal. What was he supposed to say? Dolf knew no better to do than to bow to the little king. A tribute that was graciously received by Carolus.

 

'Rudolf of Amstelveen,' he said without getting up, because he did not want to wake up the girl, 'I hereby appoint you my first squire.'

 

With his free hand he tapped Dolf's shoulder.

 

'That gives you the right to sleep in the tent at night,' he added conspiratorially.

 

'Thank you, Carolus, but I'd rather sleep by my own campfire. There's also a sweet girl there that I have to protect, you see.'

 

Carolus nodded understandingly. Dolf stood up.

 

Now I have been knighted by the king of Jerusalem, he thought amuzed, and I will go on a journey with thousands of joking, fantasizing children, which would make a hundred strong, armed fellows shrink back. What kind of crazy era is this? And again he realized that he would never understand anything about these medieval people.

 

Together with Leonardo and the half-asleep Frank, Dolf returned to his campfire. Only Peter was still awake and faithfully kept watch over the others. Frank told him briefly what had been discussed.

 

In the meantime, Dolf prepared to go to sleep too. He stretched out on the hard ground, next to Leonardo, and asked softly:

 

'Why were you suddenly there, friend? Have you followed us?'

 

'Oh,' muttered the student, seemingly indifferent. 'Call it a precautionary measure. When I saw you walking away with Frank with a face like: I'll tell those guys, I understood that you would have a lot of opinions. I thought it would be better to stay around. By the way, what do you think of those two monks?'

 

'Dumbasses,' Dolf said without thinking.

 

Leonardo tried to find a softer spot for his back. He moved back and forth for a moment and then said, whispering:

 

'Not fools, Rudolf. Especially not Anselmus... But fake.'

 

'Are you serious?' asked Dolf shrillly.

 

'Shhh, not so loud. Yes, I'm serious. Yesterday I had already noticed them.

Something is not right. What do they want with this Children's Crusade?'

 

'Recapture Jerusalem.'

 

'That's what they say, yes,' Leonardo muttered.

 

Dolf was glad that he was not alone in his doubts.

 

'Why do you think they are not real monks?'

 

'I was surprised that they let you finish,' Leonardo replied dreamily. 'That they didn't jump up and accuse you of heresy.' 

'I thought I was giving such a pious speech,' Dolf said silly. Leonardo chuckled.

 

'Rudolf, dear boy, I have never heard anyone say such unusual things as tonight. You are a very clever boy and I don't understand where you got all your knowledge and experience from at your age. But you are a heretic, and if I were you I would be a little careful.'

 

Dolf sighed. It was true: no matter how hard he tried, he did not know what to do with the divine feelings of the thirteenth century. 'I really tried to say the things they say themselves, about the divine commands and so on,' he apologized. The student half straightened up and looked down at Dolf seriously. 'And did you believe what you said there, Rudolf?'

 

The boy felt that he was blushing. Fortunately, the fire burned very low, so the Italian could not see it.

 

'You believe in it as little as I do, Rudolf. I have traveled quite a bit and seen a lot of the world. I think Nicholas is also honest, but he is abused by those two guys in their stolen robes and with their pious faces. They are not priests. I knew that at the moment they let your words pass over them without protesting. That was not right. Even the dumbest priest would have gagged you. And what did they do? They listened to your proposals with the greatest interest. Apparently those two have a lot to gain from getting as many healthy children as possible to Geneve. Why? Have you wondered about that, Rudolf?' 

'Yes,' Dolf said quickly.

 

'Nice. Then you know what to look out for and why you have to be careful.'

 

Leonardo wanted to go back to sleep, but Dolf shook him on the arm.

'Do you believe that the sea will give way to us, friend?

 

'Hm.'

 

'Do you believe in miracles?'

 

'Sometimes.' Leonardo got half up again. 'You are a miracle. At the moment I was in danger of being murdered two highwaymen, you came from heaven to relieve me, and you brought with you your unbelievable knowledge of Arabic arithmetic! And suddenly we discovered together that we were in the middle of the Children's Crusade and again a miracle happens: the stranger who has suddenly appeared on St. John's Day, sets himself up as a leader with more intelligence and travel experience than all those so-called leaders put together. And you ask me if I believe in miracles? I don't experience anything else!'

 

Dolf chuckled, Leonardo joined him.

 

'Good night.'

 

Five minutes later they were asleep.