Crossing To Paradise by Kevin Crossley-Holland Read Free Book Online

very long before they all grew quiet, sobered by thoughts of the separation ahead. The pilgrims knew that some of them might reach the end of their lives before they returned to Ewloe, and the villagers knew some of them would not live to see the pilgrims return. One by one, those who were leaving embraced parents, children, friends, everyone who was staying behind.
    Not Gatty, though. There was no one at Ewloe who particularly cared whether she was going or staying.
    Don’t matter, Gatty thought. The people I care about are at Caldicot.Them and Arthur. Yes, and Lady Gwyneth and Snout and Everard and all.
    But then, at the very last moment, Mansel, the shoemaker’s son, stepped up to Gatty. He put one hand into each gown pocket and pulled out two soft felt shoes, yellow as finches, their toes and heels patched with russet leather.
    â€œFor me?” said Gatty.
    Lady Gwyneth and Nest walked on, and Gatty and Mansel were left together. His eyes were so bright.
    â€œYou made them?” asked Gatty.
    â€œWhen you’re tired, see. When your feet are aching. You can wear them in the evenings.”
    Gatty felt her eyes pricking. “I will,” she said huskily. She grabbed Mansel and hugged him. Then she took a few steps, turned back and waved, and walked briskly away.
    Snout sank his buck teeth into his wedge of bread, bit off a lump, and chewed it for almost as long as a cow chews her cud. Lady Gwyneth nibbled the edge of her wedge, quick and keen as an Armenian mouse.
    â€œWell?” she asked. “Why are we here? Why are we making this pilgrimage?”
    The pilgrims looked glumly at one another, uneasily shifted their buttocks, rubbed their chins, and raised their eyes to heaven for guidance. Each of them knew how Lady Gwyneth liked plans and explanations, but no one had expected to have to speak up this soon.
    â€œLord Jesus,” Emrys began, “he rode into Jerusalem on a foal. If I can ride in after him, I’ll be happy. Anyhow, you asked me to come, my lady, and look after all our horses.” The stableman looked round the group, and suddenly drew his dagger and waved it menacingly. “Anyhow,” he said, “where would you be without me and Snout?”
    Everyone laughed and Lady Gwyneth rewarded Emrys with a small smile. “What about you, Tilda?”
    â€œTo beg Lord Jesus to purify my body and loosen my stiff limbs,” Tilda replied. “Especially my poor hands. And then I’m going to beg Jesus for a better husband.”
    â€œBetter than Emrys?” asked Nakin.
    â€œYou devil!” said Tilda. “I mean I want Emrys to treat me better. I’m not a big…big…what is it?”
    â€œBigamist,” said Lady Gwyneth.
    â€œLike you said the Saracens are.”
    â€œNo!” said Lady Gwyneth. “No, I didn’t say that. Nakin! What about you?”
    â€œI’m most at home away from home,” the merchant replied, “and for me, travel means trade.” Nakin cheerfully rubbed his hands. “And while I’m in Jerusalem, I’ll ask for forgiveness! Forgiveness for all my past sins and,” said Nakin with a sly smile, “any little new ones I commit on the way.”
    Nakin’s words, thought Gatty, they’re slick as snot.
    Snout made a squelching sound and unglued his mouth. “I’m going to get on my knees and rub my nose against Jesus’s grave and…and…”
    â€œSnort!” said Nest.
    â€œNest!” protested Lady Gwyneth.
    â€œâ€¦and cry out, I am. Cry out to Lord Jesus to cure it.” Snout looked at his fellow pilgrims. “To tell you the truth,” he confided, “I doubt it will make any difference.”
    â€œBelieve that it will,” Austin told him.
    â€œYes, and I’ll come home with a sackful of herbs and spices,” added Snout.
    â€œVery good,” said Lady Gwyneth.
    â€œI’m eager to learn more about the singing