Pilgrims of Promise by C. D. Baker Read Free Book Online Page B

the lad nonetheless agreed.
    “Good. Now we must make ready. Have you organized the groups according to Heinrich’s plan?”
    “ Ja .”
    “Have we any sort of buckets or flasks?”
    “We’ve a few things among us,” answered Helmut. “A few pots, some clay jars, and the like.”
    “It will have to do.” Heinrich cast a worried eye at Paul’s group now assembled and receiving instructions from their commanders. Brave lads, all… and maids as well, he thought. If they only knew what sorrows are waiting in Rome . He shook his shaggy head and walked toward them.
    Paul turned to greet the man. “Godspeed to you and yours, Herr Heinrich.”
    “And to you, son.” The man studied three rows of about twenty crusaders each. Most still carried wooden crosses stuffed defiantly in their belts. Their breasts still boasted embroidered red crosses—faded and tattered though they were. “Is there to be no changing your mind on this?”
    “Nay, m’lord. We are fixed to do what we must to save our crusade.”
    “You truly believe the pope will give you guidance?”
    Paul nodded confidently. “He shall equip us to carry on our crusade.”
    Heinrich sighed sadly. “Each of your followers has been offered a fair chance to join with us?”
    “Aye.”
    “And none of yours wishes to refuse your night’s raid on the city?”
    “Aye.”
    Heinrich looked at Paul’s gathering comrades quietly. Brave, but so foolish, he thought. Realizing he could not stop them, he relented. “Well then, walk with me for a moment.” He led Paul a short distance from all the others and extended his hand. In the center of his palm was a gold coin. “Take this, my son. Take it to Rome. Find the church called Santa Maria in Domnica, and there you must give it to Sister Anoush. Tell her of me; tell her I’ve sent you. Tell her ‘the worm is no more.’ She will help you in ways beyond what the mere value of this gold could ever do.”
    Puzzled but grateful, Paul received the coin and closed his fingers around it tightly. He looked into Heinrich’s face with sincere gratitude and nodded.
    Each camp reviewed its particular plan one final time. For Paul, the strategy of the night’s robbery was complicated and perilous. He had decided to send seven groups of five through the gates along the northern arc of the city wall, the rest in trios through the carefully guarded southern gates. He had assigned most to the neighborhoods of the wealthy, though his group was intending to pilfer the Commenda—the hospice for travelers en route to Palestine. After the raid, they’d make their way quickly southward in hopes of eventually gaining an audience with the pope in his Lateran Palace.
    Meanwhile, Pieter’s captains checked their commands carefully to be sure all were accounted for and what few possessions they had were not forgotten. Frieda changed Wil’s bandages before others tied the young man securely to his litter. Pieter prayed for his new flock, then for Paul’s, pleading in grave tones for the safety of both and a happy end to their suffering.
    Then, as the bells of compline prayers began to echo over the rooftops of Genoa, the two bands of crusaders bade their reluctant farewell. With tears, both companies embraced and wished one another Godspeed. They now suffered that painful moment when friendships lose their breath to become mere memories, when the sharing of life ends and reminiscing begins. For these veterans of hardship, purposes were no longer held in common, and new paths would lead them to different places. So while one was yet called “crusader,” the other would now be called “pilgrim.” And with that simple change in title, that subtle shift in name, destinies would be forever divided. They would never meet again.

     
    Night fell quickly as Wil’s company hurried away from Genoa. As fearsome as the darkness was, however, it did not quench the relief felt by leaving the unfriendly city behind.
    The road was narrow but