Pilgrims of Promise(21)

“In any case, the lad is keen eyed and strong. His fever’s nearly gone and his mind is clear. I’ve great hope for him.”

Heinrich wiped his eye and nodded gratefully. “He’s m’son…. Pieter, tell them he’s m’son.”





It was true that Eden’s gates had been long since barred, but the pilgrims agreed that no place on the earth could have served as a better reminder of what had been lost to man’s sin. “A taste of what’s to come, my children,” said Pieter cheerfully on the second day. “These men of God have shared their food, their shelter, their kindness. They give us charity beyond what we deserve. It humbles me.”

Indeed, Brother Patroclus had provided more food than any had seen since their failed crusade had begun and most likely more than any had enjoyed in all their young lives. He provided them a dormitory once used as a temporary garrison in the wars against invading Muslims and was already busy having his monks gather ells of their own black cloth for the sewing of new clothing for all.

For the next week, Wil’s company rested comfortably under the swaying palms. They swam naked in the clean waters of the bay, explored the groves of lemons and olives that were planted deep in hidden clearings, and began to explore the monks’ boats. The place was a place of healing—of new beginnings. In just these few days, the bellies of all were already beginning to swell and faces fill. Soon ribs would disappear, and black rings would vanish from under sparkling eyes.

By the end of the month, many were boasting new clothing, caring little that it was only black. Sandals would come later, but few minded. The superior had discussed the general situation at some length with Heinrich and Pieter and had generously offered to care for the children until the season was right for travel. “Truth be told, my friends,” Patroclus said, “we could surely use their hands about the place. The lemons are ready again, grapes need harvesting for wine, the olives are soon ripe, fish need to be netted, wheat needs threshing, pigs need to be slaughtered—”

Pieter beamed. “God bless you, brother, God bless you indeed!”

Patroclus bowed. “We monks claim we are here to serve, yet I fear we have hidden ourselves from the world. There is one Francis of Assisi of whom I have heard. He thinks we ought to venture forth and serve the needy where they are. It is a teaching that intrigues me.”

Brother Stefano translated for Heinrich, who immediately thought of Brother Lukas in faraway Villmar. The baker nodded approvingly.

“So,” Patroclus continued, “it is good for us to serve these children as we may. We are happy for them to remain with us until you are ready to lead them away.”

Heinrich and Pieter clasped the man’s hand and thanked him again. A voice interrupted the meeting, the voice of a very old man who had spent the past weeks studying Pieter from a distance. “Peace be unto you,” he said with a weak grin.

The four turned and received old Brother Nectarios. He was nearly as old as Pieter. “You were here once!” he said as he pointed to Pieter. “Smile for me.”

Pieter was confused.

“Si, smile for me, please.”

The priest shrugged and offered a halfhearted smile.

“Si, si! Ha! I remember you, and so do some others. ‘Twas nearly twenty years ago. I remember, for I had just arrived myself.”

Pieter nodded. “I was here long ago. I remember it well.”

Old Nectarios threw back his head and roared. “You came here with four teeth and left with one!”

Pieter raised his brows, then chuckled. “Aye, old brother. I am not proud of that moment. I thought to keep it a secret!” The priest turned to Heinrich. “Ja. I wandered here for a forgotten cause and was kindly invited to share in a barrel of red wine brought from Rome by some clerk sitting at the head of the table. When asked my opinion of the wine, I unwisely complained that it was rather sour to my taste. ‘Leathery vinegar’ I believe is what I said. Well, having spent most of his time in Rome, the clerk was unaccustomed to truth, and before I knew it, we were quarreling loudly.

“Our quarrel quickly divided the brethren into two groups. It seems some of them had a liking for the pie-faced oaf, others not. We all began shouting, but when I cried out that his breath was so foul, it could turn gold into acorns, he threw a fish at me! So it began. First a fish, then a few flasks, a tankard or two, then fists. It went poorly for the dolt, and he returned to Rome with a crooked nose. But the pleasure of his beating cost me three of m’teeth!”





All Saints’ Day was greeted with a gentle shower. The rain dimpled the inlet’s water softly, and Wil’s company gathered within the dormitory. Otto had counted heads with his captains and reported to Heinrich that all was in order. Frieda reported that Wil’s health was greatly improved, and all cheered. It was then that Pieter made a startling announcement.