“Pilgrims,” answered Heinrich.
The man shook his head and looked carefully at the children. “Their black clothes do not deceive me. Methinks the imps be failed crusaders.”
“No,” answered Pieter with a bite. “We are pilgrims, not crusaders.”
The merchant sneered. “Nay? She carries a crusader’s cross in her belt.”
Pieter grimaced. “She’s a pilgrim, and the crusade did not fail.”
“Well, the caravans are full of talk of it! Yes, indeed it did fail. The little fools have caused good Christians great harm everywhere. They took pestilence with them wherever they went, they stole and murdered, then gave up the cause of Christ in their unbelief. Shame on them! Shame on all of them! They’ve failed the Holy Mother and the saints above. Now God is judging us all for their sins!” He turned a twisted face to Otto. “No, beggar boy, I’ll not give you cheese. And if you try to steal it, well hang you quick. Begone from m’sight. You disgust me!” The man shoved the boy hard.
Voices from the crowd cried out, “Aye, Hartman! Strike him again!”
Pieter and Heinrich both reddened with fury, and Heinrich stepped forward with a menacing scowl. Two eavesdropping soldiers burst from a gathering crowd with swords drawn. “Hold, stranger! Hold or die.”
Pieter whirled about and snarled, “Back away, fools. You’ve no business with us.”
The soldiers’ brows furrowed, and they stormed toward the pilgrims. Maria suddenly leapt in front of them. “Please, sirs! We mean no harm.”
The men stopped and stared at the dirty-faced little girl. They began to laugh. “Well, now that’s a comfort to us, Mädchen. For we were surely in terror of you!”
The growing crowd laughed loudly.
Maria smiled politely, but Pieter noticed a sudden defiance in the glint of her eye. The tyke set her jaw. “Sirs, we only want food for our journey.”
A volley of hisses and taunts flew from the enclosing villagers. “Look at ‘er arm!” shouted one. “A crusader,” sneered another. “No wonder they failed. Look at ‘er.”
“Leave us, y’miserable waifs. Leave our sight! Hartman will not give even a nibble to the likes of you.”
Pieter’s mind was racing, and Heinrich was ready to draw his sword. A village boy threw a dirt clump at Otto when Maria stated firmly, “We’ve silver enough and gold to buy your cursed food!”
Heinrich paled.
“Ja?” blustered the merchant, suddenly surprised. “Well … well then, we ought take it from you and give it to the Church. That might pay a bit of the mighty penance you owe.” He puffed his chest and held his bearded chin high. “But we’re no thieves like the lot of you. Begone and take yer sin-stained coins elsewhere.”
Maria was unaffected. To the dismay of Pieter and Heinrich, she set her little jaw and walked directly to the man. The crowd hushed. “Herr Hartman, you are afraid of us. I see it in your eyes.”
The man laughed. “Afraid? Afraid of the likes of you? Methinks not!”
“You fear to do business with us.”
The merchant faltered.
Maria looked about the crowd. “Will any sell to us?”
Eyes shifted from one to the other, many tempted by silver and gold whether tainted or not. A few halfhearted “nays” were mumbled.
The six-year-old raised her brows. “Then, would any of you be willing to make a wager with us?”
The villagers leaned close, intrigued. “Wager?” asked the merchant incredulously.
“Ja, sir. Is our money good enough to be wagered for?”
A voice grumbled, “Aye! Gold is gold!”
Pieter was now as pale as Heinrich. The baker was nervous, for he had unwisely brought all their gold and silver with him. Inciting this growing mob might easily lead to a beating and a robbery. “Maria?” he said nervously.
The imp tugged lightly on the man’s hand. Heinrich bent low and the girl whispered in his ear, “Trust me.” She smiled.
Heinrich’s heart raced, and Pieter’s foot tapped nervously. The baker cleared his throat. “You heard her!” he boomed. “We’ve a wager to offer—unless you all fear this little maid.”
The crowd murmured as Hartman pulled on his beard. Wagering was the one pastime few could resist.
Pieter lifted his chin. “Pathetic, cowardly women! You’ve not the manhood to make a wager with our little sister. Ha! Go to your beds ashamed.”
“What’s the wager?” shouted a voice.
“Aye! What’s the wager, old man?”
Pieter had no idea. He turned a helpless face toward the girl and waited.