Heinrich narrowed his eye and growled, “Your dimwitted deputy paraded plague through these streets but a few hours past. Have y’ne’er seen plague? I have. And I’m here to warn y’that y’ve brought death and misery upon us all. Y’ve time to expel them yet… while the streets are empty… and I swear by the Virgin Mother and the Holy Church, if you simpletons don’t, I’ll stand in the square on the morrow and tell all of your murderous deed this night!”
The captain began to perspire. Heinrich leaned closer. “Have you ever seen plague?”
The captain shook his head.
“Well, I have and I’ve seen what it does. It seizes a stout and sturdy man like your very self and rots you from the innards out. From your toes to your scalp, your skin shall blacken and bleed, and you’ll soon cry out in pain as you suck for breath. You’ll be set in a row by others who share your plight until your miserable soul is snatched to the Pit and your putrefied body piled in a wagon and hauled to the fires. And, were that not enough, your pathetic name shall be stricken from the memories of all but Lucifer, who shall bind you in his furnace forever!” Heinrich was surprised at his own eloquence, but gave no clue of insincerity. He bored his eye into the captain’s.
“And … and which prisoners bear this … plague?” queried the captain, suddenly anxious.
“Aye, the children. I saw the marks on most, and ‘tis certain y’ve heard how they’ve carried such a curse over all the empire.”
The captain stared blankly at the prison gate. “Ja,” he answered slowly. “Perhaps I ought inform the magistrate.”
“Ach. I knew y’to have more wit than the louts following you about. ‘Tis a good man who spares his Volk such an end. If y’fail to exile those whelps, your city will be filled with the litter of a thousand black corpses by Assumption… and y’dare not hang ‘em, nor put them to the torch and risk the wrath of the Church. But why call the magistrate? I’d wager he’d put a foot to your arse for trussing him to such a blunder!”
The captain’s lips twitched and he wiped his sweating hands on his leggings. “I’ve the authority to arrest and dismiss at my will and … methinks it best to rid this city of any risk of plague. You, sergeant, drag them beyond the walls and be quiet about it. Let ‘em die in the mountains.” He turned a sly eye to Heinrich.
“And I suppose we are in your debt, stranger? You ought be rewarded for such a warning and for your … discretion, ja? Take this silver and begone.”
Heinrich restrained a smile and placed the silver coins in his stuffed satchel. He assured the captain of his silence, then disappeared into the darkness with Solomon at his side.
The surprised crusaders were quickly chased from the unspeakable horror of their dungeon and herded through the dark streets of the city. They were tumbled out through the gate and soon stared in disbelief at each other alongside the banks of the moonlit Rhine. Then, before any could speak, Solomon burst from the darkness and leaped into Pieter’s trembling arms. A happy voice followed. “Ha! You’re free! Pieter, have you all the children, each and every one?”
“Oh, dear God in heaven!” cried the old man. “Good Friend. Ja, ja, we’ve need to count.”
Wil ordered his company to their positions and Pieter counted twenty-six. “So? It seems we’ve grown!”
A few new faces stepped forward timidly. They had been imprisoned for a fortnight and were desperate to escape. Pieter warmly embraced them and welcomed them while Heinrich paced nervously along the line. “Were any left behind … any at all?” he asked. He had seen Wil’s lanky frame but had not found Karl.
Wil answered. “I think not, stranger.”
Heinrich’s heart raced. “Aye … is the redheaded one here?”
“Ja, I am here.”
Heinrich released a quaking breath. He could say nothing for a moment. His mind was whirling. He so desperately wanted to cry out his name, to hold his sons. He mustered his courage and took one step forward. He opened his mouth but could not find the words to say. In the morning, he vowed to himself. By the light of morning I shall tell all. He licked his lips and finally said, “Ah, ‘tis good. I… I wish you all God’s mercy. I must be on my way.” He set down his satchel and laid the children’s effects on the ground. He handed Pieter his staff and the guard’s pennies, and received the old man’s embrace. Midst a chorus of voices the man prepared to leave. He stretched his hand slowly toward Wil’s tall silhouette, stopping just short of touching him. “I … I wish you all Godspeed,” he choked. “’Tis past time for me to take your leave.” With that, Heinrich turned and disappeared into the darkness.