Beloved Pilgrim

by Nan Hawthorne

  Elisabeth kept her eye out for glimpses of the Margravina. If anything, her soulful glances and sighs helped her disguise as a man. Many of the other knights she met teased her about her infatuation. She blushed deeply when they did, but this only made the other men laugh the harder. Nor was she the only "young man" so smitten. The Margravina basked in the adulation, but she did not actively seek or encourage it. She remained aloof.

  For his part the Margrave mixed with the soldiers in his hall. He made much of not being able to go with them to the Holy Land, but he regretfully shared that he was needed where he was, to ensure that all the military force would remain to keep the borderlands free of strife. It was clear his regret was sincere.

  Elisabeth learned quickly from her observation of the knights around her. That they accepted her as one of them continued to astound her.

  Albrecht was less surprised. "I think you are right. They are not looking for a woman when they look at you. They just see a very young man. And you were right. The shaving helps."

  Her observations did not extend to every place the other men went. When she was invited to go and find a bordello she demurred, giving the excuse that she was pledged to her lady, the Margravina, and would not dishonor that pledge. The other knights seemed to eat this up. It fueled the taunts they delighted in casting on her.

  There were other knights who brought Elisabeth into their fold, knights of more rigid character, who praised her for her steadfastness in not going off to commit sins of the flesh. "Just because our quest will cleanse away sins does not mean that we should commit them willfully," one older knight counseled. "You keep yourself pure, young Elias," he said, "and God will reward you in heaven."

  Leopold appeared to have noticed as well. He was amused but also pleased by the young knight's good behavior. The Margrave was a saintly man himself, strictly observant of the commandments, dedicated not only to his lovely mother but also to his wife and young children.

  Elisabeth's daydreams-and night dreams for that matter-about the radiant Ida remained chaste. At no time did she let her fantasies reach the truly sensual level. The most bodily imagining she had was the feel of what she thought the Margravina's lips would feel like on her own. Not being a musician she could not join in with other young knights' writing and performing of chansons to the lady, which she seemed to enjoy. All Elisabeth could do was sit, gaze and sigh.

  The Feast of All Hallows came and went with no sign of Conrad, though he was expected to arrive any day. Some of the knights, a motley collection of Frankish, Flemish, Germans and Austrians, began to fret that if Conrad took much longer, they would all be stuck in Mölk with the Alpine passes impassable in the winter weather. Fortunately they had an outlet for their impatience in the form of daily fighting practice, something of which Elisabeth and Albrecht took full advantage.

  Elisabeth found herself embraced by a small cadre of knights of a half generation her senior. She came to their attention one early morning as she and Albrecht practiced swordplay in the castle courtyard. Neither had noticed the gathering group who watched as they matched blow for blow as they had with her brother not so very long before. They were startled when cheers rose from the sidelines after a particularly hearty blow Elisabeth landed with her sword on Albrecht's teardrop-shaped shield cracked it in half.

  A big man with a bushy black beard and likewise bushy black eyebrows sauntered over and put one hand on the shoulder of each combatant. "Well delivered, young Elias! And, you, my friend, need a new shield. Without it, you are a sitting duck for whatever the Paynim devils have in store for you!"

  He introduced himself as Johannes Schwarzes-Tier or "Black Beast." His two companions were Alain de Bourges and Gerhardt von Regenheim. Alain offered to send his squire for an extra shield he had. "I would not wish your lord to be the loser for lack of your good right arm."

  While Albrecht and Renard, Alain's squire ran off to get the shield, Gerhardt, a smiling man with hair the color of burnished gold and deep blue eyes and part of his right ear missing, challenged Elisabeth to a bout with axes. The German knight got the better of Elisabeth quickly as she had never learned the technique of that particular weapon.

  Gerhardt drawled in his easy-going way, "Just remember that mighty crack you dealt to your squire's shield. That's how you manage a war axe. With well-aimed might. I will teach you."

  Alain suggested, "Peut-être the young man has more experience with a mace? Ah, I think he does!" he said, seeing Elisabeth's broad grin.

  Alain's mace was his practice mace, without the spikes he would want for killing. When one of the men standing about offered to lend Elisabeth his battle mace, she started to protest, but Alain waved her concerns down. "I will give you that advantage, my friend." Nevertheless, he eased her qualms by donning a thick padded gambeson.

  He and Elisabeth squared off with several feet of ground between them. It was apparent from the beginning that the young German knight knew how to use the weapon, though primarily for defense. The two moved toward each other and held their maces with one hand low on the handle and the other cupped under the shaft nearer the heavy iron head. Each tested the weapon's balance by slapping its shaft onto that palm. The trick was to watch the opponent's eyes to see where he was considering a blow. Elisabeth managed to deflect Alain's blow aimed at her right arm by getting the shaft of her own weapon up quickly enough to intercept the smooth round ball, though the weight of the blow shoved her back. She feinted, no mean trick with such a weighted weapon, and swung about to strike Alain's thigh. Alain shouted with surprise. The site of the wound was under the padding, but nevertheless a small amount of blood ran down his leggings. He grinned and held his weapon out in front of him like a sword, danced back and then forward so sharply that the round iron ball took Elisabeth in the teeth. Her nose erupted in blood. It was her first significant wound, but rather than cry out, she whooped with soggy pleasure.

  "Look!" she cried, putting one glove to her streaming nose and reaching up to her mouth with the other, having dropped the mace. With triumph she pulled out a tooth and held it aloft. "I lotht a toot!" she crowed.

  Albrecht and Renard came running up at that point. Albrecht dropped the shield he was carrying and ran to Elisabeth. "My lord! You are hurt!"

  Still clutching her nose, she replied, "Yeth, but he ith too. And I lotht a toot!" She smiled as wide as she could so her squire could see the missing tooth, though in truth he could not for the blood.

  Black Beast shook his head, but he was smiling too. "I remember my first disfiguring scar. I was as proud of it as our young Elias is."

  Albrecht fetched his shield. He told the group, "The front was plain black, so I decided to paint a sitting duck on it." He held it out, then frowned as the knights laughed. Then he looked chagrined. "I painted it upside down!" he moaned. Turning the shield around, they saw it was true. There was a duck, indeed, but its feet pointed skyward and its head toward the ground.

  Black Beast slapped him on the shoulder. "When your master knights you, you will be Sir Albrecht of the Upside-Down Duck, the bane of Paynim throughout the Holy Land!"

  Thereafter the group practiced together daily, and Elisabeth found her command of weapons increasing, her prowess growing greater over time. The only thing the knights could not persuade her to join in on was their carousing. She demurred quietly, and the knights teased her about her religious fervor but also respected it.

  "He is a true man of God, our young pilgrim knight," Gerhardt boasted to anyone in hearing.

  Another result of Elisabeth's seeming piety was that their small hoard of coins remained more or less intact. They used one coin for the offering as they visited Leopold's monastery. It was a long structure made entirely of stone on a cliff overlooking the Danube and the Wachau Valley. Standing at the edge of the construction, Albrecht asked a Benedictine monk who was assigned to show them around, "I don't understand the name of the town. What does Mölk mean?"

  The young monk shook his head. "It's not
German. Someone told me that it is from a Slav word that means 'border.' When this land was given to the Margrave's family, it was meant to be a sort of bulwark between Bavaria and the Magyars. Why it has a Slav name then, instead of Ugric, I do not know."

  Gazing out over the dramatic landscape below, with its deep gorge and glassy blue river surface, Elisabeth pursued, "And the Margrave has given this land to the Benedictine order. Where is your abbey now?"

  "Lambach. And he actually gave this most generous gift to our order a decade ago. He moved to the lesser part of his castle so we could take most of it. It is a rare blessing. We hope to make it a great abbey, with a school and scriptorium, for the greater glory of God. And that is his Grace's aim as well. He is a most devout man."

  Albrecht called from where he had wandered over closer to the edge of the rock. "My lord, see here!"

  Elisabeth strode over, accompanied by the informative cleric. "What is it?"

  She looked where Albrecht indicated. There was a long line of boats and barges coming down the Danube. Each was packed with men, livestock or stores in barrels and crates.

  "Conrad?" Elisabeth wondered aloud.

  "It must be, my lord." Albrecht counted the vessels. "A dozen so far and methinks there are more behind."

  The monk sighed, though his expression was excited. "I know not where we shall put them all."

  Elisabeth gestured to Albrecht to come. "That's what sailcloth is for," and pointed to one of the barges that appeared to have rolls and rolls of a tan material. "Tents. Let's go down to the wharf to meet them, Albrecht."

  At the wharf the first of the boats was pulling up and being tethered to the shore. A dock man tossed a plank to make a gangway. The first man to disembark was in full armor with a flat-topped iron helm and the ubiquitous crusader tabard complete with red cross. Behind him a knight carried a banner with the emblem of the Holy Roman Emperor, three black lions passant on a yellow background.

  Elisabeth and Albrecht and all the other knights and their attendants sank to their knees in greeting. "Conrad?" Elisabeth whispered, leaning to Albrecht's ear.

  Albrecht nodded. "It must be."

  They stayed kneeling as the Constable of Holy Roman Emperor Henry IV passed, followed by many knights of considerable degree.

  At the feast given in his honor, Conrad stood to address a hall packed with men dressed in crusader garb. "The Emperor will exult at my report of how many of you have come to join our faction. It is indeed a great and glorious quest we depart on. May God give strength to our purpose. How can he not?" The man, older but sturdy, battle scarred and grim, made the sign of the cross and took his place next to the Margrave. The Margravina was the only woman in the room. Other than Elisabeth, of course, who sat far down one of the rows of trestle tables with Albrecht in attendance behind her.

  Albrecht leaned forward to say in Elisabeth's ear, "Look over there, on the opposite wall at the bottom of the room."

  Elisabeth swiveled her head to peer through the throngs of servants delivering platters of food to the tables. "Well, I'll be . . . ," she breathed.

  Almost out the door of the hall sat Ranulf the Peacemaker. As she gazed at him, frowning, he happened to glance over and see her looking at him. He grinned and raised his cup in a salute. When she scowled, he laughed and shrugged.

  When the many knights were called to be introduced to the Constable, Elisabeth was pleased to see that she was invited up but not Ranulf.

  As she approached Conrad and went down on one knee, Leopold leaned to speak in the Constable's ear. The German nodded, and turned back to Elisabeth. "I fought with your brave father Sigismund, my son. As you may know, I was also not able to leave with the first crusaders. I did not have your father's sad reason. And now I hear there is a loss in your family again, both your father and your, is it? Your sister? I also had thought it was you yourself."

  "No, my lord, my father did leave, though late, for the Holy Land. But my sister is a great loss. I miss her greatly," Elisabeth said mournfully. "But it is my aim to go share in my father's and my . . . uh . . . my father's vow and fulfill his pledge to His Holiness and God." She had almost said, "and my brother's."

  Conrad put his hand on her shoulder. "Good man. We need brave and committed men in our armies. You are most welcome in your father's name."

  From the Constable's side the Margravina smiled her blessing on the rapturous young man.

  Elisabeth felt two inches above the stone flags as she came back through the hot, noisy hall to her place. Albrecht looked questioningly at her. "He knew my father!" she said.

  "But not your brother?" Albrecht asked nervously.

  She hadn't thought of that possibility. "Oh, dear God, but no. I don't think so. But he knew I was dead."

  Albrecht put a finger to his lips. "Careful." He satisfied himself no one had overheard. "Well, good, we are almost on our way, my lord."

  The next day the nearly completed abbey church was the site of the mass oath-taking led by the Constable, the Margrave, the abbot who had led the prayer for Elisabeth's "sister's" soul, and more besides. As one voice they made the pledge led by one of Conrad's bishops. Elisabeth's command of Latin was unusual for a knight's daughter, but she was able to follow what the bishop intoned.

  "I pledge my sword, my life and my soul to Almighty God that I shall make my way to his Holy City of Jerusalem, to kneel and worship at the altar of the Church of the Holy Sepulcher where His Blessed Son was entombed and later rose and ascended to His Heavenly Father. I will protect my fellow pilgrims and drive back and punish all those who seek to befoul the Holy Land. I will join the noble ranks of those who have gone before me and gloriously wrested the Holy City from the Paynim and brought it in the name of His Holiness, the Pope, back into the hands of the faithful. I pledge my honor and the surety of my soul, for God wills it. Amen."

  The voices of the abbey choir rose in a hymn of praise. Elias von Winterkirche, Knight of the Crusade, almost teetered, her head was so full of the sheer glory of it all.

  In a few days, she and Albrecht, in full armor and with a new packhorse, set out to the south for the journey to Brindisi at the heel of Italy and thence by ship to the Sublime City of Constantinople.

  Chapter Seven ~ A New World

  Looking back from where she sat mounted on Gauner's broad back, Elisabeth marveled at all the souls on the road with her. Though Conrad's contingent was not a national one, the number of people who accompanied him was surprising. She guessed the number of pilgrim knights was relatively small. She knew that larger groups would join them before they set sail from Brindisi in the far south of Italy. The throng she surveyed seemed to consist of men-at-arms, servants, families, traders and the less reputable camp followers. These last made a strong contrast to the stated pledge of the knights to remain chaste at least until they knelt in the Church of the Holy Sepulcher.

  Black Beast grumbled about leaving so late in the season. "We're likely to find our asses in some mountain pass in a blizzard."

  From their reactions, it looked like Alain and Gerhardt were in accordance with his sentiments.

  She turned to her squire. "Is that likely?"

  Albrecht shrugged. "I pray not."

  At first the traveling was fairly easy. The company headed west along the bank of the Danube for quite some time, ever with the Alpine vistas to their left. They seemed impossibly high, insurmountable, but Alain reassured her that there were several passes where one could travel between the highest peaks.

  "Have you been through them?"

  Alain shook his head sheepishly. "Well, no, not exactly. I heard it from someone who has many times."

  "What time of year did he travel?" she pursued.

  Gerhardt laughed. "When sane people do it. Summer."

  "Well, mayhap with our holy cause God will delay the worst weather for us."

  The three knights exchanged glances, and then looked at her. "That's why we travel with you, Elias. You keep us focused on why we are here,
" Alain commented.

  "And keep us humble," added Gerhardt.

  Whether or not God had anything to do with it, Elisabeth's hope was made fact. As they turned south at Raulbing, the grade rose, but even as they approached the pass they had only occasional snow flurries. What's more the ground was frozen enough that the little moisture did not turn into mud. The three knights began to call her "Elias the Lucky." The name spread and stuck. Even Conrad hailed her once with that appellation.

  The two Winterkirche pilgrims shared sighs of relief as they turned away from Bavaria. For the leagues they had traveled through their home duchy neither had been able to relax. Trying not to be obvious, they kept an eye on travelers coming the opposite way. They expected to see Reinhardt or his men searching for her. She could only hope that her disguise and her presence amidst so many that were likewise dressed in chain mail and the pilgrim's tabard would make her invisible to his eyes.

  "Do you think he has given up?" she asked Albrecht not long after the road turned toward the mountains to the south.

  Her squire proposed, "Mayhap he is afraid he will find and be stuck with you?"

  Elisabeth gave him a sardonic look. "Very droll."

  Albrecht cocked an eyebrow. "Nothing about your father, my lord, from anyone along the way?"

  She shook her head. "I expected none. He was to take the western pass. Mayhap in Italy . . . "

  In spite of the fortunate weather, the traveling was slow. It was definitely a hardship every time they had to stop to make camp for the night. They had sailcloth tents for the ranking members of the pilgrimage. The rest bundled up together as best they could, sharing body heat, blankets, and probably the pox, Elisabeth imagined, noticing when she was on watch how the bodies in some spot or another writhed and bumped. When the chill wind blew, getting fires started was no easy task, and the hot food did not stay hot long. But the conviviality that was part of the start of any adventure was apt medicine for the discomforts and privations.