It was then that I noticed Reinhardt coming from the direction of the granary and that he was piping with no sound. As he drew closer I saw the rats following him and then the rats within the palace started to rush past our feet to join the mighty rush of rodents. Soon we saw that they came from every direction until the ground swarmed with the vile brown creatures. Reinhardt drew ever nearer to us. I looked at Master Nicodemus who stood pop-eyed beside me, unable to believe what he was seeing.
‘Ah, here they are, come to replace the crows,’ I said in a most natural voice, as if we had both been expecting this pestilence to arrive all along.
‘Nay! No, please no!’ he cried out, bringing his hands to his face. ‘Please, I beseech you! Oh my God!’
‘A troop of soldiers and thyself and a muleteer, the one that is ploughing in May?’ I said, then shouted to Reinhardt, ‘Bring the rats into the palace where they might have a long and happy home!’ By this time the rodents must have numbered several thousand and there were still others coming, running and jumping over small rocks and other obstacles to join the swirling throng. ‘What say you?’ I now asked the distressed Master Nicodemus.
Servants were fleeing for their lives, the women screaming out as rats dodged and ran through and around their legs. Discarded buckets and mops, ladders and brushes lay in their wake. And then I saw that the bishop, who must have come unobserved around the corner of the palace, stood close to us, terrified and dressed in full regalia. His back and palms were hard-pressed against the palace wall, with Reinhardt, who must have seen him, turning slightly and silently piping, commencing to walk directly towards him. ‘Your Master is here to do the blessing of the wagon,’ I said, pointing to the bishop who had now sunk to his knees in the gravel, blubbing and pleading in terror. ‘Do you need to ask his permission?’ I asked politely.
I would beat this man at chess, I thought to myself.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
On the Road to Jerusalem
WE HAD DEPARTED THE bishop’s palace without receiving a blessing, as His Lordship had not been in a state to perform even the smallest task. Shaking and sobbing like a small child he had been quite convinced that he was about to be devoured by the rats, and was eventually carried sniffing and blubbing to the safety of the little room to the side of the passageway. On the surface all seemed well, although I wasn’t fool enough to think that the bishop would forgive me.
The gossips among his servants would no doubt tell this story of the crows and the rats to all and sundry and so further damage would be done to what small reputation he had left with the people of Cologne. I had been the instrument of his previous mortification with the rescinding of our excommunication. Now I’d brought him undone once again. What had happened to him with the rats did not serve him well as either man or bishop and, unlike Master Nicodemus, it had shown him up to be a coward. Although the bishop’s servant stood quaking in his boots, in contrast to the other servants he had stood his ground while Reinhardt piped the rats through the great doors. With the rampaging rats in the palace, the bishop collapsed and lay sobbing near the palace doorway. Master Nicodemus had hastened to lift his master to his feet, but the bishop had brushed his arm aside with a petulant cry, unwilling to rise.
Reinhardt returned and bolted the doors behind him and I stepped forward and solemnly tapped thrice on the oak panels with Father John’s stave. Whereupon I recited a hastily composed incantation that, I confess, was not near good enough to meet the exacting standards of the dear departed Brother Dominic. But in the prevailing atmosphere the words seemed sufficient to cause Master Nicodemus to fall to his knees beside the inert form of the bishop. I spoke out so that they could clearly hear me.
These are the fierce avenging rats!
A curse to show God’s discontent.
He who protects all pious children
has caused them hither to be sent!
Now we journey to the Holy Land,
God’s true cross we hope to gain.
Children who carry a burning faith
to the glory of His precious name!
If you should seek to do us harm,
hear now what we as pilgrims say:
‘May this plague of vicious rodents
be with you forever from this day!’
Confess now the evil in thy heart.
Ask for forgiveness in God’s name.
Then vow to give us thy protection
and we will bring you peace again.
By the end of my recitation the bishop had half risen to sit with his back against the wall and his knees pulled up against his large belly, his mitre tumbled from his balding head. Spent tears glistened down the cheeks of his near-scarlet face and a stream of yellow mucus spilled from his warty winebibber’s nose. Every few moments he’d sniff or a loud hiccup would issue from his heaving chest.
I had spoken as loudly as I might so that the bishop would hear the full extent of my ‘jabbering’ tongue. But it is well-known that fear often blocks out every sensibility and it was quite possible he had not heard a single word. Rats are vile creatures to be sure, but I had never seen anyone as frightened by them as this gibbering Prince of the Church.
Master Nicodemus rose from his knees and standing in front of the bishop waited silently for permission to help him to his feet. 5/6/2011Then as if his servant had spoken, which he had not, the sobbing bishop cried, ‘Yes, yes! (sob) Give them all they ask. Anything! Anything! If they (sob) rid us of the (sob) rats and go away!’
‘Eighteen bags of corn!’ Reinhardt shouted out, to my astonishment.
‘Yes, yes, take them, and go!’ came the tearful response.
Reinhardt duly opened the palace doors and piped the rats into the nearby stream to drown. Whereupon, with the bishop sufficiently recovered to be carried away on a stretcher, we were soon on our way with a wagonload of corn, four frisky mules, a troop of soldiers and a very quiet and much chastened Master Nicodemus as our escort.
Reinhardt was well puffed up that he had saved the day with the piping of the rats and I was pleased for him. I recalled Frau Johanna’s words – that men are simple creatures and so must be seen to be the leaders in all things and are in need of constant praise. So I did not tell him that he had done exactly as I had known he would when he’d made the excuse to go down to the stream to wash. If, previous to this, I had prompted him to pipe in the rats should the news from the bishop’s servant turn out to be bad, then he would have had to share the glory and success with me. He would not have been the sole and all-conquering hero who had the pleasure of his remarkable forethought all to himself. It was a small enough reward and one he richly deserved. Without him the day could not have been won.
I was surprised that he hadn’t waited for the bishop’s decision before going to the stream on the pretence of washing, a contradictory act that would have removed all the carefully applied ointment to his back. I had, of course, expected him to wait and see whether Master Nicodemus brought good or bad tidings. But I then realised that Reinhardt might not be given any future opportunity to slip away unnoticed to pipe the rats from the granary and stables. Reinhardt had sensibly decided that if the news had been good, then we would be seen to have conducted a ridding of the rats as a gesture of goodwill, one made to thank His Lordship for his kind donation and the protection he had provided for our return to Cologne.
Sitting atop the bags of corn on the wagon on our way back to Cologne, as grand and happy as can be, I paid due tribute to the ratcatcher. ‘Reinhardt, you have saved us this day and your clever wit has given us sufficient corn to embark with confidence on our crusade. I am forever in your debt and have no way to repay you.’
How true, I thought, the notion that from the darkest moment begins the light. Brother Dominic and Master Israel’s advice had prevailed, and together with Reinhardt, Father Hermann and Father Paulus, I felt most fortunate that I had such good men, each in his own way, to guide me.
Before we’d departed and as he was b
eing placed onto a stretcher I thanked the bishop for his donation. Then, knowing I must grasp the moment or I would never get another chance, I asked him to allow Father Hermann to come back to his beloved St Mary’s on the Kapitol and Father Paulus to the bells of St Martin’s, also that they be allowed to administer the oath of allegiance to the cross that the pilgrim children would be required by the Church to take if they were to embark on a true crusade. I could not possibly have hoped to gain his permission at any other time nor dared even to ask. Still tearful, to my astonishment he agreed, and I sensed that he was afraid of me. Moreover, so anxious was he to see us gone that if I had asked His Lordship to give me his mitre for a basket then I feel sure he would have readily agreed.
Sitting in high glory Reinhardt laughed. ‘Today I have been more afraid than any in my life and I shall wear the marks to remind me of it forever.’ He grinned. ‘How shall I tell a future lover, when he remarks upon the myriad tiny scars upon my back that they were made by the flying feet of a thousand crows? No other soul alive in Christendom will be so uniquely marked. Think you, Sylvia. I shall be a goodly part of the miracle folk will create out of what happened today. Moreover for once you will not, as you always do, be able to deny it. I have my back to verify its truth. Hey, I have an idea!’ he suddenly cried out. ‘We should together make an entertainment, a pious play composed around the miracle of the ridding of the rats and crows from the wicked bishop’s palace. I think such a performance would be well attended and much enjoyed by commonfolk.’
‘Don’t you start,’ I snorted. ‘We have nonsense enough with miracles and all they do is lead to trouble.’
‘Aye, but with you, Sylvia, it is always something that may be given a strange interpretation. It is why I love to be with you – every day brings a new surprise.’
‘Hmmph, the true miracle today was that you managed to stop the cawing of the crows so that I might call to them to depart the palace. How did you know to do this?’
He laughed. ‘Just another small miracle from the Pied Piper of Hamelin. Nay, it was too easy and I cannot take the credit. You may thank the cackling geese and my lazy nature.’ I waited for him to explain. ‘Geese, as you know, rise before dawn and so none may sleep a further wink once they start their rackety cackling. When as a child I was learning the ratcatcher’s flute, my father would make me rise each morning to let the geese out to graze. So I practised until I found the note that piped them silent. With their first raucous cry I would awake and quickly silence them two hours or more and so gain the extra sleep.’
‘But how did you know it would work on crows?’
He grinned sheepishly. ‘God is kind to those He loves and I borrowed some of your faith.’
‘You mean you didn’t know?’
‘Aye.’
News of our arrival back in Cologne had somehow preceded us. By the time we passed through the city gates several thousand children, and many of the citizens, filled the square at the entrance and continued well into the streets beyond. The troop of soldiers and Master Nicodemus on horseback, together with the bishop’s gift of a splendid mule wagon loaded with the eighteen bags of corn, was an affirmation to everyone that the Church had given its blessing to the Children’s Crusade.
Then to my surprise Master Nicodemus came to bid us farewell, though what he had to say seemed addressed for the most part to me. ‘Sylvia Honeyeater, much has come to pass since we met and I can hardly believe but a night and now only today have passed. You,’ he nodded to Reinhardt to include him, ‘have taught me much and with it renewed my faith. Whereas, when we first met I spoke of a witch who would soon be led to the flames, now I speak of one who I know has been truly blessed by our Lord.’ He turned to one of the soldiers. ‘Bring it,’ he commanded. The soldier rode up and we saw that he carried a cross about as high as a tall man’s arm, not a common Latin cross, but the more unusual Greek tau variety. ‘It is said to have been forged in Antioch where the Holy Lance was found and brought hence by a crusader returning from the First Crusade, who was perhaps a member of my family, for it has always been with us. I beg that you accept it to guide you on your Children’s Crusade.’ He sighed. ‘Alas, the bishop was in no fit state to bless it, or the wagon and the mules.’ He made the sign of the cross upon his chest. ‘His Lordship and I have much to confess and then penance to be undertaken and it would be better if it was blessed elsewhere. Perhaps your leader may carry it to Jerusalem?’ He held the cross out to me.
I accepted it and, suddenly overcome, thanked him somewhat tearfully and also for our safe deliverance, greatly relieved that we had not made an enemy of this clever man. ‘I promise we shall carry it always and I shall have it blessed when we reach the Holy Sepulchre and then some day I shall return it to you,’ I said in an emotional voice.
When, to the continual cheering from the vast multitude of children following the wagon, we arrived at last at the square outside St Martin’s, to my surprise there stood Nicholas to welcome us. He embraced me as if a hero returning from a crusade and also Reinhardt, exclaiming all the while at the wagon, the mules and the bags of corn.
I handed him the tau cross. ‘It is from the First Crusade,’ I said, stressing its importance.
He examined the cross, weighing it in his hands. ‘It is different and will serve us well as a holy symbol. I shall carry it with me to Jerusalem,’ he declared.
‘You are well again, Nicholas, I am glad,’ I said, much relieved that the boy I loved was returned to me.
‘The devil has departed and Jesus our Saviour is again with us and I am ready to depart on the day of Pentecost,’ he said excitedly. Then he announced, ‘We have no time to lose – we must have banners with an icon and brass trumpets to carry and everyone must sign themselves with a cross and wear it on their tunic. They must carry a pilgrim’s stave and leather pouches for alms.’ He said this as if all in one breath, then taking another said, ‘Of the utmost importance, all must take a sacred oath of allegiance to the cross, to me and to the Children’s Crusade. Father Hermann must perform the ceremony!’
Bewildered by all these requests at once I took the easiest. ‘We have no icon for the banners,’ I protested.
‘Then we must find one,’ he said, with a wave of the hand. ‘Must I do all the thinking?’
‘Perhaps a crow?’ Reinhardt said sardonically. ‘They have been much in our mind of late.’ I could see he was appalled at Nicholas’s presumption.
‘Crow? Why yes! Excellent!’ Nicholas cried, clapping his hands. ‘We have the cross, now we may place a crow as the icon on our banners.’
‘I do not think this a good emblem, Nicholas,’ I said, having had enough of crows to last me a while.
‘Nay, you are wrong, Sylvia. Think now, people will ask us, “Why is your emblem the crow?” “Oh,” we will reply, “we go to find the true cross. Our crusade will not stop to wage war or conquer the lands of the infidel as others did. As Christ’s children we carry no weapons and seek no wealth, but we journey to the Holy Land and to God as straight as the crow flies!” Do you not think this a good rejoinder?’
‘And what of the sea?’ Reinhardt asked with a superior smile. ‘It is in the direct way, methinks.’ I could see he was taken aback by Nicholas’s exuberance and utter conviction and determined to put him in his place. It was a task I knew to be futile – Nicholas was blessed and the children would have no other leader but him. If the ratcatcher was to come with us he must accept that God had chosen this vainglorious child to lead us to Jerusalem.
‘It will be as it was for Moses when he fled the land of Egypt,’ Nicholas said, his eyes burning with conviction. ‘We will cross as if it were dry land, our feet upon the water as were the footsteps of Christ when he walked upon the sea. I have had this vision and know it to be a promise from Christ Jesus Himself.’ Whereupon Nicholas called out that he would preach at this very moment to the multitude.
Reinhardt glanced at me and placed his forefinger to the side of his head. Then he sho
ok his head slowly and I could see he was even less impressed with this bumptious child.
The children had not heard Nicholas preach during the time he had been in the monk’s cell and others, newly arrived, not at all. There was enormous excitement as he mounted the steps of St Martin’s. ‘Come, Sylvia, you must sing to His praise as always,’ he called.
‘Nicholas, I am weary. It has truthfully been a very long day for us.’
‘But you always sing before I preach in the square!’ he cried, alarmed at my refusal and not prepared to accept it. ‘What shame is this?’ he asked scornfully. ‘You would end this day without singing to the glory of the Lord? Come now, be quick, it will soon be time for the sun to set and I wish to preach about the parting of the seas.’
The ratcatcher looked at me and shook his head, unable to believe the boy’s tone of voice. But as always, since Nicholas had been called by God to lead the Children’s Crusade, I was completely beguiled by him. I believed with every fibre in my body that he was God’s purest instrument. I knew him as often churlish, and much taken up by sombre and brooding moods that often lasted days and increasingly even longer. Also, when, as now, he was approaching his charismatic state, he was utterly selfish and self-involved and could not be contradicted or he would fly into a towering rage. This was not a fit of temper as one might expect from a young boy denied his own way, but an outpouring of God’s condemnation and wrath. His words burned to the very core of one’s being and it seemed they came from elsewhere and were not to be found in his normal vocabulary. Reinhardt had not yet heard him preach, which was when all fell under his spell and seemed never to recover from the effect it had upon them. Nicholas of Cologne could not be resisted and when God was not at his side, even the devil waited, ever eager for his company.
And so I sang a Gloria but Reinhardt did not accompany me. ‘I will not be taken in by this young whippersnapper! Sylvia, you pay him far too much attention!’ he chided.
While I knew that this was a fair comment and my intelligence told me that my behaviour was not what it ought to be and that a crusade involving children who were poverty-stricken, immature and unprepared was not likely to succeed, my faith told me to persist. I knew in my soul that this was God’s will and my given task was to be with this blessed and difficult child no matter what should come to pass. Nicholas of Cologne was to be the cross I would have to bear.
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