With that, he moved away and attended to his wood collecting.
Greatly troubled, I stood in place. Then I turned. Woodeth was looking right at me. Even as I wondered if she had seen me converse with the boy, she beckoned me to her side.
I stood motionless, trying to make up my mind if I should just run off.
“Crispin!” she called.
I felt compelled to go. When I stood before her, she looked up.
“You need to know,” she said, “that boy’s head is weak.” She touched her brow. “Full of folly. You’ll do yourself no kindness listening to him.”
Not knowing what to believe, I backed away, uneasy.
11
IN THE AFTERNOON, the skies were still gray and the air had remained cold. We were moving at an easy pace along the same road. Dense forest was on either side. Rauf was some ways ahead, followed by Elena and Woodeth, talking close. I wondered if Woodeth had told Elena of my talking to Owen. As for the boy, he was walking alone with the monkey, who, perched on his shoulder, chattered gibberish now and again. I very much wanted to speak to Owen some more, but took him at his word that I should not.
I came next in line. Behind all walked Gerard.
As we walked, I had a vague awareness that the family was surrounding me. No threatening words were said. Nothing done. It was the same as before: something I sensed. To push down such thoughts, I put my mind to Calais, hoping we would reach it quickly. Once there I would find an opportunity to go my own way and thereby rid myself of all these nagging worries.
I was just considering how I might seek more knowledge about Iceland and its whereabouts when I heard a sharp, shrill mouth whistle. I looked around. Before I could see anything, the whistle sounded again, three times in quick succession. Only then did I realize it came from Rauf, who had been in the lead. I had no idea how to respond. The effect on the others, however, was instantaneous.
Elena darted off the road and concealed herself behind some trees. Rauf dropped his bagpipe by the roadside, took his sword in hand, and darted into the woods as well. Woodeth ran to where I stood and grabbed my arm.
“Hurry!” she insisted. “Off the road.” She fairly shoved me into the trees on the side. My cloak fell off. Owen and the monkey came with us. Within moments, the road was abandoned. I had no idea where Gerard had gone.
I assumed there was some danger ahead, which Rauf had seen, and that I was being hurried off for protection. Owen and Woodeth remained with me. Then I realized that Woodeth had a dagger in hand, which I had not seen in her possession before.
“What’s happening?” I asked, quite bewildered. “Is there some danger? My cloak—”
“Be still!” she commanded.
Schim, alarmed, made rapid clicking sounds. Owen reached up and touched his face, which calmed him. But the boy looked at me with anxious eyes.
When I turned back toward the road, I saw a large wagon lumbering into view, its rear wheels bigger than the front ones. Pulled by a slow-moving ox, the wagon was loaded with bales and chests. Sitting high was an older man—I could see his white hair beneath a fur-trimmed Flanders cap. Seeing that his clothing was made of good cloth, I took him for a merchant with his goods.
A younger man, equally well dressed, walked beside the wagon. Even from a distance, I could see some resemblance. I took him for the merchant’s son.
There was another man, an older, stooped fellow in russet peasant garb. He walked by the ox’s head, guiding the beast with the light touch of a switch. Engaged in talk, the merchant and his son showed no awareness that we were close and watching.
Suddenly I saw Gerard, blade in hand, leap out from behind the trees. He took a stand in the middle of the road, blocking ox and wagon. Even as he did, Rauf appeared behind the wagon. The next moment Elena ran from her hiding place. In her hand was a short sword.
Gerard raised his weapon. “Halt!” he cried.
The peasant walking by the ox was taken completely by surprise. He grabbed the beast’s yoke and hauled on it, bringing the wagon to a halt. The merchant put a hand to his mouth. His son, just as surprised, stood where he was.
“By your life,” Gerard cried out. “Throw down your purse!”
All of this happened with such speed and design that I could have little doubt: these were practiced movements.
I turned toward Owen as if he might tell me something. But he was staring out at the road. I shifted back just in time to see the merchant’s son—a sword in his hand—rush at Gerard.
Gerard, undaunted, backed up a few steps and engaged the young man with his own blade. I looked on, transfixed, while the clank and scrape of metal made me wince.
Then I saw Rauf approach from the rear of the wagon. He gave a shout. The young man, who appeared skilled with his sword, lunged and struck Gerard’s arm. Gerard recoiled with a cry of pain. Even as he did, Rauf leaped forward and stabbed the merchant’s son in the back. To my horror, I heard the young man cry out and saw him drop his weapon and fall as though mortally wounded.
The peasant, who had been standing by in shock, leaped away and fled into the woods. As for the merchant, who had remained on the wagon, he cried out and stood, hands lifted.
Elena rushed up to the wagon. “Get down!” she shouted, pointing her sword at him. Whether he understood English or not, her intent was clear. The old man all but fell from the wagon. But his eyes, I saw, were fixed upon the bleeding man on the ground. He tried to move toward him, only to have Rauf and Gerard block his way.
Elena dashed forward, yanked open the old man’s gown, and stripped away a fat purse tied to his inner belt. Then Rauf pushed him roughly down upon his knees. The old man clutched his head and began to moan and cry piteously in French.
Rauf unhitched the ox from the wagon. Gerard, using the flat of his sword, smote the beast and sent him stiff tailed and bawling into the woods.
Next moment Elena climbed upon the wagon and made a hurried search. “Nothing but wool and cloth,” she called before climbing down.
The merchant, meanwhile, remained on his knees, weeping and gesturing to the injured man and crying, “Mon fils! Mon fils!”
Rauf responded by striking the man on the arm with his sword, bringing sharp screams of pain. “Be off with you!” he shouted into his face, and then kicked him. “Away! Go! Before we slay you too!”
The terrified old man staggered to his feet. Clutching his arm, he ran awkwardly into the woods, his fine robes flapping about him like a bird’s broken wings.
As soon as he was gone, Elena and Rauf gathered around Gerard, concerned for his wound. After a quick look, Rauf stepped away and went to the murdered young man who lay upon the road.
That’s when he turned and called, “Crispin! Come here!”
12
I WAS SO FRIGHTENED, I could hardly breathe.
“Go!” Woodeth shouted, and shoved me toward the road. I stepped out awkwardly. Rauf must have seen the fear on my face because he called out, “I’m not going to hurt you. Hurry!”
Gerard, looking on, held his wounded arm.
My legs trembling, afraid to look up, I went to where Rauf was. Elena and Gerard moved to stand over me, as if to overawe me.
Rauf gestured to the man on the ground. “See if he has a purse of his own.” The poor man—his blood sinking into the earth—was no longer moving.
I stood there looking at Rauf. His face turned red with anger. “By the bowels of Christ!” he cried. “Do as I tell you! Find his purse!”
Upset and scared, I looked around. Gerard and Elena, breathing rapidly, stood there glaring at me.
With much self-loathing, I dropped to my knees by the body and with shaking hands felt about the dead man’s bloody jerkin. His purse was tied to a belt. My fingers shook so it made untying the knot difficult.
“Faster!” shouted Rauf.
I struggled to strip the purse away, stood up, and, unwilling to look into Rauf’s eyes, gave it to him. In haste, I wiped my bloody hand on my clot
hing.
“There,” Rauf proclaimed as he took the purse, “Crispin has been baptized. He’s one of us.”
He reached out and twisted my face up, forcing me to look at him. He was grinning. Gerard threw back his head and laughed. Even Elena smiled.
“Quickly now,” she commanded, grabbing my arm and hurrying me to where Woodeth and Owen stood. The boy looked at me with wide eyes.
“Stop gawking!” Rauf shouted at him and cuffed him on the side of his head. Putting up his hands, Owen staggered back. The monkey grimaced and hissed at Rauf. Rauf smacked the monkey, too, which caused him to shriek.
With Elena choosing the way, we all plunged into the forest. I stole a look back. The man Rauf had killed lay on the ground near the abandoned wagon, its wheels still. Even if I had tried, I could not have escaped. I was so terrified by what had happened, I did not make the effort. I had cast my lot with a band of murderous thieves, and they had forced me to be one with them.
Owen had spoken the truth.
13
WHILE ELENA’S FAMILY had no care for the young man they had killed or the old merchant they had cut and plundered, they had much concern for Gerard. Upon reaching a grove of closely gathered trees that Elena considered safe, they set him down, gave him ease and drink, and stripped his arm bare. It was soon apparent that though his wound ran blood, it was not deep. Woodeth attended him, and did so with care and skill.
As I watched, I couldn’t help observing that amongst themselves they appeared loving, but to those left on the road, nothing.
Rauf, meanwhile, took himself and his sword and went some ways off to stand guard in case we were pursued. Within the clearing, I stayed to one side, and for the most part was ignored. All the while I kept trying to decide what I should do. I must admit, my thoughts were not for those who had been brutally attacked. My great fear was that I might come to harm.
As I sat there, my eyes often went to Owen, who stayed with the monkey but apart from the others. Again and again the boy stole darting glances at me, only to turn hastily away as if fearful of being caught.
“It’s not severe,” Woodeth pronounced of Gerard’s wound, and proceeded to bind his arm.
Relieved that he was in no danger, the family’s mood eased. Elena fetched Rauf.
“Well then,” he asked, “how did we fare?”
Elena, who had taken the merchant’s purse, dumped its contents on the ground where Gerard could see it, as if to reward him for his pain. Into the pile she also flung the contents of the young man’s purse, the one I’d been forced to take.
By their judgment, it proved to be a fair clutch of coins, the reckoning of which I could not begin to guess. They took great pleasure in examining the coins, debating where they had come from.
As they did so, a coin’s glitter must have attracted Schim. Unexpectedly, the monkey leaped forward and plucked up a coin. Rauf was too quick for him. He smacked the creature with such force the beast was flung to one side. The coin fell from his grasp. Owen cried out as if he had been struck, but dared not move.
It took some moments before Schim got up, shaking his head as if dazed. As Rauf and Gerard laughed, the battered monkey scampered back to Owen, who gathered him up and wrapped his thin arms around him soothingly. The beast buried his head in the boy’s neck.
“Since he’s yours, keep him close!” Rauf shouted at Owen, scooping up the coin. He turned to me. “You’ll see: the only thing he’s good at is begging when we play. The moment he stops performing, I’ll wring his neck. The same for the boy.”
Rauf looked at the coin as if to determine its value and then pitched it at me. It landed at my feet.
“Take it,” he called. “You’ve earned it. The beginning of your fortune.”
I stared at the coin, confused and ashamed. With the eyes of all upon me, I hardly knew what to do.
“Pick it up!” shouted Rauf. “It’s your fair wage! You’ve earned it!”
Silently praying to an understanding Jesus that He might forgive me, I took up the coin. By doing so, it was as if I had sealed the final part of a bargain. The Judas silver. Indeed, as soon as I had the coin in my hand, they cried, “Well done! Bravo!”
I hung my head.
“Come now, Crispin,” said Rauf, “did you not tell us you once killed a man.”
“He…he set upon me,” I admitted, not wishing to talk about it.
“Do you feel burdened by that death?”
“I do. And in Jesus’s name, wish it hadn’t happened.”
“Would you say, then, that fate forced you to act?”
I squirmed with discomfort. “I…I was trying to save my father.”
“The same with me and my good brother!” cried Rauf. “To save him, I had to kill that man.”
I thought to say, but didn’t: But you needn’t have attacked him.
My silence seemed to goad them on. “Crispin,” said Gerard, “as the bountiful Lord knows, we all call ourselves His good creatures. But are we not merely mangy dogs, forever fighting over scraps and bones?” He looked to Rauf, who grinned.
“Since God gave us life,” Gerard went on, “is it not our obligation to live as best we may? Lords and kings are more successful at it. How do they do it? They tax the poor. Well then, may not a poor man levy a tax as well? They have laws and soldiers to enforce their tax. We have our wits and blades. Is there a flea’s breadth of difference?”
“A fair speech, brother!” cried Rauf, laughing.
How I wished I had words to answer him. When I said nothing, Elena said, “Crispin, I suspect you are young enough to be still trying to cling to your soul.”
“I try,” I murmured all too weakly.
“Mark me, Master Crispin,” said Rauf mockingly. “In all of Christendom, there are but two sorts: thieves and those who supply the thieves with their needs. Each must choose which part to play. Did not Our Lord Jesus honor thieves when Saint Dismas—the good thief—was crucified with Him and joined Him in heaven?”
To my shame, I did not know how to answer. I caught Woodeth’s eye. She was staring at me. I chose to see some sympathy. But she said nothing.
The money was all shoved into Rauf’s bag—the one I had looked into before.
Their taunting done, I sat alone and brooded over what had been said. They seemed bent upon making me despise myself, seeking to make me like them. I told myself that a sinful life likes companionship just to ease the sin. I sought further consolation by choosing to believe they were only saying these things to salve their guilty souls.
As I sat there, I kept trying to imagine how Bear would have answered them. Or what Troth would have done. I eyed the bloodstains on my clothing. It gave me the thought: I had been privileged to be with Troth and Bear—whom I considered angels. Perhaps God had sent these devils to test me. Shuddering, I was sure that unless I could redeem myself, I was truly lost and damned.
The best I could do was put my mind to ponder what they might be planning for Calais. I began to fear that they had welcomed me to do some particular service. But what that might be, I could not imagine.
For the moment, however, Elena decided that Gerard should take his rest, which meant we traveled no more that day. During this time, I remained quiet, trying to be with them but not of them. No one told me I must remain. That said, many a furtive glance informed me I was being watched. My fear of them was such that I might as well have been in a dungeon. I had no doubt that if I had tried to escape, I would have been hauled back…or worse.
I watched Owen. He was ordered about by first one and then another of the family. He carried food. Cleaned boots. Beat dust from robes. Hauled wood for the fire and then tended it. While they talked among themselves—with little mind to him—not a word was shared with him, though both Rauf and Gerard occasionally administered a cuff or a kick. As the boy had claimed, he was treated like a slave. The only one who showed him any kindness was Woodeth, and that but an occasional soft word. Moreover, she did so furtively, clear
ly not wishing to be heard by the others.
When the day was done—we ate bread and cheese—and night closed in, they let me sleep where I chose. I kept telling myself I should leave. I didn’t. It was not merely my fear of them. I’ll not deny it: I found some safety in being with them. Better with than against. Besides, I kept telling myself that once they led me to Calais—which I doubted I could find on my own—I’d escape and find a ship bound for Iceland.
I settled down to sleep, as did the others. I don’t know how much later it was when I was woken by a pull on my arm. I struggled out of my sleep to see Owen bending over me—as he had the night before.
“Crispin,” he whispered very softly. “Are you awake?”
“Yes?”
“I’ve learned their plan.”
I stared up at him and his poor, bruised face. “What is it?”
“They intend to steal from that merchant’s house. The place where they’re going to play.”
“I’m not surprised.”
“You see how they treat me.” He darted a look over his shoulder. “They’ll do the same to you.”
I gazed at him. “I’m going to leave them when we get to Calais.”
He clutched my arm. “I beg you…take me with you!”
The request took me by surprise.
“Please,” he whimpered, “I’ll not live otherwise.”
“If I can,” I said, to his misery and without much thought.
“Will you…will you promise?”
I nodded.
He snatched my hand and kissed it, then retreated hastily into the dark.
I lay back, feeling alarm. Why had I made such a rash promise to the boy? How was I to help him when I could barely help myself? I should have held him off.
The very next moment I saw things in a different way, telling myself that here was a God-sent gift! If I could successfully aid this battered boy, I might go far in redeeming my soul by gaining some forgiveness for my part in plundering the dead man.