Bear tried to move forward, but Aycliffe swung out wildly.
“Bear!” I shouted. “There are soldiers behind you.
Whether he heard me or not, Bear tried to press back upon the steward. While he made some progress, it was very little. And now, as if some signal had passed between Aycliffe and the ring of soldiers, they began to creep forward, making the spiked circle smaller and smaller.
It was then that Aycliffe swung hard while lunging. In doing so he struck the dagger clear out of Bear’s hand. The blade skittered across the stones. Bear made a move toward it, but was blocked by the steward and his blades. Then Aycliffe began to close in on Bear.
But with all eyes on the two of them, I ran forward and snatched up the dagger.
“Bear, I have the dagger!” I shouted.
Hearing me, the steward swung about. Seeing me with the dagger, he raised his sword high, prepared to bring it down on me. At that moment Bear leaped forward. With his great arms he hugged Aycliffe, pinning the steward’s arms to his sides. The steward struggled to free himself, but Bear squeezed tighter and tighter, grunting like an animal, until the steward’s sword and dagger fell to the ground with a double clang.
Then Bear picked up the steward, held him over his head, and flung him bodily through the air at the soldiers. It happened so quickly the soldiers had no time to react.
Aycliffe was impaled on the soldier’s swords, run clear through by several points.
I gasped with horror. From the onlookers too, there was a great shout of terror.
The soldiers, stunned, and very frightened, moved back several steps as Aycliffe rolled back on the stone road, twitched, kicked, and became very still in his own pooling blood.
No one moved.
Then Bear, panting hard, snatched up the steward’s dagger and sword and brandished them at the soldiers who stood before the city gate. “Make way for us,” he bellowed, “or by Saint Barnabas, you’ll meet the selfsame fate.”
The soldiers and the crowd slunk back. The way to the gates was clear.
“Crispin, hurry!” cried Bear.
I ran to where the steward lay. From around my neck, I removed the cross of lead and laid it on the steward’s bloody chest.
With all eyes upon us, Bear and I walked out through the gate. Not one said a word. Neither Bear nor I spoke. I could hardly believe what had happened.
“Crispin,” said Bear as we moved away from the walls, “in that place they had me, I heard chants coming from the cathedral. The priests were singing, 'Media vita in morte sumus’ which means, ‘In the midst of life, we are in death.’But, Crispin,” he said, “can’t you see the new truth we’ve made? In the midst of death, there is life!”
I laughed and we embraced. Then, as we moved along the road, I swung Bear’s sack around and pulled out his two-pointed hat, and leaping up, I plopped it on his head, albeit crookedly. But he removed the hat and then put it on my head.
“I, Bear of York,” he roared, loud enough for all the world to hear, “do dub this boy, Crispin of Stromford, a full member of the guild of free men. In so being, he is free of all obligations save to his God.”
I took out the recorder. When I began to play, Bear laughed. Then he began to sing. Though he did not sing in his usual bellowing voice, it was his voice all the same:
“Lady Fortune is friend and foe.
Of poor she makes rich and rich poor also.
Turns misery to prosperity
And wellness unto woe.
So let no man trust this lady
Who turns her wheel ever so!”
Then, as I played the pipe and Bear beat his drum, we two cantered forward on our journey.
And by the ever-loving God who sits above, my heart was full of more joy than I had ever felt before. I was unfettered, alive to an earth I hardly knew but was eager to explore. What’s more, I knew that feeling to be my newfound soul, a soul that lived in freedom. And my name—I knew with all my heart—was Crispin.
HISTORICAL NOTE
In many respects modern European history—its art, philosophy, politics, literature, and religion—had its roots in the fourteenth century.
In 1377 (the time of the story) the Kingdom of England was in the midst of a great crisis, as was all of Europe. The old king, Edward III, was dying. The heir to the throne was his grandson, a boy who at the age of ten would be crowned Richard II.
King Edward III had led his country into what historians would later call the Hundred Years’War, a dynastic struggle for land and power between England and the country we now call France. Not only was it ruinous to the common people, it wreacked havoc upon the English economy, because the king was forced to impose heavy and very unpopular taxes upon all classes to raise money for his armies.
In the same period almost all of Europe (including England) was still recovering from the Black Death, the recurring waves of bubonic plague that killed at least a third (and in many places even half) of the population.
There was also a climactic shift that caused long periods of dreadful weather (constant cold and rain), which in turn reduced crop production—and therefore caused food and fodder shortages. Starvation was rampant. As for the small numbers of those who ruled, they were fabulously rich.
If these calamities were not enough, the European Christian Church (what we today would call the Catholic Church) was in great turmoil, with the contending existence of two popes: one in Italy, the other in France. Each one was backed by warring political factions. All this led to a great desire for reform inside and outside the Church.
Corruption, death, and cruelty were everywhere in both secular and religious society. It has been suggested that the only period to witness an equal amount of devastation was the twentieth century.
In England there was a desire for change, too. In the realm of religion, a group of people known as the Lollards emerged. They wanted major reforms in the Church, including an end of corruption, and a return to what they believed were “original” Christian practices based on simplicity and biblical injunction. It was, in short, the beginning of the Reformation.
In many places in Europe there were violent peasant uprisings. In southern England, just four years after the time of this story, a great revolution erupted, later known as the Peasant Revolution of 1381. The peasants demanded, among other things, an end to serfdom, as well as far greater political equality. They were almost successful.
The historical record suggests that the revolt was as spontaneous as it was murderous. The notion of a brotherhood conspiring to ferment revolution—as told in this story—is my invention. But surely, such talk was common.
The short-lived rebellion of 1381 was terribly bloody, both in the acts committed by the rebels, and in their suppression. One of the key leaders of the peasants’ revolt was John Ball, the only historical person in this story. When the revolution failed, he was executed.
While we do not know when John Ball was born, we do know that he was an English priest who was well known for preaching radical ideas, such as the end of the feudal system (serfdom), as well as the common ownership of property. In 1364 he was excommunicated by the Bishop of London, freed, and then again put in prison for life. During the rebellion he was freed by the rebels, and became a leader of the movement, in which some 30,000 men took part. A contemporary historian of the period, Jean Froissart, has called John Ball’s sermon to the rebels “the most moving plea for social equality in the history of the English language.”
After the rebellion was suppressed, Ball was caught, hanged, drawn, and quartered.
One example of the era’s popular political sentiment—at least among those not in the aristocracy—may be found in this couplet from a sermon delivered on June 13, 1381 by John Ball at Blackheath (near London) to the rebels of the 1381 uprising:
When Adam dalj and Eve span
Who was then a gentilman?
Ball, like his listeners, spoke Middle English. When Adam dalf and Eve span means “When Ada
m dug and Eve spun.” Ball is referring to the book of Genesis in the Bible. After being exiled by God from the Garden of Eden, where they lived naked and could eat fruit from the trees, the first man and woman were forced to work: they had to plant crops to grow their own food, and they had to spin wool and thread to make their own clothing. In the very beginning of society, everyone had to work equally. Ball is saying that when there were only Adam and Eve, there was no upper class. Or to put it in more modern terms, “All men are created equal.”
One final note: crosses of lead are not my invention. You can see a whole case of them on display in the British Museum, London, England.
Avi
August 19, 2001
AN INTERVIEW WITH AVI
Q: So much of your work is historical fiction. What author of the genre do you admire most?
A: The ultimate model for all my historical fiction is Robert Louis Stevenson—he epitomizes a kind of storytelling that I dearly love and still read because it is true, it has validity, and, beyond all, it is an adventure.
Q: What special challenge of writing about a different time do you enjoy the most?
A: We don’t know fully what life was like, and you have to build a whole style and language to convey something. In other words, the whole thing is a stylistic construction, and you almost invent the language. I originally wrote the book in verse, but it would have been six hundred pages. [Laughs]. So I took the linguistic structure and recast it back into a traditional narrative.
Q: Crispin is set in fourteenth-century England. What attracted you to this place and time?
A: I write historical fiction the way I read history—there has to be something that engages my attention and that I find interesting to begin with. European culture is seeing the emergence of the ego at this time. It’s eighty years before the Reformation. I am attempting to write a story that focuses on the reformation of a culture that is struggling to change its fundamental religious beliefs. I want to show just how shocking and difficult that transformation is. There’s so much about nationalism emerging, there’s a burst of universities, and the seeds of modern culture begin sprouting.
Q: What sparked the idea that became Crispin: The Cross of Lead?
A: The impetus for this story was a wonderful series of lectures focused on the late Middle Ages, and Crispin is dedicated to Teofilo F. Ruiz, a lecturer in the series. I was enthralled by one of the things he said—that a peasant could achieve a kind of mobility if he escaped to a city with its own liberties for a year and a day.
Q: How do you connect the problems of a fourteenth century serf to a kid in the twenty-first century?
A: I think the problem of writing historical fiction for young people in particular is how to convey the strictures of that earlier society. The rules of life in the fourteenth century are so radically different from today that you have to create a context that is understandable. Music is something kids do relate to, and figuring out that there was music at that time is a way for them to connect.
Q: How did you communicate the complexities and ubiquity of medieval religion?
A: It was difficult to convey a sense of religion that is ultimately a way of life. It’s not open to question and is so absolutely a permanent part of every breath that you take.
Q: You actually have a real-life character in the story in the person of John Ball. What are the challenges of including a real person in a fictional story?
A: When I was a freshman in college—a long time ago—I read something about the Peasants’Rebellion. I had decided to become a writer, but I was writing plays, and so I wrote a blank-verse play about the Peasants’Rebellion. I chose John Ball for Crispin because Froissart’s Chronicles [a history of the fourteenth century] contained speeches I could paraphrase, and I felt on firmer ground to expostulate and express his notions.
Q: What do you think is valuable to the reader about historical fiction?
A: I’m a believer that if you know there was a past and that it differs from today, there is a built-in inference that change is part of the human experience, so there is change potentially for the future. If you live in a world where change is visible, embedded in that is a philosophy for change.
Q: This is your fiftieth book! What are your thoughts on reaching this milestone?
A: Almost all of my books are in print. That’s enormously gratifying. No doubt it helps that my work is very varied.
Q: What were your thoughts on learning Crispin was honored with the Newbery Medal?
A: I felt surprised, lucky, and very moved.
GLOSSARY
Acolyte: a devoted follower or attendant
Alb: a long-sleeved, white priestly garment
Bailiff: the agent of the lord of a manor who collects rents and administers the local laws
Ballock dagger: a knife distinguished by two rounded prominences or ballocks (balls) that serve as a guard
Canonical hours: periods of the day set aside for prayer or devotion
Canterbury: city in southern England whose cathedral houses the popular shrine of St. Thomas à Becket, and is the seat of the Archbishop of Canterbury, the primary church prelate in England
Compline: closing prayers of the evening, one of the canonical hours
Cottar: one who held no land in his or her own right
Cowl: the hood or hooded robe worn especially by a monk
Croft: a small, enclosed field or pasture near a house
Farthing: a coin worth one-quarter of a penny
Gallows: a device usually consisting of two upright posts supporting a crossbeam from which a noose is suspended and used for execution by hanging Glaives: long poles with sharp blades attached
Hamlet: a small village
Heretic: one who publicly dissents from the officially accepted dogma
Holy Church: the principal Christian religion in Europe, headed by the Pope in Rome, Italy, prior to the divisions brought on by the Protestant Reformation
Infidel: an unbeliever with respect to a particular religion, especially Christianity or Islam
Kirtle: a tunic or coat for men; or, a long gown or dress for women
Matins: the first prayers of the day, one of the canonical hours
Mazer: a large drinking bowl made of wood
Mercenary: someone hired for service in a foreign army
Millrace: a canal in which the fast-moving stream of water flows to drive the mill wheel
Moot: an assembly of people exercising administrative and judicial powers
Mummer: an actor, especially a pantomimist
None: the fifth of the canonical hours, in midafternoon
Palfrey: a saddle horse, especially one for a woman to ride
Patten: a clog, sandal, or overshoe with a thick wooden sole
Portcullis: a grating of iron or wooden bars or slats, suspended in the gateway of a fortified place and lowered to block passage
Privy: an outdoor toilet Reeve: a bailiff or steward of a manor
Serf: a person who is bound in servitude to the land; the lowest position in feudal society
Smote: the past tense of smite: to inflict a heavy blow on, with the hand, a tool, or a weapon
Solar: a loft or upper chamber; a garret room
Spinney: a small grove of trees
Steward: one who manages another’s property, finances, or other affairs
Tonsure: the part of the cleric’s head, usually the crown, left bare by shaving
Trencher: a wooden board or platter on which food is carved or served
Vespers: a worship service held in the late afternoon or evening
Villein: one of a class of feudal serfs who held the legal status of freemen in their dealings with all people except their lord
AVI is the author of more than fifty books, in such genres as historical fiction, mysteries, adventure stories, fantasies, ghost stories, and animal tales. His acclaimed works include The True Confessions of Charlotte Doyle (winner of a Newbery Honor and the Bos
ton Globe-Horn Book Award); Nothing But the Truth: A Documentary Novel (winner of a Newbery Honor and a Boston Globe-Horn Book Honor); Poppy (winner of the Boston Globe-Horn Book Award); Encounter at Easton (winner of the Christopher Award); and The Fighting Ground (winner of the Scott O’Dell Award for Historical Fiction).
Avi lives with his family in Denver, Colorado.
Avi, The Cross of Lead
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