A Story from the Children"s Crusade

By Xan

I know with all my heart that my Master loves me. He calls me his golden joy. Once he said that like a spring-sprung caterpillar I left a hard life behind to fly to him as the purest butterfly of his desires. I know it might sound full of sap, but I love him dearly, and when he tries to find words to share his love for me, I smile happily and listen, although sometimes it is hard not to giggle outright. I hope if he ever reads that it doesn’t hurt his feelings. That is the last thing I ever mean to do. I will tell honestly, had I known from the beginning all that I would have suffered on the pilgrimage that brought me to him, I would have had it no other way. He is the reason that I live.

I do not want to remember how I came here, but for my Master I return once, more to the beginning of my journey. I force myself to remember the prayers, the tears, the mountains and the relentless seas. Before I say more I ask you to forgive my poor penmanship, and my lack of scholarship. I am writing this while leaning over a pillow within my own room. I do not visit here very often, only to write this as my Master requested. This room is comfortable, but I never sleep here. I share my Master’s bed or else a small room besides his.

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The wing of the palace where I sit to write all I can remember is known as the eunuch’s quarters. I am the youngest of them and from the farthest away…

…It started on a beautiful spring day in The Year of our Lord, 1212. I was at the market in Saint-Denis with my older brother, Phillipe who was twelve years old. The townspeople were crowding around a shepherd-boy who was preaching at the entrance to the abbey. We grew curious, and went over to hear what he was saying. I learned that the boy’s name was Stephen, and he was from the tiny village of Cloyes in Orleannais.

This remarkable boy had a letter for the King that was given to him by Jesus. He told all of the children that we could rescue the Moslems against the heretics of Langueda. He told the crowd that children would flood to the Holy Land. The very seas would dry up to let us pass. With confidence he said that all of the children would meet in Vendome in the end of June to be part of the most successful crusade, which he called the Children’s crusade as we must all be children for this miracle to happen.

I saw a spark of adventure light up my brother’s eyes but I never dared believe that we would be given permission to go on this children' crusade because we were distantly related to the royal family, and I was only seven years old. I was surprised when my stepmother, heavy with child convinced my father that our going would be an eternal blessing for our household. I never thought she would be the one to stand up for us, as I always had the feeling that she didn’t care for us very much.

When the day arrived we were given two black horses, and coinage, as well as a list of prayers for us to say in honor of my family, once we got to the Holy Land. We both wore our pilgrim’s outfit proudly, although I kept tripping over my long gray coat. When we arrived in Vendome I had never seen so many children. Stephen liked our handsome horses, and he let us ride next to his fancy chariot. My brother was given a lance to hold, along with eleven other boys from noble families. That first day I had never seen so much excitement and rejoicing!

We finally arrived in Marseilles after a few misadventures. A small number of unfortunate children, younger than I had perished in the heat, but Stephen said they would rise directly to heaven so we were not to feel badly for them.

My brother and I stayed with a kind family in Marseilles. Others had to sleep in the street. We had expected the sea to part as soon as we arrived there but God must have had his reasons for keeping the sea from parting as it did for Moses.

After a few days some turned back, but at last a miracle occurred. At least at the time we were sure it was a miracle. Two merchants, Hugh the Iron and William the Pig offered us ships to carry us to Palestine. We did not even have to pay for our passage. We all rejoiced and were ready to leave almost at once.

In the confusion I was separated from my brother and placed on the second ship. My brother rode with Stephen on the first one. At first I cried, but an older boy told me that this was a test of my devotion, and I must be brave. I would meet up with my brother soon, where we would rejoice in the homeland of our Lord. A few days out we ran into a storm. Two ships were wreaked on the Island of San Pietro, which was off the southwest corner of Sardinia. One of those ships carried my brother.

I wanted to drown too. I had lost all my will to live. As soon as we touched land a Saracen squadron surrounded us and we were taken to Bougie on the Algerian coast. We found out that our passage had been anything but free. Our payment if we survived the sea was our freedom. We were all slaves.

First they separated the girls from us. They were led away. There were only seventeen girls left. I know now that they all became wives or columbines in a harem. With the rest of us we were separated by the ones who could read and do mathematics, from those without education. I joined the group that could read, although I had very little learning compared to my brother.

They looked at me very carefully. I suppose they didn’t believe that one who was so small could read and write. They took me over to a separate group, and I blushed when I realized the other boys had their clothes removed from them. They were all very pretty or handsome boys, boys without pockmarks or injuries. Most of them were fair like my brother and me. When they removed my clothes I shut my eyes. I didn’t want to watch them looking at me.

We didn’t stay undressed as they gave us light robes to wear which would protect us from the sun. I heard someone say that we were to be taken to Alexandria in Egypt. When we were placed on ships rejoining the literate boys I was sure that was were we were headed. A kindly looking Governor had purchased all of those boys, and had his retainers meet them at the waterfront of the astounding Egyptian City. These boys were told that once they could speak the language of the Nile they would all become scribes.

The pretty boys were left behind, and I was herded into that group. One of the older boys looked like my brother and he let me hold his hand as we were finally taken off the ship. I forget much of our land journey. All I can tell you is we arrived after a long ride in a caravan of camels and wagons, in a large Arabic city, Baghdad.

We were told to pray to Allah because we would be going into harems in Islamic homes, and we had to accept our new religion. They say that eighteen of my group was martyred for refusing to accept Islam, but that’s not how they died.

We had been chosen for special slave markets. There were fifty of us. They made us take off our robes, and then we were tied up. I remember having my arms tied behind my back. Three men came along and forced me to lie down on my back. Two of them held my legs as the third tied a string tightly around my scrotum. They held on to me, almost clamping me as another man came over with a sharp knife.

He picked up my sac and cut it off with one horrible swipe, as if he was just cutting a piece of roasted lamb. Another man applied a hot iron to the wound as I howled. Then an elderly man came by and put ointment on the seeping wound.

I was delirious with pain, but the older boys seemed to take it much worse, as the men went down the line, with their blades cutting one boy and then the next. The screams were unbearable.

One boy died of shock, five bleed to death, and twelve died of infection or fever. I survived. I learned that usually they would have been more careful with us but there was so many to fix for the market, and we were already in bad shape due to our long harsh journey from France.

I lay for three days not eating and barely drinking water. My pain was not as intense as the pain in my soul. The forth day I turned around and was able to be helped up. Instead of the glories of Jerusalem I was led to a platform where many eyes glared at my naked body. My Master was there that day.

He said that although I was a wisp of a shadow he fell in love with my sad little face, my golden hair, and my sky-blue eyes, that had a rainstorm ready to fall from them. I was fortunate. My Master was always kind to me. He never beat me, even in the beginning when I would never obey him. He also promised that one day when I am just a little older he will take me to Bethlehem, and we will leave an offering to my brother, together.

The End