to Jerusalem all the time!”
But Ursula could not share his enthusiasm. Each day, the people on foot dragged farther and farther behind. She could not get the memory out of her mind of what they looked like, straggling into the camp hours after the wagons had arrived. The night before, she had been stirring their evening stew when a woman carrying a baby and leading another child by the hand shambled pasttheir campsite. There seemed to be no man with them. The woman had stared at their well-provisioned wagon and their fire burning brightly against the night airs, and a look almost of hate had crossed her face. Ursula had been stricken. At first all she had been able to do was stare back. By the time she had collected herself enough to think of offering to share their food, the woman and her children had disappeared into the darkness. Ursula couldn’t get David out of her mind, either. They had not been able to get any further news about him or his family, and now they were far past Mainz. It seemed likely that she would never know.
One night, just after they had made camp and Bruno had gone to collect firewood, he returned, breathless.
“Peter is to speak. Hurry—we should go to hear him.”
Ursula jumped up and helped her father to struggle to his feet beside her. Peter had not spoken to them at all since they had left. They hurried to the nobles’ end of the campsite along with most of the others, hanging on tightly to each other so as not to get separated in the crush.
The Hermit’s eyes burned with fervor. His voice rang out over the crowd, echoing Ursula’s father’s words as he rejoiced with them over the distance they had already traveled. He was even thinnerthan before—his emaciated frame looked as if it were being consumed from within by the same fire that flamed from his eyes.
“We
will
triumph!” he cried. “Our holy Crusade
will
set Jerusalem free for all time. The infidels will fall before our might like moths before a flame. God wills it!”
The nobles and the soldiers who flanked him drew their swords. For a moment the sound of iron being drawn drowned out everything else. Then they raised their weapons high in the torchlight and their voices roared to join with the Hermit’s.
“God wills it!” they cried. “God wills it!”
Ursula stole a sideways glance at Bruno. His face was as grim as it had been the very first morning he had heard the Hermit preach. She felt a shiver of apprehension crawl down her spine. The mob that day had been frightening but, for the most part, unarmed. And murder had still been done. The spectacle that presented itself in the flickering glow of flames this night was much more frightening. She remembered how Bruno had argued against this Crusade then. And now, here he was. Because of her.
The majority of the people took the speech as a signal to celebrate. Barrels of ale were broached, wineskins were passed around freely. By midnight most of the soldiers and a goodly part of the common people were drunk. Ursula sat at theopen flap of their tent, holding herself away from the commotion. The count had sent for Master William after the carousing had begun to die down, and he had gone with his bags of herbs and medicines. Bruno had disappeared without a word.
What if he doesn’t come back? The thought worried and teased at her. What if he has realized that he wants no part of this after all and he’s returned to Cologne? One part of her mind knew he would not go without telling her, the other part imagined the worst. When he finally did return and started to make up his bed under the wagon, she could not resist a sharp comment.
“I thought perhaps you had left us,” she said.
Bruno looked up at her over the dying fire, surprised.
“You know I would do no such thing,” he answered.
“You didn’t want to come. The way the Crusaders are behaving tonight …”
“I like it not, that is true. I’m afraid of what is to come.”
“I did not
ask
you to
But Ursula could not share his enthusiasm. Each day, the people on foot dragged farther and farther behind. She could not get the memory out of her mind of what they looked like, straggling into the camp hours after the wagons had arrived. The night before, she had been stirring their evening stew when a woman carrying a baby and leading another child by the hand shambled pasttheir campsite. There seemed to be no man with them. The woman had stared at their well-provisioned wagon and their fire burning brightly against the night airs, and a look almost of hate had crossed her face. Ursula had been stricken. At first all she had been able to do was stare back. By the time she had collected herself enough to think of offering to share their food, the woman and her children had disappeared into the darkness. Ursula couldn’t get David out of her mind, either. They had not been able to get any further news about him or his family, and now they were far past Mainz. It seemed likely that she would never know.
One night, just after they had made camp and Bruno had gone to collect firewood, he returned, breathless.
“Peter is to speak. Hurry—we should go to hear him.”
Ursula jumped up and helped her father to struggle to his feet beside her. Peter had not spoken to them at all since they had left. They hurried to the nobles’ end of the campsite along with most of the others, hanging on tightly to each other so as not to get separated in the crush.
The Hermit’s eyes burned with fervor. His voice rang out over the crowd, echoing Ursula’s father’s words as he rejoiced with them over the distance they had already traveled. He was even thinnerthan before—his emaciated frame looked as if it were being consumed from within by the same fire that flamed from his eyes.
“We
will
triumph!” he cried. “Our holy Crusade
will
set Jerusalem free for all time. The infidels will fall before our might like moths before a flame. God wills it!”
The nobles and the soldiers who flanked him drew their swords. For a moment the sound of iron being drawn drowned out everything else. Then they raised their weapons high in the torchlight and their voices roared to join with the Hermit’s.
“God wills it!” they cried. “God wills it!”
Ursula stole a sideways glance at Bruno. His face was as grim as it had been the very first morning he had heard the Hermit preach. She felt a shiver of apprehension crawl down her spine. The mob that day had been frightening but, for the most part, unarmed. And murder had still been done. The spectacle that presented itself in the flickering glow of flames this night was much more frightening. She remembered how Bruno had argued against this Crusade then. And now, here he was. Because of her.
The majority of the people took the speech as a signal to celebrate. Barrels of ale were broached, wineskins were passed around freely. By midnight most of the soldiers and a goodly part of the common people were drunk. Ursula sat at theopen flap of their tent, holding herself away from the commotion. The count had sent for Master William after the carousing had begun to die down, and he had gone with his bags of herbs and medicines. Bruno had disappeared without a word.
What if he doesn’t come back? The thought worried and teased at her. What if he has realized that he wants no part of this after all and he’s returned to Cologne? One part of her mind knew he would not go without telling her, the other part imagined the worst. When he finally did return and started to make up his bed under the wagon, she could not resist a sharp comment.
“I thought perhaps you had left us,” she said.
Bruno looked up at her over the dying fire, surprised.
“You know I would do no such thing,” he answered.
“You didn’t want to come. The way the Crusaders are behaving tonight …”
“I like it not, that is true. I’m afraid of what is to come.”
“I did not
ask
you to
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