Sylvia (49 page)

The one-eyed man shook his head. ‘Nay, I regret I cannot tarry and the wine is for another; my master will be angry if I am not soon returned.' With a hasty farewell he'd continued up the hill towards the woods. The speed of his departure and the incline was such that it caused the contents of the box to rattle. While Stefan would later remember that the man had said the dead child lay swaddled within the coffin, at the time he was too chagrined at missing out on a drink to question the contradiction of a rattling coffin. It was only when Nicholas told of the stolen alms box that he realised that the rattle would have been coins and the coffin the alms box stolen from St Mary's church.

The mob rushed up the hill into the woods and did not have to go far before they found the alms box broken open and empty. And so the search began in every tavern, every brothel, every place a man might drink a wineskin on his own. A thousand children asking: ‘Have you seen a one-eyed man? A one-eyed man carrying a wineskin at his waist? A drunken one-eyed man? A one-eyed man with lots of coin in his pocket? A one-eyed man buying wine for others? A drunk with one good eye?' They woke a hundred men asleep in the dark alleyways of the city and examined their eyes. Three one-eyed men were found and brought to Stefan, but they proved not to be the culprit and were released, fleeing for their lives. By the time the nine o'clock curfew bell rang, the children, tired and hungry, returned to St Martin's square where they ate the half-burned stew and gruel and the coarse bread cut for an earlier meal and now dried out.

While I feared the children rampaging through the city would have caused a high degree of consternation among the citizens of Cologne, at least no public lynching had taken place. There would be gossip and people prophesying no good would come of it, but no harm had come to the prospect of the crusade.

However, I had not reckoned on our own street children, those who had grown up with Nicholas in the area around St Martin's church. They proved far more careful and patient in their search for the alms thief and most had not returned the previous night but had stationed themselves at the various city gates and at the river dockside and any other place where a person might leave the city. They reasoned that with the hue and cry and hullabaloo of the previous afternoon and evening every citizen would be alerted and on the lookout for a man with only one eye. Stealing the alms box from a church was a heinous crime and none would show the culprit pity or keep him hidden. His only chance was to escape the city, otherwise it became only a matter of time before he would be apprehended.

Our own street children found him early the next morning down by the river docks. He was a merchant sailor and had slept on a vessel that carried roof tiles to the cities and towns along the Rhine. The boat was moored to a jetty and he had come bare-waisted from below decks to vomit into the water, no doubt carrying a severe hangover. A sharp-eyed street child had seen him as he turned and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and then reached for the goatskin waterbag hanging from the centre mast. A sharp whistle and a few moments later a dozen boys had swarmed aboard and dragged him onto the shore. Soon their shrill whistling was heard all over the city as the street children started to converge on the docks. They were joined by the Crusade Children and in less than an hour, a thousand children congregated in the docks area.

The tragedy was that the city gallows stood close by and after Stefan positively identified the sailor, everything quickly got out of hand and the alms thief hung kicking from the gallows. It was the first public execution by children in Germany, and the Church and the city guilds and authorities would not be pleased.

All this had taken place without my knowing. I had left very early for the woods to find mushrooms for Nicholas. Fortunately the spring weather for the last two days had been mostly overcast and humid, ideal conditions for magic mushrooms and, for once, they were plentiful. Had I only needed one to bring Nicholas out of his slough of despondency, though it was too early for this to happen, I would have been back down the hill perhaps in time to prevent the tragedy. Mindful of the long journey ahead I'd been collecting the mushrooms at every opportunity and drying them. I didn't know if the same mushrooms grew in other places but knew there would be many times on the journey to Jerusalem that they would be needed.

It was nearly nine o'clock when I returned, by which time the thief had been dead an hour or more and the news was already known in the marketplace, where many of the peasants had rushed to witness the lynching. It would be only a matter of time before the news reached the bishop and the guild masters and whoever else in the city in authority would regard the lynching as a major misdemeanour.

Father Hermann and Father Paulus were waiting for me at the gallows where the children still milled about, shouting and singing snatches of hymns as though it was a religious gathering. Stefan pushed through the crowd and handed me a leather bag. ‘It is nearly full and must be the coins that came from the alms box, Sylvia,' he said happily.

I took the bag and handed it to Father Paulus as Father Hermann was forbidden to handle money. ‘Stefan, we are in big trouble and if the authorities come and ask who is responsible you must say you don't know, then send them to me, you hear?'

Stefan looked puzzled. ‘But he is a thief and he stole from the Church. Is it not right to hang him?'

‘Only with the bishop's permission and also that of the guild masters – we may not take it into our own hands. Now
promise
me! If they ask, no names should be given, just say, “The mob did it”.

They will be looking for the main culprits to make an example, but they cannot punish a thousand children. Now hurry! Spread the word.' Stefan nodded and turned to leave. ‘Wait, Stefan!' I called out, and turning to Father Paulus asked for the moneybag I'd given him. ‘Stefan, go to the markets and purchase a coffin, the cheapest you can find, and bring it here.'

‘Aye, Sylvia, I will hire it,' he grinned. ‘One with a sliding bottom.'

I made a mental note that he would be a worthy helper on the crusade, then turned to the two priests, both looking doleful and concerned. They seemed at a complete loss as to how to control so great a crowd of children. I pointed to the gallows. ‘We must cut him down and you must give him the last rites and then I want you to preach from the gallows platform.'

Father Hermann looked shocked. ‘The rites, yes . . . b-b-b-but I have n-n-n-no words for a sermon on a gallows platform,' he stuttered. With Father Hermann, when facing an awkward situation it was either bombast or faint-heartedness. I would need him on the crusade but knew he would prove hopeless in any crisis.

I looked at Father Paulus who, calling upon his deafness, pretended not to hear. ‘Eh?' he yelled.

‘You must talk, preach,' I pointed at the crowd, ‘to them!' I shouted.

His hands shot up in protest and he shook his head vigorously. ‘Nay, I am but a scribe, Sylvia!' he shouted, as if I too was deaf.

I turned back to the Virgin's earthly husband. ‘Father Hermann, listen to me! The bishop will demand an explanation and will chastise you severely and who knows what else. We are in trouble and must try to make some good come from this disaster. We will cut this fellow down and you will administer the last rites. Yes, I know he is already dead and his soul departed, but we will be seen to be doing the right thing. I will sing a Miserere and you will give a short sermon!'

‘Sylvia, I am bedazed and have no words within me,' he whined.

‘Then hear this!' I exclaimed, impatient with the milksop priest. ‘Was it not a thief who was crucified at Christ's side at Calvary and did not the Son of God say, “
Today shalt thou be
with me in paradise
”? This, Father, will be your theme today, the thief on the cross beside Christ. Then you will say that we of the Children's Crusade do, in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, forgive this thief who stole alms from the church and ask God to have mercy on his everlasting soul.'

Father Hermann perked up immediately. ‘A grand theme, we will be remembered for our compassion,' he said, forgetting his reluctance of but a few moments ago, or that all of this had been brought about because the children in our charge had just brutally murdered a man.

The thief, still shirtless, was cut down from the gallows and placed in the reusable coffin Stefan had obtained from the coffinmaker's shop near the markets. I then stood on the gallows platform and addressed the children, explaining that we were formed to be a crusade in Christ's name and under His protection and must forgive those who have sinned against us. That we must now give thanks to God and ask His forgiveness. That Father Hermann would conduct the last rites and commit the soul of the thief to God's mercy and then he would follow it with a short sermon and general absolution, whereupon all must disperse. I said it as much for Father Hermann's instruction as for the children. The message was passed on from mouth to mouth until the children stood solemnly and well-contained within a sombre mood of piety that prevailed as the priest delivered the last rites.

I must say, with the corpse no longer dangling from a rope and safely hidden from view within the wooden box, Father Hermann did great justice to the event and his sermon was soundly evoked and most moving. Moments after its commencement and with the coffin at his feet, a carriage arrived containing several of the city's guild masters followed by a troop of soldiers on horseback. They had no doubt heard of or seen the rampaging mob of children the previous day and the news that they had now found and hanged the thief without trial or official permission must have reached them.

The children silently and politely watched as the good burghers stepped from the carriage, then stood aside to allow the group to come right up to the gallows followed by the troop of soldiers still on horseback. They stood at the foot of the platform somewhat bemused, not quite knowing what to think. With two priests and myself on the platform, and Father Hermann, who was well-known to them, conducting what in every respect purported to be a formal funeral service, this was a long way from the scene they'd envisaged of savage and maniacal children gleefully hanging a miscreant.

Father Hermann then bade the children kneel and ask forgiveness. ‘Say after me, “Forgive me, Lord, for I have sinned,” ' he demanded. Whereupon a thousand or more children's voices repeated the words, and then, as penance, he most ingeniously committed them to visit the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem. I then sang a Gloria and the children rose from where they knelt in the dirt and dispersed to look, no doubt, for some way to fill their rumbling stomachs.

But if we had managed to mollify the town fathers, this was not true of the bishop. We had transgressed the laws of the Church and hanged the alms thief without his permission. He demanded that the two priests and myself be summoned to his presence at the bishop's palace at seven of the clock the following morning.

This proved very unlike the occasion with the archbishop's inquiry. The palace was two hours walk from Cologne so we had to persuade the city gatekeeper to let us out before the ringing of the Angelus. It was hot enough to be a summer's day and the new-sown fields of barley on the bishop's estate were green against a cloudless sky, with the mournful cawing of the crows adding a cautionary note to this perfect but for us unlucky day. When we arrived at the palace we were made to wait outside the gates, fortunately under a spreading elm already sufficiently in new leaf to provide good shade. It was mid-afternoon when we were told the bishop had completed tending to his other more important duties, one of which we'd witnessed when he'd ridden imperiously past us on horseback and into the nearby woods with a falcon sitting on his wrist. I was very tempted to cause it to flap, cry out and attempt to break its chain. The bishop had glanced down at us without a word as he passed. We had not been offered water or any sustenance and weary of waiting and thirsty we were at last ushered into the palace entrance hall. I was told to wait while both priests, escorted by a porter, were taken into the chapel.

What transpired with the two of them I would only learn much later but an hour passed before they emerged from the chapel and I could see at once that they had been severely chastened. Father Hermann visibly shook and Father Paulus was red-eyed from weeping. I stood up as they approached but the porter led them straight past me to the door and I could hear him instructing them to return to Cologne without waiting for me. ‘Those are the bishop's strict orders,' I heard him say, and my heart beat faster at such unpropitious news.

I waited perhaps another hour before a page, a boy nine or ten years old, came to fetch me and bade me follow. He led me up a broad stairway and along a wide passageway and then turned into a narrower one and opened the door to a small stone-walled bedchamber not much bigger than a monk's cell. A narrow window high up near the ceiling let in the only light and air, so that the room seemed cast in shadow.

‘Water? I must have water,' I said. Without a word he pointed to a small table on which stood a jug of wine and a plate of figs and small cakes. ‘Nay, water!' I demanded, not intimidated by this silent boy.

‘I will ask,' he said hesitatingly, then turned and left.

I looked about me but there was little or nothing more to take in than I had seen at first glance. The bed contained a blanket but no cushion, the floor was tiled but without even a small prayer mat upon it, the small table with the wine, an earthenware mug, cakes and figs the only objects to suggest this wasn't a punishment cell. I could just make out a snatch of blue sky at the topmost right corner of the window.