Crusade Read Online Free

a piggyback.’ And with rare agreeableness, he did, crouching low while she jumped on to his back and clutched his shoulders.
    Now that she was higher, she could see what was on the raised area: it was a man, kneeling as he faced away from the crowd, kneeling with his hands held high so that everyone could see the large gold cross he grasped. But the cross itself was not nearly as gold as the hair of this man. Georgette had never seen hair like it. Like the flames of a fire, like the petals of a marigold, like spun copper and bronze all in waves anointing his head, his miraculous mane of gold was tilted up to God. He was still and silent. And the children were silent.
    The man stood gracefully and turned around slowly and Georgette started. It was not a man, but a mere boy, tall but not older than twelve or thirteen, she guessed. He stood as straight as a prince, his elegant cloak hanging in graceful folds. From side to side he gazed, and the crowd pressed forward, staring at him, waiting for the bewitching boy to speak his first words.
    ‘Oh, Lord Jesus,’ he began, in a clear, ringing voice that went to Georgette’s soul like the sun to a seedling. She straightened herself as tall as she could while hanging on to Gregor’s back. Straight up and tall as possible, to be like that boy, to be like him and with him.
    ‘I ask for Thy blessing on the children of the village of Illiers.’
    Georgette ducked her head at his blessing. Never before had she been so proud to be a child from the village of Illiers.
    ‘I ask that you bless them, sweet Lord Jesus, with the wisdom to know Thy Word when it reaches them, that they cast away their games and leave their chores, and bid farewell to their parents, and follow me, Thy faithful servant, to redeem Thy Holy Land from the infidels.’
    A breath, a murmur, moved through the crowd. The current brushed them forward, closer, uniting them like a school of fish all heading in the same direction. There was no effort in it, but rather a giving up of effort and a giving in to the words. Suddenly frightened, Georgette glanced at Gregor. His face had altered and was almost handsome in its intentness and focus.
    The boy’s voice drew Georgette back into its power. It was a musical voice, speaking poetry, not speech, weaving around her emotions like a golden net, steadily drawing her closer to this new apostle, this Fisher of Men.
     
    When the last words had looped to an end, the crowd remained still, suspended in a moment of glory. The boy bowed his head and sank to his knees with perfect grace, and the listeners fell to their knees too.
    Georgette slid lightly off Gregor’s back and knelt in rapture.
    Of course , she thought with a rush of certainty, it makes sense. Many a time I have heard Father David say that Jesus loves us children the most. So we are the ones He chose to drive out the Muslims and Jews from his Holy Land .
    When the boy rose and the crowd with him, Georgette felt like reaching out to touch him with her fingertips, felt like prostrating herself before him. But, she admonished herself, he was not a god to be worshipped; nay, he was a leader to be followed.
    And like a clear underground spring gushing up into the air for the very first time, she felt a tremendous purpose filling her body and her head. She was going to follow him. Leave the whole world that she knew. Leave her family and her comforts and follow God’s messenger to save God’s land. No matter how far, how hard, how dangerous. Putting pebbles in one’s shoes was nothing compared with embarking on such a long and winding journey.
    She turned to tell her brother – and met determination blazing in his eyes. He too had made the decision to join the Crusade.
    As they returned to their hut, absorbed in their separate thoughts, they met their father in the muddy lane, stooped under the weight of the firewood he had cut in the forest. He grunted in greeting and kept walking, passing ahead of them on the