Stormbringers (Order of Darkness) (5 page)

Luca looked at Brother Peter. ‘Sultan Mehmet is nineteen years old,’ he confirmed.

‘God told me that this is a war for young people and for children. The infidels are led by a young man; I heard my calling. I knew that I must leave my home.’

The two men waited.

‘I took my crook and my knapsack and I said farewell to my father and mother. The whole village came out to see me leave. They knew that I was inspired by God himself.’

‘Did anyone leave with you?’

He shook his head and stared at the window as if he could see on the dim pieces of the horn panes the poverty of the dirty village street, the dreary lives of the people who scratched a living from the thin mountain soil, who were hungry and cold every winter and knew, even in the warmth of summer, that the cold and hunger of winter would come again. People who confidently expected that nothing would ever change, that life would go on in the same cycle of hard winters and bright summers in a remorseless unchanging round – until the day that they heard that the Turks were coming and understood that everything had suddenly got worse and would get worse still.

‘Children joined me as I walked,’ Johann said. ‘They heard my voice, they understood. We all know that the end of days is coming. We all want to be in Jerusalem for judgement day.’

‘You think you’re going to Jerusalem?’ Freize demanded incredulously from the doorway. ‘You’re leading these children to Jerusalem?’

The boy smiled at him. ‘God is leading them to Jerusalem,’ he said patiently. ‘I am only walking with them. I am walking beside them.’

‘Then God has chosen an odd route,’ Freize said rudely. ‘Why would He send you to the east of Italy? Why not go to Rome and get help? Why not take a ship from there? Why walk these children such a long way?’

The boy looked a little shaken at Freize’s loud scepticism. ‘I don’t lead them, I don’t choose the route, I go where God tells me,’ he said quietly. He looked at Brother Peter. ‘The way is revealed to me, as I walk. Who is this man questioning me?’

‘This is Brother Luca’s servant,’ Brother Peter said irritably. ‘You need not answer his questions. He has no part in our inquiry.’

‘Oh, beg pardon for interrupting, I’m sure,’ Freize said, not sounding at all sorry. ‘But am I to give your leavings out at the door? Your followers seem to be hungry. And there are broken meats from your breakfast, and the untouched bread. You dined quite well.’

The boy passed his plate and the bread in the basket without giving it another glance. ‘God provides for us,’ he said. ‘Give it all to them with my blessing.’

‘And see that the food is shared fairly when it comes from the monastery,’ Brother Peter ordered Freize, who nodded and went out. They could hear him stamping to the kitchen and the back door. Brother Peter turned his attention back to the boy. ‘And your name is?’

‘Johann Johannson.’

‘And your age?’

‘I think I am almost sixteen years old. I don’t know for sure.’

‘Had you seen any miracles or heard anything before this year?’

He smiled. ‘I used to hear a singing in the church bells of my village,’ he confided. ‘When they rang for Mass I used to hear them calling my name, as if God himself wanted me to come to His table. Then sometimes, when I was with the goats in the high pasture in summer, I would hear voices, beautiful voices, calling my name. It was an angel who used to meet me in the highest meadows. I knew that there would be a task for me. But I did not know it would be this.

‘God told me of the end of days when I was on my own in the high pasture and I puzzled as to what I should do with this knowledge. I spoke to my priest and he said perhaps it was a revelation; we would have to wait till we could know more. We could not believe that what I had heard in the pasture about the Church of the East could be true. Nobody could believe that a great city like Constantinople could fall. But then a pedlar did, at last, come to the market, and he stood in the village square and there were tears in his eyes as he told us all that the Rome of the East had fallen – that the city had held out as long as it could, a light in the darkness, as the darkness grew darker; but that the Ottoman Turks were too much for it. I knew then, that my vision was true, that the voice I had heard was the voice of God, that the end of days was upon us, and that I must go to Jerusalem.’

‘You knew of the fall of Constantinople before the pedlar came and told everyone?’ Brother Peter made a note. ‘You had reported your vision to your priest?’

‘I did,’ the boy said with certainty.

‘You are certain that you told your priest of the end of days before the pedlar came?’

The boy nodded, not troubling to repeat himself.

‘And how do you plan to get to Jerusalem, from here?’ Luca asked.

‘God has told me that the sea will dry up before us,’ the boy said simply. ‘As it did before the children of Israel. We will walk to the southernmost point of Italy and then I know that the waves will part and we will walk to the Holy Land.’

Luca and Brother Peter exchanged a wondering look at his confidence. ‘It’s a long, long way,’ Luca suggested gently. ‘Do you know the way? Do you know how far?’

‘It doesn’t matter to me what the road is called, nor how far it is,’ the boy said confidently. ‘God guides me, not signposts or worldly maps. I walk in faith, I am not the toy of men who draw maps and try to measure the world. I don’t follow their vision but that of God.’

‘And what will you do, when you get there?’ Brother Peter asked.

‘This is not a crusade of weapons,’ the boy replied. ‘It is a children’s crusade. When we get there the children of Israel will come to us. The Turk children will come to us. Ottoman children will come. Arab children will come to us and we will all serve the one God. If there are any Christian children left alive in those tragic lands, then they will come to us too. They will all explain to their fathers and their mothers and there will be peace. The children of all the enemies will bring peace to the world. It is a children’s crusade and every child will answer the call. Then Jesus will come to Jerusalem and the world will end.’

‘You have seen all this in a vision?’ Brother Peter confirmed. ‘You are certain?’

His face shining with conviction, the boy nodded. ‘It is a certainty,’ he said. ‘How else would all these children have joined me already? They come from the villages and from the little farms. They come from dirty workshops and the backstreets of evil cities. They come with their brothers and sisters. They come with their friends. They come from different countries, they come even if they cannot understand my language, for God speaks to them. The Arab children, the Jewish children will come too.’ He wiped his mouth on his sleeve, like the simple peasant boy he was. ‘I see you are amazed, my masters, but this is how it is. It is a children’s crusade and it is going to change the world.

‘And now I must pray with my brothers and sisters,’ he said. ‘You may join us if you want.’ He rose up, picked up his crook, and went to the doorway.

‘How will the waters part?’ Luca asked him curiously.

Johann made a gesture with his hands, pushing the air away before him. ‘As it did before,’ he said. ‘For Moses. However that was. The waves will part on one side and the other. We will see the sea bed beneath our feet. We will see the wrecks of ships that lie on the bed of the sea and we can pick up their treasure as we walk. We can gather pearls as if they were flowers. We will go dry-shod all the way to Palestine.’ He paused. ‘Angels will sing,’ he said, pleased. He went from the room, leaving Luca and Brother Peter alone.

‘What an extraordinary boy!’ Luca exclaimed, pushing back his chair from the table. ‘He has a gift, it can’t be denied.’ He brushed his forearm and ran his hand up the nape of his neck. ‘My hairs are standing on end. I believe him. I am truly persuaded. I wish I could follow him. If I had heard him when I was a child I would have left a plough in the field and gone after him.’

‘A charismatic leader,’ Brother Peter decided. ‘But whether he is a dreamer or whether he is a prophet, or even a false prophet, I can’t tell. We must hear him preach and perhaps question him some more. I’ll have to get news of this to Milord at once. This is urgent.’

‘He will want to know of such a boy?’

‘Of such a boy, and of such a crusade. This could be another sign of the end of days. He will want to know everything. Why, if they get to Palestine and do half of what they promise, then the Ottoman Empire will struggle to deal with them. For them it will be their worst nightmare knocking at their front door. With such a large band of children they’ll either have to guard them, or arrest them, attack them, or let them enter into the holiest places. Either way these children could upset everything. This may turn out to be the greatest weapon we could have devised against our enemies. We would never have thought of such a device but they could be far more powerful than any Christian army of grown men. If Johann can appeal to Ottoman children and Turk children and if they join him in a Christian crusade, then the world would be turned upside down.’

‘Do you really think they can get all that way to Jerusalem?’

‘Who would have thought they could have got here? And yet they have, in their thousands.’

‘Certainly hundreds,’ Luca said cautiously.

‘There are hundreds of children following that boy already. How many more can he recruit as he marches south?’

‘You can’t think that the sea will part before them?’ Luca asked. ‘How could such a thing happen?’

‘Do you believe that the Red Sea parted for the children of Israel?’ the older man put to him.

‘I have to believe it. The Bible is clear that it did. To question it would be heresy.’

‘Then why should such a miracle not happen again?’

Luca shook his head. ‘I suppose it could. I just—’ He broke off. ‘I just can’t understand how such a thing could be. How it could happen. Don’t question my faith, I believe the Bible as I am bound to do. I am not denying one word of it. But this sea rushing back from the sea bed? And these children walking dry-shod to Palestine? Can such a thing be possible?’

‘We have to see if it can be done. But if the sea does not part for them it may be that Milord will get them ships.’

‘Why would he take the trouble?’ Luca hesitated, noticing the excitement in the older man’s face. ‘Is our inquiry about the end of days, or is the Order more interested in defeating the Ottomans? Are we seeking the truth or forging a weapon?’

‘Both, of course, both,’ Brother Peter replied roundly. ‘Both, always. It is one and the same thing. The world will end when the Ottomans enter the gates of Rome, and at that moment the dead will rise from their graves for judgment. You and I have to travel throughout Christendom to watch for the signs of the dead rising, of Satan emerging, and the Ottoman armies coming ever closer. The infidels in Jerusalem and Jesus descending from heaven is one and the same thing, both signs of the end. What we have to know is when it takes place. These children may be a sign, I really believe that they are a sign. We must write to Milord, and we have to know more.’

Luca tapped on the door of Isolde’s room and she opened it wide when she saw him. ‘I can’t stay,’ he said. ‘But I wanted to warn Ishraq.’

The dark girl appeared behind Isolde. ‘Me?’

‘Yes. You’ve seen the children, coming into town. They’re a crusade, hundreds of children, perhaps more. They’re heading south, on their way to Jerusalem to defeat the Ottomans.’

‘We’ve seen them from the window. They look exhausted.’

‘Yes, but they are very sure that they are on their way to Palestine, a mighty crusade and a sign of the end of days. They know of the sack of Constantinople by the Ottomans. If you go down into the streets at all, you must not wear your Arab dress. They might turn on you. I don’t know what they would think.’

‘I should not wear Arab dress? I am not to wear my own clothes? I am to deny my heritage?’

‘Not while the Children’s Crusade is here. Wear what Lady Isolde wears for now.’

Ishraq gave him a steady look from her dark eyes. ‘And what shall I do about my Arab skin?’