Crusade of Tears: A Novel of the Children's Crusade by C. D. Baker Page B

… Betony … a remedy well suited for head fractures and ailments of the skull. One Brother Lukas knew well! Fool. It is thee who the soldiers seek. Ha! I knew this mischief had a devil to it. Murderer… twice murderer. I’ll surely delight in your hanging.”
    Wil was no longer the defiant intransigent. Instead he sprinted like a frightened child toward the door. But Pious, expecting the lad to run, thrust his left foot forward. The boy tripped through the hearth and crashed, headlong, against the table. The huge man then pounced on him like a hungry bee on a ripe pear. He jerked Wil up by the shoulders and suspended him against the wall, dangling both feet helplessly above the earthen floor.
    The priest pushed his face close to Wil’s. “Ha, ha! I’ll truss you myself and drag you to the abbot.”
    Wil, rising to the urgency of his peril, gathered his poise with surprising speed and responded to Pious in a calm, though vexing voice. “When you drag me to the abbot, I’ll have little choice but to confess my deeds.”
    Pious, intrigued, maintained his hold on the boy and waited for more.
    “I’ll offer my confession to the abbey’s priest, and then I will share what I have seen of you and the deeds you have done in this house!”
    The shocked priest stiffened and his quivering jowls lost their flush. His lips twitched a little and he began to relax his grip. Wil slid lightly to the ground.
    “Whatever do you mean?” Pious said in a hoarse whisper. “You have seen nothing … nothing has been here to see.”
    It was at that very moment that Wil knew he had turned the trap. The lad now stood erect, almost indignant. He brushed away the straw clinging to his rough clothing, strode confidently toward the table, and began to refill the herb bag. He was steady and well within his wits. “In just a moment I’ll be quite ready to take our leave to the abbot.”
    The priest began to perspire and glanced, for the very first time, into Marta’s bedchamber. He turned away and peered through the crack at the doorway into the wide eyes of Karl and Frau Anka. He stormed to the door and slammed it shut, then grabbed Wil by his ear and dragged him toward the far corner of the room.
    Wil smirked. Frau Emma was right , he thought. We are ne’er better than our secrets.
    Pious cleared his throat and quickly relaxed. He released the boy’s ear and feigned composure. “Now, boy,” he stated flatly, “I should like to know what you think you have seen. After all, the Holy Scriptures tell us to bear no false witness against a neighbor.” Pious folded his hands, paternally. “Truth be told, lad, I am certain you had no part in Ansel’s … misfortune. But, nonetheless, I should like to know what you think of other matters, for it would be most unwise for you to pass through life with some confusion of the facts.” He smiled weakly, betrayed by a droplet of perspiration on his upper lip. The priest seated himself on a stool, as if to convey a comfortable familiarity, and set his sweating palms on his knees. “Now, just settle yourself and share thy thoughts and I’ll pray for God to heal this day.”
    Wil, emboldened for having seen fear in his enemy, leaned forward and set his nose a hair’s breadth from the man’s. “You, priest, since the day you chased my father on his penance, have been favoring my mother with … undo attention.”
    Pious’s face tightened and retreated from the boy’s. “Well, of course,” he stammered. “I should hardly be expected to abandon the family of such an obedient servant as your father. The bakery is a hard task… and … the apprentice was not sufficient… what with the abbot honoring the ancient vow of thy education. Your poor mother has had much need of attention, and …”
    “Enough,” snapped Wil. “Enough. My mother needed none of your attentions in her bed.”
    The priest leapt to his feet. He began pacing and wringing his hands. “That is a lie. That is a vicious