At the end of a street so narrow that the overhanging timbered gables seemed almost to touch each other, leaving only a strip of intensely blue sky above them, Geoffrey and Alys came out into an open square, three sides of which were green with nodding foliage, the fourth being taken up by a white stone church, built much in the style of Byzantium.
In the middle of the square played a small fountain, its water springing in jewelled gouts, surrounded by a low ledge of black marble.
On this ledge sat a young man in a grey habit, his head shaven, a scroll of parchment spread across his knees. He looked up and smiled at the children, leaving his forefinger on the word he had reached in his reading. White doves fluttered about him in the sunshine.
‘Good day, my friends,’ he said pleasantly. ‘You look tired. Come and sit beside me in the sunshine. It is restful here.’
Geoffrey took off his black velvet cap and made a small obeisance before the priest while Alys curtseyed with reverence.
‘There is little time for rest, father,’ said the boy. ‘This small child is sick with the plague and we wish to find a doctor who will tend her. I have money in my pouch to pay for such treatment, I assure you.’
The young priest smiled a little and put down the scroll from which he had been reading.
‘Sometimes money will not buy back a life that is spent, young friend,’ he said, ‘however good the doctor may be. Then there is nothing left but prayer.’
He walked towards them and looked down at the child gravely, feeling her pulse, examining her gums, turning back her eyelids. And at length he smiled again and said, ‘Let us sit down in the sunshine by the fountain. God’s clean air and warm sun will do this little maid as much good as any doctor’s potions. She has no more plague than I have, glory be to God. Sleep and good food are all she needs. She is exhausted beyond all knowing.’
The young priest gazed calmly at Geoffrey, and then with a slight grimace of amusement at Alys. A dove fluttered down and perched on his shoulder.
‘You are wise, lady, to borrow your brother’s clothes for your journey,’ he said. ‘Marching with Stephen of Cloyes on these dusty roads calls for something more practical than skirts and bodices.’
The girl looked back at him in amazement. ‘How do you know all this, father?’ she asked.
The priest looked away across the square for a while. Then he said quietly, ‘Your shoes are almost worn through; you speak with the accent of a place farther north—and Stephen’s army of crusaders has been expected here for the last week. There is nothing magic about my guessing.’
After a while they went into the church, the young priest carrying the sleeping child. The gentle air was heavy with the scent of incense; sunlight shone on to the myriad-coloured rose window, casting a riot of red and blue and gold upon the whiteness of the far wall; candles burned steadily upon the decorated altar.
Alys said, ‘This church is more splendid than our little one at Beauregard.’
The priest smiled and said, ‘That is of no account, daughter. They are both God’s houses. He is to be found in your little church as often as in the great cathedral in Rome. And perhaps He is to be found more often in the humble shepherd’s hut than in any of them.’ Then he went through a side door, carrying the child gently, and leaving the two before the altar.
Geoffrey gazed in wonder at a great golden cup which stood before the candles.
‘Look,’ he said to his sister, ‘it is set with rubies and amethysts, and the base is encircled by ivy leaves of silver!’
Alys answered, ‘I have never seen so rich a goblet. Not even King Philip himself can have such a treasure.’
Geoffrey bent forward over the altar rail to examine the precious cup.
‘Such a thing should be locked away,’ he said, ‘lest some wandering man forgot his honesty and stole it.’
A dark shadow fell across the nave of the church and the children turned to see the priest again. Now he was not smiling.
‘That is God’s cup,’ he said. ‘He who stole it would have Him to consider. Therein lies its safety, my son.’
Then his gravity left him and he smiled again. ‘I have left the little one with a good woman who helps in this house of God,’ he said. ‘She will care for her and one day, God willing, we will find the child’s parents and restore her to them. Now let us kneel together and pray.’
And afterwards the priest said, ‘I shall have straw laid within the church, my friends, and tonight you, and as many of your companions as care to, shall have shelter here. I understand that the other churches will also be open to them and many of the houses too. The good folk of Lyons wish Stephen of Cloyes well in his Crusade.’
Geoffrey saw a shadow of doubt flitter across the priest’s face as he spoke. ‘And do you approve of the Crusade, too, father?’ he dared to ask.
For a while the priest was silent, then he said softly. ‘Who am I to doubt the truth of Stephen’s vision? Pope Innocent has said that you children have put the men of France to shame, and I, who am only the humblest of God’s servants, must not gainsay that.’
But, as he turned away, he added, ‘Yet if I were the father of a family, I might wonder whether I was failing in my trust if I allowed my children to run into such perils as could await you all, once you leave France.’
As they walked back into the centre of the town, he stood in the little square, beside the sparkling fountain, waving to them. Alys gazed back at him. ‘Look, Geoffrey,’ she whispered, ‘the white doves are fluttering about him. He is so good, I think he must be a saint!’
But her brother only smiled and said, ‘Come on, we must hurry or there will be no food to be had in the whole of Lyons. The children will have eaten it all up, like a swarm of locusts!’
They let their ears guide their feet then, towards a place where the air was heavy with the sound of dancing feet, cut through by the high shrill sounds of the piper’s merry flute.
And when Alys heard that music again, her face lost its sadness. ‘Yes, brother,’ she said, ‘we must go on with Stephen and the piper. Whatever the priest says, I feel that we are on the way to a great and glorious adventure.’
Her brother smiled at her wickedly. ‘You are a changeable one,’ he said wrily. ‘As for me, I want to see the world and to bring home a fortune, like the other crusaders!’
Then they turned a corner and found themselves among the multitude of noisy children once again.