Free Crusade by Linda Press Wulf

vespers and compline, telling the abbot quite truthfully that he had a bad headache, and retreated early to his cell.
    He lay on his hard cot, the rough blanket discarded on the stone floor, his intense grey eyes turned to the pulsating stars beyond the window of his cell, praying as he had never done before.
    As the hours passed, the stars’ mysterious signals seemed to grow clearer. It occurred to him that his life had been leading to this point, that Jesus had directed his steps – his childhood, his adoption, his education – for this exact purpose. He was to pace within the narrow cloisters of the abbey no longer. He, Robert, was surely meant to join the Crusade.
     
    Robert’s decision was the first major choice he had made in his life, and he made it with startling certainty.
    After matins and lauds, he asked permission to enter the cell of the abbot.
    ‘Père Abbé,’ he began.
    The abbot raised his cool eyes from the letter he was reading.
    ‘I ask permission to join the young Crusaders when they depart our abbey,’ Robert said, a sudden unnatural calm causing him to talk as evenly as if he were asking permission to take a walk.
    The abbot’s eyes narrowed perceptibly. He spoke briefly and definitely, ‘Your work is here, at my side. You will not go.’ He turned his attention back to his reading.
    But his young acolyte stood firm.
    ‘I have considered my path, Père Abbé, and I believe Jesus Christ wants me to join this Crusade,’ Robert said. ‘I hope to return safely to you and our work here, but if I die along the way, I will have been of service to the Lord in a different way.’
    The abbot turned to look at him again. The circumstance was extraordinary. Never before in their long and unvarying relationship had the boy disregarded any word that came from his lips. He opened his mouth to strip the boy of his insolence with one harsh sentence, to make him creep back to his proper place, cringing and contrite. But he held still and his brow furrowed in calculation.
    Robert’s own eyes watered but he did not withdraw them from the long stare. His mind was made up. Jesus had a reason for wanting him, Robert, to join this crusade. And he would do so.
    If Robert were more honest with himself, he would have recognised another reason – one that was less exalted – for his need to join the Crusaders. He was jealous of the Prophet, consumed with envy. This farm boy had shown him up to be a dreamer rather than a doer. And yet he had to be near Stephen. He had to take the opportunity of observing the charismatic leader and learning the secret of his powerful energy, if he were ever to grow into his own destiny.
    The abbot chided himself for not being prepared for the boy’s first sign of independence. He was already fourteen, and overdue for this rebellion. The older man briefly considered ordering Robert to abandon his idea forthwith, locking him in his cell, if necessary, until that band of silly children and their peacock of a leader were far away.
    The boy’s set face brought his thoughts to heel. The abbot had observed Robert closely since he was a little boy of seven. He had watched the boy pray for long periods, ignoring the pain of kneeling on the cold hard floor. He had seen him keep up manfully with the hard physical labour performed by young monks. He had heard the young child refusing the blandishments of the jolly cooks in order to return to his work in the library. Like a silent black shadow, the abbot had watched and observed and overheard. He knew there was no chance of changing Robert’s mind. This was a boy who would not break the faith, however he interpreted it should be read.
    The abbot was startled to realise how much he would miss the boy’s company. He was well aware, and told himself it didn’t bother him at all, that there was not another human being in the world who would not consider it harsh punishment to remain in the abbot’s presence hour after hour. And even if some