Crispin_ At the Edge of the World - Avi [50]
But Heaven—with its gentle, if unceasing rain—wept.
33
THAT NIGHT, after camp was set atop a small hill—their usual defensive practice—the soldiers made merry. They drank much and sang harsh songs. Dudley joined them. At one point, he staggered up to us—for we sat glumly apart—and, pointing right at Troth, shouted, “Tomorrow, ugly one, you’ll be there with us!”
As he stumbled away, Bear reached out and drew Troth to his chest. She pulled away and sat rigidly, fingering her hawthorn sprig, staring I knew not where. Though not said, we understood the need to wait until we could talk privately.
Gradually, the soldiers succumbed to sleep. Such light as there was came from the dwindling central fire. I could just see Bear’s face—wan, full of sorrow. Troth’s visage—pale, tense.
“Bear,” I whispered, “you must talk to us.”
He shook his great head. “God’s truth! What can I tell you that you don’t already know?”
“Why did these men do such a thing?”
He took a deep breath. “Earlier this year, the Duke of Lancaster—he for King Edward—and the Frenchman, Bernard Du Guesclin—he for his King Charles—made a truce. Which is to say, yet another pause in this never-ending war. As usually happens, there are dismissed soldiers with nowhere to go. Answering to no lord, they do as they choose, plundering as they wish. Free companies, they’re called. Though they may send their prayers to our Jesus, they’re no better than those who killed Him. Brigands. Murderers.”
He became silent.
In that silence, I said, “Bear, those stories you told Dudley, about those things you said you did when a soldier. You … were you making them up … weren’t you … to gain their trust?”
Bear looked at me, eyes full of pain. He started to speak, stopped, took a deep breath and spoke most haltingly. “Crispin,” he said, “on Judgment Day … when …189when all shall kneel to be judged before our Blessed Lord, no man who has warred shall be unblemished.”
Stunned by what he was saying, I was afraid to speak. My eyes filled with tears.
Bear reached out, touched my cheek and whispered, “A child’s tear is the true holy water.”
I could not speak.
“Listen well,” said Bear, recovering some strength in his voice. “Both of you. Most of my days I lived for myself. I was free. I was a sinner, like these men, but, as God knows, not all I did was bad. But much was. Then you two came. Crispin first. Then Troth. In the full measure of my life, it’s not been for so very long. I can only pray that God will say it’s enough. To find such love as I have for both of you is to bind oneself to life, and living. And as my Lord Jesus knows and teaches—a new, and loving life cleanses the old.”
“And you are kind!” I cried.
“And good!” added Troth.
“I pray that God may forgive me as generously as you two do!” said Bear. Impulsively, he reached out and hugged us to his chest. “It’s you,” he whispered, “who are my redemption. In children there is mercy.”
“Bear—” I said.
“Crispin, I am tired to my soul. More than tired.”
“What do you mean?” I cried.
“I must rest. To find some place and stay. I’ve wandered too much. My sins hold me back so that I can hardly move.”
Then Troth, very softly, asked, “What will happen tomorrow?”
“Richard Dudley means to attack the village of which he spoke. You heard him: he claims a fortune is to be found there. He insists that in you, Troth—being small and agile—he’s found a way to reach it. Exactly how, I don’t know. But I will make every effort to ensure you’re safe.”
“We should run off now,” I said.
Bear shook his head. “Crispin, by our Blessed Lady, we cannot. They are watching us. If we try to escape, we’ll be cut down. Or at least you and I. They mean to use Troth. We need to be here for her. We’ll know more tomorrow. Let’s hope all goes well.”
I said, “You once told me a wise man has as many hopes as reasons. Is that all that’s left to you—hope?”
He sighed. I studied Bear’s face. He had become old.
He reached out and chucked me on the chin. “Yes, hope.”
“Hope for what?” I cried.
“That we do not,” he whispered, “fail each other.