Hospitaller tells the story of a humble Unknown Knight on Crusade. He goes through trials, adventure, meets Kings, a Sultan, Knights, peasants, nobles, and possitibely affects them all.
Chapter One
The Unknown
“There be many created, but few shall be saved.”
II Esdras 8:3 the Apocrypha of the Old Testament
Published by the Press Syndicated of the University of Cambridge England
“Then I applied myself to the understanding of wisdom, and also of madness and folly, but I learned that this
too, is a chasing after the wind. For with much wisdom comes much sorrow; the more the knowledge, the more the grief.”
Ecclesiastes 1:17-18 New International Version
Zondevan Publishing House
Tenth Anniversary Edition, Copyright 1995 December 1188 C.E.
The cold mist hung thick and heavy in the air on a chilly winter morning in the English countryside. There was a heavy feeling in the lungs as one breathed in the damp frosty dew, then exhaled, making a column of smoke as the breath exited the mouth. There was also a strong, pungent odor. It was the smell of manure emanating from the little village of sheep farms that permeated the outside air. The Unknown leaned out the window of his small, yet comfortable estate. He stretched and yawned as he greeted the early morning sunrise. A little hamlet of thatched roofed houses was what he owned; it sat just outside the window of his manor. The morning mist rose eerily from the rooftops, while gray smoke also emanated from the chimneys.
This was his village, left to him by his father when he had passed on to the other side just two years past. Yes, it was already two years. It did not seem that long; and now just yesterday, the Black Death had taken his mother away as well. It was God’s punishment for Christendom’s having lost Jerusalem to the infidels. Hmm, at least that is what the priest in the local church had been preaching to everyone. Why did the church seem to think that every illness was a punishment sent by God? The Unknown thought deeply on this issue. His mother had committed no offense against anyone. That poor, dear sweet woman””a kinder more caring mother no son could have ever had and yet the priest and the Mother Church said she died as a punishment for some far away sin? Some wrong committed by several others belonging to the Kingdom of God? This was a very hard and bitter idea for him to swallow. But to doubt God, to question His chastisements when he chooses to punish His children–this must not be done. No–it must never be done! This was the teaching of the Mother Church on the issue; and it would be a dangerous thing to question the priest and the church on the matter. If God had chosen death for one of His creatures, then so be it. Creator God is all knowing and wise. Who can question His reasons or motives?
But death, the permanence of that very word–no the finality! It stuns the mind into grief and madness. Death–it came so easy in this present time when life seemed but a feeble mist–a mere pant of air on the wind. One could love a fellow being and treasure them beyond words. Then the Black Death would come and take them away forever- -in a matter of just a few short days. It seemed so unfair, so ungodly to allow such a fate to befall an innocent being, a cherished one formed in the furnace of God’s creative powers.
Despite church dogma, the questions still plagued his mind. He was a knight, and an educated man. Church dogma is all right to push on the peasant masses, but a noble knight should be able to question things. A knight was a man of learning, as well as of warfare. He was a man who risked his life to protect Christian society, defend the innocent, and even the church itself. These facts should, and often did give him a certain amount of leeway when it came to church teaching.
Suddenly, the door swung open and startled the Unknown from his inner thoughts.
“Oh, hello brother, I did not know you were up already. Shall I leave you, my lord?”
The Unknown’s sister was a beautiful woman. She had long blonde hair and pretty-blue eyes that seemed to sparkle with an inner glow. She was a kind woman, and always dressed appropriately for a noble lady. A girl of slender build, although that was partly due to the food shortage that always seemed to occur when the plague hung in the air.
“No, stay with me awhile, Juliana. I do not really care to be alone right now. I”¦well, I keep having these thoughts about our dear mother and father both having died from the plague. Do you ever question or think about what the church teaches about this? I just do not see where the sin is that they are supposed to have been punished for.”
Juliana went to the corner of the room and busied herself with mending clothes. He knew when she was sad, confused, or even depressed because she always kept her hands busy at such times. After their father had died, she hardly spoke at all, but she must have sewn an entire wardrobe fit for a queen.
“Why don’t you leave that to the servants, sister?”
“Oh brother, don’t worry about me. I will be just fine, and you should not worry so much either; you will drive yourself mad trying to figure out spiritual matters. Wait until Father Gregory gets here; he will explain everything to you. It is not for us to understand the mind of God or to know His motives. That is why we have the clergy who are trained in such things. We have too many other responsibilities to worry about now, what with burying mother and running the estate. It’s a wonder you have time to think at all!”
The Unknown paused for a moment and stared at his sister. She was the only family he had left. Their father had wanted to have a second son after she was born; but that never came to pass. Divine providence seemed to keep their family line to one male heir per generation.
“You are probably right, Juliana. You always have kept a clearer mind than me. You got our father’s sense of practicality, and I got our mother’s constant questioning of things. I see things that are not right, and I always want to ask “˜Why?’ Sometimes it drives me to madness! I don’t see the logic in–or for that matter any compassion in some of the church’s teachings.”
“Talk to the Father when he gets here, my dear brother. He will clear all these things up for you. He has always had a patient disposition with all of your questioning. Many priests would not even take the time to clarify canon to the non-clergy. Father Gregory has always been most kind to you.”
“Perhaps you are right, Juliana. You always seem to know just what to say to calm my troubled thoughts. I wonder when the Father will get here.”
The Unknown looked out the window and saw a figure approaching from the distance, just on the rise. From the slight waddle in the person’s walk and the portly shape, he recognized that it was Father Gregory, coming to pay his respects.
“Why is it, Juliana, that when everyone else is hungry in times of crisis, we always seem to have fat friars running about the countryside?”
The Unknown had a clever grin on his face as he made this remark; he liked jovial Father Gregory. Juliana chuckled under her breath at her brother’s comment, but quickly regained her composure.
“Oh brother, do not be so cruel. Father Gregory is a kind, godly man, and has been good to our family. Not all priests are as good and kind as he. I have even heard of some priests who are as mean and venomous as old tavern wenches are. We are lucky we have him.”
Father Gregory approached the house and knocked on the door. The unknown looked out the window and shouted loudly, “Good morning, Father! It is a blessed day to be alive in England! Would you
not agree?”
Father Gregory jolted around, startled at the sudden voice coming at him. He was breathing heavily and sweating after his walk from the village church, over half a king’s mile down the road.
“Good heavens, boy! You put a fright in me! I almost gave up the ghost just now!”
The plump friar took out a cloth from his belt and began to wipe his brow. He took in a deep breath and returned the cloth from whence it came. He began to straighten his black woolen robe and dust himself off.
“Come in, Father. You are most welcome in my humble home.
Would you care for something to eat””a bit of bread and some porridge, perhaps? Come in before you catch your death of cold.”
“God bless you and all who dwell herein, my son. May the Heavenly Father shine His face upon you, and all who belong to you.”
The Father looked toward the sky and kissed the cross he wore on a chain attached to a belt around his waist, and then he walked across the room, pulled up a chair, and sat at the table. Juliana brought him some food, and he began to eat. She spoke to him after he blessed his food and made the sign of the cross over his chest. “Thank you for coming so soon after Mother’s passing, Father.”
“Hmm” Yes, my daughter, I was so saddened when I heard the news.”
“God has called her home, Father. She no longer suffers; she merely sleeps until the time of the resurrection–and the Day of Judgment.”
Father Gregory paused for a moment and sighed. He looked up at Juliana, after taking a bite of his food. He mumbled his words nervously while he chewed.
“I am afraid I have some more bad news, Juliana. The bishop–that is the church”” has not given me permission to perform a Christian burial on your poor mother. Also, she is not to be buried on holy ground in the churchyard. I am so sorry, Juliana. I cannot go against the will of my superiors and the Holy Mother Church.”
Father Gregory dipped the brown bread into the porridge and took another nervous bite.
Juliana was overcome by her emotions, and she began to weep.
Suddenly, she threw a wooden bowl on the floor; then she pushed her way past the Father and shouted back at him.
“Damn your superiors, Father! She was a good and kindly Godfearing woman, and you know it! She deserves a Christian burial!
Why? Why, Father? Is it because my father did not lend his sword to the church’s war against the Mohammedans? Is it because he did not go and fight your cursed war the way my grandfather did?”
Juliana ran to her room in tears. The Unknown stared, stunned, at the Father. He was growing weary of what seemed to be the church’s persecution of his family. It was persecution that the church had little basis for. After all, many knights did not take the cross. Someone needed to stay behind and maintain order.
“You handled that well, Father. What other bit of cheerful news have you brought to make my humble home a more joyous place today? What–with my mother’s body in the other room barely cold”” and the church already condemns her for all eternity? The same way you did my father! What happy news! What a holy blessed day in England! Ring the church bells! Sing songs of praise! The church has condemned another heathenish sinner! Why, I suppose you will say
“God wills it!’ What an arse am I to invite you in, Father! And you–I should have known, a good friend to my family, and yet a faithful pawnof The Holy Mother Church! Does it make you feel any better to have the power to bless or curse a soul for all eternity? Where is the love of Christ now, Father? What of mercy and grace–where are they, Father?
There is the door! You best be on your way–old friend!”
“I am sorry, son. It is the will of the church. I can only obey and do what I am told to do. One day you will understand; we are all just pawns in this business of life and salvation. We must all simply play our part and do as we are told. However, I have also come to offer an indulgence for your dear mother and father. I went over the bishop’s head. I begged my superiors on your parent’s behalf. They offered this one chance for you to save their souls from eternal damnation.”
“Hmm… I see, Father, and what must I do to gain them this indulgence?”
“Believe me son; I am only looking out for your family’s interests.
You have always been friends of mine since our boyhood in the village.
You may curse me when I tell you this, but it is the only way. You must take up the cross and go on a pilgrimage to the Holy Land. Saladin, as you know, has taken back Jerusalem. Even now, he besieges Tyre. The Holy Father has called for all the able-bodied men in Christendom to take up the cross. He has offered very liberal indulgences to all men who go. So you see–there is a way for you to save your mother and father from hell’s eternal flames, my son.” The Unknown sat in silence for a moment, scratching his chin and
pulling on his neatly trimmed sandy-blond beard. He knew this idea was as good as a death sentence. Few able-bodied men had returned from the long journey, or from the fierce combat with the vile Mohammedans. Many had also died from disease on the way.
“Do you remember when I was a boy and my grandfather came back from the east after serving in the Holy Land, Father?”
“Yes, I remember it well.”
“We would sit by the fire at night as he coughed and wheezed. He would tell me stories of that far off land–the land of milk and honey, the land of gold and exotic women. It was a place where a poor simple
farmer from England could live like a king. You know, Father, I often dreamt of going there when I was young. That was until I watched my grandfather waste away and die of some strange illness he contracted in that far-off place.”
“Yes, I remember him when I too was young. He was a strong, proud knight.”
The Unknown seemed to glow with pride and straighten up as he spoke of his grandfather.
“Oh yes, indeed he was, Father. He was one who served with Tancred near Antioch. He was so young then. It was said of both of them that they would charge at vast numbers of Mohammedans while screaming at the top of their lungs. Although outnumbered, they terrified the Moslems, so much so that they called them ‘little jinn’ and refused to fight them when they came near. The Moslems would just break ranks and run before them like frightened sheep before a wolf.”
“So why didn’t your father take the cross as well when told to do so by the baron?”
The Unknown paused again for a moment and looked out the window.
“Did you know, Father, that every day he also sat here and watched my proud grandfather waste away to nothing, as I did? My grandfather, who was drooling on himself like an animal, that proud knight who could cleave a man in two by swinging his sword with one hand; do you know how that tortured my father? That is why he decided that he would not go. He decided to put his family first and stay here in England. The baron’s lands still needed protecting here as well. Not all knights could, or should take the cross.”
Father Gregory looked sadly at the Unknown. He wanted to console him.
“All our decisions, whether they seem right to us or not, have a consequence. Whether we like it or not, everything we do in this world affects others, and not just our own family. We all must make sacrifices for the good of our society. Otherwise we would all be lost.”
The Unknown thought meditatively as he looked at Father Gregory, then asked,
“And what sacrifice have you made, Father? Would you leave home and family? Would you go to some far-off land to make war on a strange people? Would you join the warrior monks and kill men you do not even know? It is an easy thing to talk about, but to end a man’s life; it is a very difficult thing. Why should I fight simply for a belief, Father for a religion? And what is religion? Can you hold it in your hand? Can you own it as a piece of gold or silver and put it on a shelf?
Will it put bread in your stomach? Will it clothe your family? You ask much, Father, for me to make a long, dangerous journey and fight a ferocious foe for my religion–for God and my people. It is a very, very difficult thing to do.”
“Yes, I see your point, my son. Nevertheless, things are as they are. You have the church’s offer. If you take up the cross, we will protect your land and property while you are gone, and your parents will be waiting for you in heaven. The church will also move their remains to sacred church land. That is the church’s offer. You have three days to respond. That is the best I can do.”
The Unknown looked out his window and saw a rider on horseback approaching. The man galloped in a proud and regal manner on his steed. Right away, he knew that it was Baldwin, dressed in his armor. He thought to himself, “The baron’s son is sure up early; and he’s been coming around here a lot lately. What could he want now?”
Read more about Hospitaller: A Tale of the Unknown Knight in the Third Crusade and Joseph Lessard HERE.
Copyright 2008 Joseph Lessard. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.
Post a Comment