STUMBLING along the Rhine between Knights and peasants, were tired, hungry, and dirty men, women and children. They had been following the riverbanks from Speyer for days without proper rest and nourishment. The Knights just kept pushing and pushing them.

An elderly couple stumbled forward over the rugged terrain. Devorah kept behind them to encourage them along. The old man clung to his wife as if she was as fragile as a baby. Her porcelain face had the mark of time on it, withered like a flower. Her foot hooked on a protruding rock and she slumped to the ground.

Devorah scrambled over to help her. The skin on her knees was ripped off and blood began trickling down her legs from her delicate skin. Tears of pain and fatigue spilled from her eyes.

Pulling a handkerchief from her dress pocket, Devorah began dabbing at the blood while comforting the sobbing lady. She helped the lady to her feet, scared to leave them by themselves. 

When one was too tired to continue and collapsed, one would be left there for dead or killed by the Knights. The Knights waited for no one, and if you slowed them down, you would be severely punished.

Devorah had to blink back tears when she looked at the small children struggling to keep up. White stripes were evident on their dirt smeared faces, a sign of constant crying. It was painful for her to see them suffering like this. She did all she could to help.

A woman with a small boy and girl was struggling to carry two tired toddlers, age three and four.

Offering to help, Devorah picked up and carried the crying little girl, her short black curly hair bobbing up and down by the movement. All she could do to comfort her was embrace her. She held the child as close to her as possible, tears of the child soaking her shirt.

Finally, at sunset, they stopped to set up camp for the night. The Knights herded all the Jews into a group and set up around them so none of them could escape. Handing out rations, stale bread and a small amount of water, the Jews grabbed it eagerly.

A column of timber were set alight in the centre of the camp. Flames rose dauntlessly against the darkening sky. People huddled together in groups, comforting each other, petrified of what tomorrow might hold.

Apart from the occasional hoot of an owl or screech of a bat, you could hear a child weeping or someone coughing. Before long, silence overwhelmed the camp and most of the people were fast asleep.

The crackling of the fire brought some peacefulness to the scene that made everyone settle down. Hushed voices of the Knights that stood watch could be heard in the background. Laughter would erupt now and then and you could hear the clinking of ale bottles. After midnight, even these barfly sots settled down.

A cool breeze whisked over the camp and people huddled closer together for body warmth. People reposed like a mob of sheep, relying on the other's heartbeat to fall asleep.

Devorah woke before sunrise. Hugo promised to help her have a bath in the lagoon. On tip-toe, she proceeded softly and as low as possible to where they agreed to meet. When she reached the banks, she spotted the nesting ducks awake between the tall reeds.

Before moving into the entrance of the green lagoon, she saw silhouettes darkening the water, but on careful inspection, she was delighted to observe transparent, blue water. The gentle burble of the water could only just be heard while the welcoming birds chirruped intermittently.

A sudden brush against her hand startled her. Before she could cry out, Hugo pressed his index finger against his lips, warning her to keep quiet. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach and her heart skipped a beat.

His always warm smile soothed her and she smiled up at him. She almost couldn't believe how lucky she was meeting him and growing so close to him in the last few days.

The journey so far had been rough and cold, testing her resolve physically as well as mentally. He had provided comfort even in the darkest of hours where all that plagued her were the horrors of her father’s burning corpse and her own violent rape.

He took her hand and gently pulled her deeper into the entrance of the lagoon. When he had spotted the entrance earlier that day, he made an opportunity to let Devorah know that he'd help her take a bath without anyone knowing. It was the least he could do for her under the circumstances. Something about her made him want to protect her; she was a flower he had seen come too close to withering. He had taken it upon himself to nurture her.

"I brought you a bar of soap and a rag. And a crinoline for when you're done,” he whispered close to her ear.

A part of her was frightened of the contact and closeness, but another relished in it.

"Where did you get this?" she asked. She turned her head to hide the sudden rosiness of her cheeks.

"Please, go bathe quickly. We don't have much time. I will keep watch. Go, go quickly." He eased her towards the water, making sure not to push her or urge her in any way that might have alarmed or scared her.

The serenity of the river soothed her fleeting heartbeat. Moving to a shrub closer to the water, she hung her dress and slipped off her shoes. She walked into the refreshing water wearing only her crinoline. The grass river bank gently sloped into the shallow waters. The pebbles under her feet felt as smooth and cold as the water, small dark fingerling darted over her feet.

The outline of the trees became clear as dawn sent flickering beams over the water. The tireless flow of the water eddies curled and vanished around her as she moved deeper into the water. She hastily bathed herself and washed her hair with the bar of soap. She ambled out of the water and dried herself with the rag.

Devorah found Hugo waiting just beyond the entrance of the lagoon. He was peering nervously around for any movement.

"Hugo," she whispered his name with ease, a familiarity having already settled in their interactions, and attracting his attention, "I'm done. Thank you."

"I'm happy to be of service to you." He gently took the wet crinoline from her and hid it in his leather satchel. Placing both his hands around her face, he whispered her name softly and slowly, "Devorah."

He drew closer to her and she felt her heartbeat quicken. Her eyes closed and she felt his lips brush against her cheek. He slowly pulled her closer to him and enveloped his arms around her. His caress was warm and welcoming, not at all triggering or uncomfortable.

She felt protected and loved in his big, strong arms. All her concerns, fears and anger seemed to disappear and be cast off to somewhere far away when she was in his embrace. She wished that she could drown in this moment, not wanting it to end.

"You have to get back to the camp before they notice you're gone," he warned, He draped his arm around her shoulder and started walking in the direction of the camp. Hugo let go of her and steered her toward the group, but not before placing a last kiss on her lips, "Keep well, my love."

Although spring was usually not that hot, Devorah was surprised by the warmth of the sun's rays that day.

They traveled on in the heat and white sunshine beating down on them, not knowing if it is their fatigue that made it worse. The trek took them past settlements. She only glimpsed at the people bubbling out of their homes to observe the spectacle passing them.

She couldn't believe the betrayal of humanity. There was always someone new pointing out Jews' homes to the Knights, who then began pulling them out of their homes and violently herding them along with the rest who had already been walking for days.

A young man resisted and struggled and was beheaded as an example of what would happen if anyone else tried the same; images of Ferdinand and Odelia came to mind.

Screaming sobs of women and children echoed through her ears. She felt dead inside and couldn't cry anymore.

To be so close to such barbarism changed her. She felt like a monster for not having emotions of sadness, for not crying. She only felt utter hatred.

The lifeless pile of bodies on the ground, spurting blood, was no longer alien to her, to all of them. First, Speyer, now Worms was behind them, footprints as well as corpses left in the crusade’s monstrous wake, and Mainz to come.

It was a daily incidence, like getting their meagre rations at dawn. Safely tied and fast asleep on her back, baby Gèraldine was not witness to another murder. She didn't know if she could handle a hysterical crying child at that moment.

“Devorah!” a voice called out. It took her a minute to find Hugo’s face in the crowd; he came to walk beside her, adjusting his speed to fit hers. It surprised her that she noticed even this smallest of things - or rather, that he did them.

“Hugo,” she acknowledged and trudged on. An unfamiliar weariness churned in her stomach; no matter his kindness to her, he was a part of the crusade. Had he… had he any part in these slaughters?

“Are you alright?” he asked, moving closer to her, seeing her clear uneasiness, “Do tell me. I won’t think of you wrongly.”

“But I, of you,” she whispered so quietly that it was almost incomprehensible, “I, of you, my dear.”

She took pity on his confused face and voiced, “You are Catholic, are you not? And a part of this crusade? You may have saved me and been the splendor of kindness I had never known before, but- these are my people. I may be converted - under duress, may I remind - but I am no Christian.”

His face dimmed considerably and in a resigned voice, he said, “I see.”

Her heart splintered. So he admitted it? He was- a murderer? The confirmation made her want to sob. Hugo’s footsteps slowed until he trailed behind her and disappeared in the crowd.

Oh, my dearest, how I had wished for an impossible explanation.

Something caught Devorah’s eye. She recognized a familiar mop of black hair bobbing out of the crowd every so often. She cautiously kept her eyes on the child. When she had a full view of the child, she recognized the little body with the thin bony arms.

Thomas.

She couldn't believe her eyes. It was really him. She weaved through the crowd to try to get to him. The last time she had seen him, he was heading to the synagogue, sprinting away from her and the danger she would soon encounter.

In all this time she had forgotten about him, and only now she realized he wasn't at the synagogue when all those people were murdered or when they were forcibly baptized in the river.

She never noticed him traveling with them the last couple of days. Where had he come from? Who had he been with? How had he been coping? Was he well?

Worry bubbled in her chest. Children were never spared of death and violence.

Trying to stay calm and not wake Gèraldine on her back, Devorah slowed down her pace. Thomas was almost in her grasp. If she could only get closer to him. She didn't want to risk calling out to him and attract unwanted attention to him - or her as a matter of fact.

Weaving through the crowd, she stopped by several people from time to time to assist them in one way or the other. Finally, Thomas was right in front of her. He was speaking to a man in hushed tones. She reached out and touched his shoulder. The boy jumped at her touch and turned around with a panic stricken face.

"Devorah," he breathed in his oh so high and childish voice. Her heart clenched.  A wave of relief washed over him when he saw her. Thomas wrapped his arms around her. He sunk into the warmth of her body.

"Oh Thomas, what are you doing here? I thought you were safe and hidden away!"

"I have a secret, Devorah” he said, ignoring her question, “It's a dangerous one."

Devorah opened her mouth to protest and to question him further, when she caught the face of the man walking beside Thomas. She felt her heart stop in company with her feet.

“Karl?”

Grief overcame her. She had assumed him dead, men taunting her that no matter if she converted hundreds, people who disobeyed the soldiers were still murdered - Karl was an example.

“Oh, you are alive!” she finally said, longing to throw her arms around her friend, but afraid of waking Gèraldine, “My dear friend, you are alive!”

Karl smiled at her, “I am alive. Thanks to you.” She fully returned the smile, marvelling at the sight of his face; her dreams had been haunted by his open lifeless brown eyes, blood dripping down his skin and onto the ground, seeping into the earth of future generations.

“I assumed you dead. The soldiers- they said-”

“I know,” was all he said softly.

After a few minutes of staring at his face in awe and relief - she was afraid if she looked away he would disappear; an illusion, a hallucination - she turned her attention back to Thomas.

"What secret? Can you not tell me?"

"I don't know if I can trust you,” he simply said. Only now she realized how his face had grown older and harder, the youthfulness and innocence only a memory.

“There's word going around that you are friends with the enemy. When we stop to camp for the night, I'll see if I can tell you. I have to speak to someone first." With a frown etched on her forehead, pale, and jaw clenched, she just nodded and stopped.

Frozen in her spot with a pounding heart, she let the people pass her. The fact that little Thomas felt that he couldn’t trust her broke her heart.

When she heard Gèraldine's mother's voice, her mind ordered her spiritless body to fall in behind the rest. She felt drained and empty. She was tired of always feeling scared. And now she felt like a traitor.

The journey they had all been on for almost a month had drained her. Witnessing murder after murder. First her father, then friends and fellow Jews. She felt that death and fear was consuming her. Consuming her like a bear consumed a fish. Stepping on it and tearing it apart.

She didn't know how long she would still be able to keep herself together. A part of her wondered if she even wanted to.