By P.K. Silverson
© Copyright 2009
By The Author
All Rights Reserved
It was a dark time for the world of light. The Heathen Infidel controlled the Holy Land. The Mad Caliph had absolutely forbidden True Believers their God-given right of pilgrimage.
No questions asked.
It was a time for action. It was a time for brave deeds. It was a time for the faithful to rise up and show their conviction.
It was time for a lot of speeches.
From the pulpits of the enlightened lands, the voices of the clergy rang out. The Holiest of the Holy his-very-own-self called for the taking up of arms, promising redemption in the eyes of the Lord for all who met this Supreme Challenge.
All for the Glory of God.
The words spread far and the words spread wide. They went in one ear, but instead of coming out the other, they lodged in the minds and came to rest in the hearts of the True Believers.
From near and from far, the Purest of Heart came to answer the call. They came from the fields of impoverished farms. They came from the ranks of the lowest orders of soldiers. They came from the pinnacles of the most-embattled nobility. They came to test their mettle before their loved ones and their adversaries, before the crowned heads and the eyes of the Lord above.
All for the Glory of God.
They were seen off by elegant ladies who would wait for them to return, chastity intact. They were seen off by their neighbors and friends who would honor and obey the boundaries of their properties, whether meager or vast. They were seen off by the priests and the bishops and the elders of the sanctuary of the Lord of Lords. And they went forth to meet and beat the Heathen Infidel in his own backyard…to regain what rightfully belonged only to True Believers.
All for the Glory of God.
The legions of the Lord went forth and met the Heathen Infidel in his own backyard (after stopping off along the way to loot and pillage from other True Believers…just to make sure there was enough money to keep the Holy Quest fully funded, of course). They engaged in a mighty battle, and were victorious.
So the legions of the Lord entered the Holy City and reclaimed it in the name of all True Believers. They danced in the streets of the Holy City and congratulated themselves, reassuring their consciences with thoughts of the Lord above and how pleased He would be…Supremely Pleased with their Supreme Victory and their Supremely Mighty Deeds.
When at last they slept, they slept the sleep of the besotted innocent, full in the knowledge the Lord watched over them. They slept a deep and fitful sleep from which none awoke, because the Heathen Infidel returned under cover of the blackest sky and murdered all the True Believers.
All for the Glory of God.
Word of this terrible tragedy filtered back to the enlightened lands. The voices of the clergy rang out, blending with the lamentations of widows and fatherless heirs. The Holiest of the Holy his-very-own-self decried the heinous villainy of the Heathen Infidel and renewed his call for the bearing of arms, again promising redemption in the eyes of the Lord and the keys to the Kingdom of Heaven, as well.
Thousands of True Believers came to answer the call. They went forth to meet and beat the Heathen Infidel in his own backyard, to reclaim that which the Heathen Infidel held, for it rightfully belonged only to the True Believers.
All for the Glory of God.
The True Believers sailed off across the Great Sea secure in the knowledge their Cause was Just. They enjoyed the full care and tender mercies of the Lord of all the Lords, because the Holiest of the Holy his-very-own-self had told them this was so.
On the day they left, the waters of the Great Sea were still and calm. A gentle breeze blew in the direction of the Holy Land, holding the promise of a safe, swift journey into the Arena of Destiny where the Heathen Infidel awaited. But fate did not remain kind long.
The moment the haven of solid land fell behind the sunlit horizon, a brace of dark and ominous clouds soon rolled across the sky. The light of the kind and gentle sun disappeared forever from the view of the heroic True Believers. Where once there had been a soft breeze came a howling gale, then rain, then hail, then sleet. The mirror calm of the surface of the Great Sea was shattered into a million boiling bits. The waves churned and rose up. The hardy vessels of the True Believers were no match for the power of the tempest and were quickly shattered, dispatching all the souls of the True Believers on a short journey to the bosom of their maker while their mortal remains were commended to the deepest trough at the bottom of the Great Sea.
News of this most terrible tragedy drifted back to the enlightened lands. The voices of the clergy mutely beseeched what remained of the True Believers to retain their faith. The Holiest of the Holy his-very-own-self solemnly intoned the purpose of the Lord was mysterious indeed, yet His Will Be Done before renewing his call for the bearing of arms against the Heathen Infidel.
Nobody came.
Darkness remained in the world of light. The Heathen Infidel held onto the Holy Land. The ancient order of the Mad Caliph, who had absolutely forbidden True Believers their God-given right of pilgrimage, remained solidly intact.
No questions asked.
Gloom fell across the enlightened lands. “Who will come forth to show us the way?” the True Believers asked. “Where are the Valiant? The Bold? The Brave?”
Still nobody came.
So it was. It remained so until, one fine day when the clamor and din had all but faded from memory. A young boy stood up in a remote and rural field, turned to his ancient Grandfather and said, “You can’t tell me what to do!”
“Mind your Grandfather, young Stephen,” the boy’s mother scolded.
“I’ll not,” the petulant youth cried. “For I’m fit for better things than scraping at this parched land to squeeze out our daily bread. I’m going to grow up to be rich and famous. Rich-and-famous people do not till the soil and muddy their breeches.”
“Why don’t you go take on the Heathen Infidel, instead?” his Grandfather laughed with merry amusement. “You have about as much chance of beating him as you do of growing up to be rich and famous, coming from peasant stock as you do.”
“Bother,” declared brave young Stephen. “The Good Book promises the meek shall inherit the earth. I am of meek stock. I shall take on the Heathen Infidel. I shall meet him in his own backyard and take back that which belongs only to True Believers.”
Brave young Stephen’s poor addled mother and her own ancient father looked at the boy with their mouths open. Then they looked at each other with their eyes wide. Then they looked back at the boy again, not knowing what to expect next.
“I shall take on the Heathen Infidel,” brave young Stephen declared again fiercely. “All the children of the land shall join me. We shall march to the Great Sea. The good people of the enlightened lands shall give us aid and comfort enough to journey into the Arena of Destiny. We shall meet and beat the Heathen Infidel in his own backyard and reclaim the Holy City. The Holiest of the Holy his-very-own-self will praise me and grant me redemption in the eyes of the Lord. He’ll hand me the keys to the Kingdom of Heaven, as well, you’ll see.
“And I shall do it all for the Glory of God.”
The boy’s poor addled mother and her father looked at him still in wide-eyed wonder. When enough time had gone by to allow Stephen’s grandfather to collect his scattered wits, he said, “I think the poor lad’s lost his mind. The lights are on, but nobody’s home.”
“No,” brave young Stephen’s mother said softly, and then again with quiet conviction. “No. Don’t you see, Father. It’s a sign. A sign from Heaven above. The boy is right. They’ve called for the Valiant, but the Valiant never came. They called for the Bold and the Brave, too. No one has had the courage to step forward. The Good Book does promises the earth to the meek, and we are of meek stock. He must go forth and take on the Heathen Infidel.
“And he must do it all for the Glory of God.”
“You’re as crazy as he is,” her father shook his head with great sadness. “We’ll never see him again, just like his mad father before him.”
“Hush, Father,” brave young Stephen’s mother said. Her voice filled with determination. “Remember: ‘Out of the mouth of babes…’ “
“Comes baby talk,” answered brave young Stephen’s grandfather. “The boy is only trying to get out of his chores.”
But nobody was listening to the old man anymore.
“I’ve heard the voice of the Lord,” brave young Stephen said. That was good enough.
Thousands of True Believers, children all, came from near and far in the world of light to answer brave young Stephen’s call. Once again, the voices of the clergy rang out with proclamations of Good Faith and High Reward, fortified this time because the Just Cause was firmly in the grasp of the Chosen Innocent.
The Holiest of the Holy his-very-own-self solemnly intoned a special benediction, invoking the Lord of all Lords to speed his instrument of redemption as His Will Be Done against the Heathen Infidel.
They went forth, thousands upon thousands of them. Rosy cheeked girls and stalwart boys, marching across the face of the enlightened world on the greatest adventure of all.
All for the Glory of God.
With a spring in their step and a song on their lips, the True Believers marched off under the leadership of brave young Stephen. Mile after mile, morning, noon and night, day after day they went on, making their way to the Great Sea.
All for the Glory of God.
Over mountains, through the forests, along the river and down the roads they marched, secure in the knowledge their Cause was Just. They enjoyed the full care and tender mercies of the Lord of all the Lords, because the Holiest of the Holy his-very-own-self had told them this was so.
It would have helped if they’d brought a map.
Time went on and their food supplies began to dwindle. Their singing grew weak. Their voices no longer reached all the way to heaven above, as once they had. At night, the smallest among them cried, missing the safety of home and the comforts of mothers and fathers.
Brave young Stephen stood before them, a shining beacon in the dark night of their desperation. “I’ve heard the voice of the Lord,” he told them. “Our Cause is Just. We’re doing this all for the Glory of God.”
“I want my Mommy,” the youngest at the fire wailed. “I want my Mommy, and I want my Mommy now!”
“Go home to your Mommy,” brave young Stephen sneered. “Go home to your Mommy and lose the keys to the Kingdom of Heaven forever.” With that, he lay down on the ground and pulled his blanket up around him. The next morning, when he rose, he looked to see if the youngest at the fire was still with the numbers of the True Believers.
She was not. She had gone home to her Mommy.
Hundreds more had done the same.
“Way to go, Chief,” said Nicholas the Lame, a strapping boy with crooked teeth and a wild tilt to the left because one leg had been given to him shorter than the other by the Lord of Lords when he was born. He had been one of the first to come to brave young Stephen’s side when the youth announced his glorious quest, and had assumed the air of one of the leaders in the hierarchy of the True Believers, although brave young Stephen did not altogether trust him.
“They were not True Believers,” brave young Stephen told Nicholas the Lame, bearing his cross most valiantly. He spoke loudly, so the rest of the True Believers who had kept faith could hear. “They have lost the keys to the Kingdom of Heaven. That means there’s more for the rest of us.”
The True Believers raised a reasonable facsimile of a rousing cheer. Then they marched on , hundreds and hundreds of them, until finally, at last and with a great sigh of relief, they came to the edge of the Great Sea.
And the True Believers raised a full and sincere rousing cheer.
“I told you so,” brave young Stephen told Nicholas the Lame. “Our Cause is Just.”
“Fine,” Nicholas the Lame said. “Now, how are we going to get across the Great Sea?”
“The good people of this enlightened land shall give us aid and comfort,” brave young Stephen declared steadfastly. “All the children of the land shall join me as sail across the Great Sea, journeying into the Arena of Destiny to meet and beat the Heathen Infidel in his own backyard. The voice of the Lord of all Lords has spoken to me. He has told me reclaim the Holy City. Then the Holiest of the Holy his-very-own-self will praise us all and grant us redemption in the eyes of the Lord. He’ll hand me the keys to the Kingdom of Heaven as well. You’ll see.”
“Why should the good people of this enlightened land give us aid and comfort?” Nicholas the Lame demanded, not thoroughly convinced. “What’s in it for them?”
“They shall do it all for the Glory of God,” brave young Stephen answered simply. The True Believers raised another rousing cheer.
“We’ll see,” Nicholas the Lame said under his breath. “We shall surely see.”
“Tomorrow, I will enter the port of this enlightened land. We will receive a wonderful ship for our journey and the finest provisions to speed us on our way,” brave young Stephen promised. The next day he set off about his business, all for the Glory of God.
When he returned the following evening, he bore no new provisions. The look on his face could not disguise his failure. “No matter,” he said softly. “Tomorrow is another day. Our Cause is Just.”
He set off again on the morrow, all the more determined to succeed in his task. But when he returned on that eve, he looked even more crestfallen.
“Way to go, Chief,” said Nicholas the Lame, who had spent the day picking his teeth and making horrid faces at the older and better developed girls among the ranks of the True Believers.
“I suppose you could do better?” countered brave young Stephen.
“Maybe I could at that,” answered Nicholas the Lame. “Just maybe I could.”
“Let’s see you,” brave young Stephen challenged.
“Okey-dokey,” Nicholas the Lame smiled a pleasant smile which gave brave young Stephen chills up and down his spine.
At morning’s first light, Nicholas the Lame got up and went about the business of securing ship and supplies for the True Believers. He was back before noon with a broad smile on his face and a cart full of groceries. The True Believers raised a rousing cheer.
“How did you manage all this?” brave young Stephen asked as the food was quickly divided between the hungry True Believers.
“Allow me to introduce a humble friend I met at the docks this morning,” Nicholas the Lame presented a swarthy little man who was swaddled in a plain brown cloak. “Brave young Stephen, meet Peter the Pious. Peter the Pious, Brave young Stephen.”
“A pleasure,” Peter the Pious extended a hand covered with calluses and rough, cut-up skin. There was dirt under fingernails which hadn’t seen a good manicure in ages.
“The pleasure is all mine,” brave young Stephen answered graciously. “Tell me what arrangements you have made with Nicholas the Lame.”
“No need to go into details now,” Nicholas the Lame answered quickly with a smile which sent chills running up and down brave young Stephen’s spine before spreading into his buttocks and continuing on down the backs of his legs. “Let’s get some chow first. We’ll talk about it after dinner.”
And eat they did. It was a fabulous feast, a rich reward for those who had kept faith with the Just Cause to meet and beat the Heathen Infidel in his own backyard and reclaim that which rightly belonged only to True Believers everywhere. After enjoying the bounty of the Lord of Lords, brave young Stephen found he was far too tired to think about the business at hand any further. So, like the rest of the tired travelers around him, children all, he laid himself down on the ground to rest.
Brave young Stephen closed his eyes, and dreamed glorious dreams of journeying into the Arena of Destiny to take on the Heathen Infidel face to face and bring him to his knees. When he awoke, the sun was already high in the sky. Nicholas the Lame was standing over him with a broad smile on his face. “Rise and shine, sleepy-head. Boots and saddles. It’s time to hit the old trail.”
“Mmph,” brave young Stephen protested, his eyes still fogged with sleep. For a moment in his rising stupor, he imagined himself back in his Grandfather’s remote rural field. “You can’t tell me what to do,” he began to mumble. A slap on the face by Nicholas the Lame brought him back to his senses.
“Hey, sport, wake up,” Nicholas the Lame chastised him. “This is your show. Now let’s herd these doggies into the corral.”
“What did you say?” brave young Stephen asked stupidly.
Nicholas the Lame sighed. “Let’s get these kids where they’re going, okay?”
“Right,” brave young Stephen stood up with renewed determination. “It’s time to be on our way. Today’s the day we go to meet the Heathen Infidel.”
“Whatever you say, Sparky,” Nicholas the Lame shrugged.
And so they went forth, dozens upon dozens of them. With a renewed spring in their step and a valiant song on their lips, the True Believers marched off under the leadership of brave young Stephen. Rosy cheeked girls and stalwart boys, marching down the face the cliffs over the Great Sea to the port where they would embark on the greatest adventure of all.
All for the Glory of God.
Well before noon, the True Believers, children all, reached the end of the dock at the edge of the Great Sea. Waiting for them there was indeed a fine and sturdy sailing ship. At the bottom of the ramp leading aboard the ship stood Peter the Pious.
“Welcome, welcome all,” Peter the Pious beamed at the True Believers. “Step up lively now. We’ll be off to meet and beat the Heathen Infidel in his very own backyard.”
One by one, the True Believers walked up to the fine and sturdy sailing ship. Brave young Stephen waited at the bottom of the ramp with Nicholas the Lame and Peter the Pious, extending a helping hand to those children who needed assistance to get up onto the ramp. When most of the True Believers were aboard the fine and sturdy sailing ship, Peter the Pious turned to Nicholas the Lame and said, “I think that’s all she’ll hold for now son. Make your pick and we’ll be off.”
Nicholas the Lame pointed at the eldest girl in the ranks of the True Believers, because she was the most developed of all. He smiled the kind of smile which sends shivers racing halfway around the globe and back before they even have a chance to crawl up and down a body’s spine. After he pointed, two rough and surly members of the fine and sturdy sailing ship’s crew picked the appointed True Believer up and bodily carried her back down the access ramp to where brave young Stephen and Nicholas the Lame stood.
“What’s going on here?” brave young Stephen demanded to know.
Peter the Pious laughed a deep and horrible laugh, curdling the blood of every dock-side cat and rat within earshot. “Up the ramp you go now, laddie,” he bellowed at brave young Stephen in a voice the frightened boy dare not disobey.
Brave young Stephen mounted the ramp and looked back sadly at Nicholas the Lame, who was shaking Peter the Pious’s hand energetically while fondling his True Believer of choice. “What’s going on here?” brave young Stephen asked again, not really sure anymore if he really wanted to know.
“Don’t worry about the friends you leave behind, laddie,” Peter the Pious laughed at him. Brave young Stephen could see that the True Believers who weren’t getting on the boat were going to be taken care of anyway. Already, flesh-peddlers from the market were making their way down the dock to take charge of the leaderless young children.
“You’re not taking us to the Holy Land to meet and beat the Heathen Infidel in his own backyard, are you?” brave young Stephen correctly assessed the situation.
“No,” Nicholas the Lame confirmed for him. “I made a slight mistake when I introduced this gentleman to you as ‘Peter the Pious.’ I should have said that he really is ‘Peter the Pirate,’ an inexcusable slip on my part. But don’t despair. I’m sure he’ll see you safely to your next destination.”
The fine and sturdy sailing ship pulled up anchor that very afternoon, sailing the True Believers off across the Great Sea, no longer secure in the knowledge they could ever accomplish their Just Cause. The day was warm and calm, and the waters of the Great Sea were still and smooth. A gentle breeze propelled the fine and sturdy sailing ship in the general direction of the Holy Land, until a change of course headed the True Believers toward the home of a different, More Terrible Infidel.
The journey went swiftly and the True Believers, children all, landed safely in the port of the More Terrible Infidels. There, all the young crusaders were sold into slavery. Brave young Stephen himself fetched the second highest price, coming in just slightly behind a buxom pre-teenaged girl with glistening blond hair, straight white teeth and heavenly blue eyes.
Brave young Stephen’s first years in bondage where extremely brutal, due in large part to his fiercely independent nature. He was passed through a long succession of owners who did not have the patience necessary to break his spirit, until finally, he was sold to a wealthy Caliph for chump change.
In this final estate, he was designated as breeding stock and paired with the finest, healthiest slave girls with instructions to be fruitful and multiply. Which he did willingly.
All for the Glory of God.
Moral: God sure has a funny sense of humor.
