"It is God's will! It is God's will!"

Who was shouting those words? Were they thousands of men who wanted to go to Palestine to fight again with the Mohammedans? No, look! It was thousands of children, boys and girls from about nine and ten years old, but also teenagers from twelve to fifteen, marching in a long row, shouting, "It is God's will!"

Didn't they know about the thousands and thousands of strong men who had marched to Jerusalem but never returned home? Had they not listened to the stories of the few men who came back and told of the horrible things which had happened on the way to the Holy City? Yes, oh yes, but still, listen to the shouting: "It is God's will!" Their eyes sparkled in beaming faces. They waved to their parents, who encouraged them. However, here and there some tears were wiped away, as quietly as possible. No tears should be seen today. The children had a beautiful mission. Had not the Lord Himself said, "Let the children come unto Me"?

That was the message a boy in France had received from the Lord. And, if it was God's will, then He would also provide for everything. God Himself would march along to the war and frighten the enemy.

First they would go to Marseilles, a large seaport in the south of France. From there the children would try to go over the sea to reach the Holy Land.

It was very quiet in the village. No children were playing. No boys were helping their fathers with the animals or chopping wood for their mothers. No girls were helping their mothers with the cooking or weaving.

A lonely dog sniffed an empty pail. He looked around to see if there was anybody to play with, but he saw no one. In one of the houses a baby cried. The dog listened, and he whined softly, but nobody heard him. He lay down in the shade, his head on his paws, and sighed. Where were the boys? Where was his little master? Why didn't he come out to romp with him in the woods?

A woman came out of the door of one of the houses. She did not see the dog. She did not see anything. Her eyes were swollen, and her head was bowed. She walked to another house and went inside. There sat another woman; her head was on her hands, and her shoulders shook.

They sat together – two women, two mothers – and they talked, and they cried.

"We shouldn't have listened to that strange story!"

"No, I think that shepherd boy in France was just dreaming."

"I think so, too."

"How could he think that the children would defeat those Turks and capture Jerusalem? All those strong men couldn't do it."

"He said that the Lord had told him."

"The Pope also said that the Lord had told him, and so did Peter of Amiens, and Godfried of Bouillon, and all the other noblemen who went."

"Yes, they had such great expectations, but thousands and thousands never came back."

"Oh – and now our poor children – "

"Why did we let them go?"

"We didn't dare to go against the priests and the Pope."

"No, but they don't know what it is to have children."

"But we also believed it at first." "Yes, we were foolish. Everybody believed that boy."

"The priest said that God would provide for everything."

"The children were so enthusiastic." "Yes, they all wanted to go." "Fortunately I could keep the two youngest ones here. They were too young."

"My youngest was nine. He wanted to go so badly."

"What did his dad say?"

"He didn't want to let him go at first. He needed him on the farm. But after a while – all his friends were going."

At first everything seemed to go so well."

"Yes, they had an easier way than the men."

"The plan sounded so good, to go through France and then to go by sea."

"The plan sounded good, but when they came to the sea – it was horrible. I cannot bear to think about it. Oh, my poor boys! My poor Emily!"

"I cannot think about it either. They seemed so nice, those captains. They promised to bring the children to Canaan."

"Don't talk about it. I can't bear to think about it."

"But we have to face it. It hap­pened. The people should know. If ever –"

"Could such a foolish thing ever happen again?"

"You never know."

"Those captains acted so kind, they seemed so helpful."

"I cannot sleep at night. Every night I think about those slave markets."

"We can't sleep either. Sometimes my husband gets up in the middle of the night. He says he wishes he could kill those captains. They made money at the expense of our children. But God saw it!"

"Do you still think it was the will of God?"

"No!"

Night came over the village. The little children were in bed. It became very quiet. There were no boys and girls playing and shouting. The lonely dog cried softly and crept under a large pile of wood. Where was his little master?

He didn't know anything about those cruel captains who had seemed so helpful when the children reached the sea, who had acted so friendly and had promised to bring them to the Holy Land. With seven ships they had left Marseilles. Two ships were lost, and all the children in them drowned. The five other ships had sailed to Egypt. The promise, however, had been to bring them to Canaan. Had they made a mistake? Oh, no! Those captains had smirked to each other. Ah! They would make a lot of money! They had brought all those children to the slave markets and sold them.

No, the dog did not know how his little master had cried and cried for his father and mother. He did not know that he never would come home anymore. But still he waited and listened. Did he hear him?