At long last we reached Marseilles, and driven by the firm faith in the promised miracle before us, we hurried to the shores of the Mediterranean. And there we waited. For days we waited, praying and chanting, singing and pleading at the tops of our lungs to God to perform the miracle we had counted upon in the harsh days behind us. It was to no avail. The Lord had seemingly abandoned us in our greatest hour of need, for if we could not cross the great Sea, our journey would be all for naught.
The devil, it is said, comes often in the guise of angels. And so it was, after a fortnight of begging and sleeping in the streets, and much talk of making our lives within this city for lack of elsewhere to go, that Hugh Ferreus and William Porcus came amongst our party. They offered to bring our bedraggled brethren--thousands strong still, despite the deaths and those lost to fear who fled our group on roads long behind us--by boat to Palestine. |