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But there was no help for it, and on a morning of early July, in 1212, the German bands were ready to march to glory. Most of them wore the long grey coat of the Crusader, with its Cross upon the right shoulder, which, with the addition of the palmer’s staff they carried, and the broad-brimmed hat they wore, made a quaint and pleasing effect upon the childish figures–while it showed to great advantages the broad shoulders and fine figure of sturdy Nicholas, who was as different as possible in physique and temperament from high-strung sensitive Stephen.

Now the hour of their departure has come. The army of Nicholas is ready to start from Cologne–a great crowd of spectators surrounds them, watching their movements in breathless silence. Nicholas stands with up-raised hands, gives a signal–the army forms into a solid body–starts–moves–and in a moment, despite opposition, protestations, pleas and sobs, twenty thousand children have commenced their march to Palestine. On they move, banners flying, songs and cheers floating on the clear air, and while there is many a dimmed eye and choked voice among those gathered to see them start, in the ranks of the Crusaders there is only enthusiasm and joy. On to victory! is their cry as they disappear behind the hills, a winding ribbon of humanity, and soon the sound of their cheers and shouts sinks into silence.

And now let us follow them, as along the Rhine they journey. Across the fields–beyond the river–southward through wilderness and vineyard, they go–marching by an occasional castle rising from some lofty crag, connected in many a childish mind with oft-heard legend and with song.

As they march on, they while away the tedious hours with hymns and tales, the children from the castles telling of knightly deeds done by men of famous name, the peasants, telling of miraculous visions of the Saints; and in the hearing and the telling of the tales, the children became as one family, bound up in one holy purpose–to outdo all deeds of heroic valour which had ever been the theme of song or story.

A motley army they–strangest of all the armies ever seen before–with face and form and voice of youth, but filled with older purpose and courage, as on and on they march with Nicholas in command, the lines stretching behind for several miles; and still are their banners proudly borne aloft, and still as they march, this famous old Crusader’s hymn rises on the still air:

Fairest Lord Jesus,
Ruler of all Nature,
O thou of God and man the Son!
Thee will I cherish,
Thee will I honour,
Thou, my soul’s glory, joy and crown.

Fair are the meadows,
Fairer still the woodlands,
Robed in the blooming garb of spring;
Jesus is fairer,
Jesus is purer,
Who makes the woeful heart to sing.

And still they journey southward, with Palestine their goal, and in their young minds there is no fear of a way to cross the Mediterranean sea, for had not Christ assured Stephen, and a vision revealed to Nicholas, that the drought at that time parching the land was God’s evidence that they were to pass through the sea as on dry land, its waters having been parted for their benefit?

So fearlessly and happily they travelled on through the lands of the lords and nobles who owed allegiance to France, and everywhere their fame had preceded them, and in every village they won fresh recruits, until at length their number was so great that no city on the way could contain their army.

Some slept in houses, invited by the kind-hearted, others lay in the streets or market-place, while others lay down outside the walls of the cities, or if they were in open country when night fell, slept in barns or hovels, or by brooks, or under protecting trees, and so weary were they from their tiresome march that wherever they were, it mattered not, they slept as soundly as on beds of down. Then when morning came they ate whatever they had left, or begged or bought what food they could, for some among them still had money in their pockets. The line of march was again formed, the banners unfurled, the crosses uplifted, and with songs and shouts another day was begun. At noon they rested by some stream or in a shaded nook to eat their scanty meal, and then again marched on, feeling more keenly each day the distance lying between them and the land of their dreams, for the great trials of the young Crusaders had begun. Every day the march grew harder and more tiresome to the weary travellers, each meal the supply of food was more scanty, and even those children who had any money were robbed or cheated of it by hangers-on and thieves. Disorder and lawlessness increased rapidly in the ranks of the army, until at last they moved on without any rank or discipline, and under various leaders, who now openly defied the authority of Nicholas. At last they reached the territory now called Switzerland, which was then a number of small districts, mostly belonging to the Emperor; and the army winding through its beautiful valleys and passing along the banks of its turbulent rivers, came at last to the shores of Lake Leman and camped by the walls of Geneva. From thence their task was to cross the trackless heights of the Alps.