Fable of The Crusades

"I'll tell you how the strife began," the gentle
old man said. We, noticing his anadem,
were curious what he meant. "Sacramental,"

and he smiled. "Their culture is as real to them
as yours is real to you." Considered askance,
so softly said, it clarified his truth. " ' hem--m

the wisdom must be found." I saw the vengeance.
*Empty! He'd stood here! Gone* His insight, vanished,
and, clinging to the edge of it . . . Clairvoyance?

No cars! No buildings here! Rutted road . . . wished
for -- peasants? Carts? Incomprehensible talk--
Oh no! Year ten seventy-one! Good God! Astonished.

The First Crusade! Jerusalem fell! Walk,
ask German, French Crusaders how their clash went....
To Byzantine Empire, triumphant they stalk!

Kaleidoscope of history reports sent
their massacre in Asia Minor and rout
of Turks, confusing loss and gain. Insurgent

rebuff by Turks soon brought Crusade Two about.
Damascus failed, eleven forty-seven. No avail
Jerusalem then fell to Muslims! No doubt

in turn, that caused Crusade three, which also failed.
Three kings were rivals but it was only one, King
Richard of England, won at Acer; prevailed

on Saladin, Egyptian Sultan, gaining
safe access to Jerusalem for pilgrim
and trade. Kaleidoscope of History's swing

toward a legend, chronicle, and victim.
Year twelve-oh-one, the fourth Crusade. That denies
respect, for during four long years, depict him

as savage. Pillaged, looted, plundered, the cries
unheard, while Constantinople desecrates!
Venetians set up Latin Empire. Surprise!

Year twelve-oh-four in the midst of Muslims! Fates
I see: that's how the hate began with their sin.
The western vandal scorns, reviles, denigrates

their ancient heritage. Such hubris! Linchpin,
the wheels fall off throughout History! We see
the reason why the old man chose me! Tocsin?

When fought for plunder and for gain, a spree
of killing does not fit the loving plan, nor
does insult, 'Infidel' when Allah amply

personifies God! Children's Crusade, armor?
It's Stephen, known 'of Cloyes' and peasant boys from
far France who come on sailing ships! A vendor

on board has sold them all to endless serfdom.
Unscrupulous, the captain makes his fortune
by selling passengers. Then German kids come

through dangers overland, by hardships rough hewn.
Not immune, their diseases and starvation
killed slowly, hundreds of their small remains strewn . . . .

So many deaths. The Fifth Crusade, duration
four years, from twelve seventeen -- twenty-one, led
by papal legate Innocent. Oppression

against all Muslim Egypt failed. The Flood said
they had to withdraw. Quit. Evacuate them.
Next, peaceful Sixth Crusade. "How many more dead?"

she asked. "Crusades? Only two, ad valorem."
Replied: "Not bloody as before, they bargained,
but we have always had a major problem

with many names for God, forgetting his love
for all Creation." There she cut me off. "So
no bloodless wars exist except in fiction! Above

all, when both sides have God in their pocket, no
one wins, and so the strife goes on." She's right, shaming
so-called developed nations with the truth. "Know

that Man is such a savage beast, destroying
its own." I drew my cloak around me, not cold,
but with shame, but she could not guess my suff'ring.

"It builds character," Mother often retold
when perspective perceives events ages old.