A Hiding Place in the Pyrenees (1)

It was hot and dry. The fields in Spain lay scorching in the heat of the sun. The leaves on the trees hung down listlessly. The animals tried to find a place in the shade.

Pedro had just come from the barn. He had to milk the cow because Father had gone to the village. He shielded his eyes against the bright sunlight. Whew! It was still warm!

Suddenly he saw his father. He was back already! That was fast!

“Pedro! Where is Justin? Come inside immediately. Is Mother in the kitchen? Come, we have to talk.”

Pedro stood still and looked at his father, who disappeared through the door. His heart thumped. What was the matter? Why was his father so upset? He called Justin. “Dad is home. We have to come inside!”

“Why?”

“I don’t know what happened, but Father looked really upset.”

In the kitchen Mother was sitting at the table, her face white as a sheet.

“We have to hurry,” Father said. “You boys can help and do some packing.”

“What’s the matter, Dad?”

“It’s the Mohammedans. I just heard in the village that they have come over the sea and into our country. Nobody can stop them, and now they are marching north. They can be here in two days.”

Pedro listened with big, frightened eyes. Was that right? Those Mohammedans had come into their country, into Spain? Why?

Now, however, there was no time for questions. Mother started to bake some bread right away. The boys helped their father pack the most necessary things and loaded them on a cart. They tied their cow behind the cart.

The next morning they left home as early as possible. The first rays of sunlight were coming over the trees when Father closed the door behind them. Pedro looked back one more time. Would they ever see their house again?

There were more people on the road. They all hurried on with pale, scared faces.

Where would they go? The boys had not asked yet. But Father led the way. He knew the best places to hide. Pedro was sure of that.

In the distance he saw the mountains. Certainly that’s where they were going. Father knew his way in the mountains very well. There were thick forests and hidden rocks and caves. Nobody would ever be able to find them there, not even those Mohammedans.

They walked and climbed the whole day. Father brought them far into the dense forest. They had to push the cart over rocks and sand and even through a brook. Finally he said, “Here it is.”

Behind some bushes was the opening to a cave. There they would stay. For how long? Nobody knew that.

Fortunately they had food enough, and they had their cow with them for milk. They were very tired that night, but they were also very glad that they had escaped from those Mohammedans.

Who were those Mohammedans? Once in a while Pedro had heard about them, but he never had given it much thought. But now he wanted to know. At night, when they ate their supper, he had a chance to ask his father.

“Why are they coming here, Dad? Why are people so afraid of them?”

“Because they fight like devils; nobody can stop them. When they are in a country, they let the people choose: become a Mohammedan, or die. I will tell you something about them. Listen. In 570, more than 140 years ago, Mohammed was born in Arabia. When he grew up, he was not satisfied with the religion of his people. They were heathens and served many gods. Mohammed thought a lot about those things. His people should worship one god; that would be better. Hours and hours he thought about that. Then one day he had a dream, in which an angel brought him on a horse to heaven. There was the true god, Allah, and this god told him that Mohammed would be his prophet.”

The two boys looked at their father with big eyes. “Was that true?” Pedro asked.

“It was all nonsense! He had more of those feverish dreams, and then he acted strange and wild. But his wife believed in him. When the people in Mecca mocked with him, he went to another city, to Medina. He was always crying, ‘Allah is great and Mohammed is his prophet.’ Too bad the people in that city believed in him.

“When he had found enough followers, he started to fight. First he went back to Mecca, where he was born; now the people either had to believe his new religion or they had to die; they had no other choice. From there he went from the one place to the other. Do you know why this religion is so dangerous?” Father looked worried.

“Mohammed had just one purpose: to conquer the whole world; and his followers fight so hard because they are not afraid of death. Mohammed promised them that, if they die in the battle, they will go straight to heaven. That’s why they are so dangerous. They are not afraid. They would rather die in the battle. One nation after another has had to submit.

“Mohammed himself died in 632, but his followers went on with Mohammed’s message to conquer the whole world. They have to fight the holy war for Allah. That’s why they went on. They marched into Palestine and Syria, and the Persian empire was struck down. Also Asia Minor was trampled under foot and subdued by the Mohammedan warriors. They conquered Egypt and took the whole northern part of Africa. And now....”

His father sighed deeply. “They have a new commander, Tariq; I have heard of him. He stops for nothing. It is nearly eighty years since Mohammed died, but this Tariq fights like a madman. Now he has crossed the Strait of Gibraltar. That’s why I came home right away when I heard that.” It was now dark outside. The tops of the trees stood black against the sky and moved slowly in a light breeze. Pedro was looking at some stars. His family was Christian. They believed that the Lord was on high in the heavens. But if those Mohammedans would find them, then they could not be Christians anymore. Then they would have to believe in Allah and in this strange prophet, Mohammed.

He shuddered. What would happen to their country? Was there not someone who could stop those Mohammedans?

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