Alexandre Basque was thinking of death. He was thinking how easy it would be to die along the foot printed dirt his feet walked over. It had been close to two months of the long journey that lay ahead. His leather boots rubbed against his heels, scratching into the skin. The knights of Pope Urban II marched along the dust and earth towards the Holy Lands, out of France and through Germany. Alexandre was hot and tired, as the late morning sun rose higher into the blued stretch of sky above. The thinned clouds of white cast no shadows for the knights to be cooled in as they continued to march along the French countrysides.
The knights will keep walking until they meet with the German soldiers, all fighting to reclaim the land that should rightfully belong to the Pope. They would then continue on with the Germans to the city of Jerusalem. Alexandre chose to fight for this and he would stick it out. None of their men had died but they believed that God may take souls for his own along their journey.
Alexandre changed his thoughts, his father and three younger sisters, it would be months, years maybe before he would see them again. He loved his sisters more than anything, after his mothers death, he was the one to take care of the girls. Ninette was the older one, she would be 15 now, Jessamina was 13 and Karolina was only 8. Alexandre was 17, one of the younger men among the other knights. The thoughts of his family had a large impact on the fact that there was a possibility of Alexandre dying, and that they would never see him again. Not be able to know what happened. Just have watched him march away with the rest of the Popes knights and never have him return. He tried to shut these thoughts out but with the endless dust in his eyes and the march of the men in front of him, it was much harder than he would have expected.