Those boots were made for walking

Whan that Aprille with hise shoures soote
The droghte of March hath perced to the roote,¹
and bathed every veyne in swich licour
Of which vertu engendred is the flour;
Whan Zephirus eek with his swete breeth²
Inspired hath in every holt and heeth
The tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne
Hath in the Ram his halfe cours y-ronne,
And smale foweles maken melodye³
That slepen al the nyght with open eye,—
So priketh hem Nature in hir corages,—
Thanne longen folk to goon on pilgrimages,
And palmeres for to seken straunge strondes,
To ferne halwes, kowthe in sondry londes;⁴
And specially, from every shires ende
Of Engelond, to Caunterbury they wende,
The hooly blisful martir for to seke,
That hem hath holpen whan that they were seeke.

Checklist

1. April has quenched the drought of March
2. Gentle breezes have replaced the howling gales of the equinox
3. The Dawn Chorus has resumed rehearsals
4. Wanderlust takes hold once more

As you might guess from the checklist, my first, very ambitious thought was to make the pilgrimage, at least part of the way, for myself, to Santiago de Compostela. But the suggestion was vetoed very firmly citing the risk of exposure as a reason. Any physical risks I might take are part and parcel of the lives of the people around me, but the danger of being exposed as someone with ‘supernatural’ connections for the duration of quite a long pilgrimage would place my life in danger unjustifiably. I may not be able to make the pilgrimage immediately, but I intend to find some way to overcome any potential obstacles in due course somehow.
For the folks who live in the era, I can hardly blame them for wanting to go on vacation once the weather starts to improve: three months of cold, damp, and preserved food has certainly done it for me in the past. In my case though, I am looking further afield than Caunterbury; I figured if I can establish myself at Toulouse, long-since established as a popular rendezvous for pilgrim groups crossing Europe, there should be some good pickings for a seller of pilgrim memorabilia. Yes, even in the 13th century, there is a flourishing trade in souvenirs. And if you're rich enough, and have the right connections, you might even be able to buy one of St.James’ actual fingerbones (current estimates suggest that he had between thirty-five and forty fingers on each hand!)
As a first stage, before heading towards Toulouse I made the acquaintance of some of the craftsmen of L'Isle Jourdain, where I obtained a workable stock of rosary beads, small carved wooden figurines and some carved bone icons. Thus prepared I made my way to the Cathédrale Saint-Etienne in Toulouse to set up my stall. Describing my adventure in such bald terms belies the competitive nature of the vendors already there, and I was obliged to display my stock at the furthest edges of the market.
Identifying the pilgrims returning is simplified in many cases by the scallop shells which they wear fastened to their hats or breasts, although in a few cases, they are equally identifiable by the evidence of miracles which they proudly display to anyone who shows the slightest curiosity: I obtained the following song from an older man who was keen to show me his well-worn crutch, explaining that for many years he had been lame as the result of an accident, but now, not only could he walk, but as he eagerly demonstrated, he could dance once more!

Herr Grüneberg, as he identifies himself to me, knows many of these pilgrim songs which have even been set down in written form by King Alfonso X, ‘The Wise’ of Spain.
                   

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