As Peter sat praying, idly fidgeting with a string of beads, one of his crusaders came up to him.
"Monsieur Pierre, what is that in your hand?"
Roused from his apparent daze, Peter turned his eyes upon the man. He was young, very young, no more than a boy in truth. Peter was at first surprised by this, but quickly remembered seeing others so young among the peasant warriors.
"Ah, these?" he asked, holding up the beads.
"Yes, those. They look to be worn about the neck, but you do not wear them so" the boy crusader said.
"Indeed. I have found them useful in keeping my mind focused whilst praying" the Hermit replied.
"Truly? How is this so?"
"The beads help me count each recitation of my prayers. When I finish one recitation, I move to the next bead."
"This is clever!" the boy exclaimed. "Would monsieur make one for me? I have no skill with this craft."
"Tell you what, bring me the head of the next man you kill and I'll make one for you and your mother" the Hermit laughed.
Paling only slightly, the boy drew his blade and raised it to the sky and proclaimed, "It will be done on my honor as a warrior of God!"
"Good, now go sharpen that blunt little knife" Peter said, laughing even harder.
As the boy trotted off, Cucupeter returned to his praying, chuckling softly to himself, wondering if the little crusader would survive the next battle.