The Outcast Dove: A Catherine LeVendeur Mystery (15 page)

“I haven’t heard a word,” Solomon told him almost truthfully.

Arnald headed off home and Solomon gratefully approached the door to Gavi’s house.

He had only raised his hand to the knocker when the door flew open.

The man who faced him wasn’t the tanner. He was taller and more beaten by weather than leather. Solomon blinked. The man grinned.

“They told me I could find you here,” he said.

Solomon didn’t know whether to hug him or knock him down.

“Aaron Ha-Cohen,” he said. “Do you have any idea of the trouble you’ve started?”

Aaron’s grin faded.

“Perhaps we should talk outside,” he suggested. “So that Gavi can get on with his work.”

Solomon followed him up the road.

Aaron said nothing until they reached the willow grove outside the Bazacle gate. The mills nearby creaked steadily, covering the sound of their conversation.

“Now will you explain why you didn’t tell me what a mess you were sending me into?” Solomon demanded. “I walked into this like a goat to the knife.”

Aaron sighed.

“If I had known what was happening, I wouldn’t have stayed away so long,” he told Solomon. “I went to the synagogue and then Bonysach’s looking for you. They told me what happened to Brother Victor. I can’t believe it. Victor was a good man, for a Christian. He and I played together when we were boys. But I never suggested that Arnald contact him about this and certainly not to ask his help. Who would go to the
Edomites
to ransom a Jewish woman? I wasted time in Bordeaux selling my best horses rather than receive aid from anyone.”

“But why
not
ask?” Solomon insisted. “Not the Christians, of course, but the community here. Why such secrecy in buying the freedom of a captive? Haven’t we always redeemed our own at any price. And why are you spending so much time on this woman when you should be preparing for your marriage to Mayah?”

Aaron couldn’t look in Solomon’s eyes. He stooped, picking up a handful of pebbles and turned to toss them, one by one, into the stream flowing between the willows.

“Did Belide and Arnald tell you what has happened to this captive?’ he asked.

“They said that a Jewish woman has been taken along with some Moslem ones in Almeria and then sold into slavery,” Solomon said. “There was something about monks, too, but that didn’t make any sense.”

The next pebble hit the water with a hard splash.

Aaron voice was tight as he explained.

“When the Genoese conquered the town, part of it was given to them as booty,” he said. “They took some captives to sell elsewhere. Others they traded at once to Catalonian merchants. I thought for a while she’d been taken to Genoa, or even Africa. Then a message came. How she managed to send it, I don’t know. She was still in Spain. The men who had bought her were taking her north, but she didn’t know where.”

His fist clenched the remaining stones. He drew his arm back and hurled them all as far as he could.

“I went three times into Spain trying to find her, but it was hopeless,” he went on. “Then I learned that the white monks of Fitero had started a new grange in Navarre and that they had brought in Saracen captives to work on it. Among them were women taken in Almeria.”

“But the workers would have been men,” Solomon broke in. “To clear the land and build the grange.”

“Certainly,” Aaron said. “But the good brothers didn’t feel it safe to deprive these savage infidels of the natural release of sex and so…”

“They set up a brothel at the monastery?” Solomon still found this hard to believe, especially of the Cistercians.

“They permitted one to be established near the building site just for the Saracens.” Aaron’s hands hung limp at his sides. “Of course one couldn’t expect Christian whores to pollute themselves with infidel seed.”

“Of course not,” Solomon said. “Although I imagine a number of the local Christian men have no such fear of pollution. It’s a terrible thing to have happened and I’m sorry for the poor women, even the Saracen ones. But I still don’t understand why you are the one to free them or why you can’t ask your neighbors to help.”

“They can’t know.” Aaron finally turned to face his friend. “Especially not here. Solomon, the woman we have to free
is
Mayah.”

“Mayah!”

Solomon felt as if a mule had just kicked him in the stomach.

“But…but how?” he stammered. “That can’t be! She doesn’t live in Almeria. Her home is in Córdoba.”

“I know,” Aaron said. “But her father sent her away last summer to stay with a cousin. Both the Christians and the Berbers were threatening Córdoba. Yishmael thought she’d be safer in Almeria.”

Solomon’s vague pity turned to deep horror as he imagined the beautiful, spoiled, brilliant girl he had known in Córdoba in the hands of slavers. It would have been easier to learn of her death.

Aaron answered his expression.

“Now do you understand?” he asked. “Now will you help us?”

Solomon drew in a deep breath. He felt dizzy with shock.

“I had already promised to help not knowing who she was,” he told his friend. “And now that I do, I will give anything necessary to free her, including my life.”

Aaron bent his head to hide tears.

“Thank you,” he said. “So you see why I couldn’t go to the community.”

“No, not really,” Solomon answered. “You wasted a lot of time trying to do this alone. They could have sent out messengers to find what had happened to her and…oh, of course.”

He couldn’t believe his stupidity. Aaron’s face said it all.

“If you went to the community then everyone would know she had been violated,” he finished. “You still want to marry her, don’t you?”

Aaron nodded. His eyes pleaded with Solomon to understand.

At last, Solomon did. It wasn’t just the shame of rape but the fact that it had been done by men who weren’t Jewish. A woman taken by the gentiles was forbidden in some cases even to return to her own husband. The harsh law was ancient, going back to the time of the Romans at least.

“But that can’t be true now,” he protested. “I’m sure there were women taken by the Edomite soldiers in Germany who married after they were returned to their families.”

“How sure?” Aaron asked. “Do you know any? Even more, do you know one who was permitted to wed a Cohen?”

Now it was Solomon who looked away. This was one of the times when he was glad not to be asked to defend his faith. Cohens were the descendents of priests. When the Temple was rebuilt, they would serve in it as before and, like Caesar’s wife, a Cohen’s had to be above reproach or even suspicion.

“I’m not a scholar,” he said at last. “There may be precedents.”

“I haven’t found any,” Aaron said grimly.

“Wait a minute.” Solomon realized what Aaron was planning. “You’re saying you mean to save her and marry her anyway, don’t you? No matter what?”

“Yes,” Aaron answered. “And I can’t believe anyone as lax about the Law as you are would try to stop me.”

“Of course not,” Solomon assured him. “I’m just wondering if Mayah will agree.”

He shouldn’t have said that. He could tell from Aaron’s reaction that he hadn’t considered the possibility that Mayah might not allow him to enter a sinful marriage.

“But all that matters now,” Solomon added hastily, “is to free her at once. I can be ready to leave at dawn.”

“I wish it were that easy.” The sun was low in the sky now, bathing the Bourg behind them in rose and gold. Aaron explained as the two men started back.

“Arnald’s eagerness to help has made my original plan impossible,” he said. “From what Belide told me, the two of them have made such a point of having a secret that now everyone wants to know what it is.”

“Did Belide mention that she still has the bag of gold from Brother Victor?” Solomon asked. “No, I can see that she didn’t.”

He related the entire story as he knew it.

Before he had finished, Aaron was pounding his palms against his forehead in consternation.

“I’m a complete fool!” he growled. “Why did I ever trust those children?”

Solomon had been wondering that himself.

“I say take the coins and use them,” he advised Aaron. “There’s no way we can return them to the monks without being accused of murder.”

“I won’t buy Mayah back with unclean money,” Aaron said.

“Right,” Solomon answered. “Very noble of you. Although I’ve always found that coins wash easily. But why don’t we discuss it later. This is hardly the place.”

They were back in the
rue des Blanchisseurs
. The inhabitants were bustling about, preparing for Easter the next Sunday. They paid no attention to Solomon and Aaron but both men felt it would take little more than a comment to make them the center of a mob.

“I’ll be at my sister’s home, if you want me,” Aaron told Solomon as they parted at Gavi’s gate. “Can you come by tomorrow?”

Solomon promised.

“Thank you.” Aaron shook his hand. “Thank you! I knew you wouldn’t let me down. This is the first moment of hope I’ve felt in weeks.”

As he watched Aaron leave, Solomon had one of his rare forebodings. This journey would bring disaster, most likely for him. Angrily, he shook off the sensation. It was probably the result of too many dried prunes. Even if it were a true sending, it didn’t matter. He had meant what he said. To rescue Mayah, he would pay any price.

He recalled the last time he had seen her. Slight, dark and with an iron will, she had told him that she intended to devote her life to study. Her doting father had indulged her desire for books in Arabic and Hebrew. Solomon wondered how Aaron had convinced Yishmael to let the jewel of his household marry a horse trader, for all that he was a Cohen. Perhaps something about Aaron had touched Mayah’s heart.

He tried very hard not to imagine what was happening to her now.

When he returned to the house, Gavi’s wife answered his knock at once and astonished him by throwing her arms around his neck, kissing him on both cheeks.

“Nazara, what is this?” he cried, half in earnest. “I thought you were a faithful wife!”

She released him at once and laughed.

“That was gratitude, not lust,” she chided.

“Oh, and what have I done to deserve such a reward?”

“This afternoon, just after you left,” she said as she sat him at the table and poured mint water for him to wash his hands. “Who should come to our door but
Na
Josta! Her poor face! I tried not to show I noticed but it does look dreadful. I hope there will be no scars. Anyway, I told her you weren’t here and, do you know what? She said she’d come to see me! Me! I couldn’t believe it.”

Solomon tried to insert a comment but her words flowed on.

“She told me that you had reminded her that she had been neglectful. She was ashamed of herself for not visiting us more. Can you imagine? With the smell of piss everywhere, who would? Well, apart from you, of course,” Nazara added.

Solomon wasn’t sure how he should respond to that. Luckily, he didn’t have to.

“
Na
Josta told me that this was a time of year when it was especially important to remember that we are all Israel and in the eyes of the Holy One, blessed be He, equal.”

She stopped and smiled at the memory.

“And then she asked us to join them at their Seder,” she ended triumphantly.

Solomon dried his hands. He was pleased that Josta had acted so quickly. But now that the invitation had been issued, he wasn’t so sure that he should have meddled. What if his friends felt that Josta had acted out of condescension?

Nazara took the bowl and emptied it out the window. Then she returned to Solomon.

“And?” he asked nervously. “What did you tell her?”

“That we would be honored, of course,” she said. “Don’t worry, Solomon. I know she wouldn’t have offered if you hadn’t said something, but she was so kind and embarrassed about asking so near the holiday that I knew she really wanted us to accept. Don’t you agree?”

Solomon heard the tinge of doubt.

“I do,” he said. “Josta is a good woman. You and Gavi will be a welcome addition to the company. Of course, you might want to prepare yourselves for the twins.”

Brother James was not pleased when Prior Stephen told him that his trip would be delayed another week.

“But Brother Martin and I are ready to leave,” he said. “We have guards and provisions for the journey. The thief only got part of the ransom money. There’s still enough to free at least ten men.”

“But the donation from Lord Falquet would allow us to liberate five more,” Stephen said patiently. “Five who might die of starvation or torture before another party could reach them.”

Reluctantly, James admitted the logic of this.

“Also,” the prior added. “After Easter there will be several trading parties setting out. It’s always better to travel in as large a group as possible, to fend off marauders.”

James stopped himself from saying that he knew it well, having spent his early life in a family of merchants. Prior Stephen was continually testing him. James was determined that the man would never win. He wasn’t sure if it was Jewish stubbornness or Christian obedience; but, in, either case, Stephen was not going to find cause to send him back to Moissac.

But he didn’t know how he could endure another week in Toulouse. Since he had seen Hubert, James had felt like a man tied between wild horses. One pulled him to reveal what he knew and prove for all time that he was completely Christian. The other jerked him back with the thought that it would be more for his own pride than Hubert’s soul. And running in and out of his constant internal disputation was the memory of the little boy at the window in Rouen, waving good-bye to his big brother, Jacob, as he left to study in Champagne.

He tried so hard. He prayed and prayed for guidance. Why was there no answer?

That evening, Berengar told Guy about Jehan’s defiance of the lords.

“I’ve never seen my father so impressed,” he said wistfully. “And old Orso pinned to the table by his own knife stuck through his sleeve! What a glorious sight! He won’t live that down soon.”

“It sounds as though Jehan will need us to watch his back until we leave,” Guy commented.

“Do you think so?” Berengar eyes lit. “Maybe we shouldn’t have let him go out alone tonight.”

Guy snorted and reached for the pitcher. “That one doesn’t need a wet nurse. He said he was going to do a bit more sinning before being shriven on Friday. I’d do the same if I had the coin.”

He gave Berengar a hopeful look.