The Outcast Dove: A Catherine LeVendeur Mystery (21 page)

The servants brought in platters of lamb sliced into pieces that could be eaten with the fingers. There were also fresh greens and, as always, mounds of olives.

They continued telling stories over the meal, some for the benefit of the twins, some for their own edification. With some coaxing, Samuel stood and recited his poem. Everyone pronounced it brilliant.

“I tell you, nothing of our cantor’s could touch it,” Bonysach told him.

Samuel beamed at them all, his face as red as the roses his mother had sewn onto his collar.

Hubert was silent and ate little. Solomon watched him closely, worried that he was too weak for the late evening.

“Uncle?” he asked quietly. “Would you like to rest a while, before the final blessing?”

Hubert seemed surprised to have all eyes on him.

“Of course not,” he answered. “I beg your pardon. I was not dozing, but remembering. Since I left Paris, this is the first time I’ve celebrated Pesach in a family.”

He looked at the twins. “Perhaps I shouldn’t speak of it before them.”

Josta and Bonysach exchanged a glance; she nodded.

“They are the ones who most need to hear your story,” he told Hubert.

The others murmured agreement.

Hubert smiled at the twins. “Don’t worry, I won’t take long,” he said. “When I was younger than you are now, Christian soldiers came to my house. They took my mother and sisters. I hid in a cupboard and was found and raised by a merchant, Gervase of Rouen. He baptized me and raised me as his own.”

“You, Rav Chaim?” Muppim’s eyes were enormous with astonishment. “You were once a Christian? How could that be?”

“It happens all the time,” Josta told him. “Not here, thank the Holy One, blessed be He. But in France and Germany.”

Without another word, both boys got up and climbed onto their parents’ laps.

“Tell them how you came home,” Bonysach said to Hubert.

Hubert took a sip of wine. “For many years I thought I was the son of Gervase. I didn’t remember my mother, except in dreams. But the Creator of all things guided me to Paris, where my brothers, Eliazar and Jacob, found me. Even though I had lived so many years among the Edomites, they welcomed me back. They taught me the Seder as your family is teaching you, even though I was already grown up and should have known it.”

Muppim giggled.

“Since then I have slowly been finding my way home.” Hubert’s voice broke and he took a bit more wine. “Even though the Temple is still in ruins and we are still in exile, I feel as though I have been brought out of Egypt to freedom at last.”

He sat down and fumbled for the handkerchief tied in his sleeve.

“Thank you, Rav Chaim,” Bonysach said.

They were all washing their hands in preparation for the final cup of wine when they heard a great crash from the courtyard, followed by unearthly wailing.

“Demons!” Gavi cried.

“Soldiers!” Hubert started shaking. “They’ve found me!”

“It’s Pharoh’s men, come for Rav Chaim!” Muppim leapt from his father’s lap. “We won’t let him take you again!”

The boys threw themselves around Hubert. Solomon, Gavi, and Samuel ran out into the garden, picking up weapons as they went. Solomon cursed the vanity that had made him leave his long knife behind. The arm sheath hadn’t fit under the tight sleeves. Bonysach followed with a lantern, although the full moon gave enough light for them to catch sight of a pair of bare legs and feet vanishing over the top of the garden wall.

The howling receded down the alleyway. Solomon tried to climb after them but was impeded by his long robes.

“Damledu!”
he swore, as he fell back to the ground.

The others were surveying the damage.

The rose bushes were trampled and branches had been broken on the laurels.

“Someone came over the wall!” Gavi said.

“And back again.” Samuel pointed to the roasting pit. The banked coals had been scattered and were glowing across the grass. “It looks as if they stepped right on top of the firepit.”

“Barefoot?” Bonysach said. “That would account for the noise. But why? First Samuel and now this. What do these
vilans
want? Are they mad?”

Solomon shook his head. Neither this nor the attack on Samuel made sense to him, but he was certain that there was a reason. If he could have caught the man on the wall, he would have had it.

Never again, he vowed, would he be found outside home without his knife and his pants.

“Brother James!” Martin took the steps to the dortor two at a time, causing the whole building to shake. “Lord Falquet has sent us his offering ahead of time. There is enough now to free all the captives. We can leave by Friday!”

James met him at the top of the stairs.

“Friday?
Domine gratia!
That’s wonderful!” he exclaimed. “But how will everything be arranged so quickly?”

“Most of the supplies have already been prepared,” Martin said. “I understand our guards are more than ready to depart. And I just spoke to Aaron, the horse trader. He told me his party was also eager to start out and they will share the cost of the guards. Your prayers must have been heeded, Brother James.”

“Yes, I can’t believe it,” James said. Then he stopped. “Aaron is willing to set off early? But it’s the middle of Pesach.”

“It’s what?” Martin only half heard. His mind was already on the final preparations.

“Nothing.” James caught himself. But the news worried him. Why would a Jew be so willing to start a journey in the middle of Passover? Was it that he considered trade more important than faith? Or was it essential that he travel in this particular party? Had Hubert told the other Jews of Toulouse about their encounter? Could they think that, after so many years, he could be brought back to Israel? Or was this somehow connected to Brother Victor’s murder? Did Aaron know how much gold the monks were carrying? Could he be under orders to prevent the release of the knights?

James’s conjectures raced to even greater extremes. What if this Aaron were in league with the Saracens? He might have promised them new monastic hostages. Or perhaps Aaron was planning to kill him. If the leaders of the Jewish community had given up on his reconversion, they might have decided it was better for him to die than risk the possibility of him convincing other Jews to follow his path.

The thought of martyrdom cheered the monk considerably.

His mind had wafted to selecting appropriate readings for his feast day when a loud cough from Brother Martin brought him back.

“Oh, yes,” he said. “What task has been assigned to me, Brother?”

“Nothing, Brother James.” Martin smiled proudly. “I have taken care of everything for you. I just need to inform
Senhor
Aaron of the time of departure on Friday.”

“Friday, you said?” James had to share his suspicion. “A man named Aaron Ha-Cohen is willing to set out on a journey on a Friday in the middle of Passover? That doesn’t seem strange to you?”

Martin shrugged. “I told him that we would travel on his Sabbath and he said that the urgency of his mission permitted it as long as he didn’t ride.”

“What could be that important?” James asked.

“He didn’t say,” Martin said. “But I overheard some friends of his talking. It seems he has contracted for a Spanish bride. I guess that the burning of his loins is more important to him than his superstitious rites.”

He nudged James.

“Perhaps you could use the time on the road to help him appreciate the joy of accepting Christ,” he suggested. “And how much greater it is than satisfying the craving of the flesh.”

James gave the massive monk a long look.

“How long have you been in the monastery?” he asked.

Martin seemed puzzled by the question.

“I was an oblate,” he said. “My parents gave me to St. Peter and Cluny when I was eight.”

“That makes many things clear to me,” James told him with a pat on the arm. “I promise that I shan’t miss an opportunity to preach the faith. But I don’t think this is a time when
Senhor
Aaron is most likely to be receptive.”

Aaron raced down the narrow streets of Toulouse, oblivious to what he stepped in. He leapt over barrels and swung around carts with the ease of a tumbler, never breaking his stride.

When he reached the house of the tanner he didn’t so much knock at the door as collide with it. Nazara opened to find him panting and dripping, too out of breath to greet her.

She closed the door and returned a moment later to hand him a basin and towel.

“My thanks,
Na
Nazara,” he gasped. “I apologize for my state. Is Solomon here?”

“At the
bet midrash
visiting his uncle, I think,” she told him. “At least that’s what he said when he left this morning.”

Aaron finished wiping his face and returned the towel and basin.

“Thank you.” He took a deep breath and set out again.

Solomon was seated in the court with Hubert when Aaron burst in.

“We leave Friday at dawn,” he said without preamble. “I don’t want to hear any rebukes.”

“I’ve already said I can go at once,” Solomon answered. “Now, Uncle, please have a bit more soup. I don’t care how sustained you are by the Torah. You need real food, as well. You don’t want me to tell Catherine that you’re starving yourself.”

Hubert picked up his spoon. His daughter had enough worries without that. Dutifully, he swallowed the soup.

Aaron let his wobbly legs fold onto the ground but didn’t stop talking.

“Galde is furious with me,” he said. “She can’t understand the rush to fetch Mayah, since the marriage can’t be held until after Shavuot.”

Hubert looked up from his soup.

“Who’s getting married?” he asked.

“Aaron,” Solomon told him. “To the daughter of Yishmael of Córdoba.”

“Little Mayah? But she’s just a baby,” Hubert said.

“That was the last time you saw her,” Solomon answered. “Mayah is now well past the age of consent.”

“Then congratulations, Aaron!” Hubert smiled at him. “Will my old friend, Yishmael, be coming for the event?”

Solomon gestured to Aaron not to tell Hubert that Yishmael was dead, but Aaron didn’t need to be warned.

“Yishmael won’t be able to make the journey,” he answered. “Although I know how much he would like to be here.”

“A shame.” Hubert sighed. “I’d like to see him again. Well, I had planned to return to Lunel after Pesach but perhaps I should stay for the wedding.”

“Aaron!” Samuel had joined them. “I just heard that you are finally going to get your bride. That’s wonderful. But you need more than Solomon to accompany you. Let me come, too.”

Aaron’s head jerked up in alarm.

“Samuel, this isn’t a ride to the next town,” he explained. “Mayah lives in Spain. We may be gone a month or more.”

“I know,” Samuel said. “But I’ve been thinking lately that I’ve been looking for wisdom in the Talmud alone. I need to understand the world, as well.”

“I’m sure you can do that in a less radical manner,” Solomon said. “And with more planning. We leave the day after tomorrow, you see. Not only in the middle of Pesach but Sabbath eve.”

Samuel regarded them thoughtfully.

“I’m surprised that you would do this, Aaron,” he said. “I thought you were more observant. But that’s all the more reason why I should come along. The three of us can make an
eruv
at our camp to observe the Sabbath.”

Solomon bit his lip. “I don’t think three men are enough, especially if I’m one of them. Samuel, we won’t be in the company of Jews, but Christians. The only group Aaron could find to travel south now is that of the monks of Saint Pierre.”

Instead of disturbing Samuel, this information made him even more avid to go.

“I’ve always wanted a chance to talk with monks,” he said. “Outside of the churches, of course. I’ve been studying Latin in Narbonne and I believe that they really need a better translation of the psalms for their prayers.”

Solomon threw up his hands.

“I think you’re mad,” he said. “But it’s not my job to bring you to reason. I’ll meet you Friday, Aaron. Where are we gathering?”

“Just outside the Narbonne Gate,” Aaron said. “Samuel, why don’t we speak with the elders about this. It’s a noble offer, but I really can’t let you make such a decision without counsel.”

They went in search of authority.

Hubert finished his soup and then stood slowly, leaning on the table.

“Help me back to my room, please,”

He held out his arm to Solomon.

As they started back, Solomon had the odd sensation that Hubert wasn’t so much leaning on him for support but tethering himself lest he float away.

Neither spoke until they entered the room and Hubert shut the door. He sat on his bed, looking up at Solomon. All at once, his eyes were sharp, without a trace of uncertainty.

“You know that Jacob will be in the party with you,” he said. “And still you are going.”

“Yes.” Solomon spit the word out.

Hubert nodded. “In that case, you must make a promise to me, Nephew, by anything you consider holy. You can’t get away with mouthing words to humor an old man. This is a vow I want you to keep, no matter what.”

Solomon sat down next to him.

“Don’t ask it,” he begged. “I can’t be tied to such a thing.”

“You must be.” Hubert’s voice was firm. “Swear it. There has to be something you believe in enough to keep you from an act that will damn you forever.”

Solomon tried to look away, but Hubert’s gaze held him fast.

“There is nothing,” he said. “Nothing at all. But you are wrong in your fear. I’m not plotting to kill Brother James. I’ll avoid him as much as possible. I loathe the thought of having to see or speak to him.

“I am not a man who plots murder. Nevertheless, I can’t promise that he won’t come to harm.”

“Solomon, please,” Hubert insisted. “It’s not for him, but for yourself.”

“No.” Solomon put his arm around Hubert’s shoulders, trying to soften the harsh words. “If he threatens me as he did before or tries to hurt any of my friends, he shall be stopped. And I will do anything I must to see to it. Hubert, don’t you understand? Now that he knows you are living again as a Jew, he has the power to have you put to death for apostasy. He can destroy the lives of your children and grandchildren. What is my soul compared to that?”

He tried to smile, perhaps to reassure his uncle that a soul wasn’t that great a loss. Beneath his arm, he could feel Hubert sag in despair.

“I would not have you trade your soul for my life,” Hubert said at last. “Or even Catherine’s. I would gladly die for my children and theirs, despite the danger to them that my actions have caused. So it would dishonor you to imply that you would do less.”

“Thank you, Uncle.”

“All the same,” Hubert added. “Just remember that if you harm Jacob, you may well lose everything, including the lives you would protect.”

“How do you think I could forget?” Solomon snapped back.

At this point, he felt that he would rather face his own execution than the next three weeks on the road.

“
Na
Josta?”

Josta opened her eyes. She had been dozing over her embroidery.

What is it, Jermana?” she asked the servant.

“That man is here,” Jermana answered. “That Yusef. Shall I tell him you are still too ill to see him?”

“No.” Josta sighed. “He knows I’ve been up for days. He didn’t bring that woman with him, did he?”

“If he had, I’d have turned him away without bothering you at all,” Jermana huffed.

“Tell him I’ll be down in a moment,” Josta said. “And offer him some wine. I don’t want to be remiss in my manners.”

“If you insist,” Jermana answered. “But it won’t be from a new jug.”

When Josta entered the hall, she found Yusef standing nervously. He held a cup of wine in one hand and a piece of matzoh, spread with oil and herbs, in the other. Jermana had served him and taken away the tray.

“A blessing upon this house and all in it,” Yusef greeted her, looking for a place to put down his cup.

“And to you,” Josta answered. “What brings you here? Bonysach is at the Bazacle, inspecting a shipment of silk.”

“I have come to see you,” he explained. “I have the money the elders set to recompense you for the hurt my servant caused.”

Josta went to an alcove and brought back a small table. Yusef set the cup on it, balancing the matzoh on top. He took out a bag from around his neck and carefully counted out the coins.

“Two-thirds to you,” he said. “And the rest to Bonysach.”

“I’ll let him know,” Josta told him. She didn’t touch the money. “Is there something else?”

Yusef nodded. “I wanted to tell you again how grieved I am by Babylonia’s behavior. I thought she was getting better but this last outburst was one of her worst. The elders are right; I can’t risk the safety of my friends by keeping her in my home.”

Josta exhaled in relief. “May the Holy One, blessed be He, be thanked! You should have sent her away long ago! Let the Edomites take care of her.”

“I can’t do that,
Na
Josta,” Yusef said sadly. “I’m not sending her away; I’m taking her.”

“What! Where?” Josta couldn’t believe it. “Yusef, this woman can’t mean so much to you. You are a good man, who has always followed the Law. Why would you accept exile for her sake?”

“This is a burden I have taken up,” Yusef answered. “I can’t set it down until I know Babylonia has found peace. Samuel told me that Aaron is leaving for Spain. We shall go with him. Or, if they won’t let us join the party, we’ll follow behind like beggars.”

He bowed to her. “Thank you for seeing me,
Na
Josta,” he said. “Give my respects to Bonysach. I have told the elders that, if I do not return, my share of our goods is to be given to the poor of our community, since I have no family.”

Josta was so stunned that she forgot to see him out. Jermana heard him fumbling with the catch on the door and hurried to open it for him. When she returned to the hall, she found her mistress still standing, shaking her head in confusion.

Jehan poked his head through the hole into the loft at the inn.

“No falling into a wine vat tonight!” he told Guy and Berengar. “We set off at dawn on Friday and I expect you to spend tomorrow checking every piece of gear you have. We’ve had our respite. From now on lives will depend on our being vigilant. What was that?”