The Outcast Dove: A Catherine LeVendeur Mystery (26 page)

“Innocent baby,” she breathed, her face alight.

“No!” Yusef quickly lifted Anna out of her reach. “This is not your baby!”

Caudiza looked up in alarm. Then, seeing that the child was safe, she turned back to Babylonia.

“Did you have an innocent?” she asked.

Babylonia smiled wistfully. “One girl. My husband was angry. But he was always angry with me. Then we had a son. But soon after that the ones who worship the hanged man, they caught me and took me away.”

Caudiza was about to ask more but Yusef stopped her. “Not now, please.”

She patted Babylonia’s arm. “There, that’s as clean as I can get you without a tub. If
Senhor
Yusef will find you something better to wear, you can come to my room and change.”

Babylonia stood up and tried to smooth her skirts. “Thank you,” she said, trying to appear sane. “You’re very kind.”

Caudiza took Anna back and the women went into her chamber.

“Is she safe?” Aaron asked.

“I think so,” Yusef said. “There’s something about the child that seemed to calm her.”

“Of course. Little Anna has a stainless soul,” Aaron said.

“What?”

“I’ve seen children like her before, not many,” Aaron told him. “Most people think they’re good luck.”

“Hmm.” Yusef wasn’t interested in superstitions. “Perhaps, but it seems strange. Other children only annoy her. Those twins of Bonysach’s make her wild.”

“Along with the rest of Toulouse,” Aaron commented. “Yusef, if Solomon won’t, I’ll take a turn at sitting with Samuel’s body.”

“No. I won’t have you contaminate yourself,” Yusef said. “Solomon will help. In his heart he’s a good Jew. I only wish the rest of his body would pay attention.”

A few moments later Caudiza returned with Babylonia, now dressed in clean, if worn robes. She gave the stained clothing to Yusef.

“Did she tell you anything more?” he asked.

“Not about the death of your friend,” she said. “We talked about childbirth.”

Neither man had any response to that.

The wind had died down outside enough for them to hear the thump as something heavy was dropped outside the door. Caudiza went over and lifted the latch.

Solomon stood in front of her, one hand raised to knock.

“You look like hell,” she said.

“Good,” he answered. “I’d hate to feel this awful and not show it. Did Yusef explain?”

“Yes, you can put your friend’s body in the shed where I store the hay. Put something under him to keep from staining the floor.”

“Don’t worry.” Solomon was swaying with exhaustion. “We’d do that anyway. But I don’t think he’s got much blood left.”

“Doesn’t look like you do, either,” she said.

Solomon turned to the guards. “Put him out back in the shed,” he called to them. He leaned against the lintel.

“Will you let me in?” he asked.

She looked at him a moment. “Yes, I think I will,” she answered.

A sudden hope rose in him like the morning star. Solomon entered the inn.

Aaron and Yusef already had put on their tallit and were looking at him expectantly.

“Oh, no,” Solomon said. “I know what you want. I don’t know the prayers to say. Yes, he mustn’t be left alone and I’ll sit watch but can’t my turn wait until morning?
Avoi
, it almost is morning. I’m frozen, wet, hungry, and…”

“We can see,” Aaron said. “You’re in no shape for lamentation. I’ll pray while Yusef watches.”

Yusef was about to protest, but then looked at Solomon, who was looking at Caudiza. It was wrong, of course. They should keep him from her. Sleeping with a Christian woman was not only a sin but dangerous. Then he remembered how Brother James had treated them all as if they were vermin infesting his life. Not once had he glanced at his son. And Solomon had held the lantern steady for him even so.

“Yes, I’ll take the first watch,” he said. “Come, Babylonia. You need to sleep, but you must be bound for your own safety.”

Guy, Berengar, and Arnald were only in the shed long enough to see that Samuel’s body was decently covered and the door barred to scavengers. But they returned to find the hall of the inn empty, a pot of broth left on the coals of the brazier, and a pitcher of wine on the table. When Jehan finally arrived, not even that was left.

Caudiza helped Solomon off with his clothes. It would have been more sensual if he could have stopped shivering.

“Get under the covers,” she told him. “You’re almost blue.”

“Not my usual form, I’m afraid,” he said through chattering teeth. “I’m sorry.”

Caudiza smiled. “You’ll warm up.”

“I mean about the trouble I’ve caused,” he said.

“You’ll have to pay extra for that,” she warned.

Solomon glanced at the trundle bed next to him. “What about her?” he asked.

“She was back to sleep as soon as I laid her down,” Caudiza said. “She won’t wake until morning.”

“Ahhhh!” Solomon gave a sigh that was half pain, half comfort as he felt the feather bed envelope him. His feet were icy, his hands clammy, his dark curls dripping. Caudiza pulled her
bliaut
over her head and let her
chainse
fall to the floor. She blew out the light and joined him in the bed.

Her skin against his was so warm that it burned, sending soft solace deep into his body. He could feel his bones, even his heart, thawing. That must have been why he felt tears on his face. It was like a river smashing through the ice. Once the first crack had been made, he couldn’t stop.

Caudiza held and rocked him as if he’d been a child, until the sobbing ebbed. She knew this wasn’t only grief for his murdered friend but the pent up sorrow of years. She didn’t ask him to explain but hummed an old lullabye. As he grew quieter she began moving slowly against him in rhythm with the tune.

Solomon had been sure he was completely drained of energy and feeling. He was mistaken.

In the shed, Yusef found that the men had left Samuel’s body on a blanket on the floor. They had arranged him as well as possible. Yusef lit the candle he had brought and sat to watch over him. The shock of the evening was fading. It made it hard for him to keep his eyes open. If only Aaron weren’t a Cohen. Yusef knew the Law had been given to them for a reason, but it was hard sometimes to accept this. Yet he never dreamed of questioning. There were Jews like Solomon, who ignored the Law most of the time as too inconvenient for modern life. They filled Yusef with concern. He knew how easy it would be for them to drift away. Perhaps not convert but be lost all the same.

The ferryman had joked that the Millennium wouldn’t arrive until there were no more Jews in the world. That idea frightened Yusef even more. He knew that unless the Jews held firmly to their faith, there would be no one for the Messiah to lead and no chance of a Millennium at all.

So he sat and struggled to stay awake. He listed to the scurry of rats in the thatch and the snuffling of a larger animal against the outside wall.

The power was in the words. But here Yusef couldn’t pray, or eat or drink. Not here. Samuel was now denied all those things and it would be cruel to do them in his presence.

He tried not to look at the body. It seemed a stranger, so pale, with lips almost purple and that horrid gash across its throat. Instead he addressed the ceiling, as if speaking directly to Heaven.

“I don’t know what we’ll tell your parents.” He sighed. “I don’t even know if they have other children to comfort them. Even though Jacob is a wicked apostate, I hope he’s right that Babylonia didn’t do this to you. She’s mad but not wicked, not like this. She’s suffered so. And why were you out at all? You were supposed to stay at the inn. Did you see something? Did you suddenly decide that you knew where Babylonia might have gone?”

“No.” He stopped himself. “I hope that’s not it. Then it might mean that you were the one who found her.”

He was quiet awhile. The animal outside grew more persistent, scratching at the door now. Yusef didn’t blame it. No one should be out on a night like this. The rain was so sharp that he could no longer make out the squeaks of the rats above.

“It’s odd,” he mused. “That monk in Toulouse was out when he shouldn’t be, as well. Of course, they say that any man who walks alone after dark, walks with the devil. But it is strange that there should be two such deaths so close together.”

The scratching at the door grew louder. Yusef hoped that Solomon would finish wallowing in his bed of lust soon and come take his place. He remembered a story his old aunt had told him about a man who fell asleep when he should have been guarding a body. When he woke up, demons had broken in and taken both the dead man and the sleeping one to a dark, frozen cave with no way out.

His teachers had told him that was nonsense. They had taught him to read the true words of the Holy One. And later he had begun to study the meanings hidden in those words, the secrets of the Chariot, the messages the Lord meant only for the most learned and devout of His people. The scholars assured him that there were no ugly little demons with the ears and beards of goats.

Then what was so intent on gnawing its way into the shed?

Solomon woke to a tug on his hand, followed by something that felt like a puppy licking his fingers. He peered over the side of the bed and saw in the dim predawn light, Caudiza’s daughter, Anna. She gave his hand a damp kiss, rubbing her runny nose against it. The child grinned at him, her oversized tongue back in her mouth for the moment. She pulled his fingers again.

“Nice man,” she said.

Solomon grinned back. He couldn’t help it. He tried to wipe his hand on the sheet but Anna held it tightly.

Caudiza stirred against his side. She lifted herself across his back to pick the little girl up.

“Mama,” Anna said, and snuggled down between the two of them.

Solomon tried to remember when he had last seen Caudiza. It must have been more than five years ago. The girl couldn’t be more than three or so.

“Did you marry again?” he asked.

“No,” she answered.

“Your daughter, she seems…um…different,” he said, as Anna made another grab for his fingers. “Was her father a foreigner?”

“Probably,” she answered. “Just one of the travelers at the inn, no doubt.”

“Ah.” He started laughing. Anna was tickling him.

“Silly man!” She giggled.

He picked her up and lifted her out at arms length. Anna twisted and then went limp. The dead weight was so sudden that he nearly dropped her.

Caudiza got out of bed and took the girl from him. She set her on a chamber pot and gave her a piece of cheese to keep her there.

“Is she all right?” Solomon asked finally. “I mean, one of my companions said she was an idiot child. Is that true?”

“She’s an innocent,” Caudiza told him. “Just like that woman said last night. She learns very slowly, but she does learn. The herbwoman says she probably won’t last more than a few more winters, though. She’s sensitive to the choking sickness.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sure that it isn’t because of anything you did.”

Caudiza stared at him with an expression he couldn’t comprehend.

“Do you think she was born like this as my punishment?” she asked in astonishment. “You
burugabeko!
Anna is a gift. A sinless being. She is nothing but love. I treasure every moment I’m allowed to keep her.”

“Of course,” Solomon said in bewilderment. “It’s only that…”

He looked at the little girl, who was grunting on the pot. She finished and ran back to the bed, trying to climb in. To Solomon’s relief, Caudiza caught her and tucked her under one arm as she set a pan of water next to the dying coals on the brazier. When the chill was off it, she poured the water into a shallow trough and set Anna into it, rinsing her off quickly before wrapping her in a thick cotton cloth. Then she brought the girl back to bed with her.

“I don’t suppose she’ll sleep anymore,” Solomon said as Anna crawled up his chest.

“Not likely,” Caudiza said. “Don’t you have to relieve your friend at his watch?”

“Enodu!”
Solomon exclaimed. “Poor Yusef! I forgot all about him and Samuel. How could I?”

“I can’t imagine,” Caudiza said. “Here, give me my baby and get your clothes on.”

A sudden ray of morning sun illuminated the little girl’s face as Solomon held her up. He stopped and stared. In that oddly-formed face with its small nose and chin and wide mouth were the most unusual eyes he had ever seen. They were a deep azure blue at the rim and around the pupil, like thin bands of lapis lazuli. But in the center they were the green of new leaves flecked with shafts of sunlight.

“What beautiful eyes!” he exclaimed. “Where did she get them?”

Caudiza gave him another strange glance.

“I have no idea,” she said.

Solomon raced through the hall, not stopping to speak to Arnald and Guy, who were playing tric-trac for olive pits. He hurried out to the shed, full of apologies. When he got to the door, the first thing he noticed was that it was open. The second thing was that there were deep, fresh cuts in the wood, like those made by the claws of a lion.

“Yusef!” he called. “Yusef!”

“I thought you were going to be here before cockcrow,” came a grumble from within. “Aaron and I have to say morning prayers, you know.”

“I’m sorry, Yusef,” Solomon said. “I overslept.”

He was glad he couldn’t see the other man’s face at that moment.

Out of respect for the dead, Yusef made no comment.

“I’ll be back later when we find out if we can bury him here or if we have to take him into Spain,” he said.

“What made those marks?” Solomon pointed to the door.

Yusef shook his head. “I never went out to look. My mind was on my duty to Samuel. Therefore, the Lord heard my cry and protected me from the terror that prowls by night.”

Solomon left the door open after Yusef left. If there was also a terror that prowled by day, he wanted to see it coming.