The Outcast Dove: A Catherine LeVendeur Mystery (37 page)

If Aaron had really loved her, he would have known her at once. Mayah deserved more. Solomon gave a sigh. It wasn’t his decision, but hers. And, if Aaron didn’t marry her, what could she do then?

“Aaron,” he said firmly. “Sit up. I have to tell you something and I can’t do it if you’re lying there whimpering like a wounded animal.”

Aaron sat upright at once, stiff with indignation. “Solomon! How can you be so unfeeling?”

“That’s what I’m going to tell you.”

Without being invited, James followed the monk down to the hut.

“Not a very pleasant place to house potential converts.” He sniffed at the crude building. “Marie Magdalene’s broken jar! They did have a lot of perfume, didn’t they?”

“It’s nothing for you to be concerned with,” Brother Gerond insisted. “I’ll see that you have a cart for the woman’s body. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

He gestured for some of the workmen to lead James away.

Brother Martin had trailed after them, not sure what was happening now.

“Brother James,” he asked loudly. “I thought Arnald said that the women were here as a
harim
for the Moslems so they wouldn’t go to Christian whores. Why would they run away? Weren’t they being paid well enough?”

He looked around at the stupefied white monks.

“Did I have it wrong?” he asked.

James put his hand on the big man’s shoulder. “No, Martin. I think you had it exactly right. Now I’m very curious to know if the abbot of Citeaux authorized a brothel on monastic property. If so, I’m sure Abbot Peter of Cluny would want to be informed. You Cistercians are so much more pious than we worldly Cluniacs. We wouldn’t have thought of buying slaves to slake the lust of our workers. Perhaps we’ve missed a form of charity that we should consider practicing.”

A few minutes later, they were on the road. Brother Martin walked in front, leading the mule cart containing the body of Babylonia. James walked at the rear, to be sure it didn’t fall out.

“Brother James,” Martin said after some time. “What did we just do?”

James bent over the edge of the cart to adjust the temporary shroud.

“We just interfered with the internal matters of another order,” he said. “We also gave a large amount of gold to that same order to keep them from tracking down two infidel women and forcing them to be prostitutes.”

“Oh.” Martin thought awhile. “It this a good thing or a bad thing?”

“I don’t know Martin,” James said. “At the moment it seemed the only thing. But it’s very likely that our reverend abbot may have another opinion.”

Martin was silent for a longer time.

“Brother James,” he said at last. “I think we did a good thing and I’ll tell the abbot so.”

“Brother Martin.” James’s voice was low. “I now understand why you were asked to accompany me. Thank you.”

They were passing a place where the rocks seemed to have been pushed from the earth by giant armies. Ravens were collecting in one of the crevices.

“Must be some poor lost sheep,” Martin commented. “I hate to see them ripped up by the birds.”

He dropped the lead and went climbing over the rocks.

“Get on!” he shouted. “Steal a poor shepherd’s lamb, would you? Oh. Oh! Oh, my God! Brother James, come quickly!”

The man lay face down, wedged in between the rocks. His back was a mass of blood, his leather tunic sliced to ribands.

“Brother James, hurry!” Martin called. “I think he’s still alive!”

James slid in a puddle of blood and nearly fell on the body. Martin caught him just in time.

“It looks as though he’s been attacked by some ferocious beast,” Martin said. “A bear or a lion, perhaps.”

James was checking for signs of life. The man’s arm was thrown over his face. Gently, James lifted it.

“Holy Mother!” he exclaimed. “It’s Berengar! Yes, he’s still breathing! Give me something to cover these wounds. Then we’ll have to get him to the cart.”

“Will he live?” Martin asked as he tore his cowl into swaths to lay on the knight’s back.

“God alone knows,” James answered. “Some of these cuts are deep. There seems to be more blood on the ground than in his body. I wonder why he wasn’t in his mail shirt. I thought those men even slept in them.”

“It’s very warm today,” Martin commented. “If you help, I think I can carry him over my shoulders. That way his back won’t be touched.”

Berengar didn’t even moan when they lifted him. James feared that they would soon be hauling two corpses in the cart.

“This is the most unfortunate group I’ve ever known,” Martin worried as they set out again. “We must have started our journey on an Egyptian day.”

“The stars didn’t cause this,” James said angrily. “There’s a human agent at work here, though he is beyond doubt in league with Satan.”

Martin plodded along beside the mule, trying to guide it toward the least bumpy ruts in the road.

“I don’t understand, Brother James,” he said. “How could one person have caused all this disaster? Do you think someone pushed Babylonia?”

“No, of course not,” James said. “There was no one close to her but me. No, her death is something else altogether. But I’m sure that Brother Victor’s murder is the key. At first I thought that he had been attacked by one of those heretics we see these days, preaching against the clergy. My theory seemed confirmed when the dortor at Saint Pierre des Cuisines was broken into.”

“It did seem that the destruction there was done in anger,” Martin said. “By someone who hated clerics and everything connected with us.”

“Yes, but then that poor young man, Samuel, was slaughtered,” James continued. “And I knew I had been mistaken.”

“But that was miles away from Toulouse,” Martin pointed out. “I can see no possible connection between his murder and Victor’s.”

“I can think of several,” James told him. “But I don’t know which is the right one. And now here’s Berengar, attacked out in the wilderness. The answer leapt at once to my mind. We have brought something evil with us.”

“I’m sorry, Brother James,” Martin said humbly. “Nothing is leaping at me. I’m not clever. Facts don’t arrange themselves in my brain like they do in yours.”

“Be grateful,” James said. “I’ll explain. The thing that bothers me most is that when they were attacked, each of these men was some place he had no reason to be. Victor was out after Compline; Samuel out in the storm when he should have been in the warm dry inn. And now Berengar. Why would he have left the town and gone to that desolate spot? He had no hunting hawk, no bow, no armor. He never struck me as a man who would seek out the desert places in order to meditate.”

Brother Martin stifled a laugh. “Forgive me,” he said. “Yes, now that you lay it out, I see. But why would anyone want to lure those men to a remote place to kill them? And how could they have been so foolish as to go?”

“We do foolish things every day,” James said. “It’s your first question that perplexes me. Why would any one person desire the deaths of a monk, a Jew, and a knight?”

Martin laughed again. “Oh, I am sorry, Brother James! I know my thoughts are not grave enough for a religious man, and this is not the time. It’s only that what you said sounded like one of my father’s jests. ‘A monk, a Jew, and a knight meet under a tree in the forest and decide to throw lots.’ That sort of tale.”

“Throw lots,” James repeated, thinking of Guy. “Possibly.”

“Usually there’s an enchantress in the tree,” Martin offered. “She makes each one see something different. Or sometimes she sets them to arguing among themselves. When my father told the stories, the ending usually had a lesson attached. Very fond of giving advice, my father was. Ah! I’m sorry!” he exclaimed as the cart shook. “There was no smooth way here. How is Berengar doing?”

James checked the knight. His breathing was shallow and less regular. They had cushioned him with Babylonia’s remains. It seemed an impious thing to do but they had nothing else to use.

“I don’t think he felt the jolting,” James said. “But he’s failing. Here, I’ll lead the mule. You go ahead and get a bed ready for him. Ask if there’s a healer in the town.”

Martin nodded and set off at an ungainly run. Watching him, James prayed that he would reach the town before his sandal straps snapped and sent him tumbling. The cart couldn’t hold another casualty.

Jehan was lounging on the bench outside the bathhouse when Solomon returned.

“Took you long enough,” he said. “But they’re still in there. I can hear them talking. Sometimes they cry. Then they call for more soap. Did you tell Aaron?”

“Yes,” Solomon said. “He says he’s mortified that he didn’t know Mayah at once. He’s busy now trying to think of a way to atone.”

“He still wants to marry her?” Jehan asked. “That would be enough for most women.”

“He says he does, but I can sense the doubt,” Solomon answered. “The
ignamine!
What did he think he would find, an heiress in a tower, clean and pristine, guarded by Saracen dragons?”

“He and Arnald are a pair,” Jehan said. “They both seem to think the
jongleurs
in the streets have the truth about how the world works.”

“Arnald I can understand,” Solomon said. “He’s young and hasn’t been much out of Toulouse in his life. But Aaron is a man grown, experienced in trade.”

Jehan shrugged. “Love blinds us in the cruelest way, by making us think we are seeing clearly.”

Embarrassed at his introspection, Jehan got up quickly. He called to the bath attendant.

“Could you tell the women inside that their clothes are ready?”

Solomon gave the woman the parcel.

“Tell them it was the best I could do for now,” he said.

“You might also remind them that it’s well past the dining hour,” Jehan added.

Some time later Mayah and Zaida appeared. The robes Solomon had found were too long so they had used cords as belts to fold the excess cloth. They had covered their heads and wound the ends of the veils around their necks. All traces of the kohl and powder were gone. They stood in the doorway holding hands tightly, clearly afraid to venture out.

Solomon smiled. They looked like novice nuns. His eyes went down.

“Shoes,” he said. “I forgot to buy you sandals. I’m sorry.”

His obvious consternation broke the tension. Mayah and Zaida stepped out into the afternoon sunshine.

“We can get them later,” Mayah told him. “Where do we go now?”

Solomon had considered that. The inn was too crude and crowded. It was also the first place any pursuers would look. There was no Jewish family in the town who might take them in.

“I found you a house,” he told them. “The owner is away but he left his Moslem servants to tend to things. I offered them a chance to earn an extra wage. They have agreed to serve the two of you as they would him.”

Zaida had been listening intently. She frowned and asked Mayah a question. Mayah shook her head.

“Zaida can understand French, if you speak slowly. But it’s hard for her to speak,” she told Solomon. “She asked me if the servants know where we came from.”

“No, I told them you were well-born ladies who had endured many hardships after the fall of Almeria,” he said. “You are here on your way to seek refuge. I also cautioned them not to ask about your sufferings.”

Mayah translated quickly. Zaida gave a sigh of relief.

“We’ll take you there now,” Solomon said. “Jehan?”

“Of course.”

Solomon walked before them leading the way and Jehan behind to guard them. It wasn’t far. The only stately homes in town were near the baths. Most lay in ruins, victims of the struggle for control of Castile. The owner of this one had used stones from nearby buildings to patch holes in the walls. The roof was tiled in a hundred different shapes and colors. But the rooms were clean and private and there was a small courtyard with a fountain for Mayah and Zaida to sit by while they ate.

“You can speak to the servants better than I,” Solomon said when they arrived. “Order anything you need. I’ll return tomorrow.”

“What about the overseer at the monastery?” Mayah asked. “The monks will send him looking for us.”

“Even if they find you here, no one will be permitted to enter,” Solomon assured her.

“We’ll make certain of that,” Jehan said.

“And Aaron?” Mayah asked.

“He is awash in self-reproach,” Solomon said. “He wants you to know that he still considers you his betrothed. I would have brought him with me but I thought you might need some time to rest before…”

“…facing him again,” Mayah finished. “Yes. I don’t think I quite believe I’m free. There were so many times it was only a dream. Tomorrow, perhaps I’ll be ready to consider the future. The first thing I must do is send word to my father.”

“In the morning,” Solomon said quickly. “Now, this is the woman in charge of the household. She’ll take care of you.”

The woman bowed to Zaida and Mayah, greeting them in Arabic. She gestured for them to follow her into the house.

“Solomon?” Mayah stopped and looked back at him. Something in his manner worried her. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“Nothing,” he said. “Eat, sleep, then eat and sleep again. You’re safe now.”

“Are they?” Jehan asked as they left.

“I’m coming back at sundown to guard the house,” Solomon said. “Anyone who tries to recapture them will have to face me first.”

“Now you sound like one of Arnald’s heroes,” Jehan replied. “Of course you won’t need anyone to watch with you. A real hero never sleeps.”

“Are you offering to share the duty?” Solomon asked in astonishment.

“John the Baptist’s sacred foreskin! Never.” Jehan recoiled at the thought. “I’m planning on being there to take your place when you collapse.”

Brother Martin’s abrupt arrival in Fitero caused general alarm. The women gathered at the well for a good chat were momentarily dumbfounded when he lumbered up to them demanding to know which of them knew how to stop blood from flowing.

When, with some effort, they had managed to winkle the reason from him, the women scattered, one for bandages, another for moss to staunch the blood, another for herbs to counter the fever. Martin allowed himself a moment to drain one dipper of water and spill another over his head before setting off to look for the inn.

Arnald and Guy were sampling the day’s soup when the curtain covering the door was pushed back and Brother Martin’s head appeared.

“I thought I’d never find you!” he cried. “Berengar’s been mauled by a lion! Brother James is bringing him back. We need to make a bed for him at once!”

“A lion!” Arnald’s eyes opened wide in astonishment. “Is he badly hurt?”

“I don’t know,” Martin answered. “Yes, I think so. We put him on top of Babylonia’s body and he didn’t flinch.”

Both men were on their feet at once.

“Babylonia?” Guy asked. “Is that what you said? Slow down. What happened to her?”

“I saw it but I still don’t know,” Martin said. “Where is the innkeeper? We’ll need to put a mattress on one of these tables. Oh, and I need to find those women and tell them where to bring the ointments.”

He raced out again.

“Has he gone mad?” Arnald asked Guy.

“It does look like it,” Guy said. “But, just in case he hasn’t, we should set up the long table and find a mattress.”

Solomon and Jehan reached the inn just as Berengar’s limp form was being lifted from the cart.

“What did this?” Jehan rounded on Guy. “Why weren’t you with him?”

Guy nearly dropped Berengar’s feet in confusion.

“I didn’t know he was gone!” the knight defended himself. “You told us to stay here and wait for you!”

“And you, Arnald?” Jehan needed to blame someone. “Where were you when your comrade was attacked?”

“Sitting with Aaron,” Arnald answered. “I was afraid he might do something rash if left alone.”

The innkeeper chose this moment to return, burdened with pillows. When he saw the state Berengar was in, he dropped them on the floor.

“You said you needed a bed, not a bier,” he said. “Those stains will never come out. Who’s going to pay for all this?”

Jehan looked at Brother James, who sighed. “I can’t. I gave the remaining ransom money to the prior to pay for the slaves that escaped while everyone was watching Babylonia.”

“You mean no one is hunting for them?” Solomon asked.

“That’s right,” James answered. “They’re free.”

His expression challenged Solomon.

“Very well.” Solomon untied the leather cord at his neck and took out the leather bag containing the money Brother Victor had given them.

“Since this is no longer needed to redeem Mayah,” he said. “I’ll pay for the care of this man.”

Brother James’s jaw dropped when he saw the bag. He stared at it in disbelief. Then, with a bitter cry, he threw himself at Solomon.

“I knew it!” he screamed. “It was you all along! Jehan! Tie this man up at once and keep him under guard. He murdered Brother Victor!”

Jehan’s face lit with unholy joy.

“Finally! It’s time you had a taste of what you gave me!”

He advanced on Solomon, but his way was blocked by the irate innkeeper trying to collect his fee, three women loaded with jars, bottles, and bandages, and a stable boy who wanted to know what to do with the body in the cart.

“Stop!” Solomon shouted. “All of you. I can explain.”