The Outcast Dove: A Catherine LeVendeur Mystery (39 page)

“Here.” Jehan gave Solomon his hand and helped him to stand. Solomon was surprised to find that his legs wouldn’t hold him.

Jehan supported him as they wove their way across the small room. “We need to get out of here and get some wine into you,” he said. “This place is as bad as the carnage at Lisbon.”

Solomon believed him. Berengar’s body lay draped on the table, Babylonia’s under a bench against the wall. Arnald was tied up in a corner, his loud protestations about to be gagged by a couple of the women. James was the central figure in the room now, ringed by people praying for his soul along with Brother Martin bent over the body, weeping.

The two men stumbled out into the warm spring air. With a grunt of relief, Jehan released Solomon onto a stool under a chestnut tree. Then he found a seat for himself.

“Your father, was he?” Jehan said. “No wonder you hate us so. You’d think the old bastard could have died a Christian and still given you a word of kindness.”

“Not him.” Solomon took a deep breath. He blinked back tears and steadied his voice. “No matter. It would have been years too late, anyway.”

He stood, taking time to dust himself off before facing Jehan.

“We should go tell Mayah that no one will try to take her back into slavery,” he said.

“Yes, it’s the one good thing that’s come from this.” Jehan stretched and got up, too. “You know, Brother James didn’t have to pay for her freedom. You might give him credit for that.”

“He only did it so he could convert her,” Solomon said.

“Maybe,” Jehan said. “But maybe it was the only way he had to tell you that he was sorry.”

“What are you talking about?” Solomon asked in irritation.

“Well, I think that when your father decided to accept Christ, he knew that he had to renounce everything.” Jehan fumbled for the words. “The greatest gift he could offer was the one God had given us. He had to give up his only begotten son. You were the price he paid to become a Christian.”

“That’s cod tripe,” Solomon told him. But the thought gave him a spark of comfort.

There was no need to let Jehan know that, though.

Brother Martin and Jehan insisted on bringing Arnald back to Toulouse to be sentenced for his crimes. Guy was for hanging him at once.

“We can’t do that,” Jehan insisted. “It’s for the families of the victims to judge him.”

“After God, of course,” Martin added. “But his fate in this world has to be decided by those he wronged most.”

“And what about Samuel?” Aaron asked.

“His family, too,” Martin said. “If they wish to come from Narbonne. If not, then the Jews of Toulouse should have a say, as well. Don’t you think so, Jehan.”

The knight frowned. “In this instance, yes,” he agreed reluctantly.

“This will cause a terrible disruption in the town.” Aaron sighed. “Arnald’s family will be destroyed. Poor Vidian! He told me this journey would make a man of Arnald. He made me promise to watch out for him. If I hadn’t been so absorbed in my own problems, I might have seen what was happening.”

“Nobody saw,” Solomon told him firmly. “Arnald’s demon is a master of deception. I never thought of him as more than a rather annoying overgrown puppy.”

Solomon turned to regard the “puppy” who was tied hand and foot to a two-wheeled cart that was bumping along the road home. Arnald gave him a pathetic smile. Solomon shuddered. Why couldn’t the boy understand the iniquity of his crimes? He seemed to believe that, when they reached Toulouse, his father would take care of everything and, even more unsettling, that Belide would be proud of him for all he had done in her name.

“It’s all right,” he told Solomon sadly. “I don’t blame you. But I thought Aaron would be a better friend. I’m afraid he’ll have to pay for that.”

Solomon moved far back from the cart. He didn’t want to be near anything that evil.

Mayah and Zaida were also in the party. Aaron had insisted that his betrothal to Mayah had not been broken and that the marriage would be celebrated as soon as it was permitted. Solomon had offered to pay for the women to stay in Fitero until they had recovered from their ordeal, but Mayah feared that with her rescuers gone, the slavers would return for them.

“Zaida will come with me for now,” She explained. “She lost all her family in Almeria. There may be some friends left in Córdoba who will take her in, but she needs to send someone to contact them first. And I don’t want to lose her, not yet. She’s all I have. Will you take us both to Toulouse with you?”

“Of course. Do you intend to marry Aaron then?” Solomon asked.

“I can’t, Solomon.” Mayah sighed. “I’ve tried to talk to him, but he won’t understand. First of all, as a Cohen, this marriage is forbidden to him. Even if we told no one that I had been taken by gentiles, we would know. Our children would be
mamzers
under the law. What if all this were discovered years from now? Think of their fate!

“Secondly.” She paused. “I don’t know how to say this to Aaron, but I don’t want to marry him, or anyone. Not now, perhaps never. The thought of sharing my bed with a man is so repugnant I can barely speak of it. Even being touched makes me want to scream.”

She wrapped her arms around her waist as if to forestall any movement Solomon might make toward her.

“I understand that you feel that way now,” he told her. “But you’re young, Mayah. Time will heal you.”

“Perhaps.” She dismissed his platitude. “But there is no reason for Aaron to wait while it does. He owes me nothing. The
ketubah
was never signed. We have no contract. And I don’t love him. I barely know him. What he loves is the image of a woman who doesn’t exist any more. Help me to make him understand that he should find another bride.”

“But what will you do?” Solomon asked.

She shook her head. “I haven’t been able to think of anything yet. I would like so much to resume my studies, but I have no money. My books are gone, stolen, or burnt. I would be a laundress or scrub stone floors at a
bet midrash
somewhere if I could only listen to the teaching and use their library.”

A germ of an idea planted itself in Solomon’s mind.

So, in the end, they all returned to Toulouse. Jehan seemed fascinated by Arnald’s lack of repentance. It was like seeing his own past madness from the outside. He hoped that in the time they had he could bring Arnald to a realization of the enormity of his crimes.

“Where will you go after this?” Solomon asked him one day.

“Not back to Paris, if you were worried.” Jehan laughed. “Perhaps return to Lisbon. The king offered land to those who fought for him. At the time, the plot didn’t seem big enough. Now I’m thinking it’s time for me to plant a fig tree, a few vines and settle. I’m not going to win an heiress and there’s only one I wanted anyway.”

“Good, I wish you well,” Solomon answered, meaning it, to his surprise.

In Pamplona, Yusef joined them on his way back from Tudela, where he had taken Babylonia’s body for burial.

“They wanted to bury her next to her husband.” He grunted. “I convinced her son to find her a better place. She will be honored as a martyr to the Holy Name.”

As they neared Toulouse, Solomon felt a growing dread. He saw it reflected in the faces of Aaron and Yusef. Arnald was a citizen, the son of a respected merchant and a Christian. His accusers were three Jews and two men from the North.

“Do you think he can convince the council that he’s innocent?” Aaron worried.

Jehan shook his head. “No. He’s proud of his crimes. He’ll boast of them. Let him talk long enough and everyone will see he’s mad.”

“I wish we could spare Belide from the scandal this will cause,” Aaron said. “She was trying to help me find Mayah. I know she had nothing to do with Victor’s death. Now she’ll not only have lost her betrothed, but her reputation.”

“Poor Samuel was only a suitor for Belide,” Solomon answered. “I’m sure she will grieve for him, but only as a friend. But I don’t know how we can keep her from being slandered by Arnald’s lies.”

Yusef had been listening. “People will talk, of course,” he said thoughtfully. “But if she were married soon, to someone respectable, the gossip might subside.”

Aaron looked at the man in alarm. “You aren’t thinking of offering for her, are you?”

“And why not?” Yusef said. “I’m a man of property and I have no one to share it with. Bonysach might welcome me as a son-in-law.”

“But you’re older than he is!” Aaron was shocked.

“Not quite,” Yusef answered. “And Belide might like the thought of being a rich widow.”

He smiled at Aaron, seemingly oblivious to the younger man’s reaction.

Solomon had watched the exchange with interest. Aaron was more than upset by the idea of Belide marrying Yusef. He looked like a man watching his home burn to the ground.

This was something that Josta and Bonysach should know about.

For once, Jehan’s prediction was correct. When Arnald was brought before the council of Toulouse, he condemned himself. Even his own father couldn’t defend him.

“This is not my son!” he wept after Arnald had confessed with pride to tricking and then attacking Berengar. “This is a devil in his body. What did you do with my boy, you evil monster!?”

He would have run a sword through Arnald, himself, if his friends hadn’t restrained him.

Arnald’s fate was sealed. Out of sympathy for his family, the body was cut down from the gibbet after only a week of dangling.

Solomon had done his best to avoid Belide during this time. Mayah and Zaida had been given shelter at a home near the synagogue. While waiting for the messenger to return with word from her relatives, Zaida spent her days learning more about the people of Toulouse.

“It’s interesting,” she told Mayah. “I always heard that the
Farangi
were beasts who never washed and ate their food like pigs.”

“Yes, I did too,” Mayah said. “It is true that pigs are a large part of their diet.”

“And they don’t wash as often as we do,” Zaida agreed. “But really, they don’t seem that much different from us otherwise.”

“Yes, it’s a shame they’re Christian.” Mayah sighed. “If not for that, they’d be quite nice.”

Finally Solomon could put it off no longer. He went to visit Belide. To his surprise, Aaron was just leaving as he arrived.

“How are your wedding plans going?” he asked.

Aaron mumbled something he couldn’t catch and hurried off. Solomon went on into the courtyard.

“Belide?” he said softly.

She was sitting on a bench, her back to him. Her head and shoulders were bowed in an attitude of sorrow. When she heard his voice, she straightened at once and turned to him with a smile.

“I was wondering if you were angry with me,” she started.

“Of course not!” he said. “I never thought of it. I didn’t want to intrude on your grief.”

She sighed. “Arnald always said he loved me, but I thought it was one of his jokes. After all, he had that nobleman’s wife. I never guessed that there was such evil inside him. To have killed poor Victor! They had been friends since they were children.”

“Whatever he did, it’s not your fault,” Solomon said.

“I know, everyone tells me that,” she answered. “He fooled us all. But I’ll always wonder if there was something I missed that could have prevented all of this. I should never have agreed to go with him to meet Brother Victor.”

“To be honest, I don’t know why you did,” Solomon said. “Although I’m beginning to guess.”

Belide looked away from him. He could see the blush rise from her neck to her cheeks.

“Yes, that was stupid,” she whispered. “I was being valiant, I thought, helping Aaron to rescue his beloved.”

“Very self-sacrificing of you,” Solomon commented.

Belide winced. “Yes, and now it turns out that she refuses to marry him. How could she? The poor man is heart-broken. He’s just been telling me all about it.”

“Has he?” Solomon gave a smile of satisfaction. “Then you must understand how she feels.”

“I suppose so,” Belide said wistfully. “But if he had done that for me…”

“The next time he visits,” Solomon suggested, “why don’t you tell him that?”

He returned to the synagogue to see his uncle. He wasn’t surprised to find Mayah with him, the two of them reading together. Hubert had a blanket over his shoulders and warm slippers on his feet. Solomon felt sure that this was Mayah’s doing. She had cared for her father in much the same way. He decided not to interrupt them but his shadow fell across the page and they looked up.

Mayah gave him a rapturous smile. “Solomon, Rav Chaim is going to take me back to Lunel with him!”

Hubert nodded. “I owe it to my old friend Yishmael to see that his daughter is taken care of. And,” he added with a smile, “she can teach me the new mathematics and read to me when my eyes grow too tired.”

“I’m happy for both of you,” Solomon said. “And I know Catherine will be comforted to know that someone is there to care for her father, since she can’t be.”

“That reminds me,” Mayah said. “Someone was looking for you. He came to the house of study while Rav Chaim was napping.”

“What did he look like?” Solomon asked.

“A tall man, very, very pale,” Mayah started.

“Edgar!” both men said together. “Where did he go?” Solomon added.

“He said you’d find him at the best tavern in town,” she answered, puzzled. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you at once. Will he wait?”

“Of course.” Hubert stood up and shooed Solomon out. “Hurry! Bring him back with you. I want to hear all the news!”

Solomon spotted him at once, sitting at a table outside under the awning.

“Edgar!” he shouted. “What are you doing here? Is Catherine all right?”

The man looked up, revealing a pale face with a sunburnt nose.

“About time you got here!” he said. “Come, sit down, have some cool wine and tell me all that has happened. And yes, Catherine is fine, back in Paris and very great with child. She’s at the point where looking at me just reminds her of how she got that way so she sent me back to get you and the goods from Almeria but I’m under orders to be home by St. John’s Eve. She insists that’s when the child will be born. So, what have you been doing? How was the journey to Spain?”

“Order another pitcher, Edgar.” Solomon sat down. “This will take awhile.”

Solomon spent the afternoon telling Edgar all that had happened. There was only one thing that Edgar found impossible to believe.

“Jehan.” Edgar shook his head. “
He
was the sane one?”

“Next to Arnald and Babylonia, he was amazingly reliable,” Solomon said. “I might not have survived without him.”

“It must have been hell,” Edgar said. “I should have been with you. I might have been able to intercede for you with Brother James.”

“Don’t harrow yourself up about it,” Solomon said. “There was never a time between us where intercession would have done any good.”

“I’m sorry,” Edgar said. “I know what it is to have a father you can never like.”

Solomon had forgotten. Now he remembered Edgar’s father. He put a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“Thank you,” he said. “It’s good not to be told that I should try to forgive.”

Edgar and Solomon set out the next week to finish the journey they had started months before.

“Stop here on your way back,” Bonysach told them. “We may have a betrothal to announce.”

He gestured toward the garden, where Aaron and Belide were in deep discussion. “My daughter marrying a Cohen! Imagine!”

A few nights later they stopped at Cabo-la-Puente.

“You know a good inn here, don’t you?” Edgar asked.

“I do,” Solomon said. “Just over there.”

Just then a small form came out the door and saw him. Her mouth open in a wide grin, she came running across the grass with a lopsided, floppy gait.

“What in the world is that?” Edgar asked.

Solomon stretched out his arms, overjoyed that she recognized him. She held up her hands for him to lift her. He wiped her nose, kissed her, and smoothed her hair. Then he held her out for his friend to admire.