The Outcast Dove: A Catherine LeVendeur Mystery (8 page)

“I only know what Aaron said,” Belide insisted. “Brother Victor was going on a mission to Spain to ransom Christian knights from the Ishmaelites. Arnald told him about this woman and he said he would help.”

“But what have you to do with it?” Solomon was completely baffled.

“Well.” The blush started again. “Brother Victor could only get away after the other monks had gone to sleep. Arnald was worried about the watch stopping him on the way to the meeting.”

“He’s had trouble with the watch?” Solomon asked.

“A couple of times,” she admitted. “They caught him taking stones out of the Saracen wall to block the creek that goes past the Senoris tower. But Raimon Senoris deserved to be flooded! He’s an arrogant pig! And there was something about climbing up the tower of the Roaix and pissing off the top last Saint Martin’s day. His aim was very good.”

“I see.” Solomon coughed explosively. “Sorry. So Arnald doesn’t get on with the nobles in town. No wonder he didn’t want to be caught out alone. You came along to protect him?”

“Well,” she said earnestly. “If a watchman came by, he could say he was just making sure I got home safely, you see.”

“Of course.” Solomon stared at her, trying to remember if he had been this foolish at seventeen. A quick rummage through his memory told him he had been much worse.

“I wanted to help,” she insisted. “It was my idea. Arnald’s father had told him that if he got into any more trouble, he wouldn’t buy the
casal
Arnald wants next to the one Aaron’s sister owns. He’s going to start growing his own vines and sell wine to the monks. But he can only do it if his father permits him to use the money.”

This was getting too complicated for Solomon.

“So,” he interrupted, “you and Arnald were both acting in a spirit of pure goodness and charity. Therefore, you feel your punishment is totally undeserved.”

“That’s right.” Belide smiled at him. “Can’t you just tell my parents that, without going into the details?”

Solomon stood, glad of the chance to stretch. He looked down at Belide.

“I’ll tell them that you have done nothing that will shame your family,” he told her. “But my recommendation will be that you not be allowed out alone until you are either well past thirty or safely wed.”

Ignoring her indignant protests, Solomon went to reassure Bonysach and Josta. Then he set out to find Arnald. He might not be allowed to speak with the boy, but he had to try. If his help was being asked for this bizarre quest, he needed to know more than Belide could tell him.

“You sent for me, Father?” Brother James stood at the doorway to the chapter of Saint Pierre des Cuisines. Prior Rodger beckoned him to enter.

“Sit down, please,” he said. “I know you haven’t slept well the past few nights. You must be tired. Prior Stephen and I are concerned that this tragedy will affect your ability to complete this mission. Perhaps we should consider letting you return to Moissac and finding someone in Spain to interpret for us.”

James had sat as requested but the prior’s words caused him to leap up again.

“No! You mustn’t replace me!” he begged. “I’m perfectly able to do this. It’s not only my duty to those poor captives, but also what I owe Brother Victor’s memory. If I don’t go, I will have failed him.”

“Calm yourself, my brother,” Rodger said. “You know that Victor would not want you to ruin your health out of a sense of obligation to him. We were concerned about how well you could endure the journey even before this sad event. Forgive me, but you are not a young man, you know.”

James tried to stop the shaking in his hands. Of course he knew. By his reckoning, he was sixty-two this summer. But he wasn’t infirm or feeble. Perhaps he was more tired after a day in the saddle than he had been in his youth. That was all. He told the prior as much.

Rodger looked at the man before him. James was of middle height, lean from fasting and work. The fringe of his tonsure had more black than gray in it. His eyes were alert and he could still read a page without squinting. Rodger suspected that James was more able to stand a journey than he, at least physically.

“Very well,” he conceded. “There’s no doubt that your skills will be needed. Prior Stephen and I need to nominate another monk to accompany you. Is there anyone you would prefer?”

James exhaled in relief. He could not have endured the shame of being left behind. As for someone to take Brother Victor’s place…

“I can think of no one,” he said. “I shall abide by your wisdom.”

“Good. You may leave then. May our Lord bless you.” Prior Rodger dismissed him.

James stayed where he was.

“Yes?” Rodger asked.

“Have you heard anything?” James blurted. “About the man who killed Victor? What is being done to capture him?”

“The bailiff of Saint Pierre has met with the count’s guards and the Good Men of Toulouse,” Rodger told him. “As I understand it, they are at a loss. None of the inns or shelters for pilgrims reported anyone returning after hours that night. Nor was anyone missing the next morning that they know of. All strangers in town have been accounted for.”

“What about the man found with him?” James asked.

“He was vouched for by both one of the citizens of the town and the leader of the synagogue,” Rodger said. “Apparently quite a harmless old scholar. The watchman didn’t think him capable of striking a blow hard enough to break a man’s skull.”

“He was a Jew?” James jaw tightened. “Why did no one tell me this?”

Rodger knew he had to tread carefully here.

“There was no need to mention it,” he said lightly. “All agreed that he had nothing to do with the incident.”

“Then why was he out so late?” James countered.

“A desire to walk out a philosophical quandary,” Rodger said. “I understand that it’s not an unusual habit among scholars.”

James was forced to admit that it was the case. He had often done the same thing, himself, in the days when he had wrestled with the inconsistencies of the Law. But a plausible excuse was still just that, nothing more.

“He may have had a partner to strike the blow,” James continued. “Perhaps his apparent weakness was intended to lure Victor to the spot where his murderer waited. Have his goods been searched for the missing gold?”

Rodger paused. He didn’t know. “I’ll ask the bailiff to find out,” he said.

James took a step forward.

“Why don’t you let me question him?” he asked. “I know these people. I know their tricks. I’d soon find out if he was lying.”

The prior was at a loss as to how to answer. He remembered the incident a few years before, when James had tried to convict a Jew of murdering one of their monks. That had ended in embarrassment for the abbey and a scandal regarding the dead man’s past. And yet, James’s questions were valid.

The bell over their head began to toll, causing both men to start.

“None already!” Prior Rodger exclaimed. “We must be on our way to the chapel.”

“But the Jew,” James said. “Will you let me speak with him?”

“I must consult with Prior Stephen and the bailiff,” Rodger said. “This isn’t our town. We must abide by their customs. I shall give you the decision as soon as possible.”

With that, James had to be content.

Solomon found Arnald in the marketplace sitting glumly in front of an assortment of salt cones. He brightened when he saw Solomon.

“How is Belide?” he asked.

“Languishing in her cell,” Solomon answered. “But otherwise unharmed. Whatever possessed you to bring her into this insane rescue plot of yours?”

“Hush!” Arnald looked around to see if anyone was listening. “What did she tell you? Do her parents know?”

“Everything and not yet,” Solomon answered. “Although why they shouldn’t is inexplicable to me. As is your part in it.”

“Aaron is my best friend,” Arnald said simply. “He would have gone alone to Spain and stormed the place where this woman is being held. I persuaded him that he’d only be killed. Victor is…was…another friend. Both Aaron and I knew him before he decided to turn religious. I thought he might have a better plan.”

“And did he?” Solomon could feel himself being pulled in but his curiosity was too strong to resist.

“He thought we should try to buy her back,” Arnald said. His disappointment was obvious.

Solomon relaxed. “A much more sensible idea. So that’s why Aaron is in Bordeaux selling horses so early in the year? I thought it was for his wedding to Mayah. Why is a man about to be wed concerning himself with the fate of another woman?”

Arnald began to fuss with the cones, rearranging them on their trays.

“I think she may be a relative,” he told Solomon, his eyes on his work. “He didn’t tell you?”

“No,” Solomon snapped.

He could tell that Arnald wasn’t giving him the whole truth but couldn’t think of the right question to make him spill it.

“I’m surprised that your father has allowed you out,” he said instead.

“He has other ways of keeping me on a short tether,” Arnald answered, his shoulders drooping.

“Ah, yes, your vineyard,” Solomon said. “Belide told me. Why don’t you earn the money for it, yourself?”

“I have,” Arnald said. “But until I’m twenty-five, my father has the last word on what I do with it. Isn’t that the custom where you come from?”

“Not that I know of,” Solomon answered. “So you risked your future when you agreed to help Aaron.”

“I told you,” Arnald said. “He would do the same for me.”

“But why didn’t Aaron go to the community?” The secrecy of it was what puzzled Solomon. “You know we ransom our own.”

“Aaron said that he couldn’t,” Arnald answered.

Solomon knew that he would get no more from him. He wished Aaron in the darkest level of
sheol
for setting this nonsense in motion, but not until he had returned to explain everything.

“Solomon!” Arnald called as he turned to go. “Will you take a message to Belide for me? Tell her I’m proud of her and that I’m sorry. Please?”

“Very well,” Solomon said. “But I won’t see her until tomorrow. I’m going to have a word with my uncle and then spend a peaceful evening with my friend, Gavi.”

“Berengar, I want you to meet the third member of our party, Guy of Anjou.” Jehan had found the new man a place at the inn where they were staying. “He says he can fight and I’ve just tested his skill with a bow. All he needs is a horse. Will your monks provide one?”

Berengar looked Guy up and down. If he was intimidated by being in the company of two such battle-hardened men, he didn’t show it.

“If they don’t, I’ll find him one, myself,” he promised. “I’ve not had such luck as you. All the knights of the town have either left with Count Alphonse for the Holy Land or they are preparing to join the army of Count Ramón and lay siege to Tortosa.”

“No one will help in freeing their brothers in arms?” Guy asked. “Have they no honor?”

“They tell me we’re on a fool’s errand,” Berengar said. “They would rather liberate them through battle than with money.”

Jehan snorted. “They try that and the first missiles sent over the city walls will be the heads of the hostages. I know.”

Guy nodded agreement. “I saw much the same in Normandy, and we were fighting other Christians. Who knows what Saracens will do to their prisoners?”

“Don’t worry,” Jehan told the boy. “We’ll be able to find more men to act as guards before we cross into Spain. Not everyone wants to be at the mercy of some nobleman who doesn’t want to fight if it’s wet out.”

“That’s right,” Guy said. “And, if it’s anything like the north, there’s many a man who won’t follow this Ramon because of something his father did to their grandmother.”

Berengar grinned. “That’s true enough.”

“What about the death of Brother Victor?” Jehan asked. “Will that change matters? I’ve not heard that anyone has been arrested for the crime.”

“The word is that it was some drunken pilgrim,” Berengar said. “There isn’t much chance of finding him. I spoke with Prior Rodger this morning after Mass and he said we owed it to Brother Victor’s memory to complete his task.”

“I’m sure his soul will guide us.” Jehan crossed himself, as did the other two.

“He was a saintly man,” Berengar said. “I never met anyone so willing to believe the best of people.”

“That’s a good way to get oneself killed,” Guy remarked. “I’m glad I’m a suspicious bastard.”

“Amen,” Jehan said.

“Come in, Solomon.” Gavi was delighted to see him. “We were beginning to wonder if you had found a more pleasant place to stay.”

“Thank you, Gavi.” Solomon entered the house. “A blessing upon you for taking me in again. Your home is a haven to me in an insane world.”

“It sounds as though you need beer and a nice roast chicken.” Nazara laughed.

“Chicken this early in the year?” Solomon asked. “I hope you didn’t kill a hen just for me.”

“She stopped laying over the winter,” Gavi explained. “We gave her time to make up her mind to start again but when she didn’t, well, we were going to wait for Pesach but…”