It was her father, coming up the stairs to the second level. Zeeskeit was a term of endearment, like the Christians would use sweetling or dearest. Her father lavished all manner of attention on her, a kind and generous man who had been near his fifth decade when she was born. Haim ben Thad had married late in life to a woman half his age, and he adored his family. Liora turned to see him at the top of the stairs, an earthenware bowl with a lid on it in his hands.
“Your mother has brought you something for the nooning meal,” he said. “You did not go home to eat, so she has brought it here.”
Liora hadn’t even realized the time. There was an hourglass on the other table and she looked at it, seeing that it was empty. She hadn’t flipped it over as she usually did.
She set down her quill.
“I suppose I did not realize what time it was,” she said as her father pushed aside the ledger to put the bowl on the table in front of her. “Thank you, Papa. Will you not sit with me while I eat?”
Haim was a big, round man with a bushy beard and hair that was mostly white. In his younger years, it had been black, like his daughter’s hair color, and his eyes were the same color as hers. Father and daughter resembled each other quite a bit.
He sat down in the nearest chair.
“What is keeping you so busy today that you forget to eat?” he asked. “You have been very busy up here.”
Liora smiled weakly as she took the lid off the bowl to reveal chicken soup with dumplings. She picked up the wooden spoon her father had brought along. “Many people owe you money this month, Papa,” she said, spooning up one of the hot dumplings. “You sell a great deal, but you do not collect your money right away. That means we must send your guards out to collect.”
That was usually how Haim, and other jewelers and bankers, collected their money if the customer didn’t come to them. They would send out their paid guards, like henchmen, to collect. Sane men would not refuse to pay an armed guard. But Haim waved a hand at her.
“They will pay,” he said. “They always do. In fact, the belt for the king is finished and I will take it over to Westminster later today. He will pay me well.”
Westminster reminded Liora of Peter. Palaces like Westminster were full of English knights and lords, and according to Peter, his father was in the middle of England’s politics these days. She sipped her hot soup.
“May I come with you?” she asked, trying to sound casual about it. “To Westminster, I mean. It has been a long time since I have accompanied you on a delivery.”
Haim lifted his shoulders. “I do not know,” he said. “Let me think on it.”
“But why can’t I go?”
“Because that world is no place for you. Women with painted faces and men with big swords.”
He said it so dramatically that she grinned. “You’ve known knights and lords in your time, haven’t you?” she asked casually. “Men who serve the king, I mean. In fact, we seem to have a few who owe you money.”
Haim cocked his head to get a look at her ledger. “Who owes me?”
Liora pointed to a line on the page. “Matthew Fitzherbert is one.”
Haim nodded, remembering that particular debt. “He will pay,” he said. “He bought a necklace for his wife for her day of birth.”
“Last year, Papa.”
“He will bring me the money when he can.”
Liora looked at him. “With all of the turmoil with the king and the rebelling barons, do you really think he will remember?” she said. “There is much unrest, Papa. Remember all of the knights and lords that came through London two days ago?”
Haim nodded. “I saw them,” he said. “They will not bother us. They are only interested in bothering each other.”
“Do you know some of them?” she asked, spooning more soup in her mouth. “Some of the rebel warlords, I mean. You have lived through three kings, yet you never speak on some of the things that England has suffered through. Like the men who stand against the king these days.”
Haim yawned. It was growing close to the time when he would nap in the afternoon. “Because it does not matter to me,” he said. “In all of the wars the Christians have waged upon each other, it has never affected my business. They always seem to find money for their finery.”
“Do you know any of the great warlords?”
“Like who?”
She shrugged. “I have heard the name de Lohr,” she said. “He’s an earl.”
Haim held up a finger. “He didn’t use to be,” he said. “I know who he is. I met him once, a long time ago, when he was a knight for King Richard. He wasn’t an earl then.”
Liora ate her soup, listening to her father speak on a subject she was very interested in. “What do you know about him now?”
“I hear things,” he said, shrugging. “He’s a good man, a fair man, men say. But he does not buy jewelry from me, so what do I care?”
Liora grinned. “Papa, have you ever known any of those knights to take a Jewish bride?”
Haim scratched his beard thoughtfully. “Why? Do you want such a man?”
She snorted, caught off guard by the question. “Don’t be silly,” she said. “I was just wondering. Do they all marry Christian women?”
“All of them,” he said. “They are not part of our world and we are not part of theirs, which is a good thing. It keeps us out of their wars. Although I do seem to remember Abel ben Alon, who was a friend of your grandfather, with a sister who married a knight for King Henry.”
“She did?” Liora tried not to sound too hopeful or too curious. “Did he become part of the faith?”
Haim shook his head. “I think she became a Christian,” he said. “It upset her mother so much that the woman died of a broken heart. I seem to remember hearing that they moved to Oxford where people did not know them so they would not know she was Jewish. One cannot run from one’s religion. It is who you are.”
“But it has happened.”
“It has,” he said. “It used to be forbidden, meaning they would put you to death for it, but they do not do that any longer, not since the time of Henry. But you may as well be dead if you deny who you are to marry a Christian.”
Liora didn’t ask any further questions because she didn’t want her father to become suspicious. But the fact that he knew of someone who had married a Christian was encouraging to her. Sort of. But the fact that they had to move away so no one would know that the bride used to be Jewish was concerning. She’d told Peter she would speak with a rabbi about a marriage to a Christian and she would. At least now she had an example to refer to when discussing the subject.
“Well,” she said after a moment. “I think it is silly that we cannot marry whom we want to marry, regardless of faith. God made all religions, did he not? They all worship the same god, so I do not understand why a Jew cannot marry a Christian freely.”
Haim yawned again. “Because dogs do not marry cats,” he said. “Fish do not marry birds. We are all different, that’s why. Now, finish your soup so you can go home and help your mother. I have invited Gideon to sup with us.”
Gideon was the man who wanted to marry her, the owner of the livery over by the Great Synagogue. Liora rolled her eyes.
“I will not sup with him,” she said. “Papa, you know how I feel about him. Why would you invite him to eat with us?”
Haim cast her a long look. “I think I should have him sup with us if you are asking about marriage,” he said. “That means you are interested in marriage, does it not? He is a good man, zeeskeit. He would make a good husband for you and provide well.”
Frustrated, she pushed aside her half-finished soup. “He is a good man, but I do not love him,” she said, returning to her ledger. “I do not want to marry him and I do not want to have children with him.”
“Who, then?”
She picked up her quill. “I do not know,” she said. “But not him. Please, Papa… do not make me eat with him.”
“I have already invi
ted him.”
“Then I will be ill tonight when he comes.”
“I will let you go with me to Westminster if you sup with him.”
She looked at him, frowning, but he only grinned at her. He was a sly fox, that one. Seeing that she’d been backed into a corner, Liora nodded begrudgingly.
“Very well,” she said. “When are we going?”
“Soon,” Haim said, standing up. “Within the hour. Will you be ready?”
Liora nodded eagerly. “I will,” she said. “Let me go home and change my clothing and I will return shortly.”
“Everything covered, zeeskeit,” he said, motioning to her chest, shoulders, and head. “Make sure everything is covered.”
“I will.”
Haim headed back downstairs as Liora excitedly finished up her last three accounts. She carefully sanded the ledger to dry the ink, blowing it off and examining her figures. Satisfied, she closed the ledger and set the abacus aside. Standing up, she put everything on the table into neat piles by the window. As she leaned in to close the shutters, she noticed a bit of a commotion down below as two knights neared her father’s shop astride their enormous warhorses. She recognized one of the horses, having seen it hiding in her kitchen yard two nights before.
Liora’s heart leapt into her throat as she realized Peter had arrived.
*
It was another fine September morning in a week that had been full of them as Peter headed into London, his destination being the Great Synagogue.
But he wasn’t alone.
Alexander thought he was being clever by following him into London, but Peter knew he was behind him. Alexander was an excellent spy, an exceptional assassin, and was proficient at following someone without being seen, so Peter could only assume Alexander wanted Peter to know he was there.
Peter finally pulled his horse to a halt and waited for Alexander to catch up with him.
It was a chilly morning and Alexander was wrapped in a cloak as he came up behind Peter, looking at the man with a hint of a smile on his face.
“Well?” Alexander asked. “Where are we off to this morning?”
Peter rolled his eyes and spurred his horse forward. “Wherever it is, I do not need an escort.”
“I beg to differ,” Alexander said. “If you are heading into London, I suspect I know where you are going, so you may as well confess.”
“Where do you think I am going?”
“To see the jeweler’s daughter.”
Peter snorted. “That shows how much you know,” he said. “I was not going to see her.”
“You weren’t?”
“Nay.”
“Then where are you going?”
Peter sighed heavily. “Being married to my sister does not give you the right to interrogate me.”
“That is where you would be wrong,” Alexander said. “It gives me every right in the world. I know a thousand techniques to get information out of a man, so if you refuse to tell me, I may have to use one of those techniques on you.”
That was very true. In the spy business, Alexander had learned some harrowing techniques over the years. Even Peter knew that. But he started laughing.
“I’ll scream,” he said. “I’ll scream like a woman and then I’ll tell my mother. You may survive my wrath, but you will not survive hers.”
Alexander fought off a grin. “Just tell me where we are going,” he said. “I will not leave your side, so you may as well tell me. I will find out sooner or later.”
Peter looked over his shoulder at the man before finally shaking his head. “We are going to the Great Synagogue,” he said. “Are you satisfied now?”
Alexander’s brow furrowed. “Nay,” he said. “I am more confused than ever. Why are we going there?”
“Because I wish to speak with a rabbi.”
“What about?”
“About a Christian knight courting the jeweler’s daughter.”
Alexander lost some of his humor then. “I see,” he said. “And what if you discover it cannot be done?”
“I will not accept it.”
Alexander shook his head with regret. “And that is why you need an escort.”
Peter didn’t try and chase him away. In fact, he was rather comforted to have levelheaded Alexander with him. The truth was that he’d lain awake all night, tossing and turning, frustrated that he couldn’t court a woman he was so attracted to. There was so much about this situation that was disappointing.
So incredibly disappointing.
“It’s just not fair,” he muttered as the horses clip-clopped along the well-traveled road. “There are so many things in life that will keep a man and woman apart – social standing, wealth, family honor – but religion was something that never occurred to me.”
Alexander’s gaze was sweeping the road for any threats, a natural instinct for a knight. “I do not know anyone who has had an easy time of marrying his wife.”
“For example?”
He looked at Peter. “You know a few,” he said. “Maxton’s wife was a postulate for the church, which was not an easy road for Maxton. You remember that whole mess, Peter. Kress de Rhydian and Achilles de Dere also had troubled paths – Kress married a woman he was escorting to wed another man and Achilles married a Blackchurch-trained knight. You know that his wife used to be an Executioner Knight.”
Peter knew all of that. Kress and Achilles were original Executioner Knights, men with great reputations but men who, at this point, were not in London but stationed at their own garrisons and away from the bedlam that was London these days. He looked at Alexander.
“And you?”
“And I married Christopher de Lohr’s eldest daughter in spite of the fact that I was twice her age.”
“And a killer.”
“And many things. Do you think your father made it easy for me?”
Peter cracked a smile. “I know for a fact that he did not.”
“Exactly,” Alexander said, returning his attention to the road. “Not that I expected him to welcome me with open arms. I’ve never been welcomed with open arms anywhere I’ve ever been, except among my own friends, of course. So, you having your eye on a Jewish bride is nothing unusual when it comes to the Executioner Knights but, in this case, you may run into more opposition than usual.”
Peter thought on that, realizing that almost every man he knew had a difficult time when it came to the courtship of the women they eventually married. In that realization, he didn’t feel so alone. But for him, it was more than not feeling alone in a sea of comrades who’d had to fight for the women they love.
For him, there was also the matter of bloodlines.
That alone, at times, had made him feel as if he did not belong.
“I know I am the eldest de Lohr son and that has been the great attraction for so many of these fathers wanting a husband for their daughters,” he said. “But when they find out I am my father’s bastard and will not inherit the title, most of them have ceased their pursuit. Without the title, I have little attraction.”
Alexander knew that. “Your father has never made you feel any differently than the rest of his children, though. I see every day how he treats you. He loves you very much.”
Peter agreed. “My father treats me as if I am his eldest,” he said. “I know he is proud of me. More importantly, so is the woman I call my mother. Dustin has always treated me as if I were her flesh and blood and I love her dearly for it.”
“Do you remember your birth mother?”
“I do,” Peter said. “I was nine when she was killed in an accident, so I remember her well. She was a gentle woman, pretty and kind.”
“Do you miss her?”
“Sometimes,” he said. “I wish she could have seen the man I grew into and what I have achieved. Do you want to know something? Even though I have never been treated any differently by my father and Dustin, I have nonetheless felt different. I know I am different. It is all of my own doing, but I cannot
help the feeling. Does that sound foolish?”
Alexander shook his head. “It does not,” he said. “My own family ties are quite complex, so I understand that feeling very well. My father, Phillip, and I were not close. In hindsight, that was all my fault. Phillip and I never did see eye to eye, so I was raised by my grandfather, who also raised my cousin, Estienne, whom I considered my elder brother. For years, I called my grandfather my father, because he was. But my true father, Phillip, raised my two younger brothers. It was like having two fathers and two families – my grandfather and my own father. And I felt misplaced with both of them.”
Peter looked at him. “I’ve heard you mention Estienne before,” he said. “You did not get on with him.”
Alexander shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “He was older than me and he never let me forget it. Estienne was an imperious, arrogant arse who essentially stole my grandfather’s properties when he died. In fact, I no longer consider him my brother. I haven’t for years.”
“What did your father say about his actions? Was he not your grandfather’s heir?”
“He was, but he had his own lands that had belonged to my mother,” he said. “That is one of the things we did not see eye to eye on – I wanted him to fight for Broxburn Castle, which was his right. Upon his death, it would have belonged to me, but my father was a man of great peace. He didn’t believe in aggression. When I became a knight and was quite proficient in battle, that further drove a wedge between us. He did not understand me and I did not understand him.”
“What happened to Estienne?”
“He chose to remain in England when I went to The Levant with my younger brothers, who were killed almost immediately after arriving,” Alexander said. “I felt so guilty about that, as if it were my failure, that I did not see my father for many years. By the time I returned home, he had died. I’m sure Christin told you about that.”
Peter nodded. “She did,” he said. “She said he remarried and, thinking you had been killed in The Levant, named his son with his new wife after you.”
Alexander nodded. “He did,” he said. “So, as you believe your own past and parentage to be complex, it is nothing compared to mine. You are your father’s bastard, Peter – what does it matter? You are not the first bastard and you will not be the last. Chris has never treated you differently, you are deeply loved, and he has given you a title and now Ludlow Castle. You have more than a man could ever want, so stop feeling sorry for yourself. Be grateful.”
The Splendid Hour: The Executioner Knights Book 7 Page 12
