“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…”
“I’m honored,” Solomon told him.
He was careful to eat enough to seem appreciative but still leave some for Gavi and his wife for the next day and the next. It made him angry to see how Gavi was ostracized by the rest of the Jewish community for being a tanner and then by the other tanners and leatherworkers for being a Jew. No one could say a word against him as a man. He did his work well, paid his tithes and taxes, was always ready to help. But when the tables were laid for Passover and friends invited, Gavi was never on the list.
“Did Yusef find you?” Gavi broke into his thoughts.
“Yusef? No. Did he say what he wanted?”
“No, only that it was important.” Gavi tried to refill Solomon’s bowl.
“Everything is important to Yusef,” Solomon said. “No more, thank you. I’ve eaten enough to last a week. Yusef probably wants me to join him at prayers. He won’t get me that way. They have more than enough for a minyan in Toulouse.”
But he was fated to have his evening interrupted anyway. They had scarcely finished the meal when someone knocked timidly at the door. Gavi went to open it and returned with Josta, looking flustered.
“A blessing on the house,” she greeted them. “I beg your pardon for intruding. Solomon, I searched Belide’s room this afternoon and found something. I don’t know what to do. I haven’t even told Bonysach.”
Solomon sighed. Gavi and Nazara withdrew without any fuss to let them talk privately. Gavi worried that he should have offered his guest something to drink, but Josta was clearly too agitated for social niceties.
When they were alone, Josta took something from the purse at her belt. She held it out to Solomon.
“I’m a coward,” she told him. “I’m afraid to ask my own daughter how she came by these.”
In her hand was a small bag. Solomon took it, surprised at its weight. He opened it and gold coins spilled out. The slanting rays of the sunset fell on them like a breath that made the metal glow with life.
“Saracen gold,” Josta said dully. “No one has that much gold unless they’ve done something unspeakable.”
Solomon was forced to agree.
Six
The same evening, on the path between the home of Gavi, the tanner, and Bonysach, the merchant.
“Ruben came to the synagogue, shouting: “In this holy community there is a gentile girl, who works in Simon’s house who came to my home last night to aggravate and insult me! And you know that she does this all the time to all of you!” And the entire community responded: “It is just as you have said; she has been wicked to us as well!” One said, “She beat me with a stick,” and one said, “She called my wife a whore,” and one said, “She called me a cuckold!”
—Sefer HaKolbo
It had taken Solomon almost the entire walk back to her home to calm Josta and convince her to let him handle the matter of the gold.
“She’s always been a good girl,” Josta wept. “Naughty at times, but never devious, never defiant. I don’t understand.”
“I think I do.” Solomon stooped and wet his sleeve in the rivulet running alongside the path going past the Daurade. He used it to wipe Josta’s face.
“There,” he said. “That’s better. You don’t want the neighbors to see you like this.”
The mere thought made Josta straighten her back and dry her eyes.
“They would love to have a chance to pity me!” she muttered. “As
if it were my fault their husbands are such…well, never mind. You say you know how Belide came by this?”
She opened the hand containing the bag of coins.
Solomon covered it with his.
“Not here,” he said. “I have a guess. Can you get these back where you found them without her knowing?”
“I am her mother!” Josta said.
Solomon took that for a yes. “Then please do and don’t tax her about it for now. I think it would be better if you let her tell you, herself. She will. I promise.”
Josta looked at the bag. The worn cotton and frayed silk tie gave no indication of the wealth inside. She tucked it into her sleeve and tied it tightly.
“Very well,” she said. “No one but you and I will know of this until Belide comes to her senses. But it had better be soon! Now, since you have already eaten, I won’t ask you to come in.”
She didn’t even let him go with her to the gate but left him at the corner.
“Leila tov, Solomon.” She smiled an apology. “Thank you for being our friend.”
The spring evening was soft and full of music, from the chanting of the monks countered by the songs from the tavern, to the performance of the jongleurs in the street hoping for a few more pennies to feed themselves that night. Solomon stood for a while listening to a tale of love spurned and love lost and wondered why anyone would pay to be so disheartened. He threw the singers a coin out of pity and went back to Gavi’s to sleep alone.
Tomorrow he would deal with Belide.
Arriving early the next morning, Bonysach found the square next to Saint Pierre des Cuisines already crowded with citizens. The sun had barely risen but the council and Good Men of Toulouse wanted to get this business done early so that they could get on with their own work.
A temporary platform had been set up at one side of the square for the town leaders to stand and address the crowd. At the moment, only Peire Caraborda and Stephan de Pertici were there. Adalbert of Villeneuve, who lived in the suburb just outside the eastern wall of the Bourg, arrived next. The rest of the citizens weren’t ready to wait for the last two. From a neighboring yard a goat bleated painfully, waiting to be milked. A fugitive chicken flapped its way among people’s legs, pecking at them in panic as it sought an escape.
At the edge of the square Bonysach found one of the Good Men from the year before, Mancip Mauranni. Both his name and face confirmed Mancip’s Saracen father. The father had come to Toulouse in the wake of some Berber conflict and converted to marry a well-dowered woman of the town. Mancip had become a powerful landowner who had also married well.
Bonysach never felt comfortable around Mancip. The man was always friendly toward him but underneath the manner, Bonysach felt a reproach. If Mancip’s father could become a Christian, then anyone could, and should. It was a constant reminder to Bonysach that he would never be completely accepted in the town of his birth, no matter how much he seemed to be a part of it.
“Bonysach!” Mancip grinned. “It seems our taxes are about to be raised. Do you agree that we need to hire more watchmen? Why doesn’t the count’s vicar take on the expense? After all, this man was killed in the Cité, not the Bourg.”
“Is Lord Poncius here?” Bonysach looked around for the vicar.
“I haven’t seen him, yet, but he’ll show up,” Mancip answered. “He won’t dare let them make a new regulation without at least pretending to give his approval.”
Mancip moved on, greeting one of the tower lords with the same hearty familiarity that he had shown Bonysach.
With a sigh, Bonysach turned to scan the crowd for other friends. Across the square, he spotted Arnald’s father, Vidian. He wasn’t sure that he wanted to talk with him at the moment, but Vidian saw him and beckoned him over.
“Look, I’m sorry about my son,” Vidian began when they were close enough to speak without being overheard. “He acted stupidly but he swears he meant no dishonor to your daughter.”
“I believe you.” Bonysach nodded wearily. “Belide is being punished for her part in whatever it was. She won’t be seen out alone for many months.”
“If we decide to increase the watch, Arnald may not dare leave the house, either.” Vidian sighed. “That boy has been a trial to me ever since he sprouted his first whisker. When I think of how proud I was the day he was born!”
He paused, looking at something over Bonysach’s shoulder. “Say, what are your twins doing here?”
Bonysach turned around.
“Papa! Papa!” Muppim and Huppim shrieked in unison as they darted around people and pushcarts to reach him. “You have to come home right now!”
Huppim reached him first. “Babylonia came to our kitchen and started spitting in the dishes!” He was hopping from one foot to the other in his eagerness to tell. “She was calling us awful names!”
“Mama tried to stop her but Babylonia hit her with the milk pitcher!” Muppim, the more timid, was near tears.
“What!” Bonysach grabbed Muppim’s hand and started back through the crowd. “Huppim, has anyone sent for Yusef? If not, you go tell him. This has gone too far! Muppim, is Mama badly hurt? Where were the servants?”
“They hadn’t come yet.” Muppim sniffed. “Not when we left. Belide came running in to save Mama and knocked Babylonia down.”
“Belide was sitting on her when we left, trying to make her be quiet,” Huppim added. “She sent us for you. Mama’s face is bleeding and her voice sounds funny.”
“Huppim, go!” Bonysach ordered.
“Do you want me to come back with you?” Vidian offered. “I can act as witness to the actions of this woman.”
Bonysach paused. “Yes, thank you,” he said in relief.
They set off for the house.
Solomon had broken his fast with Gavi and was ambling in the direction of the synagogue. He wanted to get there too late for prayers but in time to see his uncle before Hubert began his study for the day. It was delicate timing. As he passed Bonysach’s home, he was grateful that it was too early for a visit. The problem of how to make Belide confide in her parents was a knotty one and he had come up with no good argument yet.
He had gone only a few steps more when he heard women shrieking from the house. As he raced toward the noise, he drew the knife he kept hidden in the sheath strapped to his arm. Running to the back, he found that the gate had been left open.
The sight that greeted him when he entered the kitchen caused him to stop, arm raised and jaw dropped.
The room was a mess of spilled flour, broken crockery, and a slime of milk and broken eggs flowing from the table to the floor. In the midst of this, Belide was sitting firmly on another woman who was screeching vile curses at the top of her lungs.
“Devil’s spawn! Murderers! Filthy infidels Jusiue maldizidor!” She didn’t seem to take a breath between the words. “You pollute the world with your presence!”
“Don’t answer her, Solomon,” Belide said. “She only wants attention. See to my mother, I daren’t let this mostelonne get away.”
Solomon hadn’t noticed Josta sitting on a stool in the corner, a cloth to her face. He sheathed his knife, went over, and squatted next to her. When he lifted the cloth, he saw a large red swelling on the cheek and jaw. A cut next to her lip had left a smear across her face.
“Josta, you need a poultice for that,” he said. He felt along her cheek with his fingers. “I don’t think the bone is crushed but you’ll have bruises and a black eye for sure. What is going on here?”
“Yusef,” Belide said in disgust. She twisted on her prisoner to face Solomon. “Babylonia here works for him. She came over to borrow some salt, she says. But she couldn’t leave without trying to pollute our food. How he trusts her to work in his house, I don’t know. She probably polishes the silver with pork fat.”
Solomon gaped at the struggling woman. Her thin face was sallow, her hair greasy. The hands that Belide had tied together were rough, the nails long and dirt encrusted. “This works
for Yusef?”
“We don’t understand it, either,” Josta said from the corner. “It’s the scandal of the community. This isn’t the first time she’s done something like this. She hates Jews.”
“Yusef.” Solomon couldn’t make this fact enter his mind. “The terribly pious Yusef who berates me every time we meet for the way I consort with Edomites and ignore the law? That Yusef?”
Belide sighed and bounced a bit on the woman in an effort to stop her constant flow of invective.
“Yes,” she said. “He refuses to send her away. But this time he won’t get off with a fine. She could have killed Mother! Be quiet, you idolatrous whore!”
She bounced again, harder. The servant was cut off in mid-shriek. She gagged and began coughing.
“Josta!” Bonysach’s voice came from the hall. “Josta, are you all right?”
The woman tried to rise but sank back on the stool. Muppim ran into the room, followed by his father and Vidian.
“Mama,” he cried. “She didn’t kill you, did she?”
Josta put her arms around the boy. “No, no, of course not,” she said.
“Not for want of trying,” Belide said grimly.
Bonysach was kneeling by his wife, examining the wounds to her face.
“Vidian,” he said. “Will you swear to what you found here? That my wife has been struck and that this woman has been restrained but not harmed?”
“Of course,” Vidian said. “Everyone knows Babylonia. I wouldn’t have her in my house.”
“Jew-lover!” Babylonia croaked.
Vidian looked down at her with contempt.
“Another sound out of you and I’ll have you up before the council,” he warned. “They’re meeting at this moment, so there’ll be no delay in presenting the case.”
The woman gave him a venomous look but held her tongue.
Solomon was completely baffled by the situation.
The Outcast Dove: A Catherine LeVendeur Mystery Page 9
