“Help!” he cried. “Thieves! Murder!”
“Shut him up!” someone hissed. “Let’s get a look at his head.”
“How are we supposed to do that with a bag on it?”
“Like this!”
Samuel’s shout was cut off abruptly as something sharp hit the side of his face and the world went black.
The synagogue was crowded by the time Solomon arrived with Gavi and Nazara. He wondered if he could offer to wait outside. Before he had a chance, he saw Bonysach coming toward him, hands outstretched. Solomon created a smile.
“Senhor Gavi!” Bonysach exclaimed. “How good to see you! We are all delighted that you will be joining us at our Seder.”
Gavi nodded nervously. “We are honored by your hospitality, Mar Bonysach.”
“Solomon.” Bonysach turned to him. “I haven’t seen your uncle, yet. Perhaps you could see if he’s ready. I believe the cantor is about to begin.”
Solomon found Hubert sleeping soundly. The green tint of the light through the thick window made his skin almost translucent. Solomon wondered how the strong decisive man of his childhood could have become this frail so quickly. He stood a moment, watching the measured breath, then he quietly left the room.
When he got back to the meeting room, Solomon found that the service hadn’t yet started. He told Bonysach that he was letting Hubert rest. Bonysach agreed.
“Rav Chaim has been pushing his body too hard lately,” he said. “Sleep will do him good.”
“He may even be able to stay awake for the whole of the Seder tonight,” Solomon answered. “Better than I usually manage.”
At that moment, the cantor stood and began the psalms for Passover. Behind him a man played softly on a viol while another tapped the beat on a tambor. The cantor sang in a deep rich tone that had many wiping their eyes. Then he smiled and the song changed to one of joy, a celebration of freedom. Solomon found his feet twitching. Not everyone resisted the urge to dance.
When he had finished, the cantor paused and looked about.
“Samuel?” he asked. “Are you ready?”
No one answered. The leader of the synagogue sent a boy out to find him.
“Perhaps he’s stricken with terror at the thought of facing the congregation,” he joked.
The boy came back a few moments later shaking his head.
The buzzing that had begun in the room grew louder.
“This isn’t good,” Bonysach said to Solomon. “I don’t want my daughter to marry a man too spineless to speak in public.”
Just then there was a shout from the court and two men burst in half-carrying a dazed and rumpled Samuel.
“We found him in the back, by the acacia trees,” one said. “Looks as though he’s been set upon by those cursed Edomites.”
A woman began to wail. Her lament was taken up by the others.
Mosse, the physician, made his way to the bench where Samuel had been seated. He looked into the young man’s eyes and examined the bruise on his temple.
“Do you know who did this?” he asked.
Samuel didn’t answer. He stared at his hands and then felt his neck. His chin quivered.
“Those mamzers tore my mother’s collar!”
It was some time before order was restored. Many people left at once to check on the safety of those who had been left at home. Others stayed to offer advice or aid.
“We ought to go to the count’s vicar at once!” Yusef said. “It’s his job to protect us.”
“Why don’t we wait until Samuel can tell us what happened?” Galde’s husband, Vital, suggested.
“It would be better to have as much information as possible,” Aaron agreed with his brother-in-law.
“While those ruffians get their friends to say they were somewhere else!” Yusef countered.
“Or gather more ribaux to come back and attack us all!” a man shouted from the back.
“That’s enough!”
Everyone stopped and stared at Solomon.
Had he spoken? He must have; the room was waiting for him to explain his outburst. What had got into him?
“If you go on in this way, you’ll start a riot yourselves,” he told them. “We need to know what happened. Look at Samuel. Was he robbed? He’s still wearing a gold ring and pin. Did they steal your purse, Samuel?”
“Didn’t have one,” Samuel muttered from behind the physician’s ministrations.
Mosse finished rubbing a salve on Samuel’s chin.
“You’ll be fine, young man,” he said. “No teeth loose or bones cracked. You might have some trouble chewing your meat tonight, but that’s all.”
The elders decided that Solomon had said enough. After all, he wasn’t even a member of the congregation. The leader resumed his authority.
“Now Samuel,” he said with a smile. “Can you tell us why you were attacked?”
“No,” the young man said plaintively, still fingering his torn collar. “There were two of them, at least. Maybe more. I never saw them. They wanted to examine my head, I think. I must not have understood.”
“Did they call you names?” the leader asked. “Accuse you of anything? Try to pull out your beard.”
“No.” Samuel rubbed his head and then looked at his hand in revulsion. “My hair is all sticky! Do you think they rubbed a poison on me?”
The physician sniffed. “Smells like that hard candy with honey and violets. There was a woman selling some by the Capitole this morning.”
Bonysach scratched his ear. “It doesn’t sound like the usual harassment. More like some jest that only makes sense from the bottom of a wine barrel.”
“There was a strong smell of wine,” Samuel said. “And mushrooms. Now I remember. The bag they threw over me must have been used to carry them.”
The teacher patted him on the shoulder. “A terrible thing!” he repeated. “It seems you happened across some oms tafurs looking for trouble. They deserve punishment and we shall take it up with the townsmen, but you mustn’t let it spoil the festival.”
For once, none of the scholars broached a dissenting opinion.
“This is a joyous time,” the cantor declared. “The attack on Samuel is lamentable but it doesn’t seem to be a harbinger of any disaster for the community. The sun is going down and I know we all wish to be home for the lighting of the candles. When the court meets on Thursday, we can decide how best to handle this insult.”
“Is that acceptable to you, Samuel?” the leader asked.
“I don’t wish to keep anyone from the Seder,” Samuel said.
Bonysach helped Samuel to his feet. “Good man! Are you well enough to walk as far as my home? I know that my wife and daughter will take good care of you once we get there.”
That brought a light to Samuel’s face.
“I’m sure I can make it,” he said. “But what about Rav Chaim?”
“Uncle!” Solomon exclaimed. “I had forgotten all about him!”
“Where is he?” Bonysach was alarmed. “Could he also have been set upon? Perhaps we were too quick to make light of this.”
“He was in his room,” Solomon said. “But I’d have thought all this commotion would have wakened him by now.”
They rushed to Hubert’s cell and tumbled in the door without knocking.
Hubert dropped the garter he was tying to the top of his hose.
“Is there a fire?” he asked.
Bonysach recovered first.
“Yes,” he said. “It’s in my kitchen court, under a slowly turning lamb. And I need you to help me contain it.”
“You’ve got to do it!” Berengar crowed. “And tonight! The deal was to beg for freshly roasted lamb! Oh, this will be good.”
Jehan had returned to the inn in time to learn of Guy’s loss.
“Stupid!” he shouted at the knight. “Twice stupid, first to bet on anything so ridiculous and second to believe anything told you by an Englishman! No wonder you’re penniless.”
Guy
dug his boot heel into the soft wood of the floor of the inn. He kicked out a splinter. “It was just a joke,” he muttered. “For something to do. And that damn Jew was asking for trouble, all got up fine like a nobleman.”
“He did look an ass, didn’t he?” Berengar chuckled. “Coming from the privy. Didn’t even have time to pull up his hose.”
Jehan shook his head. “You didn’t kill him, did you?”
“Nah,” Berengar said. “He was starting to come round before we left. Anyway, I was right, no horns. Not even scars where they’d been sawn off. So Guy has to fulfill his pledge. Right?”
Jehan didn’t want to be the judge in this. The three of them were going to journey together for several weeks, through dangerous country. He, Guy, and Berengar would be responsible for the safety of unarmed clerics. They would have to trust and depend on each other. It was an evil omen to start with resentment already festering.
The other two were waiting. Jehan clenched his teeth to keep from telling them both to go to hell. Saint Morice save him! These were the best men he had been able to find.
“What kind of knight are you, Berengar?” he asked. “To set a man a dishonorable pledge? Not only is it demeaning to him, but to all Christians. Do you want the Jews to think they are the only resort for those of our people who are in need? Aren’t they arrogant enough without that?”
Berengar bit his lip. “I hadn’t thought of…”
Jehan turned his anger on Guy. “And you! What kind of example are you setting this boy? A soldier who has no control over himself is useless.”
He paused, shoving down an uncalled for memory.
“I should make you do this.” He pointed his finger just under Guy’s nose. “Just so you’ll never forget the humiliation.”
Guy cringed. Berengar brightened with hope.
“But it wouldn’t just be your shame.” Jehan turned away in disgust. “It would be mine, too. And yours, Berengar. We are companions now and our deeds, both brave and stupid, are shared. You’ll have to find another way to pay the debt, Guy.”
“Maybe he could climb the wall and steal the lamb before they can eat it,” Berengar suggested. “That would be good. Then they couldn’t go on with their ritual. He would be helping to defeat the followers of Satan, right?”
Jehan shrugged. “That’s between the two of you,” he said. “But no begging.”
They were still arguing about it as Jehan climbed to the sleeping loft. He lay down on his pallet and pulled the blanket over his head. Solomon had implied that his penance for killing the man in Paris hadn’t been hard enough. Jehan was glad that his old enemy didn’t know the truth. His real crime was that he had fallen in love with a woman he could never have.
For that, life was his penance.
Samuel had been fussed over and coddled beyond his imagination. His mother couldn’t have been more sympathetic than Josta, and the admiration in Belide’s eyes made him wonder if she had been told just how ignominious his assault had been.
“I didn’t have a chance to fight back,” he admitted to her.
“Against so many? How could you?” she responded. “They are the cowards. Filthy pig-eaters!”
“Belide,” her mother cautioned. “I don’t allow such language in my house. Come, it’s time to light the candles.”
The men stood respectfully as Josta, Belide, and Nazara recited the blessing and lit the candles for Passover. The glow on their faces made the three women almost angelic. Solomon blinked away tears. Even Muppim and Huppim were still for once.
They sat then, on chairs and benches piled high with cushions. The twins had to be lifted onto theirs.
“Papa, why are we…?” Muppim asked.
“Not yet!” Belide stopped him. “I’ll tell you when to ask.”
Bonysach poured the first cup of wine, then filled those of his guests. Josta added water to the twins’ cups. Bonysach returned to the head of table. He raised the cup, smiling at them all and began.
“Baruch ata Adonai, Eloheinu melech ha’olam, boreh pri hagafen.”
As the blessing continued, Solomon had the sense of having returned to the shelter of his childhood. He was Israel, wrapped in divine love as in his mother’s arms. If only he could stay there forever.
Everyone joined in the end of the blessing, the boys prompted by Belide.
“…shehecheyanu vekiyemanu vehigiyanu lazman hazeh.” Blessed is the Lord, who let us be here now.
They drank the first cup of wine and the Seder began.
Muppim and Huppim took turns with the four questions, speaking in Provençal since they hadn’t started Hebrew school yet. They both sprinkled more wine than necessary on the tablecloth as the plagues of Egypt were mentioned, thrilled at being permitted to do something that would normally be forbidden.
“Dayenu! Dayenu!” they shrieked, bouncing on the pillows.
“Dayenu, indeed,” Bonysach told them. “That will be enough.”
Nazara smiled. “It’s good to have children at the Seder. Thank you Na Josta, for letting us share yours.”
“You will have your own one day,” Josta said. “If you pray and be patient.”
“Have to do more than that.” Bonysach laughed.
Josta hushed him but she was laughing, too.
By the time they started the meal, both boys were yawning. They were determined to stay awake until they could search for the afikomen, the piece of matzoh bread that Bonysach had broken from the loaf and hidden while they covered their eyes. The one who found it could have a present and in this their normal unity was suspended.
The servants brought in platters of lamb sliced into pieces that could be eaten with the fingers. There were also fresh greens and, as always, mounds of olives.
They continued telling stories over the meal, some for the benefit of the twins, some for their own edification. With some coaxing, Samuel stood and recited his poem. Everyone pronounced it brilliant.
“I tell you, nothing of our cantor’s could touch it,” Bonysach told him.
Samuel beamed at them all, his face as red as the roses his mother had sewn onto his collar.
Hubert was silent and ate little. Solomon watched him closely, worried that he was too weak for the late evening.
“Uncle?” he asked quietly. “Would you like to rest a while, before the final blessing?”
Hubert seemed surprised to have all eyes on him.
“Of course not,” he answered. “I beg your pardon. I was not dozing, but remembering. Since I left Paris, this is the first time I’ve celebrated Pesach in a family.”
He looked at the twins. “Perhaps I shouldn’t speak of it before them.”
Josta and Bonysach exchanged a glance; she nodded.
“They are the ones who most need to hear your story,” he told Hubert.
The others murmured agreement.
Hubert smiled at the twins. “Don’t worry, I won’t take long,” he said. “When I was younger than you are now, Christian soldiers came to my house. They took my mother and sisters. I hid in a cupboard and was found and raised by a merchant, Gervase of Rouen. He baptized me and raised me as his own.”
“You, Rav Chaim?” Muppim’s eyes were enormous with astonishment. “You were once a Christian? How could that be?”
“It happens all the time,” Josta told him. “Not here, thank the Holy One, blessed be He. But in France and Germany.”
Without another word, both boys got up and climbed onto their parents’ laps.
“Tell them how you came home,” Bonysach said to Hubert.
Hubert took a sip of wine. “For many years I thought I was the son of Gervase. I didn’t remember my mother, except in dreams. But the Creator of all things guided me to Paris, where my brothers, Eliazar and Jacob, found me. Even though I had lived so many years among the Edomites, they welcomed me back. They taught me the Seder as your family is teaching you, even though I was already grown up and should have known it.”
Muppim giggled.
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br /> “Since then I have slowly been finding my way home.” Hubert’s voice broke and he took a bit more wine. “Even though the Temple is still in ruins and we are still in exile, I feel as though I have been brought out of Egypt to freedom at last.”
He sat down and fumbled for the handkerchief tied in his sleeve.
“Thank you, Rav Chaim,” Bonysach said.
They were all washing their hands in preparation for the final cup of wine when they heard a great crash from the courtyard, followed by unearthly wailing.
“Demons!” Gavi cried.
“Soldiers!” Hubert started shaking. “They’ve found me!”
“It’s Pharoh’s men, come for Rav Chaim!” Muppim leapt from his father’s lap. “We won’t let him take you again!”
The boys threw themselves around Hubert. Solomon, Gavi, and Samuel ran out into the garden, picking up weapons as they went. Solomon cursed the vanity that had made him leave his long knife behind. The arm sheath hadn’t fit under the tight sleeves. Bonysach followed with a lantern, although the full moon gave enough light for them to catch sight of a pair of bare legs and feet vanishing over the top of the garden wall.
The howling receded down the alleyway. Solomon tried to climb after them but was impeded by his long robes.
“Damledu!” he swore, as he fell back to the ground.
The others were surveying the damage.
The rose bushes were trampled and branches had been broken on the laurels.
“Someone came over the wall!” Gavi said.
“And back again.” Samuel pointed to the roasting pit. The banked coals had been scattered and were glowing across the grass. “It looks as if they stepped right on top of the firepit.”
“Barefoot?” Bonysach said. “That would account for the noise. But why? First Samuel and now this. What do these vilans want? Are they mad?”
Solomon shook his head. Neither this nor the attack on Samuel made sense to him, but he was certain that there was a reason. If he could have caught the man on the wall, he would have had it.
Never again, he vowed, would he be found outside home without his knife and his pants.
The Outcast Dove: A Catherine LeVendeur Mystery Page 18
