“Looks like a monkey to me,” Guy joined in. “Just the kind of soulless creature you’d whelp. Heh, ma douz.” He tried to tickle Anna. “Are you a little jew monkey, just like your papa?”
“She’s none of mine,” Solomon said. “Some good Christian pilgrim planted her on his way home to his devout wife, I’ve no doubt. Perhaps your father?”
Guy was on his feet at once. “How dare you!”
“Give me my daughter!”
Anna was snatched from Solomon’s arms. Caudiza spun around to face Guy.
“Out,” she said. “Now.”
Guy’s smirk fell. “Na Caudiza, I didn’t know you were there. I beg forgiveness. We didn’t mean anything by it. Just trying to prick Solomon’s conceit a bit. You have a lovely child.”
Berengar smothered a laugh. “Adorable,” he agreed. “We know that her father was a much better man than this.”
“Better than you,” Caudiza said quietly. “I don’t keep your kind under my roof. All four of you, go find a bed with your monk friends, or perhaps, Senhor Berengar, you would prefer the sheepfold?”
The room erupted with laughter. The men realized that they would get no support from the people of the town. Jehan stood.
“We are leaving at first light in any case,” he said. “Arnald and I will find someplace else to sleep. You two”—he glared at Berengar and Guy—“you can pass the night guarding our animals and packs.”
“You laughed, too,” Berengar muttered.
Jehan raised his fist to strike, then reconsidered.
“A private joke and a public taunt are two different things,” he said. “The latter can get a man killed, and his friends. Learn that before you bait someone and then rely on the swords of your companions to save you from his wrath.”
No one said a word as the four men walked out of the inn. Jehan led with Berengar and Guy trailing after him like sullen schoolboys. Arnald went with them, looking both shamed and confused.
When the door shut behind them, the singing resumed. The empty table was immediately occupied.
Caudiza carried Anna into her chamber. Solomon went after her, hoping that he could fashion a decent apology before she threw him out, too. It would be tricky. First he had to figure out what part of his behavior had made her angry.
“I’m sorry,” he said. That was usually a safe beginning.
Caudiza’s stiff back didn’t relax. She undressed Anna and poured warm water over her, washing the girl gently.
Solomon’s realized he would have to make a blind leap.
“I wouldn’t have let them hurt her,” he started.
“Not a person in this town would let them live if they had,” she answered, not turning around.
“I shouldn’t have brought men like that to your inn,” he tried again.
“There’ve been worse.” She dried Anna off and put a clean tunic over her head. “Now the stockings, maitagarri.”
He knew she was speaking to the child by the tenderness in her voice.
“Caudiza, you don’t think I believe what they said, do you?”
Silence.
“I know you,” he said. “I don’t think you share your bed with just any one. You honor me. I’m sure Anna’s father is a fine man.”
“I’m not.” She turned around and faced him with Anna in her arms. “Just what makes you so sure you had no part in the making of her? Are you too arrogant to think you could produce anything imperfect?”
“No!” he answered. “But I haven’t been here for nearly six years and she can’t be more than three.”
“If that’s all,” Caudiza said. “I have good news for you. She’s small for her age, that’s all. Anna was five this winter past.”
Solomon’s fingers moved, counting months. If she was telling the truth, then there was no reason why he couldn’t be Anna’s father. He studied the child’s face in the light of the candle on the table next to the washing bowl. The fear that had been slithering in and out since he had come face to face with Brother James now landed hard on his gut.
“She has my father’s eyes,” he whispered.
“So do you,” Caudiza said. “It horrifies you, doesn’t it? You’re thinking that it was your sins that caused her to be like this. I can see it in your face. A bastard isn’t so bad; most men have them. But one with a strange face and a simple mind, it makes you wonder what other monstrosities lurk inside you. You don’t want your friends to wonder, too.”
Solomon closed his eyes. He couldn’t deny it. He had been thinking of how his friends would treat him if they knew Anna was his. And Yusef! His reaction would be the same as that of Berengar and Guy. This is what happened when a man flouted the Law God had established for his people.
Then he looked at Anna, who yawned and smiled at him.
“You needn’t worry, Solomon,” Caudiza said. “It’s not as if I want you to claim her as your own. If anything, it would make her life worse. There are others who feel the same as your friends. I tried to tell you before. As things are now, she’s well treated. God gave Anna to me as a treasure, a trust. The people here in town all know that. She was baptized but, unlike the rest of us, her soul is still without stain. Anna will never sin.”
Caudiza smoothed her daughter’s hair. Anna shook it back out of place with a laugh.
“She is the most miraculous thing in the world,” Caudiza continued. “Have you ever known a person who is pure love? Who doesn’t understand hatred or resentment? Who isn’t afraid of tomorrow because she lives only in this moment? Does that sound like a punishment? Or is it just possible that she was given to me as a talisman, to give me joy and remind me of the heaven we all hope to attain?”
The words rolled over Solomon like the sermons forced on him in childhood. But that wasn’t what convinced him. Anna was her own best advocate. The more he looked at her, the more beautiful she became.
Caudiza realized that he had stopped listening to her.
“Well?” she said.
He came closer.
“Do I really have eyes like that?” he asked.
“Identical.” Caudiza chuckled. “And incredibly expressive. You don’t think it was your wit that got you into my bed, do you?”
Solomon stretched out his arms.
“Anna.” His voice was trembling. “Will you let your papa hold you?”
Brother James was more concerned about Samuel’s death than he let anyone know. His abbot told him often that he saw connections where there were none and that he suspected everybody of something. This was not a proper attitude for a monk. The unspoken reproach was that it was a Jewish way of thinking that he needed to uproot and burn.
James had tried. He wanted to be a monk of pure and simple faith. But, after several years he had come to the conclusion that there were connections beneath the surface of things that the abbot couldn’t see. About the same time he regretfully determined that almost everyone was guilty of something.
After much prayer and soul searching, it became clear to him that these conclusions had come from direct observation and not the Talmud.
So the idea that both Brother Victor and Samuel had been victims of coincidence didn’t sit well in his mind. People said that a man out alone after dark was begging to be robbed and murdered. So when it happened no one thought to question further. But James saw nothing but questions. Why had both these men taken the risk and ventured into the night? Why had Victor taken part of the ransom money with him? What had he planned to do with it? And was it a coincidence that the first person to find him was Hubert? James couldn’t believe that. He smelled a conspiracy to discredit him among his Christian brethren.
But then why should young Samuel also be killed? Samuel, by Yusef’s account, was not supposed to have left the inn. Yet he was found nearly a mile from it, next to the monastery where James was staying. What had called him out? Had he seen something that incriminated one of the others? He might have been naive enough to confront his suspect. The young man had spe
nt most of his life in study. One did not learn duplicity from the Responsa of the sages.
James knew there was a connection between the murders. He just had to find it and soon. If the deaths were related, the logical assumption would be that someone in their group was responsible for both of them.
Until he knew why, he wouldn’t be able to find out who. He was determined to find the link before someone else was killed.
James’s problem was that he could see any one of the group as a murderer. Even Brother Martin might be wilier than he appeared. He could have arranged to remove Victor in order to take his place on the journey and win accolades from the abbot. The night Samuel died Martin might have feigned illness and gone back out to the inn, instead.
At least that could be checked with the infirmarian. James resolved to do so at once.
He sighed. If he was to decipher this, he would have to talk with all his traveling companions. That meant being amiable to the guards, who were at best depraved barbarians. That was distasteful, but tolerable. The Jews would be worse. Yusef would cooperate to save that slattern servant of his and James knew how to discourage him from recalling their old familiarity. Aaron was a puzzle unto himself. James had never known a bridegroom so disinterested in discussing the upcoming wedding. Even if he dreaded it, one would expect him to say something. And where were the bride-gifts? Perhaps the marriage was a fabrication to hide Aaron’s real purpose.
That in itself was a mystery worth pursuing, but carefully.
There was one more person who had information he needed. James shrank from the thought of any contact with him. Solomon must never realize how much his hatred affected James. It horrified him that this was the child he had kissed good-bye so long ago.
The child he had named after his father was now a man capable of any crime, James believed. Solomon was only on the journey as Aaron’s friend, he said. But what if instead he was the leader of a plot to keep the ransom from reaching the Saracens. That would explain a great deal, especially the presence of that Christian madwoman.
James felt a glow of satisfaction. If Babylonia had been brought to serve as a scapegoat for the crimes of the others, he had managed to thwart them, at least for the present.
James was forced to conclude that the only way he was going to solve this was to confront Solomon.
But in order to do that, James would have to face the rage his son had for him. And he would have to overcome his own loathing for a man who was the most glaring reminder of a life he wanted to forget.
James didn’t know if he could endure that, even to find the truth.
Yusef had tied Babylonia’s hands together and thrown the rope over a rafter to secure it. He brought her food and took away the waste bucket twice a day. At night he slept on a pallet across the door. Even though no one had said anything, he knew that it was only Brother James’s command that was keeping her alive. If the monk changed his mind, Babylonia would be hanging from the town gibbet within moments.
That evening Aaron took him aside.
“Yusef,” he said. “After all that’s happened, don’t you think it would be better to find a place nearby for Babylonia? We still have mountains to cross. The paths are treacherous enough without the fear that she’ll have another fit and throw herself at one of us.”
“She didn’t kill Samuel and she won’t attack you,” Yusef answered. “If the rest of you refuse to let me go with you, we’ll have to find another way.”
“I won’t abandon you among the Edomites,” Aaron said. “But even if she didn’t kill Samuel, that woman is a menace. Was there no place closer to Toulouse where you could leave her?”
“No.” Yusef paused, aware that Babylonia was watching. “This is her only chance. On one of my journeys, I met a man who told me of a physician who had cured people far more insane than she. He’s an Ishmaelite living near Tortosa.”
“Tortosa? Yusef, there’s an army on it’s way to lay siege to Tortosa right now,” Aaron exclaimed.
“Yes,” Yusef snapped. “That’s why I have to get her to him quickly, before the fighting makes it impossible.”
Aaron rubbed his forehead wearily. Who was he to berate Yusef? Wasn’t his own mission equally reckless?
“Very well,” he told Yusef. “If there is a vote, I’ll stand with you. And Solomon will stand with me.”
The group that gathered at the monastery gate the next morning was too dispirited to object to Babylonia’s presence. Jehan was furious with Guy and Berengar for depriving him of a warm bed the night before. Those two were sulking because they had been forced to endure Jehan’s tongue lashing half the night. Arnald wasn’t sure which side he was supposed to be on. He was thinking wistfully of his mother’s porridge and the way she fussed over him.
Aaron arrived with Yusef and Babylonia, prepared to insist that they be allowed to continue the journey. He was vaguely disquieted to be ignored.
“Where’s Solomon?” Arnald asked. “The bells for Lauds have rung already. The monks will be out soon.”
“He was starting to load his gear when we left,” Aaron said. “He should be right behind us.”
“Probably went back for a last poke,” Guy muttered.
The others let that pass.
Solomon appeared soon after. His expression was enough to stop even Berengar from a gibe.
“The sun is a handbreadth above the horizon,” he growled. “Where are those damn monks?”
As if in reply, the bells of the chapel began ringing, signaling the end of the Office. Before the tolling had faded, the monastery gate creaked open and Brothers James and Martin came out.
Brother James gave a practice smile.
“Thank you all for being so prompt,” he said. “The weather is with us, for a change, so we should have no trouble reaching Roncevalles by evening.”
The rest of them gaped at him.
“Shall we get started?” James continued. “Brother Martin?”
“Certainly.” Jehan recovered in time to take his place in the lead, Berengar next to him.
The others fell in line. Somewhere nearby a lark was singing in ecstasy. More than one person in the party felt the urge to wring its neck.
The day continued clear; the road smooth and well kept. The incline was gradual and the air filled with the perfume of lilacs. Somewhere ahead of them a group of pilgrims were singing hymns with remarkable skill.
Arnald was the first to recover his spirits. He began humming along with the hymn even after the voices died away. Solomon was riding just behind him and so became the object of Arnald’s cheer.
“Can you really see the stone at Roncevalles where Roland and Olivier fought the Saracens?” he asked.
Solomon would have preferred to continue brooding but roused himself enough to answer.
“Yes,” he said. “I’ve seen it many times. You can touch the rock that Roland split. It’s not far from the hospice where we’ll stay tonight.”
Arnald’s eyes shone. “I can’t wait to tell Belide about it. She’ll be so impressed. Oh!” His face fell. “I forgot. Do you think it was wrong to go on and leave Samuel behind like that, without even finding his killer?”
“It’s one of the hazards of travel,” Solomon explained gently. “We’ve all had to do it. That doesn’t mean any of us will forget him. Aaron has his things, to give to his family. And they will perform the proper ceremonies of mourning.”
Arnald seemed content with this answer. “My father never told me trade was so dangerous. But he just gets the salt from our marshes and sells it in the area. Oh, look! A hawk! Do you think there are hunters in the woods?”
He rose in the saddle, twisting to follow the flight of the bird. Solomon marveled at how easily his attention shifted.
“I don’t see any jesses,” Guy said from behind them. “It must be wild.”
Each turn in the path brought something to excite Arnald. Solomon realized that he had lived only a few days journey from the mountains all his life an
d never known what they were like, much less what lay on the other side.
“Look! Down there!” Arnald leaned far over the edge of the path. “Tiny sheep! Or are they white rocks?”
Solomon glanced over. “Neither. Those are clouds.”
Arnald laughed. “I’m not that naïve. What are they really?”
Guy decided to take over his education. “They’re floating cows,” he said. “The Basques use magic to make them glide above the earth so they can feed off the grasses on the precipices.”
“Floating cows!” Arnald was impressed. “Amazing.”
Solomon gave up. “Wait until you taste the cheese.”
They stopped early in the afternoon to eat and water the horses at a mountain stream. Solomon contrived to sit with Aaron away from the others.
“When do we break off from the group?” he asked.
“At Pamplona,” Aaron said. “I have directions to Fitero from there. It’s about two days ride south, near Tudela.”
“Are you sure you want Arnald to come with us? He’s so eager to help that he might get us killed.”
“He understands how important this is,” Aaron said. “When the time comes, he’ll do his part.”
“If you say so.” Solomon bit into the cheese and pickled turnip that Caudiza had given him that morning.
Aaron chewed on his lip in concentration. “What about you, Solomon? You’ve been distracted all day. I’ve never known you like this. Is it because of that woman, Caudiza? What did she do to you?”
Solomon shrugged. “I guess you could say that she tried to get me to convert.”
Aaron snorted. “Most of the Edomite women you know try that.”
“Yes.” Solomon gazed down at the “floating cows” and the narrow valley beneath. “But for the first time in my life, I was tempted to do it.”
He wrapped up the remainder of the cheese and put it in his pack.
Sixteen
The hospice at Roncevalles, Saturday morning. 26 Nissan 4809. Sabbath. Eleventh day of the Omer. 8 kalends May (April 24) 1148, Feast of Saint Dismas, the patron saint of repentant thieves.
The Outcast Dove: A Catherine LeVendeur Mystery Page 25
