The Plague Tales

by Ann Benson

  With Hernandez instructing his charge in the proper means of doing such things, they removed the saddles from their horses and hobbled them near the spring where the animals could drink at will. Bowlegged and stiff from their extended travel, each man stretched, then they arranged their few possessions a few paces away. After a few minutes of rest Hernandez removed a slingshot from his pack and carefully untangled the straps.

  “I’ll be back in no time with our supper, God willing,” Hernandez said. He tossed Alejandro a flint. “Light us a fire for cooking.” He took a few steps, then turned back and said, “You do know how, I assume.…”

  “Indeed,” Alejandro said, feigning insult. “You will no doubt be surprised to find that I can also eat without assistance.”

  “I had no doubt,” the Spaniard said, laughing, “for I have seen you eat.” He stepped into the brush and returned a short while later with a large buck rabbit. He pulled out a hunting knife from his belt sheath, and butchered the animal against a large flat rock nearby. Alejandro watched in fascination as the small animal was eviscerated. Hernandez was about to toss the innards away from their campsite when Alejandro stopped him. He reached into the slimy mass and pulled out the heart.

  “This was a mean-spirited rabbit, for the heart is small,” he said.

  “Then he well deserves to be eaten,” the Spaniard said. “I will leave it to you to be the judge of such matters. Of one thing I am sure, however, and that is that a man with a slingshot will never go hungry, even if he eats rats.” He flung the remaining innards as far away as possible so they would not attract unwanted predators. “He can hunt game that the bow and arrow cannot touch. Better a small unsavory meal than no large tasty one, eh?”

  Alejandro reluctantly nodded his agreement, but thought to himself, I will starve before I eat a rabbit. But to his surprise the roasting meat smelled like the chicken his mother cooked nearly every day. It tasted as good as it smelled, and he ate it with great relish, hoping that God would forgive him for any dietary indiscretions he might commit in the course of surviving this journey. He offered a silent promise to God that upon safe arrival in Avignon, he would become the most devout and obedient Jew who ever lived.

  Hernandez brought out another loaf of bread and they devoured it without leaving so much as a crumb behind. Some dried figs made a fine end to the meal, and Alejandro thought he had never eaten so well before. They filled their flasks with fresh water from the spring and drank until they would burst.

  “I swear to you that I shall never pass by water again without taking my fill,” he said, recalling how dry his lips had become during his three days in the monastery silo. He wiped his lips on his shirtsleeve.

  “Then neither shall you pass by a shrub or a tree without leaving your mark upon it.”

  Alejandro surprised himself by laughing. As he lay down on his blanket, exhausted by the day’s long ride but full to bursting with good food and clean water, he wondered, How have I come to be out here under these stars, when I should be home in Cervere, sleeping in my own soft bed? The events of the previous few days raced through his mind. How could everything have turned out so badly? He considered the dramatic changes in his once sheltered life: branded, separated from his family, perhaps forever, and forced to flee the town where he had been born and raised, he was no longer the same person he had been just a few days before.

  But what burdened him most was the sudden emergence of a side of himself he had never known to exist. Today I killed a man, he thought ruefully, without hesitation. It struck him as odd that he should feel so little regret for what he had done to the bishop, and wondered if it was madness that prevented him from recoiling in horror at his own deed. But in his heart he knew it was not, for it was the simplest of justice. Did not the elders teach that an eye must be taken for an eye? Alejandro doubted that the cleric would ever have been punished for his unholy treatment of the Canches family, as the Canches family had been unduly punished for having served him faithfully for many years, and forgave himself momentarily for acting as the man’s judge and executioner. But it troubled him, and he found sleep elusive. Staring up at the stars, he lightly fingered his crusted wound, reliving the shock of its delivery, the shame of his helplessness still fresh. Then, remembering his gold, he got up from his blanket and retrieved it from among the small pile of possessions lying nearby. He placed the saddlebag under his head and used it as a hard pillow.

  Hernandez, whom he had taken to be asleep, said, “You are wise to do that. I see that wariness is a skill I shall not have to teach you. Sleep well, Jew.”

  “And you, Spaniard,” he said. So he knows, then, Alejandro thought, relaxing more with the knowledge that his escort was a man of sufficient honor to resist such a temptation. And he has not left me on the side of the road to die, fortuneless, while he rides off a wealthy man.

  He was guaranteed a smooth settlement into Avignon with this treasure. He could immediately set up practice in a well-equipped surgery with paid assistants, and could afford servants to establish and run a household. If his father and mother were by some miracle to survive the journey to Avignon, they would be welcomed into the comfortable home of a prominent physician. His dreams washed over the pain of his last few days, and floating through fantasies of a sweet and comfortable future, he fell asleep.

  Hernandez shook him slightly just before dawn. “I would like to end my employment with the House of Canches sometime this year. Your sloth and laziness will keep me in your hire for far too long! I will end up working for pennies a day if we continue to travel at this rate,” groused the burly Spaniard.

  Alejandro stretched his limbs, careful not to split the healing skin of his circular wound, and rose up stiffly. With Hernandez’s help he removed his shirt and checked the wound for festering. Finding none, he washed it carefully in the cold spring water, trying not to disturb the newly formed scabs. While it was still wet and somewhat pliable, he dabbed oil of clove on the wound, being careful to conserve his small supply. He winced briefly at the initial sting, which was blessedly followed by numbness.

  After a small breakfast they rode without incident until the sun was high in the sky, then began to look for a convenient place to rest and shade themselves from the midday sun. They came upon an area of scrub trees, too small to indicate a ground source of water, but high enough to shade them and their horses from the worst of the day’s heat. Hernandez magically produced some dried meat from his pack, which was disagreeable in flavor but satisfying to their hunger, and they followed it with a drink from their flasks.

  As they rested, the Spaniard aimlessly whittled a small dry twig, Alejandro watched closely as the twig began to take shape, marveling at how quickly it was transformed into a sinuous snake with smooth skin and a finely pointed tail.

  “Señor, where did you learn such a fine craft as this carving you do?”

  “I have not learned, my young friend, but practiced. After carving so many pieces, I think I can do it without looking, by feeling only. I love the distraction, for it enables me to think more clearly.”

  “I beg you to share your thoughts with me now.”

  Hernandez spat before replying. “I am pondering our route.”

  “Are roads so plentiful that we are given a choice of routes?”

  “Not so plentiful as you might think. We can choose to pass through the mountains or travel by the seacoast. Though the mountain route is shorter in distance, it takes only a bit less time than the coastal route. And there are many fearful treacheries awaiting the mountain traveler.”

  “Name them, and I will ponder them as well.”

  “The people can be none too friendly. They care for neither Franks nor Spaniards, but would be known as Basques. Travelers are fair game for their highwaymen, who know the routes well, and sometimes lie in wait in hidden alcoves of the mountains. And the weather can rise up like an angry steed, pounding down upon you with sharp hooves. Hail and lightning abound, and thunder rolls through the pe
aks roaring like the very gods.”

  “Surely there is some advantage to this route, or why else should it be considered?”

  Hernandez elaborated. “It can be very pleasant in this season to travel in the cool hills, for along the coast there is little respite from the sun and its damages. But we are only two, with one carrying much gold, and we make an easy prey for marauders.”

  Alejandro eyed his scrupulous escort. Father must have paid him very, very well, he thought, or perhaps, he is simply a very, very honorable man. I have lived beside Christians all my life, yet how little I know of them.… Alejandro had always relied on the tales of his elders for information. Often what was offered was less than flattering, and seldom did he hear a story that did not arise from some controversy or scandal. Now this man with whom he traveled was showing him that gentiles were capable of a very different sort of behavior. Hernandez did not behave like a devout Christian, more like a Christian of convenience, and Alejandro could easily see that he was not filthy or uneducated, but that his knowledge of the world was actually quite substantial.

  Hernandez continued. “Of course, the safer route will take us north of Barcelona, around the eastern tip of the Pyrenees, and into the Languedoc. From there we simply follow the shoreline, through the cities of Narbonne, Béziers, and Montpellier. Not much past Montpellier is fair Avignon, where your fate awaits you.”

  “I have traveled to Montpellier. It is there that I was educated.”

  “Ah, you are not the innocent I supposed, then.” Hernandez grinned as memories of youthful forays into unknown cities were revisited in his mind. “Nor, I must confess to you, am I. I have seen many cities, my friend, and they are much the same. In every one there are delicious foods, exotic and willing women, wondrous edifices, and many fine goods to be had. It is all a matter of knowing how to expose these riches.”

  “And of course, you do,” commented Alejandro.

  Hernandez laughed heartily. “I have a sharp nose for sniffing out those things worth smelling. If we travel by the coastal route, you may acquire this skill from me as well. Your journey, though I fear you may find it long and wearying, will be filled with more interest and, might I add, far more comfort than if we travel by the mountain route. You may find as well that it seems delayed. You will not want to pass too quickly through these places of delight. You will want to stay and sample their treasures.”

  Alejandro considered the choices. “I am torn, señor,” he said. “If I travel as my people usually do, which is no doubt the intent of my family, I would shun these dens of Christian iniquity and follow the less-traveled route. We Jews are always in danger of being the victims of those who are downtrodden by the rich of their own kind. They seek their revenge on those who are not able to defend themselves. It is my duty to travel to Avignon, and to establish myself in the hope of welcoming my family.” But he knew that he would reach Avignon far ahead of his elderly parents, even if he were to take the slowest route possible. They would have to rest in every town along their route. It might take them a full year to reach Avignon under the best of circumstances.

  “Remember, young man, that you no longer look like a Jew, and forgive me for saying, God be praised!”

  Alejandro wondered if perhaps Hernandez was already tired of the cities’ debauchery, and longed for fresh mountain air and cool nights. He might be eager to engage some Basque marauders in combat, needing to keep his skills sharp. But Alejandro was not.

  “Well, Jew, what say you?”

  “By the sea, señor! I am confident that I can see these alien ways without falling prey to them. And some new methods of surgery may be fashionable in these cities.”

  “Aye, they’ll cut out your purse in the wink of an eye!”

  Alejandro laughed, but patted his saddlebag for reassurance, prompting Hernandez to say, “Your first purchase with that fortune will be a set of more suitable traveling clothes. We will instruct the tailor to sew several small pockets with buttons atop them, therein to divide your coins, so you’ll never lose all your money at once.”

  Alejandro thought this to be a wise course of action. He was rested now, and the sun had lowered a bit, making travel more comfortable; he began to fidget some. Seeing this, Hernandez resheathed his small whittling knife and tucked the snake into one of his bags. Taking a last swig of water, he swung up on his horse, and his charge followed suit. They retraced their path to the road, and set off at a fast pace toward the northeast.

  They made steady progress, always riding northeast toward the coast. The seacoast road was now within one day’s ride, and their contact with civilization increased with every passing hour. As they neared the coast the air became cooler and cleaner, without the dust of the hot Aragon countryside. The vegetation became more lush and bountiful, and the journey more pleasant because of the shade it provided. They stopped as needed, taking on fresh water whenever possible, Alejandro drinking like a rabid dog wherever there was a spring or stream.

  His wound had blessedly not festered, and now, as it healed, was more inconvenient than painful. The skin on his chest had stiffened somewhat, even though he had applied emollients whenever possible to try to keep it supple. There was, however, simply no way for him to prevent the huge ugly scar that would be his lifelong companion. He knew he would be ashamed of his unsightly disfigurement when he was again among people other than Hernandez, who politely tried not to notice the mass of ugly scabs. But he blessed his good fortune that the scar would be carried on his chest, and not his face, as had been the intent of his branders. His chest he could hide with clothing; his face he could not.

  As the distractions of the road became more plentiful, Hernandez sat up a little straighter in his saddle and paid more attention to the sights and sounds around them, “It has been a long time since I’ve been in a city where the cantinas are worthy of my patronage!” he said to Alejandro. He pointed out some places of interest as they rode. “This bodes well, Jew! Perhaps we will find some food worth blessing here!”

  As their shadows lengthened eastward in the late afternoon sun, they neared the small city of Gerona. Hernandez was amused to see the fascination with which his inexperienced companion regarded the bustle of people busily tending to the last of their day’s business. Though most were harmless enough, he knew well that there were some who would as soon smile and lift their purses as smile and say hello. “You’ll make an easy meal for those who would prey on your pocket, I think,” he said, and laughed loudly. “You had best beware.”

  This comment brought a stony glare from his charge, who after the successes of his journey was feeling quite sure of himself. “I may be untutored, Hernandez, but I am no simpleton. Do you think me incapable of riding through this city with my possessions intact?”

  “It’s not the ride that concerns me, my young friend. It’s the time when our horses are tethered and our spirits are not that will be the most dangerous. Take care not to fall victim to some luscious young thing with an invisible partner in thievery!”

  Alejandro was incensed at Hernandez’s implications, and thought it far more likely that the older man would find himself in such a predicament. He told him so in no uncertain terms. “You’d best pay attention to your own warning,” he said to the older man. “Remember what you yourself said! I am the one who is young and handsome, and you bear the mark of many wars! Consider again who might be the easy prey!”

  “By the Gods, Jew,” Hernandez bellowed, “you are right! You are no simpleton. And if I am frugal after the surprisingly pleasant task of seeing you safely banished from Aragon, I can live well for the next few years. Provided, of course, I do not squander too much on women!” He laughed again, and when his laughter subsided, he said, “I am growing too old to be wasting my means on such nonsense anyway. Better left to you young handsome ones, eh, Jew? And now,” he said, “I think it wise for us to find a place where we can rest our weary bones for the night.”

  He inquired of a few passersby for an inn wit
h good stables, and they were directed to an establishment on the north side of the square. A small cantina, they were told, was just a few doors away.

  As they headed in the direction of the inn, the pounding of approaching hooves could be heard. Soon the horses and their armored riders entered the square in a cloud of dust. Alejandro stiffened upon seeing the soldiers; Hernandez watched him, saying nothing, but observing his every move carefully.

  The soldiers dismounted in unison, each one entering a different establishment in the center of the small town. They strode from door to door with brusque authority, searching for something or someone, knowing no success. Hernandez and Alejandro stood at the hitching post tying up their horses; neither one made any attempt to move from their spot as the soldiers milled all around the square.

  He is delaying, Hernandez thought as he watched Alejandro tie, then untie, then retie his horse again. He fears an encounter with these riders. He put his hand on the young Jew’s shoulder, and then looked again at the soldiers, who had reformed into a unit near their horses. “Perhaps we can rest here a few moments before we settle in?” he said.

  Alejandro was not surprised by his guide’s clever perception of his fear, and he was grateful for the man’s deference to his wish to remain unnoticed until the soldiers departed. They remained by the horses as Alejandro continued his pointless fussing about the details of their equipment, first tightening a random strap, then loosening it again, and then removing his water to take a drink, sloshing the water around in his mouth, then spitting it out before drinking again. Always the physician’s eyes remained glued to the soldiers, and he did not relax his silent vigil until they had remounted their steeds and roared out of the town square.

  Hernandez looked directly into Alejandro’s eyes and said, his brow raised curiously, “Perhaps you will need that new suit of clothing immediately, eh? We will see to it after we find suitable lodging.”

  Alejandro nodded as he slung his saddlebag over his shoulder. He had started walking in the direction of the inn when Hernandez took him by the arm, holding him back. The big Spaniard said sternly to his charge, “Young man, I am no lover of Jews, but you are a good man and I am paid to deliver you safely to Avignon. You had best tell me if there is reason for us to beware of soldiers.”