by Shel Pais
“Cyrus. I’m Baron Geoffrey’s personal page. He relies on me to do many things for him,” he boasted.
Rachel smiled at him. Cyrus had long blonde hair and a muscular body for a boy his age. “It sounds like you have a very important position,” she said.
“I do. The baron said soon I will begin training to be a squire, and then I will be a knight.”
“My brother wants to be a knight but cannot because we are Jews.”
“I never met a Jew before. This is my first time in West End.” As the three of them talked, Cyrus became more at ease. The boy and girl seemed no different from Christian boys and girls. He then remembered what a priest had said about the Jews—that they killed our Savior and did not believe he was the son of God.
“Do you live in the castle?” Benjamin asked.
“I do. I don’t have my own chamber, but I must stay near the baron so I can do his bidding whenever he needs me.”
“Where are you from?” Rachel asked.
“A small village near York. One day Baron Geoffrey stopped there, and I watered and fed his horse. His page had just died of the flux, and he asked me if I would like to replace him. I was living with my uncle after my parents died. My uncle welcomed the baron’s offer, so I left.” Cyrus looked at the candelabra again. “What’s that used for?”
“It’s for Hanukkah,” Rachel answered. “It’s one of our holidays. We add a candle each night for eight nights to remember a miracle from long ago. We often celebrate it while you are celebrating Christmas.”
Cyrus looked confused. “You don’t celebrate Christmas?” he asked. Before either Benjamin or Rachel could answer, some of the priest’s words began to come back to him.
“Why did you kill Christ?” he asked angrily.
Benjamin and Rachel looked at each other and started to feel uncomfortable. “We didn’t kill anybody,” Benjamin said.
“Yes, you did. The priest said the Jews killed Christ, and you’re Jews.”
Benjamin started to raise his voice. “That was a long time ago, and we weren’t living then. I don’t know about such things.” He saw Rachel was beginning to cry. “Perhaps you should leave now.”
The door to the house opened, and the children were relieved to see their father had returned. Mordecai saw the blonde boy and noticed Rachel’s tears.
“What is happening here? Who are you?” he gruffly asked Cyrus.
“I am Cyrus, page to Baron Geoffrey. Are you Mordecai, the apothecary?”
“Yes.”
Cyrus handed him the message. “This is for you.”
Mordecai opened the parchment and read it. “Tell the baron I will be there tomorrow after Sabbath prayers.”
Cyrus nodded and left.
“What was that about, Father?” Benjamin asked.
“First tell me what happened. Rachel was crying when I walked in, and your voice was raised.”
“Cyrus asked us why we killed Christ. I told him we didn’t kill anybody and we weren’t even alive then.”
“Oh, I see,” Mordecai said. “That again. I am sorry I was not here. Sit down, children.” Mordecai then realized David was not there. “Where is David? Shabbos is approaching. He should be home.”
“I don’t know, Father. Cheder ended on time before Shabbos, and I came straight home.”
Mordecai sighed. “Benjamin and Rachel. Our people have suffered for many years because of what happened a long time ago. The truth has been twisted by some to make the Christians hate us. Some say the Church is afraid Christians will become Jews if they see who we really are. We have our beliefs, and they have theirs. The Romans were responsible for killing Jesus. You two have nothing to feel guilty about. You have never harmed anyone. Do you understand?”
Benjamin and Rachel nodded. Mordecai kissed them both. “We had better prepare the Shabbos meal. It’s getting closer to sundown.”
The next afternoon Mordecai walked to the castle. He had no idea what the baron could want of him. Two guards stood at the gate.
“What do you want, Jew?” one of them growled, lowering his pike to block Mordecai’s path.
“I am Mordecai, the apothecary. Baron Geoffrey summoned me.”
The guard looked at his comrade. “Do you know about this?” he asked.
“Aye. Sir Walter told me to expect him. He can pass.”
Mordecai bowed slightly as the guard raised his weapon, giving Mordecai a little push on his backside as he passed. Mordecai continued into the courtyard and saw Cyrus sitting on a stump, munching on what was left of a piece of bread. “Oh, it’s you,” Cyrus said. “Come with me. I’ll take you to the baron.”
“Thank you,” Mordecai said. He followed Cyrus into the castle where he entered a large room. Baron Geoffrey sat at a huge table, drinking wine, and cutting pieces from a slab of mutton. He saw Cyrus and Mordecai approaching.
“My lord,” Cyrus said, bowing deeply. “The Jew Mordecai as you commanded.”
“Thank you, Cyrus. You may go.”
“Mordecai,” the baron said, “it’s good to see you. Come sit with me and have some wine.”
“My lord,” Mordecai said bowing. “I have come as you asked.”
The baron poured a glass of wine for Mordecai and handed it to him. Mordecai reluctantly took it.
“To your health,” Geoffrey said as he gulped down the red liquid.
Mordecai put the glass near his lips but did not drink. “And to yours, my lord,” Mordecai said.
“A fine wine, is it not? I have it brought in from Italy. I much prefer it to the French wines. To me they taste like vinegar.”
Mordecai nodded.
“Mordecai, I need your help.”
“In what way?”
“What I’m going to ask of you is in the strictest confidence. I want no one to know of this, understand?”
“Yes, my lord, I understand.”
“You are an expert in medicines and potions to help cure illnesses and conditions. You also know about poisons and how to prepare them, do you not?”
“Yes, my lord. An apothecary must know what is helpful along with what is dangerous. There are many natural poisons, as well as those that can be prepared.”
“I want to have a poison prepared that will make it seem the victim died of natural causes. There can be no trace of it. Can you do that?”
Mordecai was stunned at the baron’s request. While he had prepared poisons to kill rodents, he had not prepared one that would intentionally kill another human being.
“I have never done that before, my lord. I also am not comfortable performing such a task.”
“Mordecai, I understand this will be difficult for you, but I absolve you of all responsibility. I want you to do this, and I will give you some time to complete it. I don’t need it immediately but want to have it on hand. Therefore, it must be potent for a while.”
“Cannot another apothecary do this for you?”
The baron looked sternly at Mordecai. “No. I don’t trust anyone else with this. I know you won’t break my confidence. And you know what will happen if you do.”
Mordecai nodded. “I will see what I can do.”
“Good. I’ll give you until August, when I’ll send for you.”
“I will obey, my lord.”
Mordecai bowed. As he walked past the guards at the gate, he did not hear them making fun of him, his mind thinking only about this task he did not want to perform. What choice did he have? The baron ordered him to prepare a poison. It could be used only for one purpose. Perhaps he should discuss it with the rabbi. No, he cannot, as that would no doubt lead to his betraying the confidence the baron demanded. He had no choice. He must prepare it.
When he returned home, all three children were waiting for him.
“What did the baron want?” David asked.
Mordecai had not thought how to answer that question. He paused for a moment. “I have to prepare something for him. I cannot discuss it with anyone as he told me not to.”<
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David assumed the baron or someone in his household must be ill and did not want anyone to know about it. His father must have been asked to prepare some special medicine to cure it. “I understand, Father. We won’t ask you about it again.”
Benjamin and Rachel looked at each other. “We don’t understand,” Benjamin said. “Please tell us.”
Mordecai looked at them and pointed. “Enough. I cannot speak about it. And this is very important—do not say anything about it to anyone or I will be in trouble. Do not disobey me.”
Rachel and Benjamin nodded and said at the same time, “We won’t say anything to anyone, Father. We promise.”
“Good. Now let us forget we even discussed this.”
ABBOTT HUBERT TURNED TO LOOK at his cousin, Father Alwyn.
“What do you mean?” Hubert asked.
The two of them had left Baron Geoffrey’s castle and were on their way to London on horseback. It could be a dangerous journey, even in daylight. Thieves and cutthroats seemed to be everywhere. Sheriffs Alan de Insh, Warin de Basingburn, and the latest, John de Oxenden, had tried to capture some of them, but largely had been unsuccessful. There were just too many outlaws, and there never were enough soldiers. Requests for help were always answered the same way—no excuses, take care of the problem with the men you have. It had been considered to press some men from the town, but they were untrained and would not be of much good. Hubert did not like traveling without an escort, but he was unable to hire one on short notice, and Geoffrey said he could not spare even one man.
“I mean Geoffrey is dangerous and will stop at nothing to harm you, and perhaps me as well.”
“I do not trust him either,” Hubert responded, “but I don’t think he would dare to harm me. You, I do not know.”
“Thank you, cousin. That makes me feel better.”
“What do you think he’s up to?”
“I overheard some of the servants talking. If one quietly walks around a castle and listens carefully, one can learn quite a lot.”
“Well, what did you hear?”
“Geoffrey still blames you for his brother’s suicide. He’s planning revenge.”
“That’s old news. You were there when I told him his brother committed heresy and I had to excommunicate him. There were witnesses.”
Alwyn pulled on the reins to stop his already slow-moving horse, and Hubert did the same. “Yes, but Geoffrey does not believe them.”
“The matter is closed. I am not concerned.”
“Well, I believe you should be. Servants hear everything and know what is going on. And they usually have loose tongues.”
“He gave us his best hospitality, did he not?” Hubert said.
“Only because he had to. I told you we were foolish to stop there.”
“I appreciate your concern, but he wouldn’t dare. The king would know immediately Geoffrey was the culprit and arrest him, confiscate his lands, and have him executed. Now no more talk of him. Let’s continue our journey being mindful of the scum that inhabit these woods.”
“All right, cousin. I won’t bring it up again.”
They continued their journey without incident or any further discussion. Hubert was to meet with his cousin, Bishop Basil, in three days. Basil had sent a priest for him, although the priest said he did not know what this was about. The priest did not wait to accompany him, but said he had to return immediately.
They stopped at an inn for the night, feasting on shepherd’s pie and ale. They continued on the next morning, reaching London in the late afternoon. They went directly to the bishop’s residence and knocked.
A priest peered through a small opening, looking suspiciously at the two men on the other side.
“Open up. I am Abbot Hubert, the bishop’s cousin.” He neglected to mention Alwyn.
“I am sorry, Your Grace, but the bishop is not here and left no instructions to admit anyone.”
Indignant at the apparent insult, Hubert further raised his voice. “Let us in right now or I will have you flogged when my cousin returns. I am sure he would not deny me entry.”
The priest, a timid man of about fifty, reluctantly admitted them. “That’s better,” Hubert said. “Now, get us food and drink. We’ve had a long journey and we are tired and hungry.” The priest escorted them to the parlor and shuffled out.
“Hubert, I think you scared him half to death,” Alwyn grinned.
“He is nothing. Basil surrounds himself with weaklings to make him feel stronger. How Basil became a bishop is beyond me. He probably knows something about someone he should not,” Hubert said, winking at Alwyn.
Alwyn kept his thoughts to himself. Inside he hated Hubert, but knew he needed him to advance in the Church. Hubert was forty-seven, about five foot seven with a medium build, brown eyes, and black thinning hair that was starting to turn gray. Most considered him a boisterous, self-centered loudmouth who felt he could order everyone to do his bidding. Alwyn was ten years younger, a few inches taller, with brown hair and green eyes. Alwyn had never met Bishop Basil, and all he knew about him was from Hubert. Basil and Hubert, while only distant cousins, had grown up near each other. Basil was ten years older, and they did not appear to have much, if any, of a relationship. What Basil could want of Hubert, Alwyn could not even guess.
Hubert and Alwyn waited three more days in the bishop’s residence until Basil finally returned. Hubert expressed his outrage at the extra-long wait to the priest, who apologized, explaining he did not know why the bishop was delayed. They were sitting in the parlor as evening approached when they heard Basil.
“I am back, Father Eustace. Was anything amiss while I was away?”
“Not amiss, Your Grace,” Eustace stammered. “Abbot Hubert and a priest arrived four days ago and insisted on staying here. I told them you had not left any instructions, but he said he would have me flogged if I did not let him in.”
“And you did?” Basil saw Eustace shaking with nervousness. “It’s all right. Where are they now?”
“I am here, cousin,” Hubert said. He walked quickly to Basil and embraced him. Basil pushed him back with a scowl. The bishop was quite tall, standing over six foot, with deep, blue eyes. Hubert thought he looked older than his fifty-seven years.
“I am a bishop. Kiss my ring and treat me with the proper respect!” Basil commanded, raising his voice.
Hubert knelt down on one knee and kissed Basil’s ring. “My humble apologies, Your Grace. Since we’re related, I was hoping we could be less formal.”
Basil frowned. “We are distant cousins. I’m not even certain how we are related. Do not speak of any family relationship again.” He then looked at Alwyn, who stood behind Hubert. “And who might you be?” he asked.
Hubert started to answer. “He is my cousin as well.”
“He can answer for himself. Be silent, Hubert.”
Humbled again, Hubert bowed his head and mumbled something no one else in the room could hear.
“Well?” Basil asked Alwyn.
“I am Father Alwyn, Your Grace, of York. I am Hubert’s second cousin on his mother’s side. I was visiting him when he asked me to accompany him upon receiving your summons.”
“I see. You may stay. I may find you useful.” Basil’s demeanor then softened. “Eustace, bring wine and food for our guests.”
“So, Hubert. By what route did you come?”
“Through Northampton. Unfortunately, that meant I had to ask for Baron Geoffrey’s hospitality.”
“Does he still blame you for his brother’s suicide?”
“Yes, he does.”
“Why did you stay there if there is still tension between you two? Were you not fearful he would cut your throat?”
Alwyn looked at Hubert, wondering how he would answer. Hubert had told Alwyn he was unable to stay at the priory or an inn. The baron’s castle had the best available accommodations, and there would not be any cost.
“There were no other places available that nig
ht. The priory looked filthy and the only inn fit for an abbot was full. I did not want to send some poor soul into the cold, wet night when the baron could not refuse me shelter. I do not fear Geoffrey. He would not dare harm me.”
Alwyn smiled at his cousin’s predictable dishonesty. Basil grunted as he listened. He expected as much from Hubert. But Basil planned to put Hubert’s pompousness to good use for his own aims. “So, Hubert, what news in Northampton?”
“Nothing lately. Geoffrey said it has been quiet.”
“No trouble with the Jews?”
Hubert looked surprised. “The Jews? Not that I know of. Why do you ask?”
Eustace arrived with bread, cheese, and wine. “Thank you, Eustace. You may go. Refresh yourselves first, and then we will talk,” Basil said, his voice more caring.
Basil watched the two of them devour the food and guzzle the wine. One would think they had not eaten for days, he thought. Alwyn at least had some manners, but not Hubert. Basil sighed, wondering if Hubert was truly able to carry out his wishes. Time would tell.
“So,” Hubert said. “What can I do for you?”
“Are you happy where you are now? Have you considered relocating?”
“Yes, Your Grace. I am happy where I am, and no, I have not considered relocating, although I am always ready to move up in the Church. Why do you ask?”
“There is a problem with Hedgestone Priory, and I want to replace the current prior with a much stronger man. Prior Bartholomew is old and cannot handle his duties anymore.”
Hubert was puzzled. He knew Basil did not care for him. Why, he thought, would he want to make me prior of Hedgestone at Northampton? It was a smaller monastery than his current posting, but it could be a unique opportunity. Northampton was closer to London, and perhaps could lead to an even better position. Also, the bishop would be in his debt, and that always could be useful.
“I am flattered, Your Grace. However, usually the senior monks elect the next prior.”
“I know. You have been at your current station for some time, and while I do not care for some of your methods, I need someone like you for this. Even though it may seem like a step down, it is only temporary. Are you interested?”
