The Fate of the Arrow

by Shel Pais

  David followed his usual routine. He removed the bow, three arrows and the target he had made. He set up the target on the same tree he had been using and attached a bowstring. He notched an arrow, took aim, and shot. The arrow ran true and landed near the painted center. David smiled. He was getting stronger and better. He shot the next two arrows, and they hit the target as well. He practiced for about two hours until his arm felt quite sore. He put everything away, being especially careful to cover his tracks. The sheriff was still asking questions, even though it was several months since the forester was found.

  When David returned home, his father was waiting for him as was Avram.

  “How was your walk?”

  “Fine, Father, fine. Hello, Avram.”

  Mordecai noticed three of the fingers on David’s right hand looked red and somewhat raw. “Are you all right? What’s wrong with your fingers?”

  “I found a fallen branch on the ground and used it as a staff to walk with. I must have gripped it too tightly,” he said, thinking quickly of an excuse.

  Mordecai did not think that was plausible but did not question him further. David and Avram went into David’s room and closed the door.

  “Well,” Avram began, “I can guess where you’ve been.”

  “Avram, I’m getting good. I hit the middle of the target several times today, and from a greater distance. I think I have a knack for archery.”

  “I’m still worried, David. The sheriff continues to ask questions, and if anyone sees you…”

  “I know. Winter’s coming soon, and I won’t be able to practice. It will be too risky to leave tracks in the snow. That should help, though, as with time passing, the sheriff will lose interest and finally give up.”

  “I don’t agree, David. He seems pretty dedicated to solving this mystery. You’ve been lucky so far.”

  David shook his head. “The sheriff doesn’t suspect a Jew could be involved. He has never done his questioning in West End. It’s been several months already, and as I said, with winter coming, the first snows will make it even harder if he tries to search again. My treasure is well hidden.” David hesitated for a moment. “As long as you don’t say anything.”

  Avram looked disappointed. “How could you say that? You know I would never say anything.”

  “Really, Avram? What if the sheriff stopped you and started questioning you? What if he asked you directly if you knew anything about the forester’s death or the missing weapons? What if you were not convincing in your answer and he took you in for further questioning? You know they have terrible ways to get anyone to say anything.”

  “You’re right, David. Let’s hope the sheriff doesn’t extend his investigation to West End. He has no reason to, after all. Even so, please don’t worry. I may not be very brave, but I can lie quite well when I want to. Your secret is safe with me.”

  “You’re right, my friend. You can lie convincingly when you want to. Let’s not speak of this again.”

  Hubert and Alwyn sat in Hubert’s chamber. There was a parchment on the small table, along with a pitcher of wine and two cups.

  “This wine is awful,” Hubert said, spitting some onto the floor.

  “I like it. I don’t like strong wine.”

  Hubert grunted. “It tastes like horse piss. Alwyn, you have no class whatsoever. You would like anything liquid, I presume.”

  “Hubert, you insult me. I just have different standards depending upon the situation. This is the best we can afford right now. Hopefully soon we will be able to afford better. Perhaps some good French wine?”

  Hubert looked at the parchment and turned it around so Alwyn could see it better. “What do you think about this list? Have we covered everything?”

  Alwyn began reading out loud. “Roof repairs to the refectory, rebuild the south outer wall, replace the stables, build a new chapel, granary, and expand the kitchen and scriptorium.” Alwyn stopped reading and looked at Hubert. “The list goes on. This will cost a fortune. Basil will never approve all of these.”

  Hubert smiled. “I disagree. I believe Basil wants me to obtain the largest loan I can from the Jews, and while these may seem somewhat extravagant for a relatively small priory as Hedgestone, I think he will approve them all.”

  “I don’t understand, Hubert. Why would Basil want to commit so much money for such a place as this?”

  “Because, cousin, he wants the moneylender, whoever he is, to believe the loan is to make these improvements. These can only increase the priory’s visibility, and, as such, it will attract more revenue. Then Basil can take the money, or at least as much as he wants, without giving away his scheme, leaving me responsible for the debt and not being able to do the work or repay the loan.”

  Alwyn thought he was beginning to understand. “But why couldn’t Basil simply negotiate his own loan?” he asked.

  “Alwyn, I can see you don’t know how Basil thinks. I believe he doesn’t want to associate himself with borrowing from the Jews. And if the loan is in default, his name would not be a part of it. Mine would be. Do you see now?”

  “I think so. If what you say is true, he’s playing you for a pawn.”

  Hubert started to take another sip of wine, remembered how he thought it tasted, and threw the pottery cup against the cold, stone wall, startling Alwyn, as it broke into dozens of pieces. Hubert then thought, two can play this game, cousin. I cannot share my plan with you because I believe you are spying on me for Basil. I must keep quiet.

  “Are you all right, Hubert?” Alwyn asked.

  “I have no choice, Alwyn. I must do the bishop’s bidding. I believe he will want you to report to him now. Please take this list and see what he wants me to do.”

  “Yes, Hubert. I think it is time for me to go to London. I’ll return as soon as I can.”

  “What will you tell him?” Hubert asked, a bit sarcastically.

  “I’ll tell him you had the monks clean up the priory. The floors and grounds look much better, and you’ve given everyone assignments. You punished a few for being lazy, a few for being late for prayers, and two for socializing with the Jews when in town. You also carefully prepared this list of major improvements.”

  “Very good,” Hubert said. “You should leave at first light.”

  Alwyn left the room. As soon as he leaves, I will talk to Father Ambrose, Hubert thought. Enough time has elapsed here that I now can get him to spy for me. Basil cannot use me as he wishes, but I must be careful.

  Alwyn left the next morning with two monks. Hubert wished him well on his journey, and then walked the grounds as he did each dawn. He was happy with the small improvements he had made. He occasionally had requested Bartholomew’s advice, primarily just to try to have the old prior warm up to him. He also wanted Ambrose to get to know him better. Hubert tried to watch every move the priest made, looking for anything he could use against him in case Ambrose was resistant to the idea of spying on Alwyn.

  As Hubert continued his walk, he saw Ambrose coming out of the lavatorium.

  “Good morning, Father Ambrose,” Hubert said, making sure his voice sounded kind and friendly.

  “Good morning to you, Abbot.”

  “Will you join me as I finish my daily walk?”

  This surprised Ambrose since Hubert never had asked him before. “Certainly. I would be most happy to.” The two men walked slowly around the perimeter of the priory.

  “Tell, me Ambrose, what do you think about the improvements we’ve made so far?”

  Ambrose was surprised Hubert said “we” instead of “I.”

  “May I speak honestly?”

  “Of course. I would most welcome your opinions,” Hubert lied.

  “Most of what you have done Bartholomew would have ordered himself. The timing of all this was most unfortunate; as you recall, there had been much illness here when you arrived. I will admit some of the brothers had become lazy, and Bartholomew did not address that. He was not strict enough, in my opinion. When he did as
k one about something, there was always an excuse, and he just nodded his head and said meekly they should try to be better. I had spoken to him about it, but he just replied God makes many different types of people, and we must not try to change someone.”

  “He actually said that?” Hubert said. He felt Ambrose was starting to tell him things about Bartholomew he never would have just a few days before.

  “Yes, he did. I think you have instilled fear into most of the brothers, but your punishments have been too harsh. Especially with Brothers Tybalt and Cassius.”

  Hubert stopped and looked at Ambrose. “They were flogged for socializing with Jews. I was in Northampton and saw them. They knew the rules.”

  Ambrose’s face reddened. “The rules are too harsh. They were not socializing. Tybalt and Cassius had been trying to convert Jews before you came. You heard Bartholomew. Your danger is misplaced and wrong. There is nothing evil about talking to Jews. With your logic, you wouldn’t have spoken to Our Lord.”

  Ignoring Ambrose’s comment, Hubert began to get angry. “The danger is not misplaced nor wrong. If we are not strict, it will be too easy for someone to stray. I will not take that chance, and neither will the bishop. He is very concerned about this here.”

  “Nonsense. There is no one here who would denounce his religion and convert to Judaism. That’s absurd!”

  Hubert continued. “And another thing: I do not believe Jews can be converted without forcing them. They are a strange people, and the fact they did not embrace Christ over a thousand years ago and still have not only convinces me even more.”

  Ambrose laughed. “I’m sorry, but that is so misguided. One must first understand the other side before being able to change their thinking. No one wants to be forced to do anything. I am not very knowledgeable when it comes to history, but I do know conquerors have almost always made the mistake of alienating the people they have conquered. What has that brought? Enslavement and even more animosity against them. Remember, the Jewish religion is a lot older than Christianity. Do you know that even when the Hebrews had a strong army, they rarely forced anyone to convert? It’s not their way. Our Church decided a long time ago to go in the other direction, and many have died because of it. We believe there must be a better way.”

  “I can see Bartholomew has truly poisoned the minds of everyone here with that heresy. The problem is much worse than I or Bishop Basil believed.”

  Ambrose shook his head. “You’re wrong again, Abbot. No one here has a poisoned mind. We are free thinkers. While we know Christ is the true way for us, others think differently. We call them infidels just as they call us infidels. I will say it again—we will have a much better chance of converting some if we show them our kindness and consideration. That going our way is the correct way towards righteousness. If we are hypocrites, then why should they trust us?”

  “I’ve heard enough. No one here will follow that course. You and everyone else will do exactly as I say. This discussion is over.” He stomped off, convinced he cannot trust Ambrose.

  Ambrose watched the abbot walk away. Such a little man, he thought as he slowly walked back to the dormitory. It is thinking such as that that will only cause more pain and death and will not bring anyone closer to Christ. I am sure of it.

  Mordecai was about to leave the synagogue when Rabbi Ezra stopped him. “Good Shabbos, Mordecai. How have you been?”

  “As best as can be expected, Rabbi.”

  “Is anything wrong?” he asked.

  Mordecai looked down at the floor, holding back tears. “I still am having a problem dealing with Sarah’s death. Or murder, I should say. I feel so guilty I wasn’t there to save her, and the culprits have not been caught or even pursued.”

  Ezra patted Mordecai on the shoulder. “I know it has been very difficult for you. It has been difficult for many others as well. That was a terrible night. So many suffered losses. We must trust in God, and he will help to heal all wounds.”

  “I want to believe that, but it’s so hard. She was such a beautiful person. She never harmed anyone her whole life. Her only crime was being Jewish. Why was she taken from me?” Tears flowed down Mordecai’s cheeks as he sobbed.

  “I do not have an answer for that. Some say everything is God’s will, but I personally do not believe that. I believe God gave man the ability to think and understand what is right and what is wrong. What is good and what is evil. Just as there is beauty in this world, there is ugliness as well. There are calm, gorgeous days and terrible storms, too. Each man must decide in his heart if he is to be good or evil. Unfortunately, some pretend to be good and mask their evil in the name of God, for their own ambitions. We can only hope they will get their day of reckoning.”

  Mordecai dried his eyes. “I’m sorry to have lost my composure, Rabbi.”

  “Have you considered remarrying?”

  “I’ve thought about it. At least to have someone to help take care of my children.”

  “May I make a suggestion?” Ezra asked. Mordecai nodded.

  “My youngest sister, Hannah, lost her husband last year, as he was very ill. They had no children. I wrote to her about you, and she responded she would be interested in meeting you.”

  “Where does she live?”

  “In Bristol. She would be happy to come visit me, and then you two could meet.”

  “I don’t know, Rabbi. Does she know about my children?”

  “Of course. While she could never replace Sarah, I am sure she would make a fine stepmother for them. She always wanted to have children.”

  “Very well. I guess it’s time we had a woman in the house. I will meet her if she comes.”

  “Very good. I will send for her. Now, something else. Bartholomew, the former prior, will be here shortly to meet with me and some of the elders. We would like you to stay and join us.”

  “I am honored you would ask me. Certainly, I will stay.”

  He followed Rabbi Ezra into another room, where Rabbi Tanchum ben Jacob, Moshe ben Joseph, and Joshua ben Isaac were waiting.

  “Come join us for some bread, wine and cheese.”

  About thirty minutes later, Bartholomew arrived. “Good Shabbos, gentlemen,” he said.

  “Good Shabbos, Prior,” they all replied.

  Ezra then introduced Mordecai. “You know everyone except Mordecai.” Bartholomew extended his hand as Mordecai arose and took it. “We met when I cured him a few years ago,” Mordecai said. “It’s good to see you again. I understand you are no longer prior.”

  “That’s why I’ve come.” Mordecai sat, and Bartholomew took the last empty chair.

  “Would you like some wine and something to eat?” Ezra asked Bartholomew.

  “Just some wine, thank you. I’ve already eaten.” Moshe poured him a glass.

  “As you know, I am no longer prior, and the new prior was not chosen from among our brothers.” They all nodded.

  “Bishop Basil has made Abbot Hubert prior, even though it is a bit of a demotion. Basil said he was not happy with the way I was running the priory. We disagreed with him to no avail. Of course, internal priory matters should not concern you. However, there is one matter that does, as well as all the Jews of West End, and that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I have always believed, and I have made it no secret, that God does not want us to be enemies over worshiping Him. I have also not made it a secret that while we can have our differences, we have much in common. We’ve shared bread together and have had many discussions about the Bible and the differences and similarities in our religious beliefs. Only by understanding one another can we create a better world, as were we not all created in God’s image?” The men again nodded in agreement.

  “Unfortunately, Basil and Hubert do not agree with our philosophy. They have forbidden any of the brothers to even speak to Jews. Two were flogged for doing so.”

  “Aren’t you afraid of being caught talking to us and getting flogged yourself?” Ezra asked.

  “I’m an old m
an. No one would dare to do that to me. However, with this new edict, I cannot come again. I will miss our debates, as they truly stimulated my mind and Father Ambrose’s as well.”

  “Do the other brothers agree with you or the bishop?” Rabbi Tanchum asked.

  “Most, if not all, agree with me. When the edict was announced there was much dissension. But it didn’t matter. The bishop wouldn’t budge, and Hubert is merely doing his bidding, although he believes the same way.”

  Ezra stood up and walked about the room, engrossed in thought. “I had been hopeful we were making progress by getting to know each other better and understanding our similarities as well as our differences. Now I am quite concerned it has been for naught, and our peoples will never be able to truly coexist. The king says we belong to him, and he dictates what we can and cannot do. We are resented for our successes when we fulfill those dictates. This resentment breeds hate, as well as those in the Church that preach against us. We are outcasts based on long ago events we had nothing to do with. Bartholomew, I am truly grateful and appreciative for your efforts to reach out to us. No doubt you were hoping to convert some of us, but that is no matter. Any man or woman who has true faith cannot be swayed, I believe. God lets each person make his or her own decisions. When other men make laws or by a king’s ruling deny anyone the right to make their own decisions, there is no freedom. We have our own laws and customs that we live by to honor God in our own way, and for many they may seem difficult. But they have helped to sustain us as best as we can.”

  Bartholomew stood and embraced Ezra. “I am hopeful someday there will be no more hate, and every man can simply live by his own beliefs and let others do the same. Unfortunately, we will not see that in our lifetimes, or in your children’s, I’m afraid. Instead, I see more trouble ahead. But I will pray and ask God to help bring us all together.”

  “That’s all we can ask for,” Ezra said.