The Silver Cup

by Constance Leeds

  “I’d enjoy that. Your mother used to make salves, but I don’t remember one to keep away flies,” said Gunther, squashing a fly with his hand. “I think I saw purple flowers along the far bank.”

  “May we go? ”

  “Yes. The whole town is at the market. If you go early, no one will be by the stream. There will be games this afternoon now that hay is cut. I think I’ll pass near the games, so everyone knows that I am nearby. Take Smudge, and don’t stay long.”

  Anna rinsed the bowls and helped bring the stools and table inside. Then she and Leah took a basket, and with Smudge, they set off. The sky was blue, and a breeze rustled the leaves and pressed the long grass, but the day remained hot, and the girls walked slowly. Smudge trotted along warily, circling close to the girls. They could hear the noise of the games, and at each outburst, Smudge would turn, his ears flat against his woolen head. But as Gunther expected, the stream was deserted. Leah scampered over the bank and sloshed along the stream, enjoying the coolness. She and Anna gathered handfuls of the weedy pudding grass until the basket was full. They splashed Smudge and each other until his fur dripped and their kirtles were heavy and clung to their legs. Then Smudge began to growl.

  Looking up, Anna saw Dieter and two boys approaching. Their faces were red and wet.

  “Look. It’s Anna and her filthy little Jew. What do you think you’re doing? She’ll poison the water.”

  “Leave us alone, Dieter. The water is clean, and you could stand some cooling,” Anna said calmly, trying to ignore her pounding heart.

  “And you could stand a lesson, Anna.”

  “We’re leaving, Dieter. Let us be.”

  “Your cousin Martin would want me to take care of the Jewess,” leered Dieter.

  As he moved toward Leah, Anna stepped in front of the girl. Smudge began barking and showing his teeth, and Anna held him by the scruff of his neck as the dog grew more and more angry at the threatening young man. Dieter leaned down and found a stick that he raised over the dog, but before he could strike, Leah came from behind and pointed at Dieter.

  “May your firstborn son walk with his toes pointed inward,” she intoned in a hoarse, grating voice that even Anna did not recognize.

  Dieter dropped the stick, his mouth open. The other boys backed away. Anna held Smudge who was lunging and whining. Dieter stared ashen faced at Leah who wagged her thin finger and swayed, humming, keening, and then chanting a peculiar, eery tune in a voice unlike any human’s:

  Baruch atah, Adonai,

  Elohaynu melech ha’olam

  Borei p’ri ha-gafen

  The boys turned and ran from the stream. Anna looked as frightened as the boys, and when Leah saw her face, she began to laugh.

  “Anna, you can’t think I’ve done magic.”

  “But you sounded so awful. I heard your curse. And then those foreign words. I thought —”

  “If I could work magic, my family would be with me. No, that was the Hebrew prayer my father would say over the Sabbath wine. But the voice was good. Wasn’t it? ”

  “Yes. Too good. I was sure it was some evil force.”

  Leah laughed. “You have a lovely singing voice, but I could never sing at all. Still, I used to frighten my little brothers with ugly voices. And my curse—that his first born’s feet turn in—how scary was that? ”

  Anna began to laugh too. “Not even a little. Whose feet don’t turn in? Better than walking like a duck.” And Anna began to waddle along the bank.

  “Yes. And when those boys think about it, I hope they’ll be too embarrassed to accuse me of anything. Everyone would know what cowards they are,” added Leah.

  “We must tell Lukas. This is a tale that will make him laugh.”

  Lukas laughed so hard he had to sit, and later, to Anna’s surprise, Gunther laughed aloud at girls’ adventure.

  “But I should never have let you go alone. You and Leah must be very careful. Not everyone is as easily fooled as Dieter. Many would like to see the town rid of Leah. I have heard her blamed for everything from storms to cankers,” Gunther said. “I’m glad to see she can keep her wits.”

  “I have little else, sir.”

  “You must never leave this house alone. This is a small town. The people do not welcome strangers.”

  “You mean Jews,” said Leah.

  “We have never had one of your people among us. You must be especially careful when I am away. Always bar the windows and doors.”

  What was it about Leah that changed everything? Outside their household, everyone had become unfriendly, even threatening. Inside, the household itself had come alive and warm with the girls’ friendship. Even Gunther was affected. Martin’s insults were replaced by Leah’s compliments. Maybe now Father can see that I am not so worthless, thought Anna as she went to the garden and picked rosemary and thyme to mix with the flowering pudding grass.

  Leah steeped the herbs in a pot of water over the coals. When most of the liquid had evaporated, the girls used a smooth, clean stone to mash the leaves and stalks. Then they pressed the soggy mixture through a piece of cloth creating a dark herbal tea which they returned to the pot. Gunther gave Leah a small block of beeswax that she carefully grated into the pot. As wax melted, she swirled the pot with a stick until the wax and the plant juices combined to form a thick hot mixture with an agreeably sharp aroma. Anna poured the potion into an empty clay butter tub and set it to cool.

  “In the morning we’ll have a salve to rub on our faces,” said Leah.

  “And maybe the flies will stay away,” said Anna.

  “It will work,” said Leah.

  “You know so many things!”

  “But no magic. You know more about cooking and cleaning than my mother, and you work as hard as three women. You know so much, Anna, but not about yourself. Who are you named for?”

  “Saint Anne. The mother of the Virgin.”

  “The grandmother of the Nazarene?”

  “Yes. And for my father’s mother, who was also named Anna.”

  “Your grandmother?” asked Leah.

  “Yes. She died when my father was born. I know nothing about her. What about you, Leah? Tell me about your name.”

  “I’m named for a heroine in our holy book. Hers isn’t a happy story.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Leah was the older, ugly sister to a beautiful girl named Rachel. Poor Leah was weak eyed and clumsy.”

  Leah crossed her eyes, and Anna laughed.

  “There was a man named Jakob whow loved the beautiful Rachel, but after seven years of working for the father of the sisters, Jakob was tricked into marrying Leah. Still, after another seven years of working for his father-in-law, Jakob was allowed to marry Rachel too.”

  “Two wives?”

  “This is an old tale, Anna. Though I’ve heard in some lands, Jews still have more than one wife.”

  “I’d hate that,” said Anna. “What if you weren’t the favorite wife?”

  “Leah surely wasn’t Jakob’s favorite. But she bore him many sons.”

  “And Rachel?”

  “She bore only two sons.”

  “Good.”

  “The twelve sons of Jakob became the heads of twelve tribes, and all my people come from these tribes.”

  “So you’re really named for an ancient grandmother.”

  “Yes. I suppose I am, because Father says we are of the tribe of Levi, who was a son of Leah, not Rachel.”

  The girls had not noticed Gunther who had come in from the garden. He had been listening to Leah.

  “You know your story well, Leah. I have heard that all your people can read. Is that true?” asked Gunther.

  “Many can, yes.”

  “Even the girls?” he asked.

  “It is the boys who become scholars of our book, but yes, many girls can read. We must be ready to teach our sons if necessary.”

  “Such a different people you are,” commented Gunther.

  “Yes, very different.�
��

  Gunther looked at both girls. He asked Anna, “Do you remember your grandmother’s pin? The one I almost gave you on Easter?”

  “Yes, Father.”

  “I’m sorry I listened to Agnes. This should be yours.” He pulled the pin from the pouch on his belt.

  Anna took the amethyst pin, and Leah helped fasten it on her kirtle.

  “There,” said Leah. “It looks elegant.”

  “This pin belonged to my grandmother, the one named Anna.”

  “It’s lovely,” said Leah.

  “I’m going to wear it always.” Anna beamed.

  26

  SUMMERTIME

  July 23, 1096

  Leah and Anna awoke on a flawless summer morning, alone but for each other. Lukas appeared and offered to take the girls to swim in the afternoon. Above the town, there was a place where the stream was still and clear and perfect for bathing.

  First, Anna and Leah swept the house and scrubbed each pot and crock. Cobwebs were banished from the corners, and the bed was refilled with clean straw and sprinkled with tansy leaves. When Lukas returned, he carried a heavy wooden staff.

  “Do you think we need a shepherd? ” asked Anna with a laugh. She reached for a crock of gray soft soap that Agnes had made in the fall from sheep tallow and lye leached from wood ash.

  Scooping a lump into a smallter crock, Anna wrinkled her nose and said, “This is nasty. Before we go, I’ll pick some mint leaves to take as well. Let’s be off.”

  Anna and Leah practically skipped through the town, with Smudge and Lukas following close behind, ignoring the snickers and comments from their neighbors. As they reached the rolling meadow beyond the town wall, the little party fell into a gentle, purposeless stroll. Leah and Smudge trailed behind, the girl gathering an armful of blue cowslips, yellow marigolds, silver ladies smock, and white daisies.

  Anna looked at Lukas. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  “You know, when Dieter’s tale became known, people laughed at him. Such a ridiculous curse, but behind the laughter there’s doubt and a grain of fear. No one wants to test Leah’s powers.”

  Anna shook her head sadly. “Not yet, anyway. I wish Leah could stay, but I know she can’t. If the people like Dieter stop being afraid? Then what will they do to her?”

  “No one in this town will cross your father.”

  “But Father travels.”

  Lukas nodded. “And I am not perfect protection. Except today, of course.”

  “She has to go to her people. Lukas, you have to help.”

  “Anna, I still feel baptism is the best way for Leah.”

  “She’ll never accept baptism.”

  “You are probably right. And I don’t think forcing someone would be God’s wish. If only she would see.”

  “Do you really think Leah would ever be safe here? And what about the boy she is betrothed to? In Strasbourg, she could find the life that was taken from her in Worms. She would rather die than give up her faith.”

  “What can either of us do, Anna? ”

  “We have to get her to Strasbourg. Can’t you find a reason to take her?”

  “Me? I’ve never been beyond Worms! What about your father? ”

  “He refuses. Father won’t listen. He says he can keep her safe. But you and I can’t.” She was silent for a moment, and then she asked, “Do you ever think about Thomas?”

  “I cannot,” said Lukas.

  “And Martin?”

  “I pray for him every day.”

  “For his safe return?”

  “Yes. And that he took no part in the evil in Worms,” answered Lukas.

  “Sometimes I feel so helpless,” said Anna.

  “And I feel so confused, dear Cousin. You’re not easy on me,” Lukas said. “Now, I am going to sit on the other side of that hill and think about all this. I have the whole afternoon, and I look forward to the peace out here. You and Leah will be safe,” he said, and he tapped the staff on the ground.

  The sun was hot as Anna and Leah headed for the bathing spot. At a sandy part of the stream bank, hidden by the reeds, the girls stripped off their kirtles. Underneath, Anna wore a very old, thin woolen smock, and Leah had a linen one. They bathed, removing the under shifts as they slipped beneath the water, while Smudge scampered along the bank. They rubbed the greasy soap on their skin and into their hair and rinsed the lather. Using fistfuls of sand, they scrubbed until it hurt. They coaxed Smudge into the water and washed his fur. The girls drowned out the hum of the insects with their splashes and laughter.

  Afterwards, they brought their kirtles into the water and scoured them with soap and sand and lay the heavier cloth to dry in the sun. Then they rubbed the mint leaves in their hair and on their arms and hands. In their wet shifts, they sat on the bank and talked of everything and nothing until the sun was low, and their clothing was only damp.

  Anna lay on her stomach and peered into the water.

  “Don’t you ever wish you could see your face, Leah?”

  “Mine looks more like a skull than a girl,” said Leah as she leaned over the edge of the stream.

  “The water’s too shadowy. I can’t see my eyes at all.”

  Leah sat up, drawing her knees to her chest, and said, “My mother used to say I looked just like my grandmother.”

  “She must have been lovely,” said Anna sitting up and smiling at her friend.

  “She was old and a little fat,” laughed Leah. “But everyone said she was pretty when she was a girl. Your mother must have been beautiful,” said Leah.

  “I don’t remember her face very well. Why?”

  “Because your aunt was her sister, and she is as pretty as she is nasty. And because you’re so lovely.”

  “Don’t tease me.”

  “Anna, you’re very fair.”

  “Your head must be waterlogged.”

  “You have the most perfect skin.”

  “All freckled?” scoffed Anna rubbing under her nose.

  “What are you talking about? It’s clear and rosy. You don’t have any freckles.”

  “What color are my eyes?”

  “Green. And very beautiful.”

  Anna looked at Leah and beamed, “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For that.”

  Leah shrugged, and the girls pulled on their clean, damp kirtles and gathered skirtfuls of flowers. They called Lukas and returned home with him for dinner. They shared a late meal of cheese and green peas and bread dipped in honey. Anna could not recall a better day.

  Just before sunset Gunther returned, and he seemed more contented than he had been in years. He joked with Leah about her fly ointment, which had actually worked. He complimented both girls on the shining appearance of the home and the girls themselves. He complimented Lukas on being their escort but chuckled when he saw the staff. Lukas bid them all farewell.

  The quarter moon was sharp edged, and Gunther asked Anna to join him in the garden to enjoy the star-pricked sky. He surprised her by linking arms as they walked, and she drew herself to him.

  “I planted this pear tree when I married your mother,” Gunther said.

  “I remember sitting here with her when the tree was white with sweet flowers. She would tell me to close my eyes and breathe deeply. And she would ask if I could smell the fruit.”

  “She loved it. We’ll plant another in Worms.”

  “Worms?”

  “I have given this house to Karl.”

  “What?” cried Anna desperately.

  “I’ve been to Cologne often this spring. On the first trip, I met two Flemish brothers, cloth merchants with a very large trade.”

  “What’s this to do with our house?” Anna pulled away from Gunther.

  “Let me finish. These Flemish brothers have many weavers who make the finest cloth, very, very valuable. They know everything about wool, but little about trading, and nothing of the towns and cities along the Rhine. These are good people. I have promised to
take their cloth.”

  “But what’s all this to do with our house?”

  “We are leaving this town. After Lammas we’ll move to Worms. I need to be near the market there.”

  “Worms? No Father, we can’t.”

  “Anna, Worms isn’t the evil place you think. All that’s over.”

  “No, it’s a horrible place.”

  “It’s not heaven here. Anna, this is not just about me. For Leah’s sake, I should think you would be glad to leave this place. For both of you. For all of us. Agnes wants us gone from the family. We are outcasts here. This is no home. You can’t even go into the garden if you see her or your cousins.”

  “I’ve never slept in another bed. This is where I’ve always been.”

  “It isn’t safe for Leah here.”

  “Worms wasn’t safe for her either.”

  “I won’t travel anymore. People will come to me. Anna, I have found a better house, near the cathedral and the marketplace. You’ll love the new home. It is far more fine, with a hall large enough for my goods. There’s a separate cooking house in the back. And stairs to a room above the hall, a room just for us, more like the manor house. And a garden. We will plant a pear tree there. I had planned to take you to see the house when we were in Worms that awful day.”

  Anna listened, shaking her head stubbornly. “Father, everyone I have ever known is here. This is where we lived with Mother. No one except Martin has ever left.”

  “Your uncle’s eldest son is old enough to marry. It’s time he had a house.”

  Anna began to cry.

  “It’s settled. I am tired of traveling. Your life and mine will be better. I’m off again at the end of the week. I’m weary, Anna.”

  “What shall I tell Leah?”

  “Tell her that the house in Worms is more comfortable, grand like her father’s. And she will be safer.”

  “Safer?”

  “Because I won’t travel. And because no one will know she’s a Jew.”

  “No, Father. That’s not right. Leah wants to be a Jew. She won’t ever become a Christian, and she cannot return to Worms.”

  “I can’t see what choice she has.”

  “We must help her.”

  “You have done enough. I am not sorry Leah has come into our lives. But it’s time for her to become one of us. There’s no other way.”