The Difficult Saint: A Catherine LeVendeur Mystery (24 page)

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Authors: Sharan Newman

BOOK: The Difficult Saint: A Catherine LeVendeur Mystery
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Before Catherine could answer, the voices went on.
“
Nothing. So don’t indulge yourself in melancholia. There’s work to be done
.”
“Catherine? Are you talking to yourself?” Walter was caught between amusement and concern.
“Sorry,” she said. “Just a silent prayer of sorts.”
“Try not to do it outside of church,” he advised. “Is that Hubert at the door?”
Catherine went to look.
“No, just someone passing by. Father’s been spending a lot of time talking with the merchants of Trier. I’d think he’d have learned all they knew about Lord Gerhardt by now.”
“It takes time to winnow truth from gossip,” Walter said.
“We only have until the end of summer,” Catherine reminded him. “And we’ve found nothing that would help Agnes so far.”
The next sound at the door was Hubert. His face was so grey that Catherine’s first thought was that something had happened to Agnes.
“No, your sister is unharmed, as far as I know,” Hubert said when she asked. “I’ve heard more about this monk, Radulf, who is preaching against the Jews in Germany. They say he’s left Lotharingia and is coming to Köln. He’s supposed to have another monk with him to translate the exhortations. Both of them want the Jews destroyed.”
“I thought Astrolabe was sent to warn Abbot Bernard about him,” Catherine said.
“The abbot has sent letters telling people not to listen to this man,” Hubert said. “But he’s still spreading his poison. More people gather to hear a rabble-rouser than ever attend a Mass. Sermons read on Sunday won’t stop Radulf.”
“What about at Troyes?” Walter asked. “Is Solomon in danger?”
“I’ve no news of him,” Hubert answered. “But I have faith that Count Thibault will allow no such persecution in his land. We’ve told you how quick his son was to stop those trying to drive the Jews from the fair.”
“All the same, I’m glad we decided to bring the children with us,” Catherine said. “Even though they’ve been a nuisance.”
She had raised her voice as she saw James peeking around the door. But her open arms told him that she wasn’t serious. He ran to her and then hugged Hubert. As Catherine watched, she was grateful, too, that James and Edana were with them. It was one more bond to keep her father from sliding back into the faith of his ancestors.
“You don’t think there will be trouble here, do you?” she added.
“The
parnas
of the community thinks not,” Hubert said. “The burghers here don’t have the animosity against the Jews that they do in the bigger cities. Perhaps there aren’t enough here to threaten them. And the slaughter here in 1096 appalled everyone. I don’t think there are many who would want it repeated.”
“Good. Then we won’t worry about it for now. You look tired, Father. Will you have some wine and food?” Catherine tried to divert him from his memories.
“No, Mina fed me, thank you,” he answered. “Where’s Edgar?”
“Brother Berengar came by and offered to show him some repair work being done on one of the Roman buildings.” Catherine smiled. “I expect he won’t return before dark; he took his wax tablet and stylus.”
Hubert shook his head. “I don’t see how you can be so indulgent, daughter. It’s one thing that your husband makes toys for the children or baubles for the nuns, but at least he works out of the sight of our friends. And it makes him feel useful, even with his injury.”
“Father,” Catherine warned.
“But you really have to stop him when he goes about where masons and carpenters are working and makes suggestions to improve building methods,” Hubert persisted. “It’s not only undignified for a man of his rank, it could also get him a crack on the head worse than Walter’s. Craftsmen don’t appreciate men who poke into their trade secrets.”
“Are you finished?” Catherine said. “Edgar knows all these things but there’s something in him that comes alive when he can watch engignors at work. If he wants to join their guild and they’ll have him, I will be as proud as if he’d been given a castellany.”
Hubert turned to Walter for support. “You see what happens when to let your daughter marry for love? Her common sense flies out the door.”
“I have a fascination with machines, myself,” Walter said. “I don’t blame Edgar for his interest. But I don’t think you should worry. After all, whoever heard of a one-handed master mason?”
“Papa!” James cried, looking over Hubert’s shoulder.
Hubert spun about. Had Edgar heard?
Edgar greeted them all as usual, but Catherine saw the hurt. He had indeed heard them. Her thoughts toward Walter and her father were not charitable.
“Catherine.” Edgar took James from his grandfather and then leaned over to kiss her. “I have news for you. Whether it’s good or not is for you to decide.”
“Edgar, don’t be mysterious,” Catherine said. “Is that the reason you’ve returned before dark?”
Edgar ignored the taunt. “A messenger was on his way to us but spotted Berengar with me. Lord Hermann has decided to honor your request and allow you to visit Agnes.”
“Just Catherine?” Hubert was indignant.
“It seems so,” Edgar answered. “Berengar says that he’ll come for you just after Prime. Well, aren’t you pleased?”
The last question was because of the consternation on Catherine’s face. She looked up at Edgar.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I’ve wanted to see her for so long but now I’m afraid. Lord Hermann may have given me permission to come, but will Agnes let me in?”
Trier. Monday, 7 ides of July (July 9), 1146; Trisha B-v, the day of lamentation for the destruction of the Temple. Feast of Saint Agilulf, bishop of Köln circa 770, martyred during general civil unrest.
O, Most High, console thy people that are disconsolate: Turn to her that is not pitied and be merciful. My enemies say, “No comfort shalt thou ever see.”—I am all peace: but when I speak, they are for war.
 
—Joseph ben Isaac ibn Abitor
Hymn on Psalm 120
 
 
H
ermann sent Berengar and an armed escort for Catherine. He wanted no repetition of what had happened to Walter. Margaret begged to be allowed to come along.
“Not this time,
bele suer,”
Catherine told her. “For all I know I may not be there long enough to wash my hands. It will be better if you stay with Edgar and Father.”
“But Edgar spends all his time watching the church repairs,” Margaret protested. “James and Edana don’t mind playing there but I’m so bored. Please!”
“Father, can she go with you?” Catherine asked.
“Not today, Catherine,” Hubert said. “It’s the fast of Av and I’m going to spend it with Mina and her family, fasting. Margaret wouldn’t enjoy it.”
“Father!”
Catherine was furious. She pulled him out into the back garden of the lodging and spoke softly but with great intensity.
“This has got to stop, Father,” she said. “You are a baptized Christian. How can you risk your immortal soul, not to mention the lives of your family like this?”
“Perhaps it’s my soul I’m considering, daughter,” Hubert answered, equally angry.
Catherine exhaled in exasperation. “
Merderie
! That’s what this is. I love you. I love Solomon and Johanna and Eliazar. I like many of the other Jews we know, but I don’t want you to be one of them. They’re obdurate in their belief despite all the proof of centuries. They won’t even pay outward respect to the true Faith. They live on the edge of doom. You’re a baptized Christian. How can you attach yourself to a despised and outcast race?”
Hubert drew away from her.
“It seems to me, Catherine, that all of those things were once said of Christians,” he said.
“But … but that’s different!” Catherine sputtered.
Hubert grew icily calm. “Why? Because you won? I’m going to spend the day in mourning as seems more and more appropriate. Take Margaret with you. If your sister tells you any way in which I can help her, I will do it at once. You don’t have to remind me of my duty. It’s the cross I carry.”
He walked away, leaving her gasping as if drowning.
“Papa,” she whispered.
She was still staring after him when Edgar came out in search of her.
“Carissima!
What’s wrong?” he said.
Catherine clung to him.
“We’re losing him, Edgar,” she wept. “He looked at me as if I were an enemy. Oh, Edgar, Agnes hates me because I wouldn’t abandon Father and now he hates me because I don’t want him to abandon Christ. I can’t endure this!”
“My dearest.” He pushed a sticky curl off her face. “Your father was never truly Christian although he behaves more like one than many I know. You know what Master Abelard said about conversion. As a matter of fact, what all the doctors of the Church said.”
“Yes, I know, that belief must lie in the heart, not in actions alone.” Catherine held him more tightly. “But I thought his heart was with us.”
“Maybe, but I don’t think his spirit is,” Edgar said. “And we can’t force him. Nevertheless, I think he has a better chance of Heaven than my father ever will.”
“Thank you.” Catherine gave him a salty kiss. “Perhaps it’s arrogant of me to assume. Papa has given up much for all of us. Now, I don’t suppose you could find something to do today that Margaret would enjoy, too?”
Edgar smiled. “Yes, of course. Actually, I suspect that she wanted to go with you on the chance of seeing the young lord again.”
Catherine gave him a look of horror.
“
Carissime
, I’m not prepared to deal with that as well,” she said. “Please, for now let’s concentrate on returning home safely with my
sister and my father. If you think we should start looking for a husband for Margaret, it can wait until then.”
Edgar laughed outright. “Very well, now, go wash your face and prepare for the challenge of getting sense out of your stubborn sister
nolens volens.”
 
A short time later, impeccable of dress but highly rumpled of spirit, Catherine found herself in the great hall of the castle. Berengar introduced her again to Gerhardt’s family. She presented Maria with a gift of silver and onyx earrings that Edgar had made, although she didn’t mention that. She was offered cakes and wine, which she choked down as good manners demanded. Finally she found herself standing before the door to Agnes’s room.
Hermann lifted the bar and opened the door. She stepped in and Berengar followed.
“I’ve been told stay with you and note what you say,” he said in Latin. “To be sure you don’t plan her escape. Please don’t speak French too quickly.”
Catherine had expected that, but she feared that a stranger in the room would make it impossible to reach Agnes.
Agnes must have been told she was coming. She had dressed herself in her best clothes and looped her braids into an intricate pattern. She was sitting in the shadow by the window. Catherine couldn’t make out her face.
“Agnes, are you all right? They haven’t hurt you, have they?” she asked. “I brought you some strawberries. We picked them this morning.”
“I have not been mistreated,” Agnes answered steadily, ignoring the gift. “Except for the false accusation against me and the denial of my freedom.”
Catherine took a step closer. She felt as if she were approaching something wild that might bolt if she made a sudden move.
“We won’t leave here until you’ve been exonerated and freed. Father has promised to give all he has in your defense,” she told Agnes.
“I don’t wish him to pay for a crime I did not commit,” Agnes voice rose.
Catherine stepped back.
“Then you have to help us, dear.” Her voice shook. She swallowed. “We’ve been here for weeks and can’t find anyone else who might have done this. No one will even tell us exactly what happened.”
“That’s because I was alone with him,” Agnes told her. “Nobody else knows.”
Catherine came closer again, gesturing to Berengar to stay in the corner where he had seated himself. She knelt before Agnes’s chair and reached her arms up to her.
“Please, let us help you,” she whispered. “Confide in me as you used to. I want so much to release you from this nightmare.”
She waited for the rebuff accompanied by an outpouring of scorn.
Agnes only sighed.
“There’s nothing you can do, Catherine,” she said finally. “I don’t know why Gerhardt died, either. I understand completely why they accuse me. No one else could have put poison in his food without killing me, too.”
“That can’t be,” Catherine insisted. Inside she was rejoicing that Agnes had relented and was confiding in her. “Do you mean that you ate from the same plate, drank from the same cup and stayed together every moment?”
“We were only married three weeks,” Agnes retorted. “Isn’t that how you and Edgar behaved?”
Catherine felt herself blushing.
“Actually, things were rather confused just after we were married,” she said.
“That doesn’t surprise me.” Agnes’s voice turned sour again. “Gerhardt and I were never apart.”
“I’m glad that you had some happiness, then, before the tragedy,” Catherine said with sincerity.
Agnes closed her eyes and sighed. “Does that man have to be here?” she asked, referring to Berengar.
“Lord Hermann insisted,” Catherine said. “But his French is rudimentary. And I think he’s dozing now.”
They both looked over to where the monk sat with his hood up and his chin down, breathing slowly.
Catherine leaned against Agnes. “Tell me what happened,” she
said again, gently. “Maria has told everyone that she heard you crying on the wedding night and as for those maids of yours—!They would have it that you’re a wanton and a virgin both. Did Gerhardt hurt you?”
She waited so long for the answer that she nearly fell asleep, herself.
“No,” Agnes said at last. “Not in the way you think. I was prepared for pain. I’m not an innocent. No, what he did was worse. He rejected me. He refused to even get in the bed.”
Catherine looked up in astonishment. “How can that be? You’re perfect. When you walk into a room, all the men start readjusting their belts.”
“Elegant as always, Catherine.” But there was a hint of amusment now. “I believe that Gerhardt’s physical reaction to me was something like that. When he came in after I had been left in the bed, I lifted the blankets for him to join me and he took one look at me and groaned. Then he backed away, mumbling something that I couldn’t understand. But he made it clear that he wouldn’t get in with me, although his body made it clear that he wanted to.”
“But why not?” Catherine asked.
“It took some time for me to find out, since we didn’t feel like calling for an interpreter,” Agnes said. “When I covered myself he regained some composure. He then managed to explain that he had taken a vow of chastity after his wife died and begged me to agree to a spiritual marriage.”
“Oh, Agnes!”
“Don’t you laugh, Catherine,” Agnes warned.
“I’m not even thinking of it,” she said. “How could he do that to you? He might have mentioned his vow before the wedding.”
“Why did he even contract the marriage in the first place?” Agnes’s hurt and anger were obvious. “What I think is that his family didn’t know about his vow and, for some reason, he wouldn’t tell them. He was using me, Catherine. I was part of a deception and I don’t know why. But that wasn’t enough for me to kill him. I could have had the marriage annulled since it was never consummated.”
“Why didn’t you tell your maids?” Catherine asked.
“I was ashamed,” Agnes said. “They love gossip, as you know, and they didn’t like me. And I hoped that I could change his mind.”
“You’d entice a man to break a vow like that?” Catherine kept her voice down and glanced at the corner. Berengar hadn’t moved.
“He made a vow to me, too,” Agnes reminded her. “He had to break one of them.”
“Saint Melania convinced her husband to have a spiritual marriage,” Catherine mused. “And any number of other couples have died virgins: Saints Amator and Martha, Sigolnea and Gislulf, Injuriosus and—”
“Thank you, Catherine,” Agnes interrupted. “But if I had wished to be celibate, I would have entered a convent.”
“Yes, of course. Sorry.”
“I was considering explaining the situation to Walter when he returned,” Agnes continued. “Although that would have been almost as embarrassing. But then, suddenly, Gerhardt died.”
She thought for a moment. “You know, I don’t believe anyone poisoned him. I think he was ill and trying to hide it from his family.”
Catherine grasped at this eagerly. “What makes you say that? Did he appear ill?”
“Not exactly, except at the end, of course,” Agnes said. “And I didn’t know what he was like before. You’d suppose his family would have noticed if his behavior had changed.”
“In what way?” Catherine pressed.
“Well, he was always moving about,” she said. “I thought it was excitement, or an attempt to contain his lustful thoughts. But sometimes he would rub his head, as if it ached and his hands were cold, even when he’d been running. He was thirsty all the time. He kept a pitcher of water or beer at hand always and emptied it four or five times a day.”
“That does sound like an illness,” Catherine said. “I know this is painful, dear, but what about the night Gerhardt died? Did he seem worse in the hours before?”

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