The Reckoning - 3 (31 page)

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Hugh looked suddenly hopeful, as if a door had begun to open. Auel hated to slam it in his face, but he was loath to lie, too. "I cannot it Brian. Ever since the King forbade any more money-lending"
"What?" Hugh and Brian were both staring at him, and Abel beamed; it was always gratifying to be the one to reveal events sure to tartle. "You have not heard, then? Last November, the King issued an diet that Jews would no longer be permitted to charge interest on loans, usury being a mortal sin. Not," he added with a grin, "that such sinning ever kept our kings from claiming a fair measure of the profits! The Jews have fallen, though, on lean times. They might once have been the Crown's best milch cow, but their milk has dwindled down to a trickle, and who keeps a beast that's gone dry? When the Council of
Lyons condemned usury so strongly last year, the King was stirred to action.
Since his decree denied the Jews their only means of making a livelihood, he also proclaimed that they'd be allowed for the first time to become merchants or craftsmen. But that dog would not hunt, for what Christian would deal with a Jew if he did not have to?"
Brian knew little of the plight of the Jews, cared less. "So what are you saying?" he demanded impatiently. "That they no longer lend money?"
"Some were scared off, for certes. But others fear starving more than the
King's wrath, and being a sly lot, they've sought to hide the interest charged on their loans, making the sum more than it was or calling it a 'courtesy' or a 'special fee.' But they've become as wary and skittish as any virgin lass, require much wooing ere they'll let you into their coffers!"
It was Hugh's turn now to interrupt. "But they will still make loans?"
Abel stopped laughing and scowled. "You'll never know if you are not willing to hear me out. The King's edict is but part of the problem. You see, we had some trouble here in Bristol a few months past. I do not know what set it off, but ere it was over, many of the Jews' houses had been looted and the Jewry was in flames. Since then, the Jews have been even more tight-fisted than usual. They're not about to make you a loan, Hugh, for you have nothing to pledge as security."
"Hugh . . . would you ask that little serving maid to bring us some ^e?" Hugh looked surprised, but he rose without objection, far too fond °f Brian to balk. As soon as he was out of earshot, Brian leaned across 'he table again.
"Abel, listen. I know Hugh, know how desperate he is n8ht now . . . mayhap even desperate enough to steal a horse. And if "e did, he'd be honorable enough to bring it back afterward, and get hanged for his pains. If we let him sit around and brood, he just might

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go off to confront that whoreson pirate. Let's seek out a money-lende even if it comes to naught. Mayhap we'll have been able to think f another idea by then."
Abel shrugged. "Hugh, come on back! My cousin Wat works for vintner who borrows from money-lenders. Mayhap he might know on not as grasping as most of that accursed breed are. I'd not give you false hope, but if you want to try, I'm willing, lad."
Hugh's sudden smile was blinding. "What are we waiting f0r then?"
ABEL'S cousin Wat had once accompanied his< employer into the Jewry and he claimed he could find the house of the money-lender, Isaac ben Asher. But he soon had them wandering about the Jewish quarter in ever widening circles, all the while insisting that their destination was just around the corner. Hugh, usually so tolerant of other men's foibles, found himself fighting an urge to shove Wat into the path of the next passing cart.
It was not just his fear for Ellen that had rubbed his nerves so raw. As they backtracked along the narrow, twisting streets, he felt like an intruder, felt conspicuous and ill at ease in such alien territory. He had never had any personal contacts with Jews, for they were permitted to dwell in only twenty-seven English towns, and Evesham had not been one of them. Nor had there been any Jews in Montargis, for Jews throughout Christendom were barred from holding land and were, therefore, segregated by economic necessity in the cities. But if he'd never known any Jews, Hugh did know what was said of them.
Servants of Satan. Disciples of the Devil. Infidels who dwelt in their very midst, crafty and false, enemies of the True Faith. Hugh frowned, and instinctively he groped for his crucifix chain, forgetting that his neck was bare; the pirates had taken everything of value.
They finally found the money-lender's house at the end of Small Street. It was an impressive stone structure with slate roof and walled courtyard, and Wat and Abel exchanged quips about the wages of sin, but their humor had a hard edge to it. They were admitted by a young maidservant, using the name of
Master Bevis, the vintner, as their password, and were asked to wait in a hall of surpassing comfort.
Abel and Wat and Brian gaped at the spacious dimensions of the chamber, while conjuring up inevitable and embittered comparisons with their own cramped, sparse quarters. A decorated wooden screen closed off the door to the kitchen;
a spiral stairway led up to additional chambers above. They wandered about the hall, examining the sturdy

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tables, the cushioned chairs, the pewter plates stacked ma cup-
SA and they thought of their own smoky hearths, the slile bread £3 b° ' _e(j as mealtime trenchers, their backless stools. Tkcounted H
fl ming wax candles that ringed this room in light, thiitajofthe ^ ^V g tallow candles that they hoarded till dark. And to felt the &
'ngs of a deep and resentful rage, that good Christians sUdime ^
5 1'ttle whilst this infidel unbeliever should have so much.
Hugh, too, was looking about with unabashed curiosity, bit hs &
a soldier's eye. He noted the heavy wooden shutters, thin door -^
holt He studied the thickness of the stone walls, admiring Iwdeverly **
door had been cut to fit into the stairway alcove, effectivd sealing 5
ff the upper chambers. And he remembered what Abel had aid ate ;£
trouble, about the Jewry in flames.
Wat picked up a book, looked blankly at the Hebrew apt, and I set it down with a thud, as if he'd touched something undei "How -^ long does he mean to make us wait?"
"We're being watched," Brian warned suddenly, makiijtonal 1 jump. They turned to stare suspiciously at the screen. It wasidistact rz letdown when a small boy toddled out.
"Look at him," Wat marveled, "hair like flax! I'd wageiteiAH found a bit of
English seasoning to flavor her stew!"
"All Jews do not have dusky skin like Saracens," Hugh ad01% : he was fast losing patience with Abel's loud-mouthed cousin
The unexpected testiness of his tone earned him speculate looks .-; from
Abel and Brian. "Hugh is right," Brian said mildly. "Itisbeause ^ the
Jews do look like us that your King Edward ordered thai to wear those yellow badges. Otherwise, they could pretend to be Ontans, could take unfair advantage of our unwariness."
"I know one way they differ from us," Abel said mysteriously "I've heard it said that when a male child is born, the Jews notdiuscock, like we'd brand a horse, a secret way to know their own."
"Christ!" The exclamation was Wat's, but Brian looked rote horrified. Hugh, however, was grinning widely.
"You've got it half-right, Abel. They do not brand the kite, but they do cut off his foreskin. Lord Amaury says the Saracens in it, IDC, There is even a word for it, circumsomething."
"Well, whatever you call it, the very thought of putting a knife to my privates makes my ballocks shrivel up like raisins," Brkdedaied J^th such heartfelt honesty that they all laughed, although oily Hugh tound any real humor in the subject.
"I wonder what it looks like," Wat mused, staring so intently at Hw a that
Hugh found himself tensing, in case the man m stupid

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go off to confront that whoreson pirate. Let's seek out a money-lende even if it comes to naught. Mayhap we'll have been able to think of another idea by then."
Abel shrugged. "Hugh, come on back! My cousin Wat works for a vintner who borrows from money-lenders. Mayhap he might know one not as grasping as most of that accursed breed are. I'd not give you fa]Se hope, but if you want to try, I'm willing, lad."
< then?'
Hugh's sudden smile was blinding. "What are we waiting f0r
ABEL'S cousin Wat had once accompanied his_employer into the Jewry, and he claimed he could find the house of the money-lender, Isaac ben Asher. But he soon had them wandering about the Jewish quarter in ever widening circles, all the while insisting that their destination was just around the corner. Hugh, usually so tolerant of other men's foibles, found himself fighting an urge to shove Wat into the path of the next passing cart.
It was not just his fear for Ellen that had rubbed his nerves so raw. As they backtracked along the narrow, twisting streets, he felt like an intruder, felt conspicuous and ill at ease in such alien territory. He had never had any personal contacts with Jews, for they were permitted to dwell in only twenty-seven English towns, and Evesham had not been one of them. Nor had there been any Jews in Montargis, for Jews throughout Christendom were barred from holding land and were, therefore, segregated by economic necessity in the cities. But if he'd never known any Jews, Hugh did know what was said of them.
Servants of Satan. Disciples of the Devil. Infidels who dwelt in their very midst, crafty and false, enemies of the True Faith. Hugh frowned, and instinctively he groped for his crucifix chain, forgetting that his neck was bare; the pirates had taken everything of value.
They finally found the money-lender's house at the end of Small Street. It was an impressive stone structure with slate roof and walled courtyard, and Wat and Abel exchanged quips about the wages of sin, but their humor had a hard edge to it. They were admitted by a young maidservant, using the name of
Master Bevis, the vintner, as their password, and were asked to wait in a hall of surpassing comfort.
Abel and Wat and Brian gaped at the spacious dimensions of the chamber, while conjuring up inevitable and embittered comparisons with their own cramped, sparse quarters. A decorated wooden screen closed off the door to the kitchen;
a spiral stairway led up to additional chambers above. They wandered about the hall, examining the sturdy

183
tables, the cushioned chairs, the pewter plates stacked in a cup-
j and they thought of their own smoky hearths, the stale bread served as mealtime trenchers, their backless stools. They counted h flaming wax candles that ringed this room in light, thinking of the kins tallow candles that they hoarded till dark. And they felt the f 'rrings of a deep and resentful rage, that good Christians should have i^ttle whilst this infidel unbeliever should have so much.
Hugh, too, was looking about with unabashed curiosity, but his a soldier's eye. He noted the heavy wooden shutters, the iron door bolt He studied the thickness of the stone walls, admiring how cleverly door had been cut to fit into the stairway alcove, effectively sealing off the upper chambers. And he remembered what Abel had said about trouble, about the Jewry in flames.
Wat picked up a book, looked blankly at the Hebrew script, and set it down with a thud, as if he'd touched something unclean. "How long does he mean to make us wait?"
"We're being watched," Brian warned suddenly, making them all jump. They turned to stare suspiciously at the screen. It was a distinct letdown when a small boy toddled out.
"Look at him," Wat marveled, "hair like flax! I'd wager his mother found a bit of English seasoning to flavor her stew!"
"All Jews do not have dusky skin like Saracens," Hugh said curtly; he was fast losing patience with Abel's loud-mouthed cousin.
The unexpected testiness of his tone earned him speculative looks from Abel and Brian. "Hugh is right," Brian said mildly. "It is because the Jews do look like us that your King Edward ordered them to wear those yellow badges.
Otherwise, they could pretend to be Christians, could take unfair advantage of our unwariness."
"I know one way they differ from us," Abel said mysteriously. "I've heard it said that when a male child is born, the Jews notch his cock, like we'd brand a horse, a secret way to know their own."
"Christ!" The exclamation was Wat's, but Brian looked no less horrified. Hugh, however, was grinning widely.
"You've got it half-right, Abel. They do not brand the babe, but they do cut off his foreskin. Lord Amaury says the Saracens do it, too. Inere is even a word for it, circumsomething."
"Well, whatever you call it, the very thought of putting a knife to my privates makes my ballocks shrivel up like raisins," Brian declared jvith such heartfelt honesty that they all laughed, although only Hugh found any real humor in the subject.
I wonder what it looks like," Wat mused, staring so intently at the ^d that
Hugh found himself tensing, in case the man was stupid

184
enough to try to satisfy his curiosity then and there. The little boy w just starting to walk; he wobbled toward a chair, caught a rung fS support, and regarded them so solemnly that Hugh suddenly want H to see him smile.
"Look, lad," he said, reaching for a bowl of nuts. "Shall I show v a trick I
learned from a French jongleur? Watch carefully now." Defti juggling a walnut back and forth, he added a second one to the arc, and the boy's eyes widened.
After a few moments, Hugh had a third walnut airborne, too, but when he tried to introduce a fourth one, walnuts wer suddenly raining everywhere. The child squealed with laughter as Hugh, laughing, too, knelt to retrieve them from the floor rushes "You're not supposed to laugh when I fail," he chided, and pretended to find one in the tot's ear. The boy giggled again, but from the corner of his eye, Hugh caught a blurred movement. Turning his head, he saw
Isaac ben Asher standing in the stairwell, watching impassively as he crawled about on hands and knees.
Hugh could feel his face getting hot. Scrambling hastily to his feet, he sought to recover his dignity as Isaac picked up the child, carried him behind the screen. He'd regained some of his poise by the time the man returned, but he could not hide his surprise, for Isaac ben Asher was not at all what he'd expected. He was young, not much past thirty, Hugh had assumed money-lending to be an old man's profession. His coloring was fair, and he seemed vaguely familiar. After a moment to reflect, Hugh realized why. As unlikely as it sounded, this Bristol Jew reminded him somehow of Amaury de Montfort. Isaac had Amaury's unaffected elegance, his air of quiet, watchful wariness. His eyes were blue, not greenish hazel like Amaury's, but they were startlingly similar, nonetheless, eyes that gave away no secrets, shuttered windows to a soul under siege.
"I am Isaac ben Asher. You wish to talk to me?"
Hugh nodded. "I am Sir Hugh de Whitton," he said, ignoring his companions'
gasps of dismay. They had concocted an elaborate cover story to protect Hugh's identity, but he found now that he could not use it; it seemed dishonorable to lie to a man while asking that man for money.
It was not easy to reveal his need so nakedly; Isaac's cool, guarded gaze did not invite confidences. But Hugh forced himself to continue, and slowly the story emerged. "And now," he concluded bleakly, "&e Lady Ellen has been taken to Windsor Castle. I must get to her husband, I must! You're my only hope."
"And how much hope do you want to borrow?"
"Fifteen marks," Hugh mumbled, as if garbling the sum wow somehow make it sound less exorbitant. "I know it is a lot, but P^ce