The Sanctity of Hate (19 page)

Chapter Twenty-five

Tostig reached for a thick iron rod when he heard the sound of someone at the door.

Ralf stopped in the entrance and raised his hands. “A friend!”

Putting his weapon down, Gytha’s brother invited the crowner to join him.

“Drinking with the prisoner?” Ralf stared at Jacob sitting on a bench with a mazer of ale in his hand.

Tostig raised a jug and gestured to an empty cup.

“My throat is dry enough. I would be grateful for that.” Ralf walked over and took the proffered cup for his friend to fill. Drinking deeply, he turned back to the seated man.

Even as the pale light of early morning strengthened, Jacob’s face lacked color. “My family?”

“They are well,” Ralf said. “Prioress Eleanor has sent to the stable several young lay brothers with strength aplenty and per- mission enough to break bones. But, as I heard her tell it, their faces are so angelic that villagers might pause before throwing rocks at them lest they be true messengers from God.”

“Your prioress has been kind.”

“She believes in the perfection of God’s justice and has little tolerance for flawed mortal judgements.” He slid onto the bench across the table from Jacob. “If you are innocent, she will protect you. If not, she’ll beg me to hang you.”

“There is more ale there,” Tostig said, pointing to a corner of the house. “Above you, out of the way of mice, are bread and

cheese to break your fast. I’ll walk to the inn for some of Mistress Signy’s fare and listen for the latest rumors on these crimes.” He slapped the crowner on the shoulder. “I may even tell you what I learn.” Then he grinned and left.

“He has been a kind jailor.” Jacob ran his mazer around in a circle on the table.

“Not all Christians own horns and forked tails.”

The man smiled briefly, but the weight of his situation lay too heavily on his heart for true levity.

“I have oft wondered if you portray us the way we depict you.” Jacob stiffened with wariness. “Do you think we would so brazenly mock Christians, an act for which we would surely be punished, when we are set on fire, beaten, and hanged for crimes

we have not committed?”

Ralf retrieved the suspended food and brought it back to the table. “Not openly, but all men try to shine with virtue in the world. In private, their deeds are more rank.” He pulled out his knife and hacked slices of both bread and cheese, pushing some toward Jacob. He paused. “Your religion forbids so much. Dare you eat here?”

Jacob’s lips twitched briefly. “I am not required to starve to death in extreme situations, but the good innkeeper has provided us with fish from the stream, fresh summer fruits and vegetables so we might prepare them in accordance with our law. While I am in this house, Tostig will allow our maid to bring me food cooked in our own pot.” Looking at the proffered cheese and bread, he thanked the crowner for his kindness and gently refused.

Ralf hesitated and then shrugged. “Are you truly innocent of any crime since you came to Tyndal village?”

“No simple aye or nay would be an adequate reply. May I answer in my own way?”

The crowner nodded and bit into the moist cheese.

“Why would I kill the very guard set by the innkeeper to protect us? And, having seen how the men of this village reacted to that man’s death, why would I kill the young man I found

outside our shelter?” He took a sip from his cup. “My wife was heavy with child when we arrived. Later, she delivered after a hard labor, a birth that almost killed her. We cannot leave until she gains strength. Would I be so foolish as to kill two men in such circumstances and endanger those I cherish more than my own life?”

“The village concludes that you have killed Kenelm and, when they learn of it, will decide the same about Adelard.”

“The village believes I killed the guard simply because he was a Christian. Presumably, they will think I killed the youth because we failed to convert when he demanded we do so.” Jacob threw his hands up in disgust. “Crowner, we do not poison wells. We do not use Christian blood for Passover baking. It is my people who have died by Christian swords, not the reverse. Since truth has been murdered by ignorance and justice blinded by sanctifi hate, how can any of us defend ourselves?” He shook his head. “And I should have said none of that to you, but I am weary of having to cut myself again and again to prove that I bleed like any other man.”

Ralf poured ale into the man’s cup. “It matters not whether I dislike you for your beliefs. It is my duty to render justice whether or not I like a man. I have hanged Christians, found guilty of great crimes, with whom I might otherwise have shared a jug of ale. As Crowner, I take no joy in watching a man strangle on a rope for a wrong he did not commit.”

Jacob nodded.

“So tell me all that you know about the deaths of your guard and the baker’s son. If you are guilty, confess it. I shall then take you to the gallows, but on my oath as a man born of an honor- able father, I promise that your family will be safely returned to Norwich. If you are innocent, you shall go with them.”

“Then ask what you need to know, and that may freshen my memory. I swear I am innocent of disobeying the commandment we all honor, but I shall reply honestly.” Jacob drained his mazer. Ralf poured more for both of them. “Let us begin with Kenelm. He mocked you. You did strike him in anger. Perhaps

he died by accident and you wished to hide the deed, not trust- ing the rule of law here.”

“I could not have killed him. As I told you, my wife was weak and suffering before she gave birth. I did not leave her side. Sadly, the only witnesses for the entire time are my wife, her mother, and perhaps our servant who is barely more than a child.” He thought for a moment. “The innkeeper did visit several times. She feared she might have to be midwife.” He glanced down at his mazer and grew pensive.

Ralf watched him, waited, and then lost patience. “You have something to say. If you want to hang before your babe leaves his mother’s breast, then remain silent.” He leaned forward. “But while you decide how much you dare trust me with any confidence, remember this. A nun saved your wife and child. A prioress has sent her lay brothers to guard your family from riots. A king’s man has given his word to return your kin, alive and well, to the safety of Norwich even if you do hang. Is that not the kind of justice you seek?”

“And what if the truth were to cast a shadow on your priory? Would a Christian take the word of a Jew or is it more likely that I would be condemned simply because I dared speak of it?” “Prioress Eleanor does not turn her face from unhappy truths. I will judge the meaning of what you claim.” Ralf knew he had spoken firmly, but he clutched his hands together lest

they tremble.

“The night of Kenelm’s death, the man you know as Brother Gwydo came to visit me.”

Ralf’s mouth dropped open. “Why?”

“He and I were boyhood friends in Cambridge. Then a bishop came and preached the call to save Jerusalem from those he condemned as infidels. The burning brand of his words lit a fire in Gwydo’s heart and he turned from me, for I was not of his faith. He demanded I accept his beliefs. I refused, saying that we had suffered too much from the cruelty of Christians to believe they were the new chosen people of HaShem. We fought. He would have slit my throat, had another not saved me, and

then he left. His last words were that I must accept baptism or he would kill me on his return with a sword red with the blood of other unbelievers.”

The crowner’s jaw tightened. “I am no priest and have no wish to debate God’s favor. Keep your tale simple.”

“He went on his pilgrimage but did not return even when King Edward came back. I heard a rumor that his father and wife were mourning him so assumed he must be dead.” Jacob sighed. “The night of the guard’s death, however, someone tapped on the entrance to our stall. Thinking it might be the innkeeper, I pulled aside the curtain, but it was a man. He was tonsured. Suddenly, he fell to his knees and wept. Confused, I drew back, but I heard a tone of voice, saw a familiar gesture, and recognized my former friend. We embraced, my tears joining his, and he begged forgiveness for his cruelty to me. I did not ask how he learned I had come to this village. That detail meant so little.” “To leave the priory without permission is not allowed,” was

all Ralf managed to say.

“We sat outside the stall and talked. He told me why he had changed. Even when men kill for a cause deemed holy, he said, they sin grievously. He learned to abhor violence of all kinds and came to believe that one must never kill another man. The lesson of Cain and Abel is that we are all brothers. He had retreated to a priory as penance and begged me to keep his secret for he had truly forsaken the world.”

“How long was he with you?”

“I do not know exactly when your Brother Gwydo left to return to the priory, but it had grown dark. Still, he is witness to my presence here for some time.” Jacob ran a finger under his eyes. “But if speaking on my behalf would bring him pun- ishment for an act of gentle kindness, I would rather he not be questioned.”

Sitting back, Ralf thought for a moment. “He might have killed Kenelm on his way back to the priory. Did he have any reason to do so? Or perhaps the guard saw him and threatened to tell Prioress Eleanor?”

Jacob gasped. “The man with whom I reconciled that night was no longer one who could do such a thing! Perhaps his dis- obedience in leaving the priory is deemed a sin, but his intent was to seek forgiveness. Nor has he repeated this act. Surely your prioress, one who has offered protection to a helpless family, would not treat him harshly, and surely she knows him well enough to agree that he is a gentle man.”

“Brother Gwydo will never suffer,” the crowner said. “He is dead.”

Jacob rose to his feet in horror. “How? What plague has struck him down? Or did he die at the same hands as the one who killed the guard?”

The crowner grabbed the man’s robe and pulled him back down on the bench. “For the sake of your friend, if not yourself, you must not hold back anything more. The one who killed him surely murdered Kenelm and Adelard.”

“There is nothing else I can tell you,” Jacob said, his voice rough with tears. “After we had spoken of his life in Outremer and mine in Cambridge, he left. I went back into the stall. My wife, our young maid, and my mother-in-law had fallen asleep, but I could not. I sat until dawn and watched over them.”

“Might Gwydo have known Kenelm in Cambridge?”

“The guard came from the north, or so he claimed. And he was never in Jerusalem. He once said he had not taken the cross. Perhaps that was why he mocked us so cruelly.”

“Tell me about finding Adelard.” Ralf considered drinking what was left in the jug but pushed his cup aside.

“My wife and I had been talking about our son and our future after we return to Norwich. When she grew weary, I left her to sleep, but I was too restless and went into the courtyard for a short walk.”

“Did you see Brother Beorn?”

Jacob nodded. “The man glared at me.” Glancing at the crowner, he smiled briefly. “For that, I should be grateful. At least he can confirm when I left.”

“Then?”

“I walked behind the stables, away from the guard’s view. Suddenly, I stopped, thinking I had seen someone running away. Perhaps the one shadow had been a pair, lovers seeking a quiet moment together and whom I had frightened. But the moon was shrouded, and I could confirm nothing in fact. I decided I had imagined it all, but when I turned to walk on, I stumbled.”

“Aye?”

“I fell on something and feared it was a body. Terrified at what that might mean, I rolled away and got to my knees. When I felt around, I knew the shape was that of a man, one who lay quite still.”

“Why did you not shout for help? Brother Beorn was near.” “Because I heard voices. I recognized yours and called for aid.”

Ralf reconsidered the contents of the jug and poured himself a last mazer of ale. “So you thought you saw someone fleeing before you tripped. There may have been a witness after all, or else a killer,” he muttered. “I need only find a shadow.”

“And the lad? How did he die? I pray he did not suffer.” “You should have been able to tell something from the posi-

tion of the stab wound.”

“I did not feel for any wound,” Jacob snapped, “and it was too dark to see.”

“What weapons do you own?”

“My kind jailor asked the same. I gave him my small table knife which he has hidden away. Ask him for it. You may check for blood and, if you think I cleaned it before you arrested me, I wear the same clothes now.” He stood. “Do you wish to look for stains?”

Ralf shook his head.

“As for any other weapon, I carry nothing else.”

“Then breath more easily,” Ralf said. “The lad, who troubled your wife’s rest with his loud preaching, will live.”

Jacob ben Asser covered his face with his hands and mur- mured a prayer of thanks.

Ralf, on the other hand, stared upward with less gratitude. He no longer had any good suspects but too many dead bodies.