The Witch in the Well: A Catherine LeVendeur Mystery (10 page)

BOOK: The Witch in the Well: A Catherine LeVendeur Mystery
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“I don’t know, Catherine.” Edgar finished dressing. “You would think that the sweet tranquillity of our home would fill him with the desire to have one just like it.”

Catherine thought of the havoc that the children were probably causing at that very moment.

“Oh, well,” she decided. “We can’t force him to marry and we can’t turn him out, so he might as well be useful. How long will it take him to return from Blois?”

Solomon was already trying to get information on what was happening at Boisvert. His old friend, Abraham the vintner, had family in the region. In order to learn the latest news, Solomon had resigned himself to passing an evening listening to a litany of the virtues of every unmarried Jewish woman in France, Normandy, Champagne, and Burgundy. At least so it seemed. Abraham’s wife, Rachel, had made it her life’s work to see him settled and procreating.

“She’s not only beautiful, but even tempered, sweet as a dove,” Rachel extolled her most recent find. “Her father will give you a house near Troyes. Think how convenient that will be.”

“Very nice,” Solomon said. Unbidden, his mind reminded him that Troyes was close to the Paraclete, where Edgar’s sister,
Margaret, was staying with the nuns until her fate was decided. He pushed the thought away. Margaret’s fate was not in his hands.

“Solomon, you can’t enjoy this rootless life you lead.” Abraham felt obliged to support his wife. “You’ve no home but a corner of a room in the home of Edomites!”

“Catherine is my cousin, for all she’s a Christian,” Solomon reminded them.

“And it’s worth your life should the other Christians discover it,” Rachel reminded him. “You survive on their goodwill.”

“We all do, Rachel,” Solomon answered. “And must continue to as long as we are forced to live among these idolaters. At least the Christians I depend on love me as I do them.”

“But you need your own family,” Rachel almost wailed. “You need a son to bring to the Torah.”

“Rachel,” Abraham said quietly. “You’ve done your best. We cannot continue to badger poor Solomon.”

“Thank you.” Solomon smiled ruefully. “Everything you say is true, Rachel, and I’m sure the women you suggest are all paragons of virtue and beauty. I don’t know why I can’t accept my obligation. But everything in me says that it’s not time.”

Rachel sniffed. “Well, from the gray I see in your hair, I’d say time is running out.”

Solomon laughed at that. “Catherine tells me that there is a mixture that will cover the white hair. She swears she doesn’t use it herself, but I have doubts. Now, what is the news from Blois? Is there a reason a man might send for all those of his blood to gather there? Even more, is there reason to stay away?”

Abraham tugged on his beard in thought.

“Henry, lord of Blois isn’t yet returned from the Holy Land,” he said. “That’s both good and bad. When he’s home, he and Geoffrey of Anjou are in a constant battle over border castles. But now that he isn’t there to oversee matters, minor lords feel that they can chip away at their neighbors’ lands with impunity.”

“Do you think Lord Gargenaud’s keep at Boisvert is in danger?” Solomon asked.

“It’s probably the strongest fortress in the area,” Abraham said. “Been there forever, as far as I know. Almost all the buildings are stone now. The ditches are deep and full of sharp stakes. The walls are thick. And the place has its own source of water within the keep itself, they say. I suspect that Paris would fall before Boisvert.”

“Don’t ever say such a thing, even in jest.” Rachel signaled the serving girl to bring more wine.

“So you know of no reason why Edgar shouldn’t take his family there?” Solomon wanted to be certain.

“The Holy One, blessed be He, has not given me knowledge of the future,” Abraham said. “But it seems a safe enough place.”

“Do you know any strange tales of the family of the lord?” Solomon asked. “That they have lives unnaturally long, for instance?”

Abraham shook his head. “Gargenaud is very old, I know. No one can remember when he was young. However, when they get past a certain point people tend to add to their age. I remember hearing about a woman in Rome who swore she was the daughter of Moses’ sister. Some say old Gargenaud fought with Charlemagne or even his grandfather, Charles the Hammer. Nonsense, of course.”

“Nothing else?”

Abraham laughed. “What do you want, demons flying around the towers by night? No, Solomon, nothing else.”

Solomon thanked him for the information and the food. He didn’t feel especially relieved that there was nothing sinister to tell Edgar. Even if there were no demons at work, something about this whole affair gave him the feeling that a storm was rolling toward them all.

Mandon huddled in the shadow of the church of Saint-Merry, shrinking closer to the wall whenever anyone approached her.
There are beings in the world who need masses of people about them in order to survive. But Mandon was one who diminished when forced to live long among throngs. Paris was agony to her. The streams here were tame for the most part, confined by stone embankments. This summer they had no force at all. They trickled their way to the Seine, too tired even to turn a mill. For one used to living always with the endless sound of water flowing, the muddy, clogged waterways were torture. She longed to return home but couldn’t until her task was done.

What did it take to make these people heed the prophecy? Did they have no respect for tradition?

The next morning Catherine went down to the storage cellar next to the kitchen. The next moment, she was racing back up the stairs to wake Edgar.

“Rats!” she cried. “Everywhere! In the grain sacks and gnawing through the cheese rinds. The cellar is full of them!”

“How can that be?” he asked as he pulled on his leather
brais
and hunted for the thick boots that laced to his knees. “Damn! Do these up for me, Catherine, would you?”

Quickly she laced and tied the boots.

“I don’t understand it,” she said as she worked. “The traps were set as usual last night. But we’ve had no problem with rats in months. Where could they have all come from? It looks like one of the ten plagues down there.”

Edgar was looking for a riding glove.

“Is Solomon up?” he asked. “Tell him to meet me in the kitchen. Have Samonie see if the neighbors have also been invaded. If it’s as bad as you say, we may need to get dogs in.”

Catherine found the glove and helped him get it on. “What should I do?” she asked.

“Go tell James that I need to borrow Dragon for a while,” Edgar answered. “I know he’ll want to come, too, but convince him that he should stay upstairs and guard you and the others.”

“Edgar, I haven’t let the dog sleep in the children’s room for months.” She followed him onto the landing. “Dragon is down in the hall, keeping watch. I’ll go see that no one comes down until you and Solomon say it’s safe.”

Even on the third floor, they could hear the shouts, howls, crashes, and barks. Then there came a series of high-pitched squeals and skitterings on the stone floors. At last Catherine heard a cry of triumph, and soon Edgar and Solomon appeared at the bottom of the steps.

“They’re gone,” Edgar announced. “Dead or chased off. You can come down now.”

“About half the stores have been contaminated,” Solomon added. “The room will have to be emptied, scrubbed out, and resealed.”

“Resealed?” Catherine asked.

Edgar started to remove his glove with his teeth, then thought better of it. He held his hand out so that Solomon could pull the glove off.

“There were holes in the two outside walls,” Edgar told her. “As big as a fist.”

“And a trail of greasy bread leading to each one,” Solomon added.

“Someone
set
rats on us?” Catherine couldn’t believe it.

“It seems so,” Edgar said grimly. “Has Samonie returned?”

“Yes, she says no one else has noticed a flood of vermin.”

“Then,” Edgar said, “we have to assume that someone did this out of malice against us.”

Catherine thought of asking in indignation who would want to do such a thing, but decided that would be naïve. The task would be winnowing down the list.

She sighed. “I suppose we’d better get to work then. We need to build a fire to burn the bodies and everything the rats destroyed. Then sweep out the cellar and lay new straw. Then see about replacing what we’ve lost before we leave for Boisvert.”

She looked at Edgar, who looked at Solomon. All three nodded. If someone were trying to harass them, it was just as well that they were going to a well-defended place.

“This may be nothing more than the work of some trader who feels we cheated him,” Solomon suggested.

“Can you name him?” Catherine asked.

“No,” Solomon admitted. “No one has complained that I know of. But there are a hundred reasons besides your summons to Blois, especially since you were preparing to go there anyway.”

“It may be that we’re not moving quickly enough,” Catherine said. “Edgar, can you send Martin to Vielleteneuse to ask my brother how soon they can be ready? I don’t want to wait here until something worse happens.”

“I don’t understand,” Edgar said. “I thought someone was trying to prevent us from learning of your grandfather’s command.”

“But someone else seems to be driving us there,” Catherine answered. “At least it seems so. Saint Berthe’s balancing rod! I can’t stand all this ambiguity.”

“It would be nice if people would just tell us what’s going on,” Edgar said. “But that never seems to happen. So, I’m deciding. Before our home is burnt down or we’re all attacked by griffins, we’re leaving for Blois. Solomon, can you leave at once and meet us in Chartres once you’ve investigated the area?”

“Of course,” Solomon assured him. He gave a wry smile. “I feel as though we’ve all fallen into some winter’s story and our only choice is to learn what part we must play. What am I?”

“The gadfly, of course.” Catherine pushed him back toward the hall. “But it’s the depths of summer and I’m certain I would know if we were in a
conte merveilleuse
. For one thing, we’d all be speaking in rhyme.”

“Catherine.” Edgar put his arm around her. “You’re babbling. I think we should let Samonie and Martin start on the kitchen and storeroom while the rest of us go find some unpolluted food. You’ll feel better when you’ve eaten.”

“Samonie?” Catherine asked the maid. “What do you think?”

“Martin and I will work better without you all underfoot,” she said. “We’ll get some of his friends to come and help with the clearing out before he leaves with your message to Lord Guillaume.”

“Just don’t let them dump the rats in the stream out back,” Edgar warned. “The water’s too low to carry them down to the river.”

Samonie nodded, then shooed them all out.

They soon found themselves settled around a rickety table between the bakeshop and a tavern along the edge of the Grève. The children sat on the ground underneath and played.

“Bread, cheese, and fresh berries,” Catherine sighed. “Perfect.”

“No beer?” Solomon said plaintively.

“I brought the pitcher.” Edgar handed it to him. “Your turn to pay.”

Solomon sighed and went in search of the beer cask.

While they waited for him to return, Catherine watched the activity in the square in front of them. The Grève was a major marketplace in Paris. It sloped down to the Seine, where barges unloaded goods from upriver. There were tables of cloth, pottery, and leather goods as well as foodstuffs, sausage, vegetables, and cheese. Many of the artisans came here to get the raw materials for their trades and make deals for future shipments.

The space was also dotted with carts from which people hawked fresh milk, sweets, and small ropes of bread, twisted into knots. Among them on this clear hot morning were jugglers, beggars, and cutpurses, all hoping to make their fortune from the citizens of the town.

Catherine loved each and every one of them. Paris in all its grubby glory was home to her, not some ancient pile of stones in the countryside. Why, then, was she being pulled to a place she
could barely remember? It wasn’t just the frightening incidents and enigmatic warnings of disaster should they ignore the summons. She could feel something inside herself answering a call to come back.

Peter crawled onto her lap, looking for breakfast. Catherine opened the slit in her clothing and he settled down. Solomon came back with the beer and then got cups of new milk for the older children. Edgar was laughing with his mouth full.

It was a perfect moment. A fleeting instant of mindless contentment.

Catherine had grown wiser over the years. She recognized it and treasured it as it passed.

Later that morning Solomon packed his saddlebag and sent for his horse to be brought round.

“You’ll meet me a week from now, in Chartres,” he reminded them. “Whether Guillaume and his family are ready or not.”

They promised him they would be there.

“And don’t become distracted by some new conquest,” Catherine teased. “Unless she’s one you mean to bring home.”

Solomon grunted without amusement.

“As if I’d subject any poor woman to inspection by you and Marie, not to mention Rachel.” He mounted the horse and gave them a quick smile. “Expect me alone in a week and don’t make me wait! No, James, you can’t come with me!”

It would have been nice to gallop away in a cloud of dust, but the road was so crowded he had to ease his way toward the city gate. That gave them time to make James let go of the stirrup and drag him back to the house.

“Catherine, why don’t you take the little ones up for a nap,” Edgar suggested as they came in. “You could use some more sleep, too.”

James protested a nap loudly.

“I’m six! I don’t want to stay with babies,” he yelled.

Edana, at four, was more than happy to go up for a nap. Catherine sighed, not eager for a struggle with her stubborn son.

Edgar smiled. “Go on up,” he told her. “James and I will see how the cleanup is going.”

“Thank you,
carissime
,” Catherine kissed his nose. “Just don’t let him touch the rats.”

“Of course not,” Edgar sighed.

BOOK: The Witch in the Well: A Catherine LeVendeur Mystery
12.1Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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