Now, Peter was facing the very same thing. A marriage he could not have.
The irony was not lost on Christopher.
“I do,” he finally said. “Haim, you do not know my son, but I can tell you that he is a good man. There is no finer man in all of England and if he wants to marry your daughter, then he is sincere. He is a grown man and can make his own choices, and he will do what it takes to ensure that those choices are best for him and best for your daughter. He knows that he is facing a battle, perhaps the most emotional battle he has ever endured, so do not think he is ignorant about this. But as I pointed out to him, should he choose to convert to Judaism, he will lose everything he has ever worked for – his knighthood, his status, his income. No offense to your daughter, but Peter has much more to lose than she does. This is a much bigger situation for him than it is for her and he is aware of my feelings about it.”
Haim was listening to him intently. “And what are your feelings?”
Christopher found himself looking at Peter again, seeing that vulnerability, hearing those words Peter had spoken to him earlier – all my life, I have had the bastard stigma follow me and now that I see happiness within my grasp, to have someone who will belong only to me… to know that cannot happen unless something drastic happens is disheartening.
The truth was that Christopher wanted to make his son happy. Even if they weren’t choices Christopher would make in order to achieve that happiness, that didn’t mean he would disown his son for them. He would stand by him, just as he did now, and he would have to learn to live with those decisions, too.
It didn’t make him love his son any less.
In fact, it made him love Peter more.
“He has my blessing whatever he chooses to do,” he said hoarsely. “I cannot live his life for him, but I will be by his side no matter what he decides.”
Haim was touched by the beautiful devotion, knowing how difficult it must have been for a powerful earl to let his son’s decisions be ruled by the heart and not the head. He had only met Christopher once before, years ago, and he didn’t know him, but he knew the man’s reputation. There was no man more respected in England.
Now, Haim could see why.
“You are a good man, my lord,” he said to Christopher. “To allow your son to be something other than what you expect him to be is the mark of a good father. You are to be commended. But I, too, must be a father to my daughter, who may not have as much to lose as your son over this, but she will lose enough. She will lose the respect of her family, of her friends, of those she worships with. She will become an apostate, one who rejects her own religion. One who has forsaken everything she knows and loves. Her mother will not see her, nor will her grandmother, nor will I. She will have made her choice and rejected her family.”
“That is not true.” Liora could no longer remain silent. “Why must you make this sound as if I am willingly and happily leaving the family I love, as if I care nothing about you?”
Haim had such a gentle way about him as he smiled at his daughter in the midst of a deeply serious topic. “Because you would have chosen your own happiness over your family,” he said simply. “You will cast us aside in favor of your new family, a family of great knights and great wars. It will be a new life for you, one you have never known. Gone will be the days of peace on Milk Street, zeeskeit. You are heading into the lion’s den.”
Liora was close to tears, trying desperately not to weep. “But I do not want to leave you and Mama behind,” she insisted. “You are still my family.”
Haim shook his head. “We cannot be,” he said. “If we support you in this choice, then it will be as if we have made the choice, too. We can no longer worship in the synagogue. Our friends will not speak with us. We will be exiled, so we, too, must make a choice. I love you very much, zeeskeit, but I have your brother to think about. Asa is part of our world and he must be allowed to live in it, to have a family in it, without being damaged by your choices. If you do this thing, you are asking me to choose between you and Asa, and I must choose my son.”
Liora closed her eyes and hung her head as the tears streamed down her face and dripped off her chin. Peter watched her with great sorrow. He didn’t want to see her lose her entire family because of him. His father had tried to tell him that. He’d tried to tell him that removing her from everything she knew and loved would cause her agony and resentment, and he was right. Already, Peter could see the agony on her face as her father spoke of essentially disowning her for converting to another religion.
It cut him to the bone.
“May I speak to Liora alone, please?” he asked Haim. “Just a brief moment, please.”
Haim, as amiable as ever, nodded his head and headed towards the house. Christopher, his gaze lingering on his son and the distraught young lady, followed. When the fathers were over by the kitchen door, Peter grasped Liora gently by the arm and pulled her just inside the stable, just enough so they had a little privacy.
He faced her in the darkness.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “This isn’t what I wanted for you. I hope you know that.”
Liora was sobbing softly. She nodded, wiping at her face. “I know,” she said. “I know you would never wish that upon me. Truthfully, it never occurred to me that my father would do that. But he is right, Peter – so very right.”
Peter knew that and his heart was breaking for them both. He could see this ending tonight, but he wasn’t willing to let it go. He just couldn’t. Liora was coming to mean too much to him to so easily walk away. Grasping her by both arms, he forced her to look at him.
“Listen to me,” he murmured. “I want you to listen to me carefully. Can you do this?”
She nodded, still wiping at the tears that wouldn’t stop falling. “Of course.”
He dipped his head down, his face close to hers. “My father is sending me to Ludlow Castle on the morrow,” he said. “I have much that I must do for him in securing the property, and others, but it will give us both time to think very carefully about all of this. No matter what happens, I will return for you. I will not forget about you, I will not stay away any longer than necessary. I will be back. Do you believe me?”
She nodded, looking at him with sad eyes. “I do,” she said. “But what will you return to? The same situation. It will not change.”
“Nay, it will not change, but mayhap I will be able to think of a solution,” he said. “There has to be a solution, Liora. I refuse to stop trying.”
She believed him implicitly. “But I want you to listen to me, now. I will wait for you, no matter how long it takes, and when you return and no solution is reached, know that I will become a Christian and I will marry you. As my father said, he has to make a choice. So do I. I would rather live the rest of my life as your Christian wife than live the rest of my life as a Jewish spinster. When I look at you, it is like looking at the door to my future and all of the wondrous things it will be. I must think of my happiness, Peter, as much as my father’s words pain me.”
He smiled faintly. “I am willing to convert. I want to be plain.”
She shook her head before the words were even out of his mouth. “Nay,” she said firmly. “That is out of the question. Your father is correct – you have far more to lose than I do, but the mere fact that you are willing to do it touches me more than you can know. You’re willing to give everything up for me and I love you for it, but I will not let you do it.”
He stared at her. “You… you love me?”
She smiled weakly when she realized what she had said. “I love that you are so willing to surrender everything because of me,” she said. “I am sure my whole and true-hearted love for you, for everything you are, is not far behind.”
His back was to the fathers at the kitchen door, blocking their view, so he dared to kiss her swiftly on the lips. “I have never given my heart to anyone before,” he whispered. “Take good care of it while I am away. It is the most precious thing I ha
ve to give you.”
Liora smiled at him, her tears drying up as she realized this wasn’t the end. Peter was going, but he would be back. It would do them good to spend time away from one another, he focused on his duties and she focused on her father and family, seeing if she could change her father’s mind because she knew one thing – she wasn’t going to give up her Christian knight, the archangel who had appeared in her yard those days ago.
He’d appeared for a reason.
To change her world.
“Then I shall see you upon your return, my angel,” she murmured. “I will be here, waiting for you.”
He smiled at her and let go of her arms. “I’ll send you word if I can,” he said. “I do not know how busy I shall be or what conditions I’ll be facing, but I’ll try to send you word. Just… don’t forget about me.”
“Never.”
With that, he nodded encouragingly to her and, together, they came out of the stable and headed to where their fathers were standing. Christopher came over to Peter, taking him by the arm and directing him back towards the alley where his horse was tethered while Haim reached out and took Liora by the hand, taking her back inside the house. The last glimpse Peter had of Liora was her pale eyes, reaching out to him across the darkness of the kitchen yard. Their gazes locked before their respective fathers took them away.
Don’t forget about me.
Those words rolled over and over in Peter’s mind all the way home.
*
He had been watching the entire scene.
Asa’s bedchamber faced out over the kitchen yard, so he’d been watching the situation with his sister and Peter ever since Peter’s father had come to the door, looking for his son. Asa might have been young, and foolish at times, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew that something was going on with his sister and the man he’d called a goy.
When he saw Peter and his father leave the kitchen yard, he slithered downstairs as his father and sister entered through the rear door. Liora was in tears and she ran past him, up to her chamber, as he hid in the shadows. There was sorrow in the air and even at his young age, he sensed it. As Asa watched, his father sank down into a chair at the table they used to eat their meals.
A big, empty table in a big, empty chamber with Haim sitting at the end of it, his hands folded in prayer and his eyes closed as he leaned on his hands. He was sitting in the dark but for a small amount of light coming from the banked hearth. Asa crept into the chamber, watching his elderly father from a distance. Haim continued to pray and, little by little, Asa snuck up on him. He was silent in his bare feet against the cold wooden floor, but he could sense that something serious had happened between his sister and the man he knew as Saint Peter.
He was sorry, too. He was coming to like the big knight who was so adept at firing pebbles back at him, yet so compassionate that he recognized hungry children. It was a paradox to young Asa, confused by a man he both feared and admired. He came to stand next to his father, watching the man closely.
“Papa?” he said softly.
Haim opened his eyes, looking at his little boy, the one who was born when he was already an old man. His eyes crinkled and he smiled at the child, pulling him into a hug.
“What are you doing awake, moyz,” he said, calling his son by his pet name – mouse. “It is very late.”
Asa wasn’t so old that he didn’t like to sit on his father’s lap as long as no one was around, particularly his friends. To his friends, he was tough and grown-up. To his father, however, he was still his little boy. He inched his way onto Haim’s lap.
“I saw Saint Peter and Liora in the kitchen yard,” he said. “That big man who came here – that was Saint Peter’s father?”
Haim nodded slowly, wearily. “Aye,” he said. “That is the Earl of Hereford and Worcester, a very great man.”
“Was he mean?”
“Nay, he was quite kind.”
“Why did he come?”
Haim sighed, long and riddled with emotion, setting back in his chair as Asa lay his head on the man’s shoulder. “To find his son.”
“But why was his son here?”
“He is fond of Liora.”
Asa thought on that a moment. “He is her friend,” he said. “He talks to her.”
“I know.”
“He talks to me, too.”
“He does?”
Asa nodded his head. “He helped me with Saul’s Army when they were stealing our eggs.”
Haim frowned, thinking of a fully armed Christian knight against a bunch of small children. “What did he do?”
“He talked to them,” Asa said. “He told them that stealing was not acceptable and if he heard that they were stealing again, he would come and punish them. But I saw Eneb – you know Eneb? He is from Saul’s Army. Eneb said that Saint Peter arranged for them to be fed every day.”
Haim stopped frowning. Asa’s words sank in and he sat up in surprise, looking at his son. “He did what?” he said. “He feeds them every day?”
Asa nodded. “A tavern on Lombard feeds them every morning,” he said. “Saint Peter feeds them so they will not steal our eggs anymore.”
Haim blinked, shocked. “He did that?”
Asa nodded again. Then, he cocked his head thoughtfully. “I know Saul’s Army steals because they do not have enough to eat,” he said. “I did not like that they stole our eggs, though. But Saint Peter made sure they were fed just so they wouldn’t steal. That was good of him, wasn’t it?”
Haim was quite surprised to hear all of this. He’d only met Peter twice, and he certainly didn’t know that much about him, but what Asa told him… that took a man of great compassion. That was a theme quite prevalent in his religion and culture, the show of compassion, of kindness to strangers. Peter wasn’t even Jewish, yet he was showing those traits. Haim had to remind himself that the Christians followed Jesus as the son of God and that Jesus preached kindness to strangers and to the less fortunate.
Some men followed that teaching, some didn’t.
Haim had known many Christian knights and nobles in his lifetime. Some were good, some were not so good, but the same could be said for his religion, as well. The traits of good or evil were not limited to only one religion. Still… Haim was impressed that Peter de Lohr, an elite and seasoned knight, should take the time to feed hungry children.
Perhaps he wasn’t just another warmonger, after all.
“It was very good of him, moyz,” he said after a moment. “You… you know Peter a little?”
Asa nodded. “I tried to chase him away at first,” he said. “But I’m glad I did not. He’s different from the other men we know, Papa. He’s big and has a big sword and he fights in wars. I am glad he is my friend.”
“Are you?”
Asa nodded. “Papa, I want to fight with a big sword when I grow up. Can I fight with Saint Peter?”
Haim shook his head. “Nay, little one,” he said. “The wars are for the Christians. We will stay safe here, in London.”
“But if I wanted to fight when I’m bigger, can I?”
Haim looked at his son, a boy who liked his boy gang and who liked the roughhousing of the streets. He wasn’t content to be educated and pious. Asa had a spark in him that was all his own, which could mean trouble when he became older. He’d never shown any interest in knights or battles until now and Haim knew he had to be careful in how he handled it. He wasn’t the kind to deny his children and not give them a reason for it, but a small boy might not understand.
He worded his reply deliberately.
“The world of the Jews and the Christian are two different worlds,” he said. “The Christians fight to spread the word of God and the Jews are content to live in their world and worship in their faith. We only fight when we have to. It’s like the world of the Maccabees and Saul’s Army – you never really mix. They have things that are important to them and you have things that are important to you. That is how the Christians and the Jews exis
t. Do you understand?”
Asa’s brow was furrowed as he thought on his father’s explanation. “But we can work with Saul’s Army if we must,” he said. “We have before when boys from Ironmonger Street came here to steal. We came together and we fought them off. We can work with Saint Peter and the Christians, can’t we?”
Haim nodded, sort of. “If we must, for the greater good,” he said. “But our world is such that only Christians can be knights.”
“Can’t I fight?”
“I do not think so, moyz.”
Asa climbed off his lap. “That is not right,” he said. “Saint Peter is a good man and if I want to be like him, then I should be allowed to. And Saint Peter likes Lee-Lee; I know he does. What if he wants to marry her?”
Haim shook his head. “He cannot,” he said. “Christians and Jews do not marry.”
“Who says so?”
“The Catholics and the Great Synagogue.”
“They do not like each other?”
Haim shrugged. “It is not a matter of like or dislike,” he said. “Is it simply what our faiths dictate. They are different.”
Asa pursed his lips, clearly unhappy with that answer. There were apples on the table, left out by his mother in case her children became hungry between meals. They were always welcome to take an apple. Asa picked up the apple, looking at it, thinking.
“I think that we should all be friends,” he said. “Papa, what if I wanted to marry a Christian girl when I get big? Would you let me?”
Haim reluctantly shook his head. “You could not,” he said. “Not unless she became Jewish.”
“Even if she was kind and very pretty?”
“Even so.”
Asa frowned. “It seems unfair,” he said. “Isn’t it most important that people are kind and love us, no matter if they are Christian and Jewish? The kind of people who will protect you and feed people who do not have enough to eat? That seems to be more important than people who pray in my temple or in a big church. Rabbi Judah told me that God cares what is in our hearts more than he cares about the prayers we give. Saint Peter has a good heart and it makes me feel sad that I will never be able to fight with him. I will never be anything more than a boy on the street to him.”
The Splendid Hour: The Executioner Knights Book 7 Page 21