“I was afraid I’d forget it or someone would steal it,” he explained. “Do you know how much a decent hauberk casts?”
“Yes,” Solomon said. “I just hope you got one.”
“Guy went with me,” Arnald said. “He said this was the best we’d find already made. It’s a little long, but that should be all right as long as I don’t have to dismount. And the holes are not over vital areas.”
“That sounds promising.” Solomon sat opposite him and signaled for a pitcher of thin wine. “Well, it does look as though you’ll have an adventure to keep that woman of yours enthralled with.”
“If she hasn’t found someone else by the time I get back,” Arnald muttered.
“Then you’ll impress someone else.” Solomon spoke from experience.
“The one I really want isn’t impressed by anything I do,” Arnald grumbled. “And what about Aaron? He needs me.”
The potboy brought the pitcher. Solomon sniffed it, grimaced and then poured a cup.
“Aaron will manage,” he said. “Whether you meant to or not, you agreed to go to Valencia with the monks and, if they won’t release you, you must go. There’s nothing worse than an oath-breaker.”
“I know.” Arnald sighed. “Can I have some of that wine?”
They sat in silence as they emptied the pitcher. Solomon had no more advice to give and was about to return to the widow’s home when Guy ran up to them.
“Have you seen Brother James?” he asked. “I have to find him.”
“Why?” Solomon asked. “Are you in trouble?”
He looked around Guy, expecting a pack of irate dice players to be right behind him.
“I have important news,” Guy answered. “Brother James needs to know at once.”
“He may be back at the monastery,” Arnald volunteered. “Do you want me to go with you? I was just about to add my new hauberk to my pack and put it with yours to be ready to load in the morning.”
“Well, you may be spared that,” Guy snorted. “While we were dawdling about, waiting for more funds and the end of Eastertide, it seems that a group of knights of the Temple rode in and rescued all the prisoners in Valencia.”
“What?” Arnald was dumbfounded. “But…but…we were supposed to…what about the ransom?”
“That’s the first thing I’m going to ask,” Guy said. “Come on!”
They two men left in a hurry. Solomon stayed behind to consider this news.
It might not be true. Rumors about such things were always thick as flies on fresh meat. But if it were, how would Brother James take it? Would he rejoice that the men had been saved? Then he would be free to scurry back to the protection of his monastery walls. Or would he feel a fool; a man prepared for a dramatic martyrdom and then ignored. The image gave Solomon a moment of satisfaction.
Presumably this would free Arnald to go with them to Fitero. Certainly that would be a help to Aaron.
But first he had to find someone trustworthy who could give him the truth of the matter.
After that…Solomon stopped. His ticked off the list of tasks before him: avoid having to see his father again, rescue Mayah, send Yusef and his mad servant on their way. But then what?
He had been so involved with everyone else’s problems that he had almost forgotten his own reason for being in the South. It was supposed to have been a simple trip to Almeria to get the spices his uncle had ordered from Cairo. He and Edgar had planned to see how the new regime in Andalusia felt about trade with Christians and Jews, maybe get some presents for the family. How had he been sucked into this maelstrom? And how was he to escape it?
Guy’s information made Brother James also feel as if caught in a whirlwind.
“Who told you this nonsense?” he shouted at Guy. “Some vagabond with a gaming board and dice cup?”
“Well, yes…that is, no!” Guy looked to Jehan for help. “He said he had just come from Toledo. He learned the news from a man who had seen the knights on their way back.”
“Are you sure it was the men imprisoned in Valencia?” James demanded. “They were French knights. Why would they be in Toledo?”
“I don’t know!” Guy held up his hands to fend off more questions. “I’m only reporting what I heard.”
Jehan decided it was time to rescue Guy.
“It would be easy to verify this,” he said quietly. “Send someone to the nearest consistory of the Temple. There must be one nearby. I’ll go myself. Certainly they’ll know if their knights have rescued anyone.”
“Excellent.” James turned his attention to Jehan. Guy sagged in relief. “Brother Martin, ask the porter where we can find an official of the knights of the Temple of Solomon. We will make no decisions until we know the truth.”
“But if the men have already been freed, that means we can go wherever we want, right?” Arnald asked. “I mean, you won’t need me.”
James fixed him with a glare. “Are you so eager to give up your duty? Do you think that these men were the only captives in Spain? We have been entrusted with funds to restore Christians taken by the Saracen. We will not return until that has been accomplished.”
Arnald’s heart fell. He had thought his own freedom was imminent. Now he imagined himself hunting through dark corners of Andalusian towns for enslaved Christians. It sounded like a never-ending quest. Arnald had no intention of giving the rest of his youth to good works. He had to think of a way out.
Solomon found Aaron pacing back and forth in the courtyard of the widow’s house.
“We’re so close,” he said. “I can’t stand waiting any longer. I should never have been so cautious. Once I knew where she was I should have stormed the place. Instead I made plans and sold horses to raise funds. Not exactly like the hero of a cantos.”
“If you really listen to those tales, you’ll note that heroes usually pay for their rashness,” Solomon told him. “If you’d gone alone you’d have been killed and Mayah lost forever. A good story, a lousy reality. Now sit down; eat some dinner. If the weather holds fair we can be outside Fitero by tomorrow night. Then what do you intend? You said you had plans.”
Aaron didn’t slow his pacing. “I thought Arnald could pose as a rich young lord who had a fancy for exotic women. He could go to the brothel and make an offer for her. With the bag of gold that Victor gave to Belide, we have enough to meet any price they might name.”
“It sounds simple enough,” Solomon admitted. “I could do it, if necessary, as long as she has the sense to pretend she doesn’t know me.”
He didn’t voice his fear that she might not know anyone. Mayah was strong, but could she survive such an ordeal and not lose her sanity? The example of Babylonia made him wonder.
Like Aaron he wouldn’t consider that Mayah might be dead.
Aaron grunted something. He was now crisscrossing the small courtyard with an energy that was wearing a path in the soft earth. Solomon moved to one side and sat down on a stool next to a lemon tree. The flowers had fallen and tiny green fruit hid among the leaves. Solomon picked one and bit into it. He quickly spit it out. The bitterness stayed on his tongue.
Suddenly Aaron stopped and faced him.
“What if she’s pregnant?” He forced the question out. “What do I do then?”
Solomon opened his mouth, then realized he had no answer. It did seem that this was something Aaron should have thought about sooner.
“I think that…” he began slowly, not sure what he would say next.
“Aaron! Aaron!” Arnald’s voice became louder as he ran though the house and into the court.
Solomon thought a devout prayer of thanks. A moment later, he took it back.
“Aaron, you’ll never guess!” Arnald grabbed his friend by the shoulders and shook him in delight. “The men were freed by the Temple knights, so we don’t have to go to Valencia after all! But even better! Brother James wanted to find someone else to ransom so I told him about Mayah and he said he’d come with us and take care of everything.
Isn’t that wonderful?”
He stepped back, grinning with pride.
All the color drained from Aaron’s face. He gave a long rattling breath. His eyes rolled up in his head as he fell over.
Arnald bent over him in alarm.
“Aaron?”
He looked at Solomon in confusion.
“Did I say something wrong?”
Eighteen
Pamplona, the widow’s house, a moment later.
…Ego Sancho Lopez de Tarazona vendo vobis domno Raimundo abbati de Nezeuis…unam pezam in Fitero que est circa pezam de Petro Banz per iiii morabetinos marinos.
I, Sancho Lopez of Tarazona sell to you, Lord Raimond, abbot of Nezensis…one plot of land in Fitero, near that of Petro Banz, for four gold morebetinos.
—Charter of Fitero, 1147
Aaron moaned and tried to open his eyes. Arnald bent over him, unsure of what to do.
Solomon knew what to do. He spun Arnald around, grabbed him by the upper arms, and shook him until his head snapped back and he gasped for air.
“You mingre idiot!” Solomon shouted. “What right did you have to tell anyone Aaron’s business? Do you have any idea of what you’ve done?”
He didn’t wait for Arnald to draw breath for an answer but threw him on the ground. A moment later, he was through the house and out into the roadway without stopping to change his soft shoes for boots. He was so angry that he didn’t notice the sharp pebbles bruising his feet as he strode to the monastery. He gave the bell cord a vicious tug. The clanging was loud enough to call down the carved saints from the portico.
“I want to see Brother James,” he announced when the irate porter opened the viewing slot. “He arrived the other day from Moissac.”
“All the monks are at Vespers now.” The porter tried to shut the slot, but Solomon’s arm was in the way.
“Get him out,” he said. “Now. Or I’ll come in and get him.”
“I’ll call the guard!” the porter squealed, daunted more by Solomon’s fury than the knife he had just drawn.
“This is an emergency!” Solomon hissed. “A man may die if James doesn’t come at once.”
“Oh, why didn’t you say so?” The porter tried again to shut the slot. “I’ll send word to him at once. No! You can’t come in. Give me your name and I’ll see that he’s informed.”
“Jehan of Blois,” Solomon answered. “Remember, it’s life and death! If Brother James gets there too late, it will be on your soul!”
He could hear a muffled conversation on the other side of the door and the sound of running steps. Then nothing.
Solomon leaned against the solid wooden door, breathing heavily. As the minutes passed, so did the white rage that had brought him there. He tried to remember what his purpose had been in deciding to confront James.
Then he heard the flap of someone running in sandals and the lifting of the bar across the door. He moved away just in time to avoid falling as it was flung open and Brother James faced him.
The monk showed no surprise.
“I doubted that Jehan could have been the one asking for me,” he said. “I sent him and Berengar on an errand to the monastery of Leire not an hour ago. What do you want?”
“I want to know what Arnald told you,” Solomon said. “But not out here in the street.”
“I don’t suppose you’ll come to the monastery entry,” James said, surprising Solomon with his acquiescence. “Across the road, then, in the olive grove. No one will hear us there.”
Solomon followed him into the grove. The earth around each tree was bare from the feet of the gardeners and olive pickers but there was an open patch of grass scattered with wildflowers in bloom. James headed for this.
“Now,” Solomon continued. “Arnald came to you this afternoon with a proposition. What was it?”
James raised his eyebrows. “I presume you know. He wanted me to come with him to negotiate the release of a Jewish woman being held, he seems to think, by some Cistercian monks. Is there any truth to this?”
“It isn’t your affair in any case,” Solomon said. “But yes, it’s true. All I want to know is what you intend to do with this information.”
“I told Arnald that I would help in any way I could,” James said mildly. “Didn’t he report that?”
Solomon felt his jaw and fists clench. Did the man have no emotion left in him?
“And just what help did you plan?” He forced himself not to shout. “To warn your fellow monks? Perhaps have Aaron and the rest of us arrested and hanged?”
James gave a half smile, a mocking expression calculated to infuriate.
“You are probably not aware that the relations between Cluny and Citeaux are not always of the warmest,” he said. “The monastery at Fitero is the first the Cistercians have built in Navarre. The abbot here in Pamplona is worried that they will draw donations from our houses.”
Solomon snorted. “I see. So the news that the monks were supporting a brothel for their Muslim workers would be…?”
“A shocking revelation,” James finished. “It would be our duty to visit our erring brothers in order to persuade them of the immorality of their actions.”
“And if you can’t?” Solomon asked.
James shrugged. “It might still be possible to arrange for the purchase of one of the women.”
Solomon started to relax.
“Of course,” James added. “It would be better if she accepted baptism first.”
“You bastard.” Solomon took a step away from him. His right hand longed to draw his knife. “If you do anything that keeps Mayah from returning to us, I swear I’ll kill you.”
James didn’t move but looked Solomon up and down.
“I wasn’t aware that you needed an excuse for that,” he said. “I’ve been expecting a knife in my back since we left Toulouse.”
Deliberately, he turned and slowly walked away.
Solomon felt angry tears at the edge of his eyes. He swallowed hard, trying to keep his voice steady.
“What makes you think,” he told the retreating monk, “that you’re worth the trouble of staining my knife?”
James’s step faltered. He shook one foot to release a twig caught in his sandal. Then he walked on.
Solomon stood motionless until the monastery door opened and closed behind his father.
When Solomon returned to the house he found the uproar worse than when he had left. Arnald met him at the door.
“Aaron says he must leave at once, before the monks try to stop him,” he said. “He won’t even wait until morning. And he won’t let me come with him. You have to talk to him.”
“No, I don’t.” Solomon brushed past him. “Aaron’s right. You’ve put us all in jeopardy, including Mayah. I’ll get my things. We can be well on the road by sundown.”
He entered the living hall where he found Aaron’s pack ready to load. A moment later, Yusef came in.
“You went to see Jacob, didn’t you?” he said. “You should have sent me instead.”
“I didn’t think of it,” Solomon answered. “Don’t worry; he’s unharmed. Are you coming with us?”
Yusef shook his head. “I have to see to Babylonia. But, if you need help or more funds, you can reach us in Tudela.”
“Tudela? Why didn’t you tell us that in the first place?” Solomon asked. There was a large Jewish community there. It was a natural place to find someone who would care for the woman. “What’s in Tudela that should be such a secret?”
“Babylonia’s son.” Yusef lowered his voice. “After his father died, Juce broke with that side of the family and moved to Tudela. My informants think it was because of the way they treated his mother.”
“You think he’ll take her in?” Solomon was skeptical of sentimental family reunions.
“I don’t know,” Yusef admitted. “But at the least he might be persuaded to support her. He’s become very wealthy dealing in property in the countryside.”
“Well, I ho
pe he will,” Solomon said. “She deserves comfort, if nothing else, after what she’s endured. If he doesn’t, I suppose you’ll continue letting her stay with you.”
“It’s not so bad,” Yusef answered. “Perhaps time will dull her anger at the women who didn’t defend her against her husband and she’ll stop trying to profane their kitchens.”
“Perhaps.” Solomon was just glad that Babylonia was someone else’s problem. “Where’s Aaron?”
“Getting the horses,” Yusef answered. “Do you really think Jacob will try to stop him from rescuing his bride?”
Solomon gave a deep sigh. He hadn’t realized until now how exhausted he was. “I don’t know what the man is planning,” he told Yusef. “I only want to get as far away as we can before he acts.”
Aaron and Solomon were almost finished loading their horses when Arnald rode up.
“Please let me come with you!” he begged. “I know you’re both angry with me but, really, I thought telling Brother James would help all of us. He said he would talk to the abbot of Fitero. Mayah could be freed without us having to pay.”
“You sauvagin!” Solomon looked at him in exasperation. “Everything has a price. Your monkish friend told me that he would only free Mayah if she submitted to baptism!”
“Well, why not?” Arnald asked. “It doesn’t hurt.”
Aaron mounted his horse. “Let’s go.”
Arnald followed them through the town and out the southern gate. “I’m coming with you. You can’t stop me,” he declared. “Please! I won’t do anything without asking your permission. I swear! You said you needed me.”
His litany continued unceasingly until the sun hung low in the sky. Finally Aaron gave in.
“Very well, Arnald,” he called. “I accept your apology. But if your heedlessness has endangered Mayah, then our friendship is at an end.”
Arnald gave a grin of satisfaction. “I knew you’d relent,” he said. “Don’t worry. You can rely on me!”
The Outcast Dove: A Catherine LeVendeur Mystery Page 29