“He won’t find you, Alix, I promise you on my own life.” His voice was chilly.
I pulled away. “I bring disaster to others. Theo was with me before he was with Matilda de Braose; there was Richard before him, and before them my mother and father. I may be Death stalking the world and not know it.”
“Stop it, Alix! You gave life to every one of those people! And to me!”
I shivered. “I don’t give life to King John—he’s marked me for death. Me and everyone around me.” Through the smoke hole open to the sky, a faint star flickered beside a cloud.
“John is still jealous of his romantic brother, and jealousy is a strong emotion, Alix—I should know.”
“You’ve never killed anyone!”
“No? In my heart I have, many times. And sometimes I get my way. Maybe I’m Death, not you.”
“Whom did you ever kill?”
He pulled my head into his neck. “I wished Richard dead, and he died. Now I wish Enoch . . .”
“Enoch doesn’t have to die. And you have no reason to be jealous. He . . .”
“He what? Finish your sentence.”
“We’re no longer man and wife—he married someone else.”
“Then I don’t understand. Where is his wife? Why are you still acting as his lady?”
I explained that our quarrel now was over Wanthwaite, which we agreed would be resolved after a new civil law was established. We both recognized that the threat of King John must be resolved.
“Then we’ll fight. I don’t want to give up Wanthwaite, and he claims that he bought it.”
Bonel laughed. “An old-fashioned motte castle in the wilds of northern England, a place, nothing more. I doubt if it will stand another generation.”
“Yes, it will.”
“And you would run it alone?”
I didn’t answer.
“I took care of you once. Remember?”
“You take care of everyone, Bonel.”
“I help Jews, if that’s what you mean. That’s my calling.”
“You gave me money, jewels, training—all those things Maimonides talks about, and I’m not a Jew. You saved my life when I came to Rouen, you . . .”
“Stop! Next you’ll say that Jesus was a Jew, and I’m the Second Coming!”
I laughed.
“Are you sure it’s just Wanthwaite that holds you?” He slipped his arm around my waist. “Weren’t you holding a new baby when we arrived?”
My heart squeezed. “Aye, my daughter, Leith.”
“Is she Enoch’s?”
“Yes, but . . . It’s not what you think!”
He withdrew his arm.
I was ashamed to admit that I’d been raped, but I finally did. Worse was when I tried to describe my fantasy about the wolf, then Enoch’s woodly scheme, and my participation.
“Do you still love him?”
“Love him?”
“Have you forgotten how you raved about Enoch and England?”
Still ashamed, I pretended I had.
“I stay only because of Wanthwaite, even though it’s old-fashioned, as you say,” I repeated. “And, to be honest, because I’m afraid to be on my own. The king—”
“Must know you’re here, yet Enoch agrees to let you stay?”
I described our arrangement to behave as brother and sister.
Bonel seemed dubious. “With a child? What does Leith think? What does your household? What do you?”
Desperately, I described the aborted assassination and Enoch’s hopes for a legal solution for England. It was complicated and the marriage was complicated; we simply couldn’t handle both problems simultaneously.
“Though many others do.” Bonel’s voice became formal. “Your scheme—even your voice when you describe it—sounds as if you’re trying to hold him. Are you sure you’ve recovered from your early feelings?”
“My very earliest feelings were about Wanthwaite; that’s what I still love, that’s all. And Leith, of course.”
“Does Enoch still regret losing you?”
“His pride was hurt—he’s a Scot. Hurt about Wanthwaite, I mean. He’ll get Leith—I want Wanthwaite.” My voice dropped. “Regret losing me? No, men are different.”
“Where affairs of the heart are concerned? I doubt it.”
“He loves Lady Fiona.”
“So why don’t you leave? Why doesn’t he?”
He obviously didn’t accept Wanthwaite as my reason. “And go where?”
“London is one possibility. Should I make another list of jewelry centers?”
“I still have your first list.” I dropped my voice. “It’s hard to lose Leith.”
“Take her with you!”
“How could I? I finally know the law, Bonel. Canon law.” When he didn’t answer, I continued. “Before I leave, though, I’ve agreed to help settle this matter between the king and the barons. You witnessed York, Bonel, know how violence . . . it could effect the survival of England.”
His voice tightened. “Not much of a loss if it goes.”
“Oh Bonel, have you looked around you? England isn’t the kings, this one or any other, it’s the air, the animals, the trees and rivers, and the people, all the people . . .”
“The Jews?”
“The Jews, yes!” My voice shook. “The children.”
“Stop! You’ve not seen much of the world, have you? Children are everywhere . . .”
“I saw the Holy Land, remember; nothing but sand, heat, and cobras.”
“And crocodiles!” He laughed. “I was speaking of central Europe. Alix, I . . .” He stopped himself. “Jews are undergoing another Diaspora, except that this time a few countries actually want us. I’m considering several places myself—there’s an estate high in the Carpathian Mountains overlooking a lush valley—I’ve seen it—it could be paradise if . . .”
“If?”
“You could bring Leith—I would be her father, and then we . . .”
I felt faint. “Leith?”
“Do you still have the money I gave you?”
“Yes.”
“Then use it! I’ll send instructions—I’ll meet you in the south—maybe Italy—oh, Alix!”
Again he clasped me close. His whole chest shook with his heart.
“Do you expect me to convert?”
He laughed. “Do you expect me to?” He stroked my hair. “Is that yes?”
I drew back. “Are you sure?”
“I take that as yes.”
“I must get an annulment, then steal Leith.”
“Can you do it?”
“And I must fulfill my agreement about England.”
He pulled away. “Be more specific.”
“I’ve told you: the law, the king . . .” He still seemed cold. I changed the subject, sort of. “Why are you riding with Cardinal Langton?”
“We met on Dere Street and rode the last few miles together.”
“That’s not why. Is Cardinal Langton going to help you in Bristol?”
“Not at once, but I’m betting he’ll be the next archbishop of Canterbury, and, as archbishop, he could be of enormous help.”
“Explain.”
“He will be the ecclesiastic ruler of England; John dare not cross him.”
“Suppose he agrees with John.”
“A risk, I grant you. His reputation is that of a shadow of Pope Innocent III; he takes his orders from Rome, and the pope is neither liberal nor compassionate, though I don’t know specifically about Jews.”
“Does the pope back King John?”
“You said you knew the law? The pope will challenge John’s power here in England—some kings succumb for a personal reason, such as Philip of France; some don’t. Popes don’t have armies, of course, but kings have, and their armies do his bidding.”
“You haven’t answered—does he back King John?”
“As we speak, no; he backs King Philip of France against John.”
“Why?”
; He laughed. “Do you know about bribery? Philip paid the pope more than John. And John, at heart, is not religious. For him, it’s a pure power play. Philip may feel the same, but he’s smarter. It’s all about power, Alix. You’ll learn. Especially if you become involved with the barons’ rebellion, you’ll become well acquainted.”
“You know we’re already under the interdict.”
“The pope’s power at work, Alix. So long as the pope punishes England, John loses power. Ergo, John will give in. The first and easiest capitulation is to accept Stephen Langton.”
“Can Langton be trusted?”
He hesitated. “About what? Jews? Barons? I’ve never heard that Stephen Langton had an independent thought or did an independent act. He conforms.”
“He’s compared to Abelard.”
“No! Abelard was much the more original, I assure you. And rebellious.”
“And he ended in disgrace.”
“Forget his escapade with Hlose. His Sic et Non challenged absolutism, which is what you’re about. The law is flexible; kings are not. Nor are popes. And Langton is the champion of accepted dogma. He can quote St. Augustine word for word, and he accepts it; the same for canon law, papal history, and the present pope’s mind. He’s a pedant, not a scholar.”
“You sound as if our cause is hopeless, Bonel.”
“Oh yes, if you depend on Langton, it’s hopeless.” He laughed softly. “Or maybe I’m just trying to nudge you out of green, green England.” He became serious. “We Jews have tried for generations to shake the system of Church dominance so we can exist, with little effect. I don’t know the details of the barons’ plea, but I see no reason to think they’ll be more successful. Aside from the pope, people are loath to change. John knows that, and he exploits it with military might and superstition.”
Was it possible that our situation would worsen? Could Bonel be right?
“It’s growing light, Alix.”
“It’s a white night; it means nothing. I have much more to say about my—our—estate.”
A cock crew.
“Can we meet here tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“Then you go first.” He rose.
The instant I was on my feet, he clasped me close. We didn’t speak.
I went as I’d come, hugging shadowed walls. The Scots snored deeply from their sprawled positions on the rushes. When I reached my room, I stumbled over Enoch, who leaned against my door.
“Sae yer pimpereau lat ye cum back.”
“Stop calling him that! He took Theo and me into his commune! He helped me escape from Rouen—I owe him everything.”
“Wery touching. He halps ye escape the situation he made. Ich suppose he luvs ye as weil.”
“Would you move, please?”
Once I was inside my room, I locked my door.
Cardinal Langton stood in the center of the Hall. Three knights entered: Sir Guy and Sir Alexander, and a stranger.
Enoch edged in their direction. “How did Lord Robert arrange this lofty visitation from his estate in Normandy?” he asked in French.
Sir Alexander replied. “He wrote to the pope that his assassination attempt was made only because King John had been excommunicated, and he refused to be ruled by a heathen. His reason appealed to both the pope and to Langton.”
I groaned to myself: power or hypocrisy?
“Very clever,” Enoch commented mildly.
At that moment, Bonel entered the Hall flanked by two rabbis. He didn’t look in my direction; he didn’t have to. He walked to Cardinal Langton and conversed in low tones.
“Who’s the Jew?” Sir Alexander asked. “What’s he doing here?”
Enoch gave Bonel’s name and ignored the second half of the question. Soon Sir Alexander stood with the cardinal and two prelates behind a small table; the unruly crowd began to take on the look of an orderly meeting.
Though I hadn’t alerted him, Father William suddenly entered. When he stepped to the front as if expected, Cardinal Langton greeted him most courteously. The priest called a blessing on present company. All talking ceased. The priest then departed, and Cardinal Langton gazed at us from heavy, ringed eyes. He began to whisper in Latin.
Bowing courteously, Enoch approached the table and interrupted in French. “With all due respect, Your Eminence, most of present company cannot follow Latin. Could you address us in French or English?”
The cardinal replied haltingly in French. “Naturally, we speak Latin in Rome; I fear that I have quite lost my facility in French or my native tongue. Is there no one present who can translate?”
“If you will accept a woman, Your Eminence, my wife, Lady Alix, is gifted in Latin. In fact, she apprenticed in Latin.”
An old jape between us—I could have killed him.
Langton nodded. I think he knew that his voice didn’t carry, no matter what his tongue. I took my place beside him.
“As you can see,” he addressed the throng through my voice, “I am Cardinal Langton of Rome, though I will soon be your archbishop of Canterbury, your ecclesiastic leader in England.”
Was that a hope or a fact?
“King John prefers another man, but, of course, Pope Innocent will prevail,” he added hastily. “I mean no irreverence to King John, who is my lord by divine right as he is yours, but such an intelligent monarch will concede that the pope has precedence.”
Enoch again stood forward. “Lord Robert fitzWalter asked you to speak to the barons’ cause. Do you understand our grievances?”
Langton hesitated. “Not exactly. You took an oath of fealty to the king before God.”
The barons remained ominously silent.
Enoch spoke in French, which I translated into Latin for Langton. “We want to codify England’s laws to conform with custom. We plan nothing revolutionary, just clarification.”
Langton seemed bored. “You already have the canon law to guide you. Every priest in England knows it, or has access to it. What more do you need?”
Enoch’s blue eyes flashed dangerously; the cardinal either didn’t see or didn’t care.
“Canon law covers family matters such as birth, marriage, and death, and . . .”
“God rules the world, my friend; the pope is God’s emissary to the world. If Pope Innocent tells King John what to do, then the king must obey.”
“So tell the pope that King John must stop killing his own subjects! Or taking our children as hostages, then killing them! Or demanding our service in foreign wars! Or . . .”
“Pace!” the cardinal interrupted sternly. “Your king is inviolable, annointed by God Himself. You can make no demands whatsoever.”
Enoch was now shaking with rage. “We were speaking of the pope making demands! However, since you shift the authority to us, we can and we will demand the right to live under law! You say that we already live under canon law! How does canon law protect us from tyranny?”
Enoch’s vehemence startled Cardinal Langton.
“Tyranny? How is obedience subjection? Can you explain?”
And Enoch cited atrocities against people and in places I’d never heard of. The cardinal, obviously shaken, thought a long time before he responded.
“If what you report is true—and I will check, you understand—the pope should be advised.”
“The pope is in Rome—we can’t wait.”
“You should make a charter of your complaints. If the pope agrees, then the king should be forced to sign it.”
“Ond yif the pope doesna agree? We ha’e to live! We ha’e customs!”
Enoch was too furious for French, and I chose not to translate his question.
But Langton had understood. “Local customs can hardly be construed as universal law.”
“When a man is accused of wrongdoing, is a trial by a jury of his peers a local custom? I say it should be law!”
The cardinal flushed. “Such a man should be tried by canon law, and by priests. We strive for repentance, not punishment.”
“Yif a man kills a man’s wife and children, ’tis nocht enough fer him to say he’s sorry!”
“It’s enough for God,” Langton replied gently. “We strive to improve a man’s soul, not to punish his body.”
Enoch turned dangerously red. “King John has na soul. Mayha we havena as weil, boot we ha’e bodies. We doona want to drown or burn! Quhat will ye do fer our rights?”
Langton didn’t reply.
Enoch reverted to French. “And if the king covets a man’s land and the man refuses to give it, should that man say mea culpa?”
The cardinal flushed. “You skew your example.”
“No, I do not! Under the king’s law, which is the law of covetousness, that man who wishes to hold his land would be killed.”
“Our Savior didn’t concern Himself with land ownership. Or money.”
“Soothly!” Enoch was no theologian, but he knew about money. “Our Lord beat the moneylenders with a whip, didn’t He?”
It was Langton’s turn to redden.
“Our local customs, as you call them, keep order in our community. We won’t tolerate the king or anyone else destroying our system!”
The two men mixed eyes.
“Are you suggesting anarchy against King John? Against the pope?” Langton showed his shock.
And he had reason. Enoch stood nose to nose with him. “We want to avoid anarchy! We don’t want war! And we seek your help! But don’t insult us with talk about souls or God or repentance! We’re serious!”
“So am I! So is God! The king is the law.”
“Kings die and the law still goes on.”
Cardinal Langton rubbed his eyes wearily. “Are you worried that King John will die?”
Not worried, but certain. John would die.
Enoch mumbled, “Aye, but we can’t wait.”
“At that time, you can draw your charter. Law is malleable as situations change.”
“Yet in God’s eyes, the situation never changes.”
“I didn’t say that.” The cardinal smiled through steel. “As we speak, Hungary, Germany, and Denmark are writing new laws! They are challenging the very concept of royalty, so you seem part of a new wind blowing through Europe.” He leaned forward. “Yet they don’t live under King John. What could their reason be?”
The Prince of Poison Page 19