The Devil's Door: A Catherine LeVendeur Mystery

by Sharan Newman

  As the parnassim af Trayes came in, Catherine was relieved to see Solomon among them. She and Edgar, their part over, moved back to a seat against the wall and she signaled her cousin to join them.

  She hugged him. “I was so worried about you last night,” she whispered. “You should have stayed with us.”

  Solomon disengaged himself.

  “You keep forgetting, Catherine,” he said. “I’m not one of you. My duty was to my brother, Gershom. I may not keep to the Law like the tovim of this town, but I wouldn’t hide under a false name and let you Christians kill one of my people. Nor would I cower behind barred gates.”

  “Of course you wouldn’t.” Catherine sensed that his rebuke wasn’t for her, alone. “You’ve proved that many times. I was only concerned for you.”

  Solomon nodded and squeezed her hand.

  “It was kind of you, Catherine,” he sighed. “Forgive me, I haven’t slept at all. Of course the elders refused to rest when one of their own was in danger. My throat is full of road dust and my backside is sore from riding.”

  “I still have some of that goose grease salve left,” Edgar offered.

  “Keep it,” Solomon laughed. “You may have need of it again.”

  He got up.

  “When the parnassim have finished negotiating, they want to meet the two of you,” he said. “They would like you to come to the house of Rabbi Samuel this afternoon.”

  Catherine was aware of her own exhaustion and the fact that it had been some time since her hair had seen a comb. In the Paraclete now they would be putting away the manuscripts and writing tools and preparing for Sext. It seemed impossible that it had only been a few days since she left. She was in another world.

  She had missed an exchange between Edgar and Solomon.

  “Fine,” Solomon was saying. “I’ll return for you then.”

  Edgar took Catherine’s arm.

  “We must thank the countess for her hospitality,” he said. “Salomon says we can stay in the Jewish quarter tonight and leave tomorrow with some wine traders.”

  “But what about Lisiard?” Catherine asked. “And finding out about the land for Mother Héloïse and …”

  “We can do that this afternoon,” Edgar said. “The elders may be able to help us.”

  He was hurrying her up the stairs almost roughly, his fingers pressed into the flesh of her upper arm.

  “Edgar, what is it?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”

  He didn’t answer until they were back in their alcove. Catherine noticed with regret that the bed had been dismantled. Their things were in a pile on the floor.

  “Carissma.” He held her close. She could feel his heart thumping against her chest. She ran her fingers along his ribs. He was too thin; she could feel each one.

  “Dilectissime,” she murmured.

  He drew his hand down her jawline. She had proved herself strong many times, but to him she would always seem fragile. He tilted her face to his.

  “Catherine, we came here because your father wanted you someplace safe,” he said. “We were supposed to ask a few simple questions quietly and inconspicuously. On every level we have failed.” He kissed her. “My dear, you are not an inconspicuous sort of person.”

  Catherine thought of Count Raynald and his father. She had made herself all too memorable to them.

  “So, are you telling me we should run away?” she asked.

  “Of course not,” he answered. “Never. But there is little more we can do here. It’s up to Nocher and to Lisiard’s family to find those who killed him. If, as we believe, his death was connected with that of Alys and the disposition of her property, then all this should be brought to the attention of Abbess Héloïse as soon as possible. Don’t you agree?”

  “Yes …” She was still unconvinced. “But why shouldn’t we stay here a few more days to get the information we came for?”

  For answer he reached out and pulled open the curtain across the alcove. As he did, there was a rustle and they caught a glimpse of a shadow as someone rushed down the winding stairs. Catherine nodded, her eyes wide.

  “Of course. Those who would not fear to kill a man who lived here, who had family and friends all around, wouldn’t hesitate to murder a pair of strangers with no kin nearby,” she said. “I wish I knew what this was all about.”

  “At the moment, Catherine, I don’t care,” Edgar said. “Abbot Bernard says that a curious person is an empty person. I don’t think he meant empty to the limit that Lisiard was taken, but all the same, I prefer to live in ignorance a while longer.”

  “How much longer?” Catherine wanted to know. “I don’t believe curiosity is a sin if it leads to the truth.”

  Edgar smiled. “I don’t either. I am as much a student of Master Abelard as you. But I think we should control our thirst for knowledge until we are safely away from the palace and whoever it is who is watching us so intently.”

  Catherine shivered as if a cold hand had suddenly clutched at her neck.

  “Shall we wait in the courtyard for Solomon?” she said as they gathered up their things. “No one can come upon us unawares out there.”

  Upon entering the home of Rabbi Samuel they were given water to wash in and then honeycakes and wine with mint sprigs in it to drink. After they were made comfortable, the other elders came in and thanked them.

  “Without you to speak for him, poor Gershom might have been killed before we could arrive,” Samuel told Catherine. “You are a true child of our lost brother Hubert. Todah robah, to you both.”

  Another of the elders added, “Solomon says you have come here to find out about some land in the forest of Othe. We have noticed a certain interest in this area recently, ourselves. Peter of Baschi and Raynald of Tonnerre’s father, William, have both wanted to know if we held pledges of land in that region and what they could redeem them for.”

  “But Joseph ben Meïr said that Peter was in debt to him and we know he also has borrowed from the nuns of the Paraclete,” Edgar said. “How could he redeem anyone else’s pledges when he has so many of his own?”

  “That, I cannot tell you,” the elder said. “But Nicholas of Mon-tieramey, Bishop Hatto’s chaplain, has indicated to me that there are those in high authority who would be willing to stand security for him.”

  “Really?” Catherine said. “I wonder why they don’t want to deal with you directly.”

  The man shrugged. “There are many who don’t wish it known that they do business with us, especially those of the Church for whom anything smelling of usury also smells of sulfur and brimstone. We have always admired Abbot Suger of Saint-Denis for his open honesty in his dealings with the Jews. Most clerics refuse to risk the stigma.”

  “And yet, they seem willing to risk their souls to acquire this land,” Catherine said. “What could there be about it? Have you been to the forest?”

  Rabbi Samuel nodded. “I’ve passed through it. It’s only a forest. The Othe is mostly unused. It contains great stands of oak and chestnut. It may be that they think they can make a profit from the wood. With the new fashion in building, long beams will be needed for roofing. Suger had to perform a miracle to get enough wood for the roof at Saint-Denis.”

  Solomon laughed. “You mean he had to go out himself to find it. His builder tried to tell him that there were no trees left tall enough for his needs and he had to buy further away. He didn’t count on the abbot hitching up his robes and scrambling through the forest, himself, to mark the trees tall enough for the beams.”

  Rabbi Samuel laughed, too. “More than one man has regretted equating the abbot’s size with his shrewdness. Rather than confront the builder with his trickery and cause resentment, Suger simply announced that it must be a miracle. The trees had grown overnight in answer to his prayers.”

  “Perhaps they did,” Catherine said. “You may be right that Raynald and the others want the forest land to sell the wood. Henry Sanglier is looking for material, I hear, for his new cathedral at
Sens, but that isn’t enough to explain why they would kill for it. Most of the world is covered by trees.”

  “We can’t answer that,” Rabbi Samuel told her. “Nor do we know why poor Gershom was brought into this Christian situation. He does no money lending. He’s simply a butcher.”

  “It may be that his was the first shop the men came to,” Edgar suggested. “Lascho said that the men were staggering under the weight of the body.”

  “No, Gershom’s wasn’t closest,” Rabbi Samuel said. “They chose him for some reason.”

  “If the body had been found in one of your homes, what would have happened?” Catherine asked.

  There was a brief consultation in Hebrew.

  “The Law on that is fairly clear,” Rabbi Samuel told her. “We would have searched for his family. If we found no relatives, we would have paid for his burial among his own kind.”

  “But would there have been such an uproar?” she continued.

  “Perhaps,” Rabbi Samuel said. “Who knows? Certainly he wouldn’t have been discovered by Christians. We would have had time to go to the proper authorities. Of course, it would have been just as difficult to prove we had nothing to do with his death. You think that his killers intended to start a riot against us?”

  “Well, it occurred to me, …” Catherine hesitated. Now that she had thought of it, the thing seemed obvious and she didn’t want to embarrass these scholars. However … “If the object was to find pledges for property, a riot in which your homes were ransacked would be a good opportunity to search for them.”

  “But all our pledges are in Hebrew,” Rabbi Samuel pointed out.

  “There are Christians who can make out some Hebrew,” Catherine argued. “Even Abbess Héloïse reads it a little. She studied it in Paris when she lived with her uncle. That was one of the reasons she left Argentueil, where she was a boarder. She wanted to study Hebrew as well as attend the lectures.

  “Of course,” she added, trying to imagine Heloïrse so long ago, “then she met Master Abelard.”

  Rabbi Samuel was not interested in Héloïse’s background but was clearly startled by the notion that Peter may have had some understanding of Hebrew.

  “Peter of Baschi did study in Paris and Melun, both of which have Hebrew scholars,” he said. “It’s possible. We have had a number of Christians come to us. I never considered Peter the sort who would, but still … when I think of the times we spoke in front of him and the things we said … I’ve been a fool.”

  “Can you help the women of the Paraclete recover what they loaned Deacon Peter?” Edgar asked.

  “I would like to,” Rabbi Samuel said, “if only to repay you for your service to us. But he has powerful friends. What you need is to go to one of them. The Paraclete is under the jurisdiction of Bishop Hatto, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why don’t you ask him?”

  “I don’t know,” Catherine admitted. “Mother Héloïse didn’t suggest it. Perhaps he’s one of the powerful people also seeking control of this land.”

  “I’m sorry,” Rabbi Samuel said. “I don’t have the authority to make this man pay us, much less your abbess. In the end we may have to turn to the bishop, ourselves, or Count Thibault, to get some return on what we’ve loaned him.”

  “I wish we at least knew who owned the property adjacent to the pieces Alys left the convent,” Catherine said.

  “Joseph, the wine seller, could have told you part of that,” Rabbi Samuel said. “He holds a pledge there as well. In the forest of Othe, the land is divided between the count of Tonnerre, Walter of Grancy and the monastery of Vauluisant.”

  “Well, we know that both Vauluisant and Raynald of Tonnerre have shown some interest,” Edgar said. “And if Walter could be proven to have attacked Alys, his lands might be forfeit. I wish we could find him.”

  Rabbi Samuel brightened. “There, at least, we can help you,” he said. “Walter is hiding in the forest with the hermit of Lailly.”

  “He’s what?”

  “The who?”

  “How do you know?”

  Catherine, Edgar and Solomon all spoke at once. Rabbi Samuel seemed delighted to have made such an impression.

  “Yehiel saw him last week when he stopped by to visit Gaufridus,” he told them. “Yehiel, come here.”

  Solomon’s friend stepped forward. He was about thirty, so “elder” must have been an honorary title. He was built like a blacksmith rather than a scholar, all but his hands, Catherine noted. They were soft and white. Only the middle finger of his right hand had a callus. Catherine had one just like it, from hours of holding a pen.

  “I’d have told you, Solomon,” Yehiel apologized. “I knew he was hiding from Raynald and William; I didn’t realize you were looking for him, too. He’s staying in a hut near the hermit’s cottage. He seemed quite happy when I saw him. Says he might take up the contemplative life.”

  Rabbi Samuel nodded in satisfaction. “I should have thought of sending you there, myself. I don’t know what the murders of the cook’s nephew or the countess of Tonnerre have to do with us, but if the links are there, then Gaufridus will have found them. He may not seem to be aware of it, but nothing happens concerning the forest that he isn’t told. If someone intends to chop it down to build cathedrals, he’ll be the one to tell you. He grumbles enough about the damage the charcoal burners do. Yes, that’s the man you should see.”

  Catherine and Edgar looked at each other. Edgar spoke for them both.

  “Is there no one else?” he asked. “Catherine and I have not had great good fortune consulting with hermits.”

  Rabbi Samuel laughed. “You may not with this one, either,” he said. “It depends on his mood. But if you want to unravel this tangle, then you will need his help.”

  “Where can we find him?” Edgar asked.

  Yehiel answered, “His hermitage is in the forest about a mile from the village of Lailly. Anyone who lives there can direct you.”

  “If you can be ready to leave in the morning,” Rabbi Samuel added, “there is a party of brethren from Lyons, who are on their way to Sens. You can travel with them.”

  Edgar turned to Catherine. “What do you think?”

  “We have no choice,” she answered. “We have vowed to find the answers. We can’t ignore someone who might be able to give them to us.”

  “It’s settled, then.” Rabbi Samuel clapped his hands. “In gratitude for your help, Gershom has roasted the first of the spring lamb. Last autumn’s wine should be ready for tasting. Tonight we shall feast. You will join us?”

  Lamb and new wine. Catherine’s mouth watered.

  “We would be honored,” Edgar said.

  That night Solomon sat with them. Tables had been set up in the courtyard of Rabbi Samuel’s home and all the Jews of Troyes were there to celebrate. Solomon ate until Catherine feared he would burst.

  “I’ve never known you to be a glutton,” she told him.

  “That’s because you usually see me when I have to eat trafe,” he said. “It’s so good to have real food again.”

  He ripped off another piece of bread, soaked with juice from the lamb.

  “I never thought of that,” Catherine said. “I always knew Jews wouldn’t eat at Christian tables, but you do. Why?”

  “I eat what’s there,” Solomon said in annoyance. “Would you rather I starved? For one thing, sometimes it’s safer for me to be Stephen and it would be odd if I didn’t eat whatever was on the plate. But not pork. I never did that, no matter what. I couldn’t. It won’t lie on our stomachs. It’s a known fact.”

  Catherine thought of her father, eating hugely of the soups flavored with salted pork. In the winter, it was often the only meat they had. How had he survived? Did baptism, even forced, change one’s stomach as well as one’s soul? She would have to ask Master Abelard his opinion.

  Just before they were shown to their bed, Rabbi Samuel came over to Catherine and Edgar.

  “The people
of the community want you to know that we are not unconcerned about these matters you are seeking answers to,” he said quietly. “We live among you. We speak the same language, sell at the same markets and what happens in the courts of your kings and the abbeys of your monks affects us, too. We are worried that these deaths and this struggle for land are part of something more. And it is especially frightening that we are apparently being made scapegoats. We want you to find out who killed Lisiard. Poor Gershom won’t feel safe in his shop again, in any event. The experience of being dragged through the streets has unsettled him greatly. He has vowed never to sell to Christians again, even if it ruins him. None of us will be completely at ease until those who are responsible are brought before the count and shown to the people of Troyes. It’s not enough to say we’re innocent unless someone else can be proven guilty.”

  “We’ll do what we can,” Edgar promised. “But I don’t know how much that will be.”

  Rabbi Samuel smiled at him.

  “You are a most interesting young man,” he said. “Catherine grew up in Paris and, even before she knew of her father’s family, she knew us. But for you we must seem completely alien. And yet you sit and eat with us and offer your help. It amazes me.”

  Edgar shrugged.

  “Everything about France is alien to me,” he said. “I was raised to hate Normans and Danes, and several of the families in the neighborhood, not Jews. We have only so much animosity and we spend it on the enemies at hand. It’s not amazing that I have none left for you.”

  Rabbi Samuel shook his head. “Nevertheless, I am pleased and ask you to accept my appreciation for your kindness. Good night.”

  When he had left and they were settled in bed, Catherine turned to Edgar.

  “Do you really think we should waste our time with this hermit?” she fussed, drumming her fingers on his chest.

  “I think we need to find Walter of Grancy,” Edgar answered. “If he is staying with this Gaufridus, it wouldn’t hurt to speak with him also.”