by Robyn Carr
“We’ve bolted the door,” Edythe cried, rushing into the room. She ran to where Chandra stood at the window, watching the wild scene below.
As they watched a man running, they saw a horsed warrior, a fettered knight, cut him down with a ready lance. Chandra gulped convulsively. She had never witnessed anything to match this in all her life. It in no way resembled the death of a convicted criminal. It was a macabre slaughter for which she could name no cause.
“They are Jews,” Edythe shuddered as she noticed the clothing the pursued men wore.
The Jews were granted few favors in the English burghs and villages. On the insistence of the church, they set themselves apart from Christians by their style of dress so that no Christian would unknowingly become involved with them. They were harassed and called infidels and unbelievers; their punishments for lawlessness were most often harsher because they were not Christians. But they lived under the protection of the king and therefore were handled with care.
“They must have attacked,” Edythe whispered.
“Nay,” Chandra said, shaking her head. “They have no weapons.”
Edythe pointed to the street and Chandra looked to see the same thing: men fleeing and being senselessly slain. Looking again, she gasped. “Tedric!”
She watched him as he grabbed the man he chased, spun him about and drew his sword. She screamed, but her sounds were drowned by the noise below. Beside the window on a bedside commode there stood a basin of water for washing. Frantically she grabbed it and flung it out the window. The water drenched Tedric, and as he looked up for the source of this soaking, the man in his hold slumped to the ground, leaving Tedric holding the bloodied sword.
Chandra stared down at him in awe. She watched as he turned and disappeared into the night.
In the great hall where Richard feasted, a page crept nervously toward the king, but was halted by the archbishop at his side. The page whispered in the ecclesiastic’s ear. Immediately the holy man crossed himself, turned to the king and spoke softly and quickly. Richard slammed his goblet down on the table with such force that the hall fell silent. All looked toward the king, whose face reddened with rage. The archbishop continued to speak. Richard stood, his long legs taking him quickly to the edge of the table where he spoke to the earls of Pembroke, Essex and Gloucester.
Word was being passed from the king’s table down to the other tables, through hundreds of knights and nobles, the men being jolted upright as they heard, wondering whether to flee or remain with Richard.
Alaric rose from his table to find out what chaos had interrupted the coronation feast. “London is afire,” he heard. “Fighting in the streets,” he heard someone else say. Finally he heard the accurate explanation. A group of London Jews bearing gifts for the king were fallen upon by Christians at the palace gates. Rioting even now was ripping through the city, causing great bedlam.
“Go quickly before you are missed,” Alaric told Conan. “By the back halls, and find our residence to be certain the women are safe. The king’s fury will strike down those involved. Turn your mantle lest anyone place you in the riot, and lay sword to no man, Jew or Christian.”
Mallory and Thurwell met Conan at the door, and before leaving the palace gates they turned their tunics and mantles inside out so that no symbol of the Cross or emblem of demesne was visible.
To go quickly and without violence was their intent, but before they had traveled far, they found the need to draw out their weapons. Frightened Jews raised clubs in self-defense while nobles were ready with their own blades, eager to kill or maim any person of Jewish descent. Madness swept the streets, and flames from the Jewish quarter lit the skies.
It was not far to where the women were housed, but on this night the streets were so littered with crazed rioters that the journey took the better part of an hour. And when the house was finally before them, no amount of pounding could persuade the men protecting that house to open the door.
“’Tis Sir Conan of Anselm,” he shouted until he was hoarse.
“Break down the door,” Mallory urged, anxious to be sure the women were safe.
The bodies of those slain nearby proved that the door was bolted with just cause. Conan heard the bolts moving and the ram being lifted from the door. Gingerly it was opened just enough for a man to peer through and see who the intruder was. Conan was in no mood to wait patiently for his identity to be checked. He pressed his way inward the moment the latches were slackened, nearly taking the door from its leather hinges.
“Conan,” Chandra gasped, flying from the stair into his arms.
“You are unharmed?” he asked quickly.
“Aye, we are safe, only frightened. What madness plagues this city?”
“Edythe?” Mallory asked.
Chandra pointed to the stair, for by now all the women, maids and servants and noblewomen, had huddled together in one bedchamber above. Mallory rushed past her to see for himself that all were safe there.
“A misunderstanding,” Conan heard himself say. “Of the greatest magnitude.”
“Conan,” she breathed, “Tedric was a part of this. I saw him murder--”
“Have you come to our aid, my son?” came a voice from the stair.
They turned together to see Udele, unbelievably cool for all that had happened in the past hour. Conan let his arms fall from Chandra’s. “Aye, madam,” he said. “Are the women safe?”
“Your wife waits yonder. She would benefit from your reassurance,” Udele told him.
Conan quickly passed her on the stair, making his way to Edwina, who by now was terrified and lay weeping and trembling on her bed.
Chandra followed him, returning to the chamber she had had to fight her way out of when she heard voices and pounding at the door below. She found her arm seized by Udele and looked into that woman’s eerie emerald eyes. The two women were nearly the same size, since Udele was a slight woman and Chandra, possibly having grown to her full adult height, was also small. But the eyes of these two would have been better placed on giants. Neither would give way and neither would so much as blink. And in that meeting of snapping blue and chilling green, there was a mutual hatred so intense it could have shaken the ground on which they stood.
“What would Medwin think of your whorish pursuit of your sister’s husband, I wonder. Or Tedric,” Udele hissed, her breath hot and brash in Chandra’s face.
The arm that held her was relentless in its grasp, but Chandra would not wince or attempt to pull away. “Do not hope to intimidate and threaten me as you do poor Edwina, madam,” she returned with venom. “I know enough of your wicked methods to best you at your own game.”
“You are a slut,” Udele spat.
“I?” Chandra said, and then smiled knowingly into Udele’s eyes. “And what would Conan think of your cruel games, lady? His loyalty has been a steadfast thing, but I should think you would fear for the day he learns you have made a mockery of his trust.”
“You cannot discredit me to my son. He would believe nothing--”
Udele stopped as she noticed Chandra’s smile: as superior and cunning as her own could be. “Whom would he believe, madam?” Chandra asked. “Indeed, between us, whose love does he hunger for?”
“You will be punished for your sinful lust,” Udele said through clenched teeth, taking her hand from Chandra’s arm.
With poise and dignity, Chandra took a few steps past Udele, turning and looking down at her to speak for the last time, to hurl the last stone. “When the punishments are being given out, madam, the one of us who knows a sinful lust best will fall the hardest. I think mine will be the lesser crime.”
She did not look back at Conan’s raging mother again but went on to the chamber above. I am wicked, she thought as she climbed the stair. I depend on his love--love that I have no right to claim, even as it tears at his heart.
She looked into the bedchamber that was now crowded with people, the women chattering in fear and confusion and the men leaning o
ut the windows to look out on the turbulent city. Edwina lay in her bed, her face pale and drawn, as Conan leaned over her and tried to assure her that she was safe now.
If I were stronger of will, Chandra thought hopelessly, I would find a way to make him hate me, to free his heart for the woman whose right it is to claim it. Tears collected in her eyes much against her will. But what little bit of his love I have known is my only treasure--and I need--his--love....
***
The morning’s light showed the Jewish quarter to be a smoldering ruin. Panic still was rampant and the women did not dare to venture out from their homes.
King Richard had offered his protection to the Jews, for he depended on their wealth for his Crusade. His journey to the Holy Land to rescue the Holy Sepulcher was an obsession--he saw himself as the greatest knight to live, the one man who would take his army and finally rid the Holy Land of the infidels.
Rumors of the king’s fury trickled down through the streets and reached all the nobles. The news that nobly born Christians had been the ones to overreact and attack the gathering Jews further angered the king, and he was intent on punishing those who had participated. He threatened banishments and possibly hangings. And while the king’s rage sent every noble scurrying about to gather names, it was well known to all that he was angry not because those unfortunates were unjustly slain, but because they could have filled his purse with wealth. Richard declared that any money owed to the Jewish usurers who were slain must be repaid to him.
Conan and his father walked toward Westminster, Mallory and Thurwell close behind.
“You are certain this is the course you wish to take?” Alaric asked.
“If I lay any importance to my oath to uphold justice, I must face Richard with the truth. Chandra saw Tedric kill a man, a man well known here and in the north as a moneylender.”
“We could take the accusation to Sir Theodoric--”
Conan stopped short. He eyed his father and there was anger in his stare. “I have long loved Theodoric, but he is shortsighted where Tedric is concerned. He treats Tedric’s treacheries like boyish pranks. Nay, if I left the punishment to Theodoric, he would take a switch to Tedric!”
“It would be better if you took Richard more proof,” Alaric counseled, walking on toward Westminster.
“Where is the proof beyond a witness? Tedric has given Medwin a large sum of money for Chandra’s hand and refuses to confide his source. I must believe the money came from the lender he killed. If Richard has assumed receipt of those debts there would be a record.”
“Your witnesses will not help you. Even though Chandra and Edythe saw Tedric, Richard will put little stock in women’s reports.”
“And for that I am grateful. I hate to think of either woman enduring this confrontation, and especially Chandra. I accuse the man she is to marry.”
“I reason that is the purpose of this,” Alaric said.
Conan did not reply. He walked silently on, looking straight ahead.
“Do you hope to see justice done and Tedric properly disciplined, or to save Chandra from a marriage she does not desire?”
“Both,” he said simply.
“Your motives may be questioned. Are you prepared for that?”
“She is my wife’s sister. If Tedric were a man of honor and chivalry, it would matter little to me that Chandra does not love him. But if I am to serve my wife and Medwin as I promised to do, I cannot stand idle while she is given in marriage to a thief and murderer. One day, Father, Tedric’s sword will be turned on me. It will pain me to have to kill Theodoric’s son.”
“That will change,” Alaric said. “When this is done there will be little love between our families.”
“While that is truth, it will never change the way I feel about Theodoric. He taught me justice and honor.”
Many swarmed the halls of Westminster on the business of the riots. All were there to capitalize on the insult Richard felt when his coronation ended with this ruinous event.
When Conan and his father were finally admitted to the king’s chambers, they could see that Richard had not tired of his rage. His eyes were bright and piercing, and energy seemed to seethe from every pore of his powerful physique. He was again surrounded by clergy.
Years earlier, before he had been knighted, Conan had met Richard on two separate occasions in France. Conan’s appearance had not changed drastically since then, except that his beard was thicker and darker, but his surprise was genuine when Richard recognized him. He bowed before his king.
“Sir Conan,” Richard acknowledged. “What is your complaint?”
“None, Sire. You called to have justice brought to those who murdered Jews. I know of a man who was seen in the riots killing a lender.”
While Richard’s eyes remained angry, he handled the business with formality and serenity. Conan told his story while a scribe copied the details slowly and carefully. When the telling was done, Richard spoke.
“A part of justice is to give the accused a chance to speak. You are excused and will be called when Sir Tedric is found and records from the lender who was murdered are brought to me. I hope, Sir Conan, that you are not wrong.”
“On my oath, Sire, I would not dare so much if I doubted. Tedric has been in possession of large sums he will not answer for, and the lender was murdered below his bride’s window. She is my wife’s sister and fears marriage with this man.”
“And you have taken the position of matchmaker? I can think of better work for a knight of the realm.”
“To protect women is a part of the code, Sire.”
Richard nodded, though his lips were curved in a snide smile. With an impatient gesture of the hand, Conan was excused and the next man to see the king entered.
It was two days before Conan was called back to Westminster, but the time was well spent. Mallory and Thurwell had learned that the lender’s name was Aaron and he was well known in London and York. He was widely traveled and had made many loans to nobles, charging for the privilege of borrowing. His home in York was not terribly far from Theodoric’s lands. His records would cause some furor, the names would cause Richard to raise his brows. Most nobles forced to borrow tried to keep their debts a secret and were not bent to a cause so sanctified as the Crusade.
Tedric and Theodoric were already present when Conan and Alaric arrived at Westminster. Theodoric did not speak or look at Conan. His face was stony with displeasure. Tedric growled his greeting.
“Will you stop at nothing to spoil my reputation on English soil?”
“There is no blood on my hands, Tedric,” Conan answered confidently.
“You could have come to me for an answer to this charge, but the king! You are wrong, Conan!”
They were admitted to the king’s chambers, and the bishop at Richard’s right hand read the charge.
“Sir Tedric is accused of taking part in the riot and the slaying of Jews. The man slain was called Aaron, a lender known in London and York. The witnesses were Lady Chandra, betrothed of the accused, and Lady Edythe, daughter of Lord Alaric de Corbney.”
Tedric stood calmly as the accusation was read.
“How do you answer these charges, Sir Tedric?” Richard asked. __
“I did in fact slay a man that night, Sire,” Tedric said calmly. “I was not a part of the coronation, and when the riots began I took myself quickly to the home of Lord Alaric, knowing my betrothed to be there. I found a man trying to gain entry and I could not name him Jew or knight. When I pushed him aside he drew a knife and I killed him. I had not seen him before and did not know his name.”
Richard raised a brow and studied the young man before him. He had heard similar charges and answers in the days following the riots. He was not oblivious to the possibility that old feuds would be tested on this ground. It was a choice situation for one man to discredit another.
“Why did you flee if you were innocent?” Conan asked. “You did not enter to see to the welfare of your
betrothed, but ran.”
“A fair question,” Tedric answered easily. He casually touched a place on his head, drawing apart the gold locks to expose an undergrowth of his yellow hair stained pink from a bloody gash. “I was carried away from Alaric’s door by the mob and soon after found a quiet doorway to rest my weary bones.” Richard allowed an amused smile for the accused. “Forsooth, I did not rise to see to my betrothed’s safety until dawn. But you were there, Conan. Did you find the lady well?”
Conan squirmed slightly but faced the king again. “Sire, Sir Tedric weaves a pretty tale and no doubt a believable one, but I state again that he has given his bride’s father a large sum, money whose source he will not name. And the lender who was killed lives not far from Tedric’s home. I believe the murder was given much thought and the riots offered the hope that it would go unnoticed.”
Richard looked to Tedric, who at this moment seemed ill at ease. “Sire,” he said softly. “I have not borrowed from a lender and I have not wished to tell my family or my bride’s from whence the money came. Truth, Sire, I fear to tell you, but better I am punished for poor judgment than murder. I looked long and hard for labors that would bring me the silver to buy Chandra’s hand, for her estate is my only hope of prospering--I am the last born of seven sons. Count John paid me a large sum for my support when he was in France. Though I realized my error in judgment and have pledged myself to your cause, the shame is more than a knight can bear to lay to his family.”
“Then something was gained in your hasty loyalties, Tedric. You’ve at least realized where your allegiance belongs. I will forget that you were opposed to my sovereign right and can plainly see why you would be hesitant to name the source of your money.”
“I will accept any penance you lay to me, Sire. But I did not borrow from the Jew or kill him with malice. ‘Twas in self-defense.”