by Shel Pais
When it became time for the Easter dinner, David dressed in a new shirt and breeches and cleaned his shoes. He had bathed, always making sure it was by himself, as he obviously could not let anyone see he was circumcised. This turned out to be easy, as the bathing tub for use by him and the men-at-arms was never in demand.
He knew it was an honor to be invited to eat with the baron and his family, an honor rarely given to someone like him. As he approached the hall, he became nervous, afraid his interest in Alycia would become obvious, and would put him in a difficult position.
“Ah, Donald,” Baron Henry said. “Welcome. Come, my boy.” David walked into the hall where Henry, Lady Eleanor, Alycia, Father Zacharias, and another man were already seated. David bowed to all of them. “My lord, Lady Eleanor, Alycia, Father Zacharias.”
“Donald, allow me to introduce you to Sir Edgar of Ashby, Alycia’s betrothed.”
David suppressed his dismay at hearing Alycia was to marry this man, although there also was a bit of a relief. “Sir Edgar, congratulations,” David said, bowing.
Edgar nodded. It was evident he had no use for this common boy, no matter what he had done to ingratiate himself to the baron.
Donald sat next to Father Zacharias and across from Alycia and Edgar. It was apparent this arranged betrothal was not to Alycia’s liking. Edgar hardly spoke a word, and when he did, he only spoke of the dowry he was expecting and he hoped this marriage would increase his holdings. Actually, they were those of his father, Earl Tristan, and not his alone.
Edgar was a large man, and at twenty-eight almost twice Alycia’s age, with long, black hair and a full beard. David could not understand how Baron Henry could even consider this man for his much-younger daughter. As they began the meal after Father Zacharias said grace, David saw Edgar had poor manners. He would be more at home with a group of men-at-arms than the baron and his family. Alycia remained quiet the entire time, obviously quite unhappy with the arrangement.
The Easter meal consisted of roasted beef, several varieties of fish, cheese, and the baron’s favorite meat pasties. As always, there were large quantities of ale and wine. David watched as Edgar downed cup after cup, soon becoming quite drunk.
David kept quiet as the conversation primarily involved tentative plans for the wedding, as well as the usual political gossip. Baron Henry and Father Zacharias monopolized most of the discussion, and at times no one could hope to get a word in. David noticed Alycia looked extremely uncomfortable when the wedding was discussed and relaxed a bit when the subject changed. Father Zacharias hardly had spoken to David. It was Alycia who started talking to him.
“Donald, that’s a nice crucifix you’re wearing.”
“Yes. Father Zacharias was kind enough to get it for me.”
“Thank Baron Henry, Donald,” Zacharias said. “It was he who gave it to you upon my request.”
“And he has thanked me many times already, Father,” Henry said.
“Remember, Donald saved my life, and I will never forget it. He deserves every reward I can give him.”
“Then, Father, why not let me marry Donald?” Alycia said, surprising everyone at the table.
Edgar looked up from his plate and turned to Alycia. He did not say a word, but his expression betrayed his anger.
“My dear, you know that’s impossible. You must marry someone noble. Sir Edgar will make a fine husband for you. Do not tease Donald, as I am sure he is a normal young man, and to even think of such a thing with a girl as yourself will torture him.”
David felt extremely embarrassed at Alycia’s question. She obviously said it to incite a controversy and upset her fiancé. David worried Edgar may take out his anger on him.
“Baron, Sir Edgar,” David said, “I am flattered by Alycia’s suggestion, but I apologize for her using my name. I am a poor guest at Easter dinner and do not want to be the cause of any conflict from her statement.” David raised his cup. “To you, Sir Edgar; may your marriage to Alycia be filled with joy and happiness.”
To David’s surprise, Edgar raised his cup, drank, and replied. “Thank you, Donald. It appears my future bride likes to stir up trouble. Baron, I assure you I will do my best to make your daughter as happy as I can.”
Tears began to flow down Alycia’s cheeks. She stood up and ran out of the room, the baron calling her to stop and return, but she ignored him. David noticed that Lady Eleanor gave the baron a scornful look.
“Sir Edgar,” Henry said, “I apologize for my daughter’s behavior. She has much to learn about respect and authority.”
“She’s a child, and I’ll make her into a woman,” Edgar said, his mouth stuffed with food.
After the meal ended, David thanked the baron and Lady Eleanor and asked to be excused. As he got up to leave, Father Zacharias stopped him. “Donald, come with me.” David followed the priest into the courtyard, where they sat on a stone bench.
“Donald, I noticed you have regularly attended Sunday Mass, and I saw you today at the Easter service. I am happy you are setting a good example.”
“Thank you, Father.”
“However, you have not yet been to confession.”
David swallowed hard. He did not want to go to confession. “I’m sorry, Father, I meant to, but just haven’t.”
“Then why don’t we do it now?”
“Father, I don’t know enough about the different kinds of sins to confess.”
“I can see since you have never done it, you seem apprehensive. There is nothing to be worried about. Confessing cleanses the soul, and if after confessing you are required to do something in response to your sins, you’ll be the stronger person and a better Christian for it.”
“Very well.”
The two went into the church, where Zacharias led David to a small alcove. “Now kneel down and hold your hands in prayer.” David did as he directed.
“Now, say Father forgive me for I have sinned. This is my first confession.”
David again complied. He was not sure what to say until he remembered the sins Jews confess together at Yom Kippur and decided to use some of those. “I have thought ill of my neighbor, I have had lustful feelings, I have been lazy at times, and I have acted selfishly.” David continued with several more until he figured that should be enough.
“Well done, Donald. I’m impressed. You learn very quickly. I don’t think you have to perform anything this time. You may go.”
“Thank you, Father.” David walked quickly as he did not want to see Zacharias for a while. He wondered if what he had said would make the priest suspicious. After all, first he said he did not know what to confess, and then he spit out a number of so-called sins. Did the priest know how Jews confess on Yom Kippur? How could he? David retired to his room where Bryce was waiting for him.
“So, how was your first confession?”
“All right, I guess. I wasn’t sure what to say, but I guess Father Zacharias was pleased. Tell me, Bryce, how could the baron allow Alycia to marry that pig Edgar?”
“Careful, Donald. We must not talk like that. Marriages are arranged for the nobility, usually for the large dowries and lands that go with it.”
“What about love? Can’t one marry for love?”
Bryce laughed. “Donald, the longer you stay here the more you’ll learn. Perhaps you and I can marry for love, but a nobleman’s daughter must obey her father, and that means they marry only who he wants her to. Forget about Alycia. She will marry Sir Edgar and most probably spend the rest of her life miserable in his castle, bearing him many children, and hating every minute of her marriage.”
While David knew that Jews often had arranged marriages as well, both parties had to agree. He did not know of anyone forced against their will.
“Very well. Of course, I’ll forget her. I know she could never be mine.”
“Good. Now let’s get some sleep. Tomorrow we must go back to our training.”
ABBOT HUBERT FINISHED HIS EASTER meal, one of two feasts he permi
tted, the other being at Christmas. The monks took full advantage of it, all of them eating more than their fill. Hubert’s austerity orders to save funds meant the priory grew most of its own food, only purchasing what Hubert deemed necessities. Hubert, however, kept his wine and ale stores well stocked, with cost no consideration.
Hubert had made good progress with the fifty pounds Baruch loaned him. Payments were made exactly on time, and revenue had increased as Hubert implemented a few of his proposals. Most significant was the wool venture. He had a few sheep purchased, and was hopeful a small herd would be built, eventually providing meat as well as wool for sale. Hubert knew another priory had established a profitable wool business, and wanted to do the same at Hedgestone. As ready as he was to try to negotiate the next, much-larger loan, he worried Baruch still would not give it to him. Bishop Basil no doubt was getting impatient, and if he did not produce results, perhaps the bishop would have him reassigned to some horrible abbey. Hubert would not let that happen at any cost.
After evening prayers, Hubert ordered Alwyn to meet with him in his chamber.
“Alwyn, do you think the monks enjoyed my feast?”
Alwyn grunted. “Of course, Hubert. You only allow them to stuff themselves twice a year. Obviously, they enjoyed it.”
“Gluttony is a sin, remember. That’s not why I wanted to talk to you. I want to meet with Baruch to negotiate the next loan. However, I am worried he will not agree to my request. What do you think?”
“Baruch is no fool, as we know. Even though you regularly have made your payments, sometimes with amounts greater than expected, I’m sure he will not give you want you want.”
“Then we must come up with a way to make him give it to me.”
“How are you going to do that? You can’t force a Jew to make a loan.”
“Alwyn, you underestimate me. I believe I can, and I think I have thought of a way.”
“How?”
“Do you know what coin clipping is?”
“Of course. Many people, Jews and Gentiles have been accused of it, and quite a few hanged over it. The king has made it clear it will not be tolerated.”
“That’s correct. Tell me, how do we know Baruch has not clipped any coins?”
Alwyn began to understand what Hubert was saying. “You mean to accuse him of clipping?”
“Of course not. I can’t accuse him without proof.”
“What proof?”
Hubert again smiled at his assistant. “How hard do you think it would be to clip some coins?”
“I see,” Alwyn said. “You think you can force him into giving you the loan?”
“Now, Alwyn, that would not be very Christian, would it? Anyway, it would be against a Jew.”
“I don’t know, cousin. Baruch has a stellar reputation. Why should he risk all he has to clip a few coins? What if the sheriff or the baron don’t believe your accusation?”
“Trust me, they won’t know because Baruch will agree to my terms, and I’ll keep his secret, shall we call it.”
“I still don’t like it. I want no part of it.”
Hubert frowned at Alwyn. “You’ll do as I say. If Baruch does not agree and I must accuse him, you must back me up.”
“Back you up? How?”
“If necessary, you will testify Baruch gave me clipped coins. That we both examined them, and we found them that way.”
Alwyn started pacing. “I am no saint, Hubert, but I don’t care to be included in lies and conspiracies.”
Hubert then flashed the sly smile Alwyn hated, but knew was coming. “Very well. I then might be tempted to disclose what I know about you and, what was his name? Oh, yes, Brother Thomas.”
Alwyn glared at Hubert and grabbed him by the front of his robe. “Why do you always hold that over my head? I am sick of you doing that. If I had no morals, I would kill you here and now.”
Hubert’s face went pale with fear. “Cousin, I’m sorry. I would never reveal your secret. I only say those things to convince you to do what I know is right.”
Alwyn did not let go of Hubert. “I don’t believe you. You would do whatever you thought is necessary to get what you want, no matter who’s harmed when they’re in your way. Baruch may be next, but I will not be. Do you understand? If you ever say anything about me to anyone, I’ll make sure it’s the last thing you ever say!”
Hubert pushed Alwyn away. “Very well. I won’t accuse Baruch of coin clipping. I’ll find another way that doesn’t involve you. However, I warn you cousin. Don’t ever grab me or threaten me again. Don’t forget who I am.”
“And you don’t threaten me, understand?”
Hubert knew he had mentioned the one thing that upsets Alwyn, but he did not think the priest would react so violently. I must be careful, Hubert realized. Alwyn might try to kill me in such a way he would not be suspect.
Hubert called for Brother Dominic. “Bring me a parchment, quill and ink immediately,” he ordered. Hubert then began to write. When he had finished, he rolled the parchment and sealed it with wax and his ring. Then he wrote on the outside “To be opened upon the event of my death” and hid it among other parchments. Eventually, he would entrust it to someone, but exactly who, he did not know at this time. There, he thought, now everyone will know about Alwyn if he does something to me. You cannot outthink me, cousin. I will always be smarter than you.
Mordecai, Benjamin, and Rachel were at Baruch’s home for Passover. It was the night of the first Seder, the retelling of the exodus from Egypt. Baruch had invited his brother, nephew, and niece, as well as Rabbi Ezra, his family, and his sister Hannah, who was there to meet Mordecai. As the rabbi and his family entered, Mordecai stood to greet them.
“Mordecai, this is my sister, Hannah.”
Mordecai had not been told Hannah was coming. It had been about a year and a half since Ezra approached Mordecai with the idea. While at first Hannah had been open to meeting Mordecai, she had had second thoughts, and it was only until now she had agreed to come to Northampton from her home in Bristol.
As they were introduced, it was apparent how awkward the situation was for both of them. Hannah was about ten years younger than Mordecai. She had brown eyes and brown hair, was slightly overweight and average-looking. She also had a very sweet smile and a voice that sounded musical.
“Shalom, Mordecai. I’m pleased to meet you.”
“Shalom, Hannah. I am as well to meet you. This is my son, Benjamin, and my daughter, Rachel.”
“They are beautiful children. You also have another son, do you not?”
The question surprised him. “Thank you. Yes, David is older and is away.”
“I see. I’m sorry it’s taken me quite a while to come to West End.”
“It has been a while since Rabbi Ezra told me about you. Had you changed your mind about meeting me?”
“I am afraid I did. Certainly, not due to you. I was married to my husband for ten years before he died. Even though I lost him about three years ago, I found it difficult to consider meeting someone else. I hope you won’t hold that against me.”
“Of course not. I lost my wife about four years ago, and I didn’t think about meeting someone else until your brother mentioned you. I didn’t know he was not only a rabbi but a matchmaker.”
They both laughed, and their awkwardness began to decrease. It was time to come to the table for the Passover Seder. Hannah sat next to Mordecai, with Rachel sitting on his other side. Baruch started the Seder with the Kiddush, the blessing over the wine. They recited the Haggadah, the book written to celebrate the holiday by retelling the story of the Hebrews’ freedom from slavery. As the youngest, Rachel asked the four questions. Baruch took a piece of matzo, the unleavened bread eaten at Passover, and hid it for the afikomen. The child who found it would receive a coin from Baruch.
As they performed the various activities one does at a Seder, taking turns reading from the Haggadah, it eventually was time for the festive meal. Baruch’s cook had prepar
ed a variety of dishes, including chicken broth with matzo balls, roast chicken, a variety of vegetables, other side dishes, and desserts.
After the meal, the Seder continued until they read the entire Haggadah. Rachel found the afikomen with Benjamin’s help, since he had seen where Baruch hid it. After the Seder, Mordecai and Hannah sat together to learn more about each other. Rabbi Ezra approached Rachel and Benjamin, who were not sure how they felt about their father considering marrying someone else.
“Did you enjoy the Seder?” he asked them.
“Yes, Rabbi,” Benjamin said. “It was too long,” Rachel replied.
“It may seem long, but remember our people were slaves in Egypt for hundreds of years, and then wandered in the desert for forty years. I think we can stand a few hours retelling the story without complaining, don’t you agree?”
They both nodded. “Yes, Rabbi, when you put it that way,” Rachel said.
It was getting late and Mordecai said goodbye to Hannah. They agreed to see each other again, since she was planning to stay with her brother for a while.
While they walked home, Mordecai spotted a group of men at the end of the street. He considered doubling back to avoid them, but they had seen him and began to approach. Being too far from Baruch’s to return, they continued walking until the men, numbering five, stood right in from of them.
“What do we have here?” said one, a large man with a straggly beard, dirty tunic and breeches, holding what appeared to be a half-empty mug of ale.