by David Gilman
Halif ben Josef scissored two fingers open and closed. ‘They cut him off.’
‘Yes,’ Blackstone agreed, feeling time closing in on him.
Ben Josef turned to the silversmith. ‘What name did you hear spoken?’
‘Le Bête.’
Blackstone looked from one to the other. Ben Josef nodded. ‘Could there be any mistake, Elias?’
‘No. They spoke it in fear.’
‘I am grateful for the information,’ said Blackstone. The elderly physician got to his feet; Blackstone followed his lead. Ben Josef extended his hand to the silversmith and the weaver as they took their leave. Blackstone did the same. ‘Thank you again. Do you know who le Bête rode with? Was it the Englishmen Hugh Calveley or Latimer?’
‘I do not know,’ said Elias Navarette.
Each merchant respectfully dipped his head. ‘We are happy to see our friend again and if what we have told him is of use, then we are pleased to be of service. Ben Josef is a prince among men. There are five hundred Jews in Pamplona and all know him for his skill. We will be sorry to lose him again.’
Blackstone waited until they were out of earshot as they left the synagogue. ‘It was good of you to bring your friends to meet me,’ he said. ‘Their information might help save my men’s lives. So Ranulph de Hayle is part of the invasion.’
‘I did not think your English friend would entertain his presence.’
‘Calveley? No, he wouldn’t. But if de Hayle has learnt of me being here and he thinks I still have Lázaro with me, he might return to the man who paid him to find the lad three years ago.’
‘Don Pedro?’
‘Yes.’
‘And by coincidence you ride to help him.’ Ben Josef placed a hand on Blackstone’s arm. ‘Coincidence is another name for Fate, Sir Thomas. Nothing happens that is not predetermined. If de Hayle has learnt of your presence in Spain, then he will know it possible you might leave the child here for safekeeping. Either way, be on your guard. If he is near, then he will scurry ever closer like a rat in the night. The only solution I can think of is to leave the boy with me. The Queen’s murder took place at Medina Sidonia in the far south and it might be that the assassin is still there. We are a long way from the place and in Navarre rather than Castile. I will educate the child and let him work with me. It might save him.’
‘But your friends said you’re leaving.’
Ben Josef shrugged. ‘Not far. There are other younger physicians here. They don’t really need me any more.’ He looked down the corridor where the two merchants had disappeared. ‘Their generous comments are born of a long friendship. I have a vineyard on the other side of the river, a few miles away at Estella in the valley below the mountains. It is a town where Jews have lived for two hundred years and more. It is twenty miles or so from here. I will ride with you that far. Everything I need to live comfortably is there. The King taxes wine brought into the city but does not tax grapes. It’s a good arrangement. I drink my own wine and sell what grapes I don’t need. The boy might be safer with me there than with you. You ride into the heart of violence and evil.’
Blackstone considered the offer. The Spanish boy would have a roof over his head and food in his belly. Would his presence arouse suspicion? A Christian child working in the service of a Jew? Eventually someone would ask questions in the marketplace. One wrong word or a moment of hesitation from Lázaro about his background could prove fatal.
‘I can think of no finer man to leave him with, but the risk is too great for both of you. If I keep him close then he has a better chance and brings no threat to your door. He is a witness to murder and the assassin might be close to the King. Lázaro might identify him.’
‘I understand. Know that if you ever have need of my help you only have to send word.’ The physician raised an arm towards the darkest corner of the synagogue. A young Spaniard, in his teens perhaps, stepped into the light.
‘This is Andrés. His family have farmed in the mountains for generations. He is a Christian of good faith and I have helped his family in the past. I trust him. I have asked him to take you through the safest places to avoid ambush or injury. He is a shepherd and knows the country as I know my own hand. He should ride with us and see what route the King’s guide suggests. If it is safe, Andrés will return home. If it is not, then he will take you to Burgos. I will translate whatever needs to be said between you.’
Blackstone acknowledged the boy’s presence and then faced the elderly physician. ‘You know that sooner or later Navarre will make a deal with the French and the routiers. He will betray you to them if he is so inclined. The victor determines the conditions of surrender. If there is a pawn to be offered up to help him make a suitable truce it might be the Jews here who suffer.’
Ben Josef smiled. ‘When the English and French expelled us it was Navarre and Castile who took us in. We are grateful to the Spanish Kings for accepting us along with our Muslim and Christian brothers. Navarre and Castile defy the Pope’s orders for us to wear an identifying mark on our clothes. So we are wary of speaking out against either of these Kings. We do not wish to abuse the freedom to live, trade and worship that has been granted to us. Beyond that we know that we live a precarious existence. Like you.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
The following day Blackstone’s men gathered, ready to leave Pamplona. Blackstone had no desire to stay confined in the city. They had granted him a guide and two of the Navarrese fighters rescued from de Hayle’s prison had requested they stay with the men. Their Spanish would be helpful and he kept them under the command of Beyard, who understood their language. The one-armed Tibalt had not been seen since they entered the city.
‘Sir Thomas, this man has been sent as our guide,’ said William Ashford, presenting one of Navarre’s men. He wore a grease-streaked jerkin beneath his cloak. There was no visible sign of the King’s blazon.
‘My lord,’ the man said, swept off his cap and bowed. ‘I am Santos.’
He was in his fifth decade, hair gone except for fringes straggling over his ears and with a beard that might have been raided by mice for nest material while he slept. He bore no visible scars but his knuckles were flattened from years of punching others. A tavern brawler. He was as bereft of teeth as he was hair. He stank.
‘Stand downwind of me,’ said Blackstone. ‘You reek of a soiled rat’s nest.’
‘I sleep in the King’s stables, lord. I tend his horses, I trap fresh food, I am allowed one bucket of water a day for the animals.’ He bared his gums. ‘I am given what you would call pottage and what I would call slop. The horses eat better than me.’
‘And you know the route to Burgos?’
‘With my eyes shut, lord. I have hunted in the mountains and forests since I was a boy and have slipped under the noses of the pagan bastards whose faces are as black as the inside of a cat’s arse.’ The man saw Blackstone did not understand. ‘The Moors, lord. They serve Don Pedro. They are as black as—’
‘I understand,’ Blackstone interrupted. ‘I intend to ride south-west and go through Estella. I have a companion who wishes to return there.’
The man nodded. ‘A good route. There are three rivers to cross, lord. I will guide you south of the mountains. That will keep open ground on this side,’ he said, waving his left arm. ‘If there are those who wish to cause us harm, then we will see them in good time. I know where the fords and bridges are and then once we reach Estella I will advise you of the route to Burgos.’
‘Why not tell me now?’
‘Because, lord, the weather changes quickly in these mountains.’
‘Is there snow on the passes?’
‘No, lord, and if it comes we will travel below the snowline.’
‘You’ll have no wine until I give it to you.’
‘Lord?’
‘You reek enough and I want your head clear.’
‘I see the way more clearly with a belly full of wine, lord.’
‘Then I will find s
omeone else and you can lose the King’s goodwill and payment.’
The old man cleared his throat. His hand trembled as he scratched his mangy beard. ‘A drink to start the day, another when the sun is above our heads and some to help me sleep. I would be grateful, lord.’
Blackstone nodded and Ashford tugged the man away to where the horses were tethered. Blackstone beckoned the young man who stood next to ben Josef. The lad tipped his head respectfully.
‘You heard the old man?’
Ben Josef translated the boy’s answer as if Andrés was speaking himself.
‘Yes, Sir Thomas. He is correct. I too would have taken you by that route. I know the fords across the river. It is what he decides once we have reached Estella that will tell us if he is being a true guide.’
Blackstone dismissed him and thanked ben Josef.
‘I pray the wind is at our backs, Thomas,’ said Killbere. ‘I’ve smelled a sweeter stench from a tanner’s yard.’
*
The twenty-nine miles from Pamplona passed without incident. Renfred and his forward scouts reported no threat but there were sightings of riders, barely visible on far mountain tracks behind them. They posed no threat and soon disappeared from view, but Blackstone kept the German captain and his men wide of the column and when night fell ordered them to camp without fires and protect their flank. As the evening sky began to darken their guide led the men through fields of olive groves and then crossed the southern loop of the River Arga. Lanterns began to twinkle in the distant Estella households built on the river’s northern slope along a narrow corridor between the river and the mountains.
‘We’ll camp here and ride on at first light,’ Blackstone said. ‘Unless you are anxious to return home?’ he said to ben Josef.
‘I have been away for some time, Sir Thomas, another night in good company will be no hardship. I have no family waiting for me, only my books.’
‘My son, Henry, he is a lover of books. He got it from his mother. Not me.’
‘Your wife is waiting for you somewhere?’
‘Not in this world, Master Josef.’
The physician nodded. ‘I too await my reunion.’ He paused and let his gaze meander across the landscape. ‘Encourage your son. We are blessed with knowledge from Greeks and Arabs, and we Jews shared in that knowledge. We stand across a divide that is not always easy to bridge but medicine builds trust and understanding. We forget so much that should be remembered and honoured. We are all men of learning and what greater gift is there than knowledge to share among our fellow men?’
‘My son fights me. I don’t understand him. He craves knowledge but wishes to serve with me. I wish I had the words to explain to him what worlds of mystery must lie in books.’
‘Tell him that learning and practice derived from study bring a greater understanding between us all. Let me give you an example – perhaps listening to an old Jew might allow you to impress him. Hundreds of years ago Hunain bin Ishaq al-Ibadi translated Hippocrates and Galen into Arabic. The original texts were lost so these were the only sources of medical literature in the Islamic period. Such a gift to us all is a blessing. Hunain was a heretical Nestorian Christian; I am a Jew. You hear those bells ringing for prayer in the town? Why do they ring at certain times of the day? Because the Christian Church followed the Jewish tradition of praying at the third, sixth and ninth hour and after midnight. The Christian prayer of that time comprised much the same elements as the Jewish: recital or chanting of psalms, reading of the Old Testament, and then the Christians added readings of the Gospels and epistles. The past holds us together and yet serves to tear us apart.’ Halif ben Josef rested a hand on Blackstone’s arm. ‘Let him learn about us all. I hope I might be privileged to meet him one day.’
‘I would be honoured. You have no children?’
‘Lost in childbirth, and then my wife herself was taken. And so I reach out to these young people.’ He looked to where the young Spaniard, Andrés, was attending to ben Josef’s horse and setting up a place for the elderly physician to rest for the night.
Blackstone’s eyes followed ben Josef’s. ‘The boy, does he live nearby?’ he asked.
‘The mountains, over there, but they are known to us here. He and his family live a harsh existence but they are good people, like the other peasants who bring their food to our market.’
Blackstone studied the terrain before darkness shrouded the mountains. The fertile valley was vulnerable from the surrounding peaks, most of which looked to be no more than two thousand feet high. ‘You’re safe here?’
‘As safe as anyone in these dangerous times. There are a hundred and eighty Jewish families over there among fifteen hundred Christians,’ said ben Josef. ‘The King protects us.’ He shrugged. ‘Thirty years ago the Christians in the town rose up and massacred many of us. The town was fined heavily and made to pay reparations and those who led the uprising were executed. A royal decree makes us his property, so he is responsible for us. For some years now we have lived in harmony with our Christian neighbours.’
‘And the castle?’ said Blackstone pointing to a rocky outcrop and imposing fortress in the distance.
‘Zalatambor. A defence against Castile from the old wars. It serves to protect pilgrims going to Santiago de Compostela. The King stays there when he visits.’ Ben Josef smiled. ‘Especially when he wants to borrow money from us.’ He nodded towards gentle sloping land in the distance. ‘My vineyard is this side of the river. It is away from town and faces south so my vines do not fall under the mountain’s shadow. If your guide is an honest one then I’ll keep Andrés with me for a few days. He’s strong and willing.’ He gestured to where the young Spaniard and Lázaro were helping each other carry pails of water from a stream. ‘Young boys need the company of those their own age. Andrés is the older but it looks as though they might form a friendship. Hard work and freedom are medicine I can recommend.’
‘I’m tempted to leave him with you: his safety is my responsibility. My son endured violence and is now studying under his mother’s name because of who he is. Lázaro has a similar cross to bear.’
‘And your Lord Jesus bore his to his death.’
Blackstone placed a hand on the old man’s shoulder. ‘But I will take its weight for the lad.’
‘My Lord Thomas?’
Blackstone turned on hearing his name called. Santos the guide approached him, cap in hand, shoulders bent in supplication. ‘I beg leave to ride forward before darkness falls. There were heavy rains a week ago, up there.’ He twisted a shoulder by way of pointing to the mountains that lay beyond. ‘Roads were washed away and there’s a danger it has damaged an ancient bridge. If that is the case then I must find a shallow ford.’
‘How many days to Burgos?’
‘At this pace, three, my lord.’
Blackstone looked for confirmation to ben Josef, who nodded.
‘Wait until morning,’ Blackstone told him.
The tavern brawler winced. ‘My lord, if I do that and the rains have indeed washed away the road, then we will lose valuable time.’
Ben Josef nodded his agreement. ‘Sir Thomas, if time is not a constraint you can find another route if the bridges are down.’
Blackstone thought for a moment. ‘I want the most direct route if the road is open. I’ll send someone with you.’
‘The boy could go,’ said ben Josef.
‘No, if the way is clear then he stays with you.’ Blackstone said. He stood. ‘I’ll send one of the men with you,’ he told Santos.
The guide grimaced. ‘Not the Navarrese, lord. They despise me.’
‘Then they are the perfect escort.’ Blackstone raised an arm and beckoned Halfpenny. ‘Jack, send Ariz and Saustin to me.’
Halfpenny strode through the camp calling the men’s names. Blackstone watched as the ventenar pointed the two men towards where he waited.
‘You’ll ride in darkness?’ he asked Santos.
‘The sky is clear tonight, lord:
we can see enough. And the river shines at night. It won’t be a hardship. I will be back before dawn.’
The two Navarrese edged around the guide’s stench.
‘He wants to check the route, but he feels threatened by you. You bear a grudge towards this man?’
‘Only that he is what he is, Sir Thomas, a thieving poacher who beats his women and is a stranger to bathing,’ said Ariz.
‘Yet he’s the man sent by the King’s bailiff to guide us to Burgos, so you’ll escort him. I want him back safely. Put your ill feelings aside. Don’t beat him and keep him from your wineskins.’
The three men nodded their understanding. Blackstone watched them walk towards the horses, the two Navarrese fighters keeping upwind of the guide. ‘When they report back I’ll speak to Andrés so I know we are not being led into trouble. My thanks for your knowledge. I shall try to impress my son with what little learning I have gained from you. Now, excuse me, Master Josef, I must attend to my men.’
He left the physician and walked through the camp. Pickets had been posted and food prepared. He found Beyard with his men. ‘I’ve sent Ariz and Saustin with the guide, who wants to check our route for the morning. I don’t trust him enough to let him ride into the night alone.’ Blackstone scanned the foothills. ‘It would be easy enough for the French and routiers to be getting closer to Burgos, and if they have swept up from the south-east then they might be closer than we think. If we come under attack on this journey, keep Lázaro close to you. Have your men defend him as you did before.’
‘I will. Don’t worry, Sir Thomas, the men have taken to him. He fetches and carries without being asked. He’s changed since he told us what happened. The secret he carried weighed too heavily on him. It closed his heart and paralysed his tongue. His speech is clearer now but sometimes I see the old fear creep into his face and then he struggles with his words. This journey to Castile is frightening him. I try to reassure him, and he doesn’t know about Ranulph de Hayle going to Paris with the Queen’s ring, but it’s easy to understand how terror must gnaw at his belly.’