There Will Be Wolves (5 page)

“I’ll go now,” Bruno said finally when Ursula had bound his head to her satisfaction. “Keep David out of sight and I’ll return as soon as possible.”

No sooner had he left than Ursula heard excited voices approaching. A group of girls her own age paused by the trestle where the herbs were displayed. Ursula’s book lay open among the bowls.

“What think you of all the commotion, Ursula?” one of them, a bright-eyed, pert girl asked. “It seems to have calmed down now and we’re off to the market place to gather news—will you come?”

Ursula looked at them in dismay. If David should appear …

“No, Britta,” she answered quickly. “I have no time for that. I have work to do.” Her thoughts were with David, and the words were abrupt, even rude.

The girl’s face darkened. “Truth, I forgot. You are not like the rest of us useless things, are you? You are an
important
person.” Her voice dripped sarcasm, then her eyes fell on the book. “A
clever
person,” she went on. “A person who can
read
. Of course you don’t have time for us and our foolish talk.” She tossed her head and turned to the others. “Come away, then. Mistress Ursula has work to do.”

Ursula bit her lip, then shrugged. She knew Britta and the other girls her age resented her and found her proud, but she really had nothing in common with them. Gossip and the pursuit of a husband was all they seemed to care about.

  *  *  *  

It was several hours before Bruno came back, and when he did his face was pale.

“What is it?” Ursula asked with a sudden terrible sense of misgiving. “What has happened?”

“Is David still here?”

“Yes. What’s wrong?”

“Something terrible.” Bruno shook his head slowly from side to side. “Something terrible,” he repeated. With an effort he straightened up. “I must go to David. I must tell him.”

But David, who had been watching for him, bounded down the stairs. “Bruno! Have you seen my mother and uncle? Is it safe for me to go to them now?”

Bruno looked at him. He tried to speak, then stopped. He made another effort. “Your mother …” he began. “Your uncle …” He stopped again and closed his eyes as if in even greater pain than before.

“What? What is it?”

Bruno opened his eyes again and drew a deep breath to brace himself. “They’re both dead,” he said. “All the members of your uncle’s household. It seems they didn’t make it to the Bishop’s Church in time and they were overrun by the mob.”

Master William let out a cry and reached to hold David. David didn’t seem to notice. He stared at Bruno unbelievingly. “Dead?” he echoed. “My uncle? My
mother?”

“Yes.”

His face went white. For a moment he stood,
immobile, then without another word he tore himself loose from Master William and disappeared up the stairs. Ursula made as if to go after him.

“It might be best to leave him alone for a while,” Bruno said.

“But he will need someone.”

“Go to him in a few minutes, but first, listen to me. There’s more to tell. Very few of the Jews in Cologne were killed. Most of the citizens did as you and your father did and hid them until the frenzy was over. But David’s family—it would seem that the Crusaders had help there.”

“What do you mean?” Ursula asked.

“They say that Count Emil himself had a hand in the massacre of David’s family.”

“I can’t believe that!” Master William exclaimed.

“But why …?” Ursula began.

“The count owed a vast sum of money to David’s uncle. It might have been a good way to settle the debt.”

“That’s impossible!” Master William put in. “The count may be a harsh man, but he would not stoop to such a thing.”

Ursula’s mouth twisted. “I’m not so certain of that as are you, Father,” she said.

Bruno continued. “The talk is that Count Emil knows there was a boy visiting as well, and he knows that the boy escaped and is hidden somewhere in
the city. His own men are looking for David now. David is in more danger than ever.”

“Then we’ll hide him again!” Ursula said fiercely. “They’ll not take David from here—I swear to that!”

“This cannot be true.” Master William was shaking his head in disbelief. “You must be wrong, my son. It must just be idle talk and rumors.”

“I wish it were, Master, but I’m afraid it sounds true to me.” Bruno turned back to Ursula. “It might not be so easy to hide David again,” he said. “Everyone knows that he comes here to see his dog—they’ll be back and they’ll search with much greater determination next time.”

“They can search all they want. They’ll
not
get David from here.” Ursula swung around and ran up the stairs to the boy.

  *  *  *  

Toward nightfall the streets seemed to quieten down a little. Ursula and Bruno conferred, and came to the decision that nothing more was likely to happen until the next morning at least. Bruno left, promising to return as early as possible with whatever the latest news might be. Ursula fixed up a small pallet in the corner of her room for David. She was prepared to defend him with her life, if need be, but for most of the night
all she could do was listen to him sobbing. Nothing she could say would comfort him. Finally he seemed to sleep and, exhausted, she did as well.

When Ursula awoke, however, and looked over toward the corner, David was gone. In a panic, she threw back her cover and raced downstairs. Samson was snoozing beside the fire as usual, her father already preparing the morning’s work.

“David!” she cried. “He’s gone!”

“It’s all right,” her father answered. “He left during the night.”

“Left? Where to?”

“He felt he must go back to his father in Mainz. He had to let his father know what has happened.”

“To Mainz? He’s going all the way to Mainz by himself? But there are Crusaders roaming all over the countryside—he’ll be in terrible danger!”

“I could do nothing to stop him.” Master William busied himself with his herbs, his back to Ursula. “His mind was made up. Anyway, by himself he will probably have a good chance. Who pays any attention to one lone boy on the roads? I’m certain he will be all right.” He sounded as if he was trying to convince himself as much as Ursula.

“But surely you could have done
something,
Father. How
could
you let him go off alone?”

“It was his decision, Ursula. It was not my place to stop him.” Master William’s voice rose. “Besides, if what Bruno says is true—although I still cannot bring myself to believe it—he would be in worse danger here.” He caught himself and then went on with an obvious effort to make his tone calm. “He asked me to bid you goodbye and thank you for your care and help. He couldn’t take Samson with him because the dog is not yet well enough to make such a trip, but he asked me to beg you to care for him until he can return for him.” In spite of his efforts, his voice trembled. He reached out to straighten some of the herbs on the shutter, but only succeeded in knocking a bag onto the floor. He knelt quickly to retrieve it and then looked up at Ursula. His face suddenly seemed to collapse. His eyes stared at her but as if not really seeing her.

“The Crusade,” he whispered. “The Crusade is to be a glorious endeavor. How can it be born out of such things? Out of such evil?”

  *  *  *  

The house was searched repeatedly during the next week, but finally the men who were seeking David were convinced that he had, indeed, fled. Ursula worried and Samson pined, but there was no news of the boy and no real hope that there would be. There was no telling how long it would
take him to reach Mainz, if he ever did, or how long it would take him to get word back to them of his safety.

Talk in the town, meanwhile, was of little more than the Crusade. Pope Urban had declared that it would officially start in late August, and most of the nobles and lords from all around the countryside were beginning to make their preparations for leaving at that time. Peter the Hermit, however, had other ideas. He was on fire with enthusiasm to start right away, and a goodly proportion of the people of Cologne were eager to support him. As well, his own following was so large, and so unruly—even though there had been no further killing of Jews—that there were mutterings among the less enthusiastic that it would be to the city’s own good to have them leave as soon as possible. The archbishop of Cologne, for whatever reasons, supported Peter in his decision. The enthusiasm quickly attained fever pitch. When Count Emil and several of the neighboring lords declared their intention of leaving with Peter as soon as possible, there was no containing the excitement. The town now swarmed with Crusaders; the red cross was seen on nearly every shoulder and breast.

Bruno continued to visit regularly, but he and Master William still disagreed about the Crusade itself.

“I am concerned about my father,” Ursula said one day. He had gone as usual to hear Peter speak; he hadn’t missed one of the monk’s gatherings. “He thinks of nothing else but this Crusade and leaves more and more of his work to me. I believe he has even forgotten the murder of the Jews. It is not like him.”

“I agree,” Bruno began, but was interrupted by a commotion in the street. He and Ursula looked out the door to see a group of angry women charging toward the house. Ursula was puzzled but relieved to see that Mistress Elke was not among them. Of late, as the time for the birth of her child had drawn near, the woman had taken an even more violent aversion toward Ursula. Whenever she felt ill she blamed Ursula for handling her tisanes and infusions, although Ursula was scrupulously careful to avoid them. The last time Mistress Elke had visited their apothecary, she had tripped over Ursula’s stray cat and fallen heavily. No amount of soothing or reasoning on the part of Master William had been able to convince her that Ursula had not had a hand in it.

Ursula’s relief was short-lived.

“Witch!” the women shrieked as they advanced in a solid, hate-filled body toward her. “Witch!”

Ursula stood, astonished, as they drew up in front of her and brandished their fists.

Bruno instinctively took a step forward as if to
shield her. “What is the meaning of this?” he demanded.

“Mistress Elkes babe was born dead and monstrously deformed—like a demon!” one of the women screamed.

“Its all this girl’s doing—Mistress Elke says so herself!” yelled another.

“That’s not possible!” Ursula flashed out the denial, but her heart sank.

“You put a curse on her, admit it!” shrieked a woman. Ursula recognized Mistress Adelheid, the widow of a shoemaker. She was a vicious-tongued virago who, it was widely believed, had scolded and tormented her poor husband even on his deathbed. She seemed to be the leader of the group.

Mistress Ingrid from next door, ever alert, rushed out to see what was going on and joined the group immediately.

“That’s right,” she chimed in. “She
said
Mistress Elke was carrying a demon.”

The women hastily made the sign against evil and crossed themselves as well.

“And she turned herself into a cat one day—I saw it myself! Only a witch could do that!” Mistress Elkes serving girl, usually meek and craven, was in the security of this furious group, shouting just as loudly as the others, her face just as contorted.

“That’s not true!” Ursula cried out. She began
to shake. “I did nothing!”

At that moment Master William appeared. He stared at the group of women in confusion. “What …? What is going on?”

“Your daughter is a witch, Master William, and we’ll prove it!”

For a moment it seemed as if the women would surge forward and seize Ursula right then and there, but her father, still bewildered, moved between them.

“Witch!” The cry was raised once more.

“Witch! Witch!” The others took it up, but there was no one willing to push past Master William.

“You’ve not heard the last of this, my girl,” Mistress Adelheid screeched finally. “Nor have you, Master William. We’re decent folk here, and we’ll not have the likes of this going on. The archbishop himself will hear of this. He will decide what’s to be done.”

Master William stared at the women unbelievingly. Most of them had known and been treated by him for years; they had been friends and neighbors to his family for most of their lives. “My ladies,” he began feebly, “there must be some mistake….”

“There’s been no mistake, and the archbishop will not tolerate the devil’s work in his own city!” a voice shrieked at him in return.

“We’ll be back,” Mistress Adelheid promised. “We’ll be back and then well see what’s to be
done.” She whirled and strode away, with the crowd of muttering women following close behind.

Ursula looked past her father to Bruno. “I cannot believe this,” she whispered, but a sick, twisting pain knotted her stomach and she recognized it as fear.

  *  *  *  

That night Ursula was awakened by a strange smell and the sound of Samson barking frantically at the bottom of the stairs. It took her a moment to collect herself, and then she realized that the room was rapidly filling with smoke. She sprang off her pallet and screamed to her father, who slept on the floor above. When he didn’t answer, she raced for the ladder that connected the second floor to the third and was up it in an instant, shaking him awake.

“What? What is it, child?” The old man was vague with sleep and almost incoherent. He had been so upset by the women that Ursula had insisted he take a potion to help him rest. Now he could not seem to waken.

She shook him harder. The smoke was getting thicker, reaching up even to this floor, and the acrid taste of it in the back of her throat was making her cough.

“Fire, Father! The house is on fire! Oh, Father, wake up! We must run!”

Samson was howling now. Master William sat up, still dazed, and Ursula dragged him to his feet. She pushed him over to the hole where the ladder was and thrust him toward it. He barely managed the rungs. Then she put her arm around his shoulders and helped him down the stairs. Samson was in a frenzy.

The bottom floor was ablaze; flames licked at the shelves with their store of dried herbs. Ursula seized her father tightly and fought her way through the smoke to the door, but she had to let go of him in order to open it and he sank onto the floor. She pulled the door open, reached down, and half dragged, half carried him out. Samson charged out behind them.