Another Me (8 page)

“Please, mistress,” he replied. “Try to talk some sense into their foolish heads.”

“Councilors,” I began, “you must listen to Hans. He is the most truthful person you'll ever meet—truthful to a fault. I have never heard him utter a single lie.”

I stopped speaking for a moment to make sure that I had the entire council's attention. The bold gaze of several of the men made me shudder, but I forced myself to continue.

“If Hans tells you that the Jews are innocent, they are innocent. If he tells you that Kaspar the butcher poisoned the well and murdered Natan, then that's what happened. Other than Kaspar's wrath, he has nothing to gain by defending the Jews. You must believe that.” I curtsied deeply and fixed my eyes on the floor, not uttering another word. I clasped my hands to hide their trembling.

“But, mistress,” Adolf said, “the Jews are—”

“Silence, Adolf,” Schwarber said, cutting off his words.

The draper glared at him but stopped talking.

“Thank thee, mistress,” said the Ammeister, turning to me. “And also our thanks to you, Hans. You may now excuse yourselves from the chamber. We have
much to discuss. We will let you know whose version of events we believe—yours or Kaspar's. Only one of you can be telling the truth.”

V
era and I were heading down Butchers' Lane the next morn to purchase meat she would bake into delicious pies. Just thinking about them made my mouth water. The shops had all kinds of pork, mutton and hens hanging from great hooks in their windows. The smell of blood was thick in the air and I could feel the bile rising in my throat. I pressed my sleeve against my nose to keep the fumes away but without much success.

“Let's go to Heinrich's shop today,” Vera said. “He tries to charge me too much, but then they all do. At least I always find his meat fresh.”

When we finally arrived at Heinrich's, we found him preoccupied with a huge slab of meat he was cutting. When he saw us, he put down his cleaver and wiped his hands on his bloody apron.

“What can I do for you, Mother?” he asked Vera.

The rounded shape of his stomach declared to the world that he loved his own merchandise.

“We're here to buy pork and a hare,” Vera said. “Do you have nice meat for us?”

“The best meat in all of Butchers' Lane,” he boasted.

Vera snorted. I could barely make sense of the rapid dickering that followed until coins changed hands to the satisfied smiles of both participants. The butcher dropped the hare and the large slabs of pork into the baskets on our arms.

“Time to go home,” I said to Vera as we linked hands and set out through the throng of humanity surrounding us.

“Your papa will be happy with the pork we bought,” she said. “He is a man who likes his meat.”

“It's not the meat he cares for but the delicious way you cook it. Father says you make the best pies in the city.”

“Why are you trying to turn my head with your nonsense?” she scolded. But I could see by her grin that she was pleased.

“I'm just telling the truth!”

“I know your papa likes…” Her voice trailed off as our path was suddenly blocked by a redheaded giant with a goatee. It was Kaspar. The people surrounding us gave him a wide berth. My hands became clammy and I began to tremble. I prayed that I wouldn't lose my senses.

“So, my pretty, what are you doing in Butchers' Lane?” Kaspar asked.

“Let us pass.” I made sure I didn't allow my fear to show in my voice.

“Don't you want Kaspar to show you a good time?” His eyes roamed over my body, filling me with dread.

I tried to duck around him, but he grabbed my arm. When I twisted away, he tightened his grasp and pulled me closer.

“Let me go!”

“You know better than to cross Kaspar, wench!” he said. “Come with me to my shop.” He pulled me so close that I could smell his foul breath on my face. “I'll give you something there you'll never forget!”

“Have you lost your senses, Kaspar?” Vera cried. “The wrath of Wilhelm the draper will reach far if you insult his daughter!”

“Insult her? Your high-and-mighty master should feel honored that an esteemed guild member like me is interested in his whelp.”

“Whelp? How dare you!” I tried to pry his fingers off my arm.

His laughter at my puny efforts reduced me to tears.

“Let my mistress go!” Vera cried. “I've had enough of your cheek.”

“Go home, Mother. Your mistress doesn't need you here. She has more important things to do.”

In the blink of an eye, Vera pushed me so hard that I fell. Kaspar was startled and let go of my arm. Before he knew what was happening, Vera had picked up the hare in her basket and swung it at his midsection. The butcher let out an agonized roar and fell to the ground, clutching his private parts.

Vera pulled me up from the cobblestones. “Run!” she cried. “Run!” We set off at full speed, the hare still clutched in Vera's hand. The crowd around us parted as the Red Sea must have parted before the ancient Hebrews escaping slavery in Egypt.

“You'll pay for this!” Kaspar roared. “Nobody makes a fool of me!”

We were out of breath by the time we arrived home. I was happier to see the shop sign hanging from the eaves than I had ever been to see anything before.

“Your papa will be furious when he hears about Kaspar,” Vera said.

“I won't tell Papa what happened. And I want your oath that you won't either.”

“Why not?”

“Kaspar is dangerous. He's strong as a bull and evil as well. Father is no longer young. If he confronts Kaspar, he'll get hurt. Promise me that you won't tell him!”

Vera thought for a long moment. Finally she said, “It's not right for Kaspar to go unpunished, but I don't want your papa hurt. I won't say a word.”

She went to the kitchen and began to skin the hare, but I noticed that she wasn't singing while she worked, as was her habit.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Heinrich the butcher appeared at our shop's window. Fortunately, I was by myself, without customers or my father in sight.

Heinrich plunked down the two baskets of meat Vera and I had left behind.

“I've brought your meat,” he said. “Don't come to Butchers' Lane for the next few weeks. I'll bring your meat to your house. You don't want to run into Kaspar by chance.”

He pushed my thanks aside. As he was leaving, he turned back and offered an encouraging smile.

“Several of the butchers in our guild have been cheated by Kaspar,” he said. “None of them had the courage to stand up to him, but you and your servant did.” He chuckled. “An old woman and a young girl! What's the world coming to?”

Vera made a fragrant stew of the hare.

“Something smells wonderful,” Papa said, sniffing appreciatively as he settled down at the supper table. He sopped up the stew with a thick slab of dark bread.

Vera smiled modestly. “Heinrich's meat is always fresh.”

Natan entered the room and walked straight to the wooden bowl we always kept filled with water for cleaning. He dipped his hands in and seemed to be splashing around in it before he sat down beside me.

“What's with all your hand-washing, Hans? You seem to be doing it all the time lately,” Papa asked. “Too much washing will unbalance the humors in your body and you will become sick.”

Natan smiled but didn't answer him. “What's for dinner?” he asked. “I'm famished!”

“Can't you smell it?” Papa said. “Vera cooked us hare.”

A look of distaste flitted across Natan's features.

“I don't eat hare!”

“What are you talking about, Hans?” Vera asked. “I remember you telling me that it's your favorite dish.”

Natan clutched his stomach. He swallowed hard. “I just mean I can't eat it tonight. My stomach is upset. I'll stick to the bread.”

“Are you sure?” Papa said. “Vera's hare is the best!”

“I'm sure,” Natan mumbled.

He remained quiet for the rest of the meal.

After supper, when everybody else had left the table, I asked if anything was bothering him.

He rubbed his stomach. “I'm hungry.”

“You should have eaten some of the hare.”

He smiled ruefully. “I couldn't. It's one of the animals we're not allowed to eat.”

“Why?”

“The Torah tells us that we may only eat animals that have cloven hoofs and chew their cud, and the hare is not one of those.”

“And the hand-washing?” I asked. “Is that a part of your religion as well?”

He nodded. “I didn't think you'd noticed.”

“It would be difficult not to. But you should be careful, for my papa is right—too much washing will unbalance the humors in your body. I don't want you in your sickbed.”

“I'm glad that you care enough to worry about me.” He grinned. “I bet you didn't realize that I also say silent prayers before I eat your bread or drink your father's ale.”

“I didn't, but I'll watch you more closely in the future.”

“That's fine with me—as long as your father doesn't!”

T
he pails of water dangling from our hands weighed us down as we made our way back to Papa's shop. Ever since the well in the town square was poisoned, we'd had to fetch our water from the River Ill. I was pleased that Natan had fallen into the habit of accompanying me every day. These were the only times we were alone to discuss our problems. Natan was worried that we still hadn't heard from the Ammeister.

“Surely the councilors must have decided by now who is responsible for poisoning the well—my people or that lying Kaspar and his accomplices,” he said. “I keep thinking that I should have told the council the truth about Kaspar and what he did to me.”

I chose my words carefully. “If you had told the councilors that you're really Natan and not Hans, they
would have said you're possessed by the devil. No, you did right to say what you did. That was the only chance you had to prove that Kaspar is a liar and your people are innocent.”

“They still didn't believe me. If they had, Peter Schwarber would have told us by now.”

“You're most likely right. If you don't hear from the Ammeister in the next few days, we should tell my father the truth. He'll intercede on your behalf. I'm sure that Schwarber will tell him the council's verdict.”

“I don't think we should say anything to your father, at least not yet,” he said. “Remember what Rabbi Weltner said—we wouldn't be doing your father a favor by involving him in my problems.” He sighed heavily. “Let's wait a little longer. I prefer for him not to know.”

He picked up his steps. I trudged after him, straining at the weight of the pails and perspiring despite a temperature so cold that I could see my breath. We passed a group of burghers, most of whom were customers in our shop.

“Good day to you, Hans,” one of them called.

Natan didn't look up or respond.

I plucked his arm, causing him to spill some of his water. He glared at me.

“Pay attention, Hans,” I berated him. “Fritz the bricklayer is waiting for your greeting. You're behaving
as if you've never seen him before. You must remember how often he comes into our shop!”

Understanding flashed across Natan's face and he turned to the bricklayer with a wide grin.

“Of course I do,” he said. “Good day to you, Fritz,” he added as we passed the men. “These pails are so heavy that I wasn't paying attention to anything else.”

“You have to learn to respond to the name Hans,” I whispered to him as we turned down a narrow lane toward home.

“It's difficult to answer to Hans's name when I don't feel like him,” he replied. “I feel like me!”

As we turned the corner, we stopped short. A dozen street urchins had surrounded an old Gypsy woman dressed in bright clothes. The waifs were dancing around the woman and throwing stones at her head. She was trying to protect herself by covering her face with her hands. As the children continued their torment, they sang:

I lowered my pails to the ground, not caring that some of the water slopped over the rim.

“What do you think you're doing? Leave the Gypsy alone!”

I grabbed the back of one boy's tunic and tried to pull him out of the circle. The other urchins stopped dancing and fell silent. They stared at me sullenly.

The tallest among them, a boy with a dirty face, turned toward me.

“What's the matter, mistress? Why are you worried about the likes of her?” He spat in the woman's direction. “She's probably a witch.”

“The Gypsies poisoned our well to bring the plague upon us,” lisped a little maid with the face of an angel.

Natan shot me a quick look.

“I was told it was the Jews who'd poisoned the town well,” he said.

“They're both responsible,” said the older boy. “The Jews and the Gypsies are equally guilty. May their souls rot in hell!”

“Be gone with you!” Natan cried. He shook his fist at the children. “I'm of a mind to send the watch after you.” He turned to me. “Go and fetch the watchman and bring him back with you!”

I took but a few steps in the direction of the town hall before the urchins dispersed in all directions. The old woman sank down to the ground, her hands still covering her face. I leaned over her and tried to pull her up from the frozen cobblestones.

“The ground is cold, Mother. You'll catch your death if you don't stand up.”

She struggled to her feet and caught my hand, kissing it before I could stop her.

“Mistress, you and this fine young master saved my life,” she said. “How can I ever thank you?”

“What happened?” Natan asked. “Why were those children tormenting you so?”

“I was returning to our caravan in the woods beyond your city when those spawns of Satan attacked me.” She bent down and picked up a tambourine lying in the snow. After examining it, she threw it back down. “It's beyond repair.” She shook her head sadly. “Them devil children wanted to kill me!”

“Oh no! They just don't know any better,” I said.

The woman's black eyes glowed in her swarthy face. “You're too innocent, young mistress, to understand the likes of them. May the Great One bless you—and you too, master—for saving me.”

Her expression became crafty.

“My name is Nadya. I was in your city to earn a few coins,” she said. She picked up the ripped tambourine again and shook it. “I have many mouths to feed.” She held out her hand. “Can you help an old woman like me?”

Natan stared at her in surprise. I slipped a coin into her palm and then held out my own hand toward her.

“Tell my fortune, Mother,” I said. “I've heard that your people can see into the future.”

She pulled my hand toward her and began to trace the lines in my palm. Suddenly, she trembled and dropped my hand.

“Dear Mother of God! May she protect you!”

“What is it? Do you see something of concern?”

“D-don't ask m-me,” she stuttered. She took a deep breath and began to speak more calmly. “There is more in heaven and earth than a poor woman like me can understand.” She leaned close. “If you ever need my help, young mistress, come to our caravan. Our people will help you. Gypsies like us have long memories. We never forget when a good deed is done to us.”

She curtsied deeply with surprising grace and was gone before I could reply.

“I wonder what she saw in my hand that made her run away?” I asked. “Her people are versed in the black arts, they say.”

Natan stared after her solemnly but didn't answer my question.