The Wandering Arm (6 page)

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Authors: Sharan Newman

Tags: #Fiction, #Mystery & Detective, #General

BOOK: The Wandering Arm
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“I already have,” he said.
Eliazar was not surprised that Natan was not among those at the synagogue for Sabbath prayers. The man was hardly a strict observer of the Law. That didn’t matter so much in a community the size of Paris, where there was always the number required for prayers. He was surprised and delighted, though, to find his nephew, Solomon, among the men. Solomon was not particularly observant, either. With him was Baruch of the community at Saint-Denis. There were not enough adult males in Saint-Denis to make a
minyin,
so they were considered part of the Paris community, even though Saint-Denis was under the secular lordship of Abbot Suger and the Jews of Paris answered only to the king. Still, it was not often, especially in winter, that the men of Saint-Denis could attend Sabbath services.
As he hurried to take his place, Eliazar thought he saw another man, seated deep in the shadows. One of the Christian scholars, perhaps. Many of the students of theology had expressed interest in understanding the Hebrew language and Jewish customs. There had been loud debates about letting the Gentiles in, but finally it had been decided that it would only increase suspicion as to the nature of their rituals if the scholars were forbidden to watch. Eliazar was never comfortable when they were there, though. Once one of the students had decided to convert. The trouble that had caused! The man’s superiors immediately sent him away to study his own religion, but all the community had been threatened with severe punishment for proselytizing. Eliazar shuddered at the memory and hurried to his seat.
The visitor made no sound during the service, and Eliazar forgot about him. It was only when they were leaving that the man rose and started toward them.
“Brother!” Eliazar exclaimed. “Hubert, what are you doing here? Why didn’t you join us?”
Hubert hugged his brother but didn’t answer until they were outside. “I’ve wanted to come for years, but was ashamed, and afraid that I would be discovered,” he sighed. “Solomon convinced me to at least attend and watch. But it’s too late for me, Eliazar. I don’t remember anything, not even all of the
Shema.”
“It doesn’t matter, the Holy One hears your heart,” Eliazar said. “I’ve told you before, a splash of water doesn’t change what you are. And now that your wife has gone to live with the nuns, why shouldn’t you come home?”
“Just what I’ve been saying,” Baruch added, as he and Solomon joined them.
Hubert shook his head. “Not yet, perhaps not ever. There’s too much else to worry about. The state of my soul will have to wait.”
Eliazar lifted his eyebrows at that, but didn’t press the argument. His brother’s lot was hard enough. “What else is it?” he asked. “Your family? Your Catherine?”
“Stillborn daughter, a few days ago,” Hubert said gruffly. “She’ll be all right. Hard on them, all the same.”
“And you. I’m sorry,” Eliazar said. “Johannah will grieve for her.”
“That’s not what I’ve come about,” Hubert added. “But that business is no subject to speak of in the street.”
The four men walked the short block home in silence. When they entered the house Johannah greeted them with delight, mentally redividing the dinner and thinking what could be prepared from the larder without breaking the Sabbath.
“Shabbat shalom
to you all,” she said, kissing each of them in turn. “It’s good to have guests tonight.”
They spoke of trivial matters during the meal: the unusual cold, the quality of the last grape harvest, the growing antagonism between King Louis and Thibault, Count of Champagne.
“That boy needs a strong hand,” Baruch said sadly. “Even if he is the king. His wife’s sister is living openly with a married man old enough to be her grandfather and he does nothing.”
“We all know Queen Eleanor leads him around by a halter,” Eliazar said. “He listens to no one else.”
“What she needs is a few children to keep her busy,” Hubert added. “Oh, forgive me, Johannah. My mind is much occupied with such things now.”
Johannah patted his hand. “Don’t worry, Hubert. I’m not offended. If the Holy One, blessed be He, didn’t see fit to send us children of our own, he still gave us a fine nephew in Solomon. And I’m sure dear Catherine will be granted another child. But the Queen,” she sniffed. “The way she dresses and goes about. She goes hunting, riding hard and leaping fences just like a man; I’ve seen her. It’s no wonder she hasn’t even gotten pregnant in four years, and she nearly nineteen, now.”
“There are those,” Solomon interjected, “who say it’s not her fault. Young Louis seems to be more of a monk than a king and insists on abiding by all the religious rules for sexual abstinence.”
“Well, her convent training doesn’t seem to have had that effect on Catherine, I’m glad to say,” Hubert added. “She and Edgar both know their duty. King Louis should tend to his.”
They all nodded agreement. The one thing the Capetian kings had managed to do for the past hundred years was produce a son to succeed to the throne. The people had ignored many of their other flaws in the light of this virtue. No one wanted France to go through the turmoil that England and Normandy were now suffering with the disputed succession. Civil war was terrible for business.
Baruch must have been thinking of that as he set down his cup and folded his hands. Everything had been cleared away and the lamps were burning low. He cleared his throat importantly.
Eliazar gave him a sardonic smile. “Ah, finally,” he said. “You’re going to tell me what brought you here over seven icy miles. Your piety is beyond doubt, friend, but I know that it would not be enough to bring all three of you to Paris on such a night.”
Baruch bridled at the insult and then relaxed with a shrug.
“There is a matter for concern.” He hesitated. “I must ask you something first. Please promise not to be offended, but we need to know. It has been said that you are doing business with Natan ben Judah. Is it true?”
Eliazar looked decidedly uncomfortable. He studied a spill of meat sauce on his tunic for a full minute, rubbing the grease in with his finger. Finally, he nodded.
“I did have some dealing with him last year,” he said. “I regretted it almost immediately but had to see the matter through. Since then, I’ve refused to have anything to do with his trade.”
Unconsciously he rubbed the left side of his chest, where the scar was still red from a knife attack the year before. Hubert watched him with growing apprehension.
“You told us that you didn’t know who stabbed you last year,” he said. “Was it Natan?”
“No.” Eliazar’s hand formed a fist. “It was a Gentile, I’m sure. And not one I knew.”
“But you think Natan was responsible, don’t you?” Hubert prodded.
Eliazar sighed. “I fear so, although not directly. He has many contacts among the lawless of the Christians. He even buys and sells among the
ribaux
who roam the forests and answer to no lord. I didn’t know that when I first agreed to deal with him. But I should have. I paid for it.”
“You paid, yes, but Edgar might have been killed also.” Hubert was surprised at his rising anger. He hadn’t realized he was fond of his son-in-law. “He was attacked in the streets last spring because of you, wasn’t he? He was followed from your house. And you never warned him. The man who did it could be anywhere, preparing to strike at him again.”
“No, I’m sure he won’t!” Eliazar insisted. “All that is done with. There’s been no more trouble since then.”
Baruch shook his head. “The boy should know about this before he agrees to our plan. It seems he owes you nothing, now. You saved his life only to put him in greater danger.”
“What plan?” Eliazar said. “What has that
mesel,
Natan, been doing now?”
Hubert answered. “We believe that there’s a group in Paris trading in stolen church objects. Several objects have been traced this far, then lost. These people melt down the gold and reset the jewels, then sell them. We want Edgar to try to discover who they are and what channels these goods are flowing through.”
“Why Edgar?” Eliazar asked. “For that matter, why you? What is it to us if the Edomites are stealing from their own god?”
“It’s a great deal if some of us are helping them,” Solomon answered. He was looking at his uncle as if he were a stranger. “We aren’t, are we?”
Eliazar covered his eyes. “Oh Solomon, how could you even ask?”
“You and Uncle Hubert have traded in enough treasure for the abbot of Saint-Denis,” Solomon answered. “I should know; you’ve sent me to Kiev and back for his trinkets. You’ve never kept any part of your business from me, until now.”
They all looked at Eliazar, waiting.
He glared back at them. “I’ve told you all I can,” he told them. “I needed something done. Natan seemed the best man to do it. I was mistaken. That’s the end of it.”
“We need to know, brother,” Hubert said. “At least enough to be sure that, if Natan is taken before the court, you won’t be called to stand with him.”
Eliazar’s chin went up and he glared at them all stubbornly. “My business was mine alone. It didn’t concern you or anyone else in the community. I have done nothing counter to the spirit of the Law. But even if I had, I would not counsel you to give up your plans to protect me. If you believe there are those among us who are endangering the community through their actions, it’s your duty to find and stop them. As for my connection to Natan, I can only ask you to trust me. You still haven’t answered my question. Why should your English son-in-law be involved in this?”
“Because he is English and we think that’s where most of this trade may be coming from,” Hubert answered. “And because, according to Solomon, he has the skill to pretend to be an artisan. He may be able to insinuate himself into the group that is actually reshaping these things.”
“And you think Natan is working with these people, too?” Eliazar said. It was hardly a question. He knew the answer.
“Natan is an embarrassment and a danger to all of us,” Baruch stated. “He should have been placed under
herem
years ago.”
“None of his clients have ever brought a complaint against him before the community,” Solomon said. “I never understood why. I would have borne witness against him after I found he’d bought the sheep those brigands stole from the village of Saint-Marcel two years ago.”
“That wasn’t our affair,” Eliazar said. “I’m not certain this is.”
Hubert looked at his brother in astonishment. “What has Natan done to you?” he asked. “You know that if the Christians discover him with one of their stolen holy objects, we’ll … you’ll all be blamed for it.”
“Or we’ll have to turn him over to their justice,” Baruch added. “And much as I despise the man, I don’t like abandoning him. It provides a bad example.”
Eliazar slowly nodded agreement. “So. What do you want me to do?”
“Nothing,” Baruch said. “We will handle the matter, now that we know you’re not involved.”
“Do you mean you came all this way simply to assure yourselves that I wasn’t a thief and dealer in idols!”
Since that was what they had done, they all immediately assured him that it was never a consideration.
“We needed to come to Paris anyway,” Hubert said. “The abbot wants to establish another special feast for the monks when they’re given something extra at their meal. He thinks cloves in hot wine would be nice, but he needs more cloves. I held some back from the last shipment for just such a possibility.”
“I came to help him carry them back,” Solomon said with a straight face.
“And I wanted only to be with my brethren to observe the Sabbath,” Baruch added, daring Eliazar to contradict.
Eliazar gave them a look of deep sadness. “I had hoped that my own kinsmen and my friend of forty years would have more faith in me,” he said. “There is no more to be said. I will have beds made up for you by the fire. Good night.”
The other three watched in gloomy silence as he went up the stairs. Johannah had excused herself and gone up long before. When they heard the door close, Hubert turned to Baruch.
“Are you satisfied?” he asked.
“No,” Baruch answered, “but I think we should continue in the plan, all the same. You will speak to Abbot Suger about it?”
“Yes,” Hubert said. “I’m sure he’ll agree. This activity is much more upsetting to him than to us, don’t you think so, Solomon?”
Solomon was still staring up toward the ceiling as if he might manage to look though the boards and into his uncle Eliazar’s heart.
“What?” he said. “Oh, yes, the abbot. I’m sure he’ll help. I only wish I knew what sort of business a man like my uncle could possibly have had that would make Natan ben Judah the best man to accomplish it.”
The ceiling remained solid and Solomon was left to wonder.
It was not quite dawn of Septuagesima Sunday. The air was gray with mist. The streets of Paris were empty. Ice had formed over the trough in the center of the roads where rain, wash water and emptied night waste collected. Natan stepped carefully on the frozen mud as he made his way up the rue du Port Saint-Landry. The bag he was carrying was heavy and seemed to grow heavier the closer he came to his destination. He didn’t like the place he was heading for but the choice had not been his. Something in the bag had come unwrapped from its cloth and was digging into his back, just inside the shoulder blade. Natan tried not to think about what it was. The objects he was dealing in were not of his choosing, either.

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