Another Me (3 page)

T
he following week my mother needed more yarn for a tapestry she was weaving. Mama was so skillful in bringing jousting knights and their ladyloves to life on her loom that Papa sold her tapestries to the households of nobles and master tradesmen. Of course, these transactions had to be made secretly, for Mama was both a woman and a Jew—strong enough reasons to exclude her from the weavers' guild.

“Your papa has already found a buyer for this tapestry, even before I'm done weaving it,” she said with a satisfied smile. “It's almost finished, but I need a bit more scarlet yarn for my lady's gown.” With her finger, she caressed the damsel riding her steed across the cloth, then shook her head regretfully. “I wish I had time to spin and dye my own yarn. That way, I'd get the exact color I want. I hope Wilhelm the draper
will have the shade I need.” She cut a strand from the spool of scarlet yarn in front of her. “Buy me two arm lengths, as close to this color as you can.”

Just the excuse I was looking for to see Elena in the flesh once more!

Mama slipped a few coins into my hand. “Be careful! If anybody tries to draw you into an argument, don't answer them! Pretend that you don't hear them.”

I slipped the money into the pouch around my neck. For an instant, my fingers tightened around the poem I had hidden there.

“I'll be fine, Mama. Don't worry about me.” I drew the pouch closed, careful not to meet her eyes. “Do you still have the tankard from the draper's?”

“Oh, I'd forgotten about it!” She took it off a shelf and handed it to me. “Don't forget to thank him. It was so kind of him to remember your brother outside in the hot sun.”

I didn't tell her that it wasn't Wilhelm but his daughter who had shown kindness to both Shmuli and me. I wanted to avoid the long tirade that was sure to follow if she found out I had spoken with a girl who wasn't of our faith. Apart from our business dealings with our Christian neighbors, Jews like us lived in a separate world.

At the sight of the large sign in front of Wilhelm's shop, my mouth dried up and my tongue thickened like Mama's pottage. Elena was inside the shop, at the window, helping an old woman make up her mind about a length of black material.

“It's too dear,” the woman muttered as she fingered the cloth with her gnarled fingers. Her expression confirmed her regret. “I wish I had the money for it. My daughter wants me to look nice at her betrothal.”

“What if I reduce the price, Mother?” Elena asked with a smile.

The woman broke into a toothless grin. “Thank thee, mistress. That would suit me just fine!”

When the woman left, Elena turned to me. “So what brings you here, stranger?”

I handed her the yarn. “My mama needs yarn this color, two arm lengths.”

She walked to a shelf at the back of the shop and held up the strand against two gigantic spools of crimson thread. She cut a finger's length from each spool and brought the samples over to me.

“Which color do you prefer?”

I stared hard at them, but they seemed the same to me. “I don't know…”

She took pity on me and pushed one of the samples into my palm. “Take this one. The color is a close match to your mother's yarn.”

“Thank you. Please cut me two lengths.” As I fumbled with my coin purse, I noticed the wooden tankard I had put on the counter. “Oh, I also want to return your tankard. Thank you for being so kind.”

Her cheeks turned rosy. “Don't be daft, Natan. It was just ale.” As she handed me the yarn I needed, she kept her eyes fixed on the merchandise.

I became emboldened. “I was happy to have an excuse to come to your shop,” I said. “I wanted to see you again.”

“I thought you had forgotten me,” she whispered.

I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks. “Never, mistress! Never! I didn't know if you would want to…”

My fingers went to my coin pouch and the poem it held, but I didn't dare give it to her. She stepped closer.

“I wanted to see you again,” she whispered.

Thank thee, Lord, I said to myself. I smiled at her with more confidence than I felt, and my hand moved toward the pouch around my neck once more.

“Then, I would like to—”

“Elena, your father wants to talk to you.”

A harsh voice interrupted my words. My hand dropped. Hans, Wilhelm's journeyman, came into the shop through a door at the back. An angry frown distorted his sallow face. He took a few steps toward Elena.

“Is the Jew bothering you?”

“Don't be foolish, Hans,” she cried. “And mind your manners! Natan is here to buy yarn for his mother.”

She turned her back on the lout and locked eyes with me as she bent down to pick up the tankard.

“I'll meet you in the lane tonight,” she whispered. “Behind the wall at the back of our garden. Be there when the cathedral bells strike eleven times. Knock on the wall when you get there.”

I could barely untangle my thoughts from the hammering of my heart as I hurried toward our house in Judenstrasse. She wants to see me! She wants to see me! I crowed to myself. But then harsh reality intruded. Jews were not permitted in the streets of Strasbourg after eight o'clock in the evening. If I was caught leaving my house after curfew, I would be severely punished. But then I remembered the sweetness of Elena's smile and the softness of her voice, and I told myself I would find a way!

I lay as still as I could, listening to Shmuli's even breathing before gingerly sitting up, making as little noise as possible. I listened carefully. Papa was snoring loudly behind the curtained-off sleeping quarters he shared with Mama. The whole house was sleeping.

The fire was dead in the fireplace and the room had an October chill. I pulled on my breeches and
wrapped myself in a cloak before tiptoeing out the door. Fortunately, Judenstrasse was very dark. Only a few stars lit my way as I headed toward the end of our street. I was careful to press myself against the houses lining the road, becoming just another moving shadow. Good fortune was on my side. I didn't meet the night watch.

Before long, I was tapping on the wall that ran along the back of Elena's garden. A gate, well hidden by a bush, creaked open and she appeared. Her face, framed by her white wimple, betrayed her anxiety, but her expression softened when she saw me.

“I was afraid that you wouldn't come, that you thought I was too bold,” she whispered, her gaze fixed on the ground. “I don't want you to think I have ever asked another boy to meet me. My own boldness horrifies me.”

Her distress gave me the courage I needed and I grasped her hand. “Dear mistress, never would I think that. Nor would I want you to believe it is my habit to visit maidens in the darkness of the night. I'm full of admiration for you. It fills my heart with joy that you found me worthy of your notice.”

She smiled gently and pulled her hand out of mine. “Come with me,” she said.

She led me back into the kitchen where she had given me ale a few short days ago. We sat down in
the same spot where we had sat before. I gathered my courage once more and handed her the poem I had written for her.

“I have no jewels to give you, Elena. Only my poor words can express my regard for you.”

She unfolded the parchment and handed it to me.

“Read it to me.”

“No need,” I said. “I know the words by heart.”

I told them to her.

“So beautiful,” she said. “You have the heart of a minstrel. I've never met anybody like you.”

“Nor have I met anyone like you—so gentle yet so brave.”

She turned her head away, but I could see in the starlight sneaking through the high window that she was smiling. Then we began to talk. And we talked and talked and talked until the sun peeked over the horizon and I had to bid her farewell.

“Return to me, my minstrel,” she said as I bade her good-bye.

My brother and my parents were still asleep when I returned home, but Shmuli woke up for a moment when I lay down beside him.

“Where were you?” he asked, rubbing his eyes,

“The privy.”

He was asleep again before I even finished speaking.

From that night on, Elena and I met several times every week, and she became the anchor of all my dreams. Before long, I couldn't imagine life without her sweet presence.

E
lena told me that it was her duty to fetch water for her family. She went to the town well every day when the sun reached the top of the sky. I was determined to meet her there because I wanted to see her beautiful face in the sunlight.

I dressed in my warmest cloak, for winter was in the air. Mama was pleased when I offered to get our water.

“Be careful who you talk to,” she warned. “Your father told me that a traveling merchant brought Rabbi Weltner a letter from his brother, who lives in Bern. The letter says that the sickness has arrived in that city.” She sighed deeply. “More and more people are dying there every day. The Jews of Bern have been accused of poisoning the wells of the town to bring on the sickness. Several of them were arrested and tortured on
the wheel until they confessed to the crime. Then they were put to death.” She drew a worried hand across her brow. “Who wouldn't confess if they were tortured? Rabbi Weltner's brother wrote to warn him that the same kind of thing could happen to us in Strasbourg.”

“Oh, Mama, it's so unfair! It shows how much they hate us.”

She kissed me on the cheek. “That's why you must be careful,” she repeated. “I couldn't bear it if anything happened to you.”

“I won't do anything rash. I promise.”

Guilt squeezed my heart with all its might, and suddenly I wanted to tell her about Elena more than anything in the world. But I allowed my words to die on my lips, for I knew Mama well enough to realize that she would be upset. She'd point out that both Elena and I were breaking the law prohibiting Jews and Christians from fraternizing. She'd warn me that we'd be put into the stockades if the authorities discovered our relationship. She would be so frightened that she'd surely forbid me ever to see Elena again. I didn't want to risk that, so I picked up the buckets and set out for the town square without saying another word.

I couldn't see Elena anywhere. Instead of the usual organized chaos in the square, all the merchants,
artisans, knights and ladies were gathered by the well, pushing and shoving each other.

“Show the damned Jew that he can't get away with it!” cried a man in the middle of the crowd.

“Make him pay!” said another. “He surely makes us pay enough. This'll teach him to stop demanding the settlement of his cursed loans.”

“Let's see how high and mighty the Jew acts now,” cackled a woman behind me.

I shouldered my way to the front of the mob. Lying on the cobblestones was old Meyer, a moneylender who lived two doors away from us. One man was tugging and pulling on his snowy beard, while another was kicking him. A third—an absolute giant—was pouring water from a jug into the old man's mouth, making him cough and sputter.

“Let's see how you like drinking the water you poisoned, you bloody Jew!” the giant hissed.

Violent choking noises were the old man's sole reply. The other people in the crowd were laughing, clapping, encouraging the attackers.

“Kaspar, I beg you to think of what you're doing. He may be a Jew, but he's a man too.”

It took me a moment to place the lone voice of dissent. But then I turned and saw Hans, Wilhelm the draper's journeyman. He was wringing his hands and was white with fear. I ran to him.

“Go and get your master!” I ordered. “Be as quick as you can!”

He scowled. “You can't tell me what—”

I pointed at the giant in front of us. “He'll kill the old man. Get Master Wilhelm, now!”

He turned on his heel and ran. I grabbed the man with the jug and spun him around by the arm, pulling him away from the moneylender. I was confronted by an angry face with a red goatee.

“What do we have here? Another cursed Jew!”

He grabbed me by my tunic and lifted me into the air before throwing me to the ground and pummeling me. I covered my face with my hands to protect myself, peeking through my fingers at the scene above. A large boot suddenly obscured my vision of the sky. Then pain in my head and all was blackness.

Shadows filled the chamber when I awoke. My eyes traveled around a grand room I had never seen before. Mama was sitting on one side of my bed, Elena on the other. I must be dreaming, I told myself. But I didn't want the dream to end, so I closed my eyes again.

“He is awake!” Elena cried.

Mama leaned over me and patted my face with roughened fingers. “Are you finally with us again, my son?”

“Where am I?” My eyes rested on a huge fireplace, on carved furniture and on walls hung with tapestries.

“You're in my home,” Elena said.

I tried to speak, but my mouth was so parched that no sound came out. Mama held a cup to my lips. The ale tasted bitter.

“You had us worried,” she said. “We were about to send for the surgeon to apply leeches to you.” She laughed at my disgusted expression. “Elena's father saved your life, just as you saved the life of Meyer the moneylender.” She wiped away a tear. “That was a brave thing you did. Brave but unwise.”

I tried to sit up, but pain exploded in my head. I lifted my hand and explored the thick bandage wound around my temple.

“What happened?”

“It was gallant of you to defend the old man,” Elena said.

“Brave but foolish,” Mama repeated in a severe voice. “First your father and now you…What next?”

“What happened to the moneylender?”

“When his attackers turned on you, he crawled away into the crowd,” Elena said. “Nobody was paying attention to him. Everybody was watching you. The old man somehow made his way home.”

“He is resting in his bed,” Mama said. “His wife was here a short while ago to ask about your health. She says
that her husband will recover.” She bent over me and straightened my covering. “Do you want more ale?”

I shook my head gently. “Why am I here?”

“Hans ran to get my father when you were attacked.”

“As soon as Master Wilhelm appeared, Kaspar the butcher ran away,” Mama explained. “He is a devil but too cowardly to tangle with a man as respected as Wilhelm the draper.”

“My father had you carried to our house,” Elena added. “He said it would be safer for you to heal here than in your own home. Nobody would dare to bother you here.” She bent over me to straighten my blanket. “The inhabitants of our city hate your people so much. I just don't understand why.”

“They hate us because we are moneylenders and men of commerce. They forget that these are the only professions open to us—that all other trades are forbidden to us,” I explained. “They don't know that the city government takes most of our profits away. We must charge high interest in order to pay the taxes that have been imposed upon us in return for protection by the city.”

“Enough talk! You must rest!” Mama said. “We can never repay Master Wilhelm's kindness,” she added, her voice thick with emotion.

She stood up and marched to the doorway with Elena in her footsteps. But just before she followed my
mother out of the room, my beloved locked eyes with me and gave a little smile. I hugged that smile to my heart as I fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

I began to feel like myself as the days passed. My bruises faded from black and blue to an interesting shade of amber. And although my heart was filled with joy whenever I saw Elena, I missed my family. I decided to tell her father that I wanted to go home.

I was on my way to find him when I heard voices drifting out of a small chamber down the hall from the room where I was staying. I couldn't hear what was being said, but I could tell that a man and a woman were talking to each other. I thought it must be Wilhelm and Elena, and I decided this was my chance to thank the master draper for saving my life and to tell him that I wanted to return to my family. I also wanted to offer him my services in repayment for his kindness.

As I approached the chamber, I noticed that the curtain over the doorway was partially open. I stopped for a moment to compose my thoughts. I could see into the room. There were two people there. Elena was sitting in a high-backed chair, but it was Hans she was with, not her father. He was kneeling in front of her, his face flushed crimson, one of her hands held to his lips. Neither of them noticed me.

I took a step back so I could still look into the chamber without its occupants seeing me.

“Have you taken leave of your senses, Hans?” Elena was saying. She tried to pull her hand away, but he wouldn't let go.

“Nothing would make me happier than if you agreed to become my wife, Elena,” he pleaded. “Please say that you'll marry me!”

I was about to dash into the chamber to thrash him, but the sincerity in his voice gave me pause. And would Elena want me to interrupt them? I stood there, undecided about what to do.

“I cannot marry you, Hans,” Elena said.

“Why not? I'll be a master draper one day, just like your father. You'll never want for anything if you become my bride.”

“Oh, Hans,” she said, her voice softening. “I don't care about that.”

“Then why won't you marry me?”

His voice was plaintive and he seemed on the verge of tears. Elena looked at him for a long moment, choosing her words carefully.

“I can never be your wife. I'm sorry, but my heart belongs to another.”

My own heart soared.

Hans dropped her hand and stood up with effort.

“It's that Jew, isn't it? He's turned your head with his
handsome face, his curly hair and his tall carriage!” he cried. “You won't marry me because of him!”

“Natan has a name,” she responded coolly, rising from the chair. “And why do you dislike him so? He has never done you any harm. Is it because his people are of the Jewish faith?”

Hans pulled himself up straight. There was an unexpected dignity about him that I had never noticed before.

“You do me a disservice, madam,” he said. “I don't care how the Jew worships his God. I hate him because you chose him over me!”

“I chose no one,” Elena replied in a cold voice, pulling open the curtain at the doorway. I rounded the corner just in time to avoid colliding with her.

“Shh!” I put my finger to her lips. “He'll be gone in a moment.”

We waited until Hans left the chamber. He turned the other way and didn't see us. As soon as he was gone, I led her back into the room.

“I heard his proposal,” I told her. “I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't have listened, but I couldn't help myself.”

“Hans is full of conceit, but his intentions are good. He meant to honor me.”

“Yes, he would look upon bestowing his name on you as an honor. I found the part where he imprisoned your hand most interesting.”

“If you just knew how sweaty his palms are!” She wrinkled her nose in distaste. “His fingers are so stubby, and there is hair growing on their backs.”

I couldn't help glancing down with satisfaction at my own long, lean fingers.

“I also found it fascinating that you told him your heart belongs to another.” I looked at her innocently. “Tell me, my lady, who does it belong to?”

She danced away from me, giggling. “I'll let you guess that for yourself, my lord!”

Then she ran out of the chamber so quickly that I couldn't catch her.

I dreamt of her that night. I was in the town square, and suddenly, there she was, walking toward me. I opened my arms wide.

When I finally awoke, there were tears in my eyes.