Come Twilight (59 page)

It was tempting to argue with Idelfonzuz, but Germanno kept silent, aware that he knew too little of such things, and convinced that Idelfonzuz was referring to a specific Castilian and a specific Jew. “The Moors have had their share of betrayals as well, have they not?”

“It is not a betrayal when a man seeks salvation,” said Idelfonzuz in a tone that did not encourage more remarks. He pointed toward the inner archway. “Where are my witnesses? This must be done today.”

Germanno wondered why Idelfonzuz was suddenly so determined to have this agreement on record, but he only said, “You feed them too well, Liege, and they are loathe to leave their meal.”

“Sluggards, all of them,” Idelfonzuz declared loudly. “What King is as poorly served as I am?”

Since Ragoczy had seen Idelfonzuz embrace the notion that he was ill-used on other occasions, he was not alarmed by this outburst, although he was not eager to have the King continue nursing slights and injuries. “They should come at your bidding, Liege, whatever they may be doing when you summon them.”

“Except they are being shriven,” Idelfonzuz corrected Germanno. “No King can call a man from his religious duties.”

“Of course,” said Germanno, and looked up in relief as he saw two courtiers approaching eagerly. “There, you see?” he said to Idelfonzuz. “Your men know their obligation to you.”

Idelfonzuz did not deign to answer the Comide, but signaled the two to come and put their names at the places Fre Genisioz marked as soon as he and Germanno, Comide Ragoczy had signed the agreement.

Text of a bill-of-sale recorded in Toledom for presentation in Sevallis.

On the authority of the Church and that of Idelfonzuz of Aragon and Navarre and son-in-law of Adelfonzuz of León and Castile, I, Rachmael ben Abbas, formerly of Sevallis, do hereby acknowledge the receipt from Germanno, Comide Ragoczy the sum of forty gold Apostles and seventy silver Crowns as payment in full for the great house known as Al Catraz in the city of Sevallis, to which I have full title and the right to sell it for any amount that I deem acceptable. The monies paid for Al Catraz are sufficient, and in reasonable accord with what a reasonable man would expect to pay in Sevallis, and therefore are not to be challenged by any of those living in the city, or who may believe they should be entitled to occupy the great house Al Catraz.

I have prepared statements for all the authorities having interest in such a transaction, bearing witness to my decision to sell the great house and to accept the money paid to me by Germanno, Comide Ragoczy, who will present these proofs upon his arrival in Sevallis. Such furnishings as I have left in the house are his to use or dispose of as he likes. He is to install his own staff, and to that end, I give him permission to sell my slaves for such money as may be reasonable, or to continue to house them in accordance with the laws of Sevallis.

Let no one think that this sale is the result of gambling or of coercion or any other sort, for I give my most solemn Word that is not the case. To settle any suspicions that may be attached to my sale of Al Catraz, I will explicate my reasons for offering this great house to a foreigner. This sale was sought by me for the purpose of permitting me to move all my goods and chattels with me into Toulousa, where I have long maintained a factory to transfer goods and spices for me. Now that it is possible for me as a Jew to own land in Toulousa, I intend to operate my business from that location rather than from Sevallis, for Toulousa is more central to my profession than is Sevallis.

The lands and grounds of Al Catraz are included in the sale, and all produce of those fields are to become the property of Germanno, Comide Ragoczy. It will be his task to decide how such crops are to be handled, how they are to be planted, changed, rotated, discontinued, or used in any way that suits him. I have placed no binding conditions upon Germanno, Comide Ragoczy, as a condition of this sale, and I hereby forbid others from imposing any such conditions upon him. The lands and grounds of Al Catraz are to be turned over without question to the Comide Ragoczy, and any decision he makes in their regard is to be obeyed as binding and final.

In the event that any claim be made against this sale, I stipulate here that the person bringing such an action is to be given one copper Ship for his trouble, and that no other recovery be granted him now or in the future. I further declare that no heir of mine will at any time seek to recover this great house, nor its lands, nor its contents, and that those who proceed in spite of this shall be disinherited entirely, and be as if they were not ever heirs of mine in any capacity whatsoever.

To this I set my hand in the City of Toledom in the Christian year of 1117, on the day after the Paschal Mass.

Rachmael ben Abbas

Spice merchant

witnessed by Idelfonzuz, King of Aragon and Navarre and son-in-law to Adelfonzuz of León and Castile

witnessed by Malachai ben Doron, advocate of Toledom

Night was falling when they reached the walls of Sevallis; the hills around them loomed over the city, blotting out the swaths of stars that spread over the sky above the last embers of twilight. After a short search, they found a place to make camp, about two leagues from the city, at the edge of a large stand of oak trees. Here they were far enough away from the other travelers waiting for admission, and could make use of the time they spent without attracting unwelcome attention. Around them the green, fecund smell of spring gave the night air a presence that was profoundly tempting.

“Will the gates open at dawn, do you think?” Ruthor asked as he prepared a sleeping place for himself.

“Immediately after the first call to prayer,” said Germanno, finishing up rigging a tie-line for their four horses and nine mules where the animals contentedly ate the grain in their nose bags.

“I prefer the cries to the clanging of bells,” Ruthor said, only half-jesting.

“No night hours to ring, as well,” Germanno agreed. “That is something to be thankful for.” He took a long reel of twine and stepped out of the range of their firelight and began to set up a trip-line around them.

“You do not think we will have to fend off thieves so close to Sevallis, do you?” Ruthor was mildly disgusted at the notion. “No thief would be so bold: it would be too great a risk.”

“Perhaps,” came the Comide’s voice from the darkness. “But thieves may not be the only danger in the night.”

“Oh, no.” Ruthor shook his head vigorously. “None of Chimena’s tribe could have spread this far, not with all the fighting that has gone on these last thirty years.”

“You may be right,” said Germanno just loudly enough to be heard. “But neither of us would like to be wrong in that estimate.” He was now almost half-way around the camp. “I am suspending the double-chime Greek bells. They are not loud, but they cannot be mistaken for anything but what they are.”

In their journey from Toledom to Sevallis, Germanno had made use of a trip-line from time to time, but never so close to a city; Ruthor wondered why Germanno should be so careful now, then shrugged and went on with his work, only saying when the Comide came back into the light of their campfire, “I hope you will rest well tonight, my master.”

“So do I,” said Germanno, taking his bed-roll from its canvass wrapping, and spreading it out on the other side of the fire. “I’ll stand the first watch; and I’ll remove the nose bags so the animals can graze a little. You need sleep more than I do tonight.”

“Wake me at midnight,” Ruthor told Germanno. “I do not need to be coddled with extra hours of slumber.”

“Of course,” said Germanno, so readily that Ruthor could not hide his doubts of this. It was after midnight when Ruthor felt Germanno shake him slightly, whispering, “To the east,” as he did.

Ruthor came awake at once, reaching for his dagger that he kept under his husk-filled pillow. “What is it?”

“There is someone circling our camp,” said Germanno in an under-voice; as if in confirmation, one of the horses chuffed and a mule gave a nervous half-bray. “He’s moving.”

“But where is he?” Ruthor asked, trying to see into the dense darkness of the trees.

“Over there,” said Germanno, cocking his head instead of pointing. “I think he may be a leper. He has a clapper with him.”

Shaking his head in sympathy, Ruthor listened attentively. “He’s going around.”

“To the south,” Germanno agreed. “There,” he said a moment later. “Did you hear the clapper?”

“I heard something,” said Ruthor. “I cannot be certain it was a clapper.”

Germanno stood up slowly, his hands empty, and called out, “You. Out in the darkness. You!”

There was a sudden stillness, as if not only the person beyond the firelight but all of the animals of the forest had come to a halt. Then there came the sound of the clapper, this time loud and deliberate. “I mean you no harm.” The voice was hoarse but far from weak. “I hoped you had some food I could . . . take.”

“Do you mean steal?” Ruthor asked bluntly.

“You would not starve because of it,” said the voice; the accent was that of a learned man from Barzelunya, the timbre suggested age, but that could as well have been the result of the disease. “I might, if I cannot find something to eat today or tomorrow.”

Germanno took a step toward the voice, ignoring Ruthor’s signal for caution. “How long has it been since you’ve eaten?”

“Three days,” the voice answered. “I took a handful of almonds from a sack day before yesterday. I have had nothing since then.”

“I fear we have little to offer you,” said Germanno. “Sevallis is the end of our journey, and our food is almost gone.” It was a plausible enough explanation for their lack of provender. “I can offer you some gruel, but it will take time to prepare.”

“I am patient,” said the voice, less urgently now. “God has left me that, at least.”

Germanno motioned to Ruthor. “Two handfuls of oats in a pot of water. Boil it up so that our visitor need not be hungry on our account.”

“That I will,” said Ruthor, wondering what Germanno was up to now. He got out of his bed-roll and went to their piled up goods to take out a metal pan in which to cook the gruel. “Two handfuls of grain, you say?”

“Two. Our guest is hungry,” said Germanno, and glanced toward the darkness.

Ruthor shrugged, and did as Germanno had requested, all the while keeping an eye on the place from which the leper’s voice came, for such miserable unfortunates were also desperate men who might lash out.

“Would you like to share our campfire?” Germanno asked while Ruthor tended to the cooking.

“I am not permitted to approach,” said the leper.

“Who is here to forbid it?” Germanno’s voice was gentle and his manner persuasive.

“The disease—”

“I have no fear of it. I have some knowledge of medicines and although I can offer only a little succor to you, I am willing to extend what benefit I can to you.” He paused to allow the leper to think about this. “We are strangers here, my man and I, and you must know a great deal about the region.”

“I know the land from Pyrenees to Gadiz, from Burgos to Valenzia,” said the leper with a combination of pride and contempt.

“The very man to instruct us,” said Germanno without a trace of hesitation. “Come, man. We will not tell anyone of this meeting.”

“They will exile you with the rest of us if anyone learns you have spoken to me,” the leper warned, and moved forward to the edge of the firelight. He was tall—almost half a head taller than Germanno—and lean under his dusty rags; the cowl of what had been a shortened habit was raised to conceal his face. He held the staff and clapper that were required of him, his water-gourd depended from his rope-belt, and his hands and feet were wrapped in bandages.

“We will say nothing,” Germanno told him, “and as to exile, I am that already.”

“But you have possessions beyond a staff, a gourd, and a clapper,” said the leper, and faltered. “I may still turn away.”

“There is no reason to. Your gruel will soon be cooked, and I have no wish to waste it.” Germanno moved one of his chests near to the fire. “You may sit here.”

“May God bless you for this charity,” said the leper, but not in the formalistic recitation that was usual for this traditional acknowledgment; he spoke with genuine feeling as he came to sit on the chest.

Germanno made a reverence to the leper. “I thank you for your willingness to speak to me.”

The leper sat very straight, with no trace of shame, as he watched Ruthor tend the mixture in the pail over the fire. “I have not had much to eat, these last few days. People are more generous around the Holy Days, but afterward they forget.” There was more resignation than anger in his words. “Many of us starve.”

Ruthor went to a large bale and pulled from its protective wrappings a bowl of shiny metal which he gave to the leper, noticing as he handed it over that the leper had only three fingers under the bandages.

As the leper studied the metal bowl, he said, “More than twenty years ago, Ruy Diaz—the Cid himself—founded a haven for us. Cruel and treacherous he may have been to many, but he was kind to lepers.” His voice dropped and he sagged a bit where he sat. “The haven is not what it was since he died.”

“You have been there,” said Germanno.

“Oh, yes. I sometimes go that way for the winter, to stay out of the Bloody Mountains. No one wants to go there in winter. Not even lepers are safe there.” He laughed a bit wildly. “It is not just the fighting that kills there. No.”

Germanno and Ruthor exchanged a quick glance; Germanno said, “The Bloody Mountains—I do not think I know them.”

“They are north and east, near Aragon and Barzelunya, in the mountains between Usxa and the sea. They say it is renegade soldiers who prey on travelers, but it is not.” He pointed to Germanno. “Do not go there unless you have a company of armed knights to guide you and a goodly supply of weapons.”

“Surely merchants travel there,” Germanno suggested.