There Will Be Wolves (2 page)

“You know nothing of what you speak….” Ursula began hotly, but her father stepped between her and Mistress Elke just as Bruno jumped up and grabbed her elbow.

“The dog,” Bruno whispered into her ear. “The bandage has come loose. Perhaps you should see to it.”

With a last angry glance at the woman, Ursula allowed herself to be distracted and turned to the animal. Her father hastened to lead Mistress Elke outside.

“Your tisane, Mistress,” he murmured soothingly. “You’ll be wanting your tisane. And how fare you this day? Is all well with you? You mustn’t excite yourself, please Mistress. Remember your health. And the health of the innocent babe you carry.”

“Innocent babe,” Ursula muttered. “A woman like that is more apt to be carrying a demon.”

“Hush! Don’t speak so,” Bruno cautioned, but he was too late, the words had carried out the door.

“What did she say? What did she say?” Mistress Elke screeched. “A demon, she said! She said I’m carrying a demon! She’s put a curse on me! Oh, dear God! Holy Jesus!” She staggered and seemed about to faint.

With considerable effort Master William caught and held her. “No, Mistress, no. You misheard. Please, Mistress, do not distress yourself. Sit here, I’ll prepare your tisane for you this minute. Sit now, and calm yourself.”

He fetched a stool for her and then rushed back inside to collect his herbs for the tisane.

“Well, now, what have we here?” a voice inquired.

Ursula shuddered. Mistress Ingrid, the busybody who lived in the house next door and whose husband was a rival apothecary had, as usual, appeared at the first sign of trouble. She bent to Mistress Elke, and a furious avalanche of whispers ensued with much finger-pointing and furtive glances at Ursula.

Ursula rose to help her father as she usually did, but she was stopped by another shriek from Mistress Elke.

“No! I won’t have her touching anything that is for me! I won’t have it, Master William!” She clutched at her bosom with one hand, at Mistress Ingrid’s arm with the other.

“Leave us, Ursula,” her father ordered, his voice shaking.

  *  *  *  

“That’s my dog.”

The voice from the doorway was childish but firm. Ursula looked up to see a boy of about ten or eleven years standing there, staring in. He was
small and fine boned, with a shock of dark, almost black, curly hair falling over his eyes.

“Your dog?” Ursula repeated. She had only just managed to collect herself after Mistress Elke had left. Although she would not have admitted it, Ursula had been frightened. Mistress Ingrid had retired to her own house, but was still keeping an obvious watch from her front stoop.

The boy drew himself up proudly. “I am David ibn Shaprut, and that is my dog. He wandered off from me when I was in the marketplace, and, when I inquired, they told me he had been hurt and you had taken him away.” His eyes fastened onto the bandaged leg. “Is he hurt badly?” He spoke in the mixture of Hebrew and Germanic dialect with a few Arabic words thrown in that the Jews along the Rhine used with the Gentiles. Ursula understood it easily.

Ursula held the dog down firmly. Bruno had also left soon after Mistress Elke, and at the first sight of his young master the animal had begun to whine and try to get up.

“His leg is broken …” she began. Seeing the sudden distress in the boy’s face, she added quickly, “But I’ve set it and put a poultice on it.”

“You can’t mend a dog’s leg if it’s broken. Everyone knows that,” the boy answered. His eyes became suspiciously bright, but if he was fighting back tears, he didn’t let her know.

“Why not? Why not at least try? Come, give
him a pat.”

David came in and seated himself on the sacking beside the dog. The dog immediately began a frenzy of hand-licking and tail-wagging.

“May I take him home with me?” David asked.

“Not until we know that he’s going to be well, I shouldn’t think,” Ursula answered. “It would be better not to move him.”

“And when will we know?” He brushed at his eyes. Ursula pretended not to notice.

“In a few days, perhaps,” she said. “In the meantime, can you come by here and keep him company? I’m busy and don’t have time to make certain that he doesn’t move around too much.”

“Yes, I can do that,” David replied. The dog had calmed down somewhat, and David continued to stroke it on the head. “We’re here visiting my uncle, my mother and I.” He seemed reassured now and began to talk more easily. “My father is a goldsmith—the best goldsmith in Mainz—and so is my mother. She’s come to visit my uncle here in Cologne. He’s Benjamin ibn Nagdela, a very famous merchant.”

Ursula had heard the name often. David’s uncle was one of the wealthiest and most successful merchants in Cologne. Or had been, anyway. Cologne had been a city and an important center of trade ever since Roman times, but since the Turks had closed off the trade routes to the east the merchants were having a hard time of it.

The Jews, in particular, were affected by this, as by Germanic law they were not allowed to own land—not even the land their own houses stood upon—and many of them depended on trade. Ursula had spent countless mornings down at the quayside on the Rhine, watching with fascination as the small but graceful wooden ships sailed in, bringing silks, costly spices, and all manner of things from the East. They were far fewer in number now, however. So few, in fact, that in desperation many of the Jewish merchants had had to resort to money-lending to survive. Many of their Christian fellow townsmen despised them for it. Usury was a sin, according to Christian teachings. Apparently, though, while lending money was sinful, borrowing was not, so many of these same Christians availed themselves of the Jewish money-lenders’ services, with the result that they were deeply in debt to them.

For the rest of the afternoon David stayed with his dog, talking to Ursula without pause. Finally, when it was time for the evening meal, he rose to go. The dog made as if to rise and go with him, but David pushed it back down.

“Stay, Samson,” he ordered, trying to make his voice as stern as possible.

Ursula suppressed a smile. Samson—one of the most powerful and feared figures in the Old Testament. It was a rather grand name for such a
scruffy, nondescript dog.

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” David promised.

He was. He came with the early-morning hawkers of bread, sweetcakes, and ale—even before the cocks had finished crowing. Ursula had just finished tidying up after breakfast when he appeared at the doorway. For the rest of that morning he stayed, and on into the afternoon, even though he wouldn’t share the noon meal with Ursula and her father. Finally Ursula had had enough of his constant chatter, she seized an excuse to escape.

“I must go to the market and buy fish for our dinner. Will you mind Samson while I’m gone? He mustn’t get up any more than necessary.” The dog had tried a few experimental steps during the day, keeping his wounded leg well off the ground, but Ursula was anxious that he stay as quiet as possible. She was determined that her efforts to help him would be successful. Then Mistress Elke and all the others like her would see. They’d see that girl or not—young or not—she
was
a healer. That they might not wish to see such a thing flashed through Ursula’s mind, but she pushed it away.

Ursula hurried through the twisting streets down to the stalls of the fishmongers in the market by the riverside. She passed the new church that was being built right in the center of all the confusion. Cologne was a city already famous for its
churches, and the building of them still went on.

Bruno had said he was an apprentice stonemason working on this church, Ursula suddenly remembered. It was almost finished, but the master stonemason and all the other workers still crowded the courtyard. The choir chamber was yet to be completed. Temporary workshops dotted the area. In one, a blacksmith worked at his forge, making new tools to replace the old iron ones as they wore out. In another, the mortar men made their mixtures of sand, lime, and water to bind the stones together. Pulleys and cranes were still in place, creaking and groaning under the strain of the loads they lifted. Trestles were set up. The shouts of men at work and the noise of sawing filled the open space, and over all—everything and everybody—the same fine, white dust she had seen on Bruno the day before.

A smaller hut off to one side sheltered the stone-cutters, and it was in front of this that she caught sight of Bruno. He was down on one knee, chipping away at a huge block of stone with a hammer and chisel. Ursula stood, watching him, not certain as to whether she should call out. Suddenly he saw her. He spoke a few quick words to the man next to him and laid down his tools. He then stood up and came toward her, smiling.

“How fares your patient today?” he asked.

“My patient?” Ursula repeated, not understanding.

“The dog. How is its leg?”

“Oh, it’s better. Much better. The poor thing even managed to walk a few steps.” She smiled back at him. “Its master came for it after you left. He’s just a boy. A young Jewish boy called David, from Mainz. Visiting his uncle here.”

“Did he take the dog away?”

“No. I told him to leave it with me until we were certain the leg would heal, but he came back today to care for it and hasn’t stopped chattering since this morning.” Ursula smiled again. “I had to leave for the sake of my ears.”

Bruno laughed.

There was a momentary silence. Ursula searched for something to say. “The church,” she said finally. “It’s very beautiful.” She looked up at the pure white stone walls rising above her and glistening in the sunlight. It was built in the form of a cross with the choir chamber, at the eastern end, designed in the shape of a clover-leaf. Although not quite finished, the harmony and grace of the building were already evident.

“Would you like to see inside?”

“Oh, yes. Could I?”

In answer, Bruno reached for her hand and drew her into the courtyard. Picking their way through the debris, in and around the busy workers, he led her to the front. Massive bronze doors had been installed, intricately carved with scenes
from the New Testament and the figures of the Lord Jesus and his apostles. Ursula reached out a tentative finger and traced their outlines. She had never seen such a marvel.

“That’s the master builder’s own work,” Bruno said proudly. “No other church in Cologne has anything near so fine.”

They slipped in and paused for a moment, allowing their eyes to get used to the darkness. No candles were lit yet, of course, so the only light came from the small, deepset windows. The church was built like a fortress, with walls fully a meter thick. The nave stretched before them, pillars supporting arches that curved up to the domed ceiling above their heads. At the far end the three petals of the clover-leaf opened out into a sweep of such magnitude that Ursula caught her breath. Already the painters had begun their work. The walls and the ceiling challenged the gloom, alive with color and shining with gold, brilliantly illustrating stories from the Bible—scenes from Jesus’ life and teachings. The floor was patterned with flamboyant mosaics, echoing and emphasizing all the vivid hues around them.

Bruno and Ursula made the sign of the cross toward the place where the altar would soon be, and then went farther in. Bruno led her from one painting to another. There was hardly a surface in the whole building that wasn’t decorated. What space did remain, Ursula knew, would be covered
with hangings and tapestries.

“It’s magnificent!” she breathed. “Surely it will be the most splendid church in all of Cologne!”

“It will,” Bruno agreed. He dropped her hand and stared around them, his face rapt. “Some day I will build churches, too. Some day I will design them—not just cut stones for them.” For a moment he seemed to forget that Ursula was there; he went on talking almost as if to himself. “I have visions,” he whispered into the vaulting silence of the empty church. “Visions of churches that reach up to Heaven. With high, vast windows that look up to God and let his glory shine in and illuminate everything within. Churches full of light, with pillars and spires that brush the clouds themselves, and with the grace of God celebrated in every stone and every column.” He stopped. Then, as if suddenly remembering where he was and with whom, he turned back to her with a laugh.

“I dream,” he said apologetically. “Large dreams for one as insignificant as I.” He reached for her hand again. “Come. I have finished work for the day. I’ll walk with you and you can tell me more about yourself. You called yourself a healer—perhaps you, too, have dreams?”

Ursula looked quickly to see if he was mocking her, but even in the soft dimness of the church she could see only friendship and interest in his eyes.

He kept her company to the fish stalls and waited while she chose the fish for dinner. They then turned back toward her house.

“I would see the dog again,” he said, “and perhaps also meet his young master. Would that be all right?”

“Of course,” Ursula answered, but a roar from the crowd around them drowned out her voice. They were in the market itself now, and in the very center was a square with a scaffold on it. Here thieves and criminals were punished. On the scaffold now was a young man, hardly more than a boy. He was filthy and clad in the barest of rags. His hair hung lank and unkempt over his face and down his back. From where she stood, Ursula could see the wild light of panic in his eyes. Several men stood around him.

As Bruno and Ursula slowed their steps, the men forced the prisoner to kneel and place his hand and arm on a rough wooden block. Ursula could see now that one of the men surrounding the prisoner was holding an axe. As they watched, he raised it high. Another roar came from the crowd.

Ursula felt her arm grabbed roughly by Bruno. “Come,” he hissed in her ear. “I want no part of this!”

“But it is only a thief,” Ursula answered. “They are only going to cut off a thief’s hand.” To her surprise Bruno had turned pale and his
mouth was grim.

“His right hand. And what does a man do without his right hand? How will he earn his bread from now on without his right hand?”