Cuthbert turned away, his face red with shame. He knew that no man would dare attack the crowner’s manor. Ralf had just given him a haven for his family, disguised as a task that the sergeant knew was meaningless. “My family need not…”
“Those are my orders. Your family must go with you. A child cannot do without a father for so many days, and I know your wife would mourn your absence.”
The sergeant’s expression betrayed his longing to argue, but he chose silence instead and nodded. As they both well knew, Ralf could send his child and her nurse to the priory for safety, if there were any real danger. In any case, Cuthbert knew he must obey. It would be insolent to refuse the crowner’s kind gesture.
“Go!” Ralf ordered and gently shoved the man on his way.
As he watched Cuthbert run down the path that led to his dwelling on the edge of the village, the crowner felt at a complete loss. He had no one else to guard this vulnerable Jewish family. It would take too long to send word to his brother, now in Winchester, that soldiers were needed. The men from the farms would return to their fields, and he doubted any amount of silver he could cast at their feet would tempt them to raise a hand against neighbors to protect a group they, too, despised.
Signy had made it clear that only Kenelm had been willing to shield these hated people. How could this family be kept safe until he determined whether or not Jacob ben Asser was the killer? Even if he was, the pregnant wife, her mother, and a maid must be protected from mob violence.
Ralf looked around. It would take very little to spark another riot.
The fishermen had not been part of this recent turmoil. They never left the sea until nightfall. The other villagers had now gone back to anvil, tanning pit, and barrel making, except for a few still clustered near the inn. When these saw his glare, their expressions turned sheepish and they scurried into the inn. Whatever they had been talking over, the men seemed calm, and the crowner prayed that the ale not overheat their blood again.
Ralf turned to Brother Thomas. “I must question Jacob ben Asser about the fight he had with Kenelm.” He gestured in the direction of the departed sergeant. “I need a good head to help me and witness what is said. I should have asked Cuthbert…”
“You were right to send him home, Crowner. I am happy to take his place.”
“I heard the tale of the argument between Kenelm and ben Asser from Signy. Had you heard of it?”
“Oseberne and his son told me as well.” Although he was happy to share what he had learned about this with his friend, he chose to remain silent about the accusations against Gytha.
Ralf turned to face the stable entrance. “Jacob ben Asser!” he shouted. “In the name of King Edward, I order you to come forth.”
The face of the man who emerged was as pale as a corpse, and profound fatigue had bruised the skin with black circles under his eyes. Even his back was bent like that of an old man, but his gaze at the crowner was sharp with defiance.
This man had expected to be ripped apart by the howling mob, yet he refuses to cower and still honors the king’s command. Suddenly Thomas understood that, if ben Asser had killed Kenelm, he could not demand sanctuary in the priory church, clutching the altar as a Christian might. He had no such option to avoid the hangman’s rope by foreswearing the realm and sailing to France. This saddened the monk, and he found himself respecting the man’s courage even more.
Jacob glanced at the monk. His jaw clenched.
Thomas stretched out his hand, then dropped it. This was one who had no desire for his blessing, let alone any comforting words he might speak. He was a monk, and his very presence was menacing to one of ben Asser’s faith. Although Thomas meant no ill, he now saw that he had been wrong to come with Ralf for this questioning. His presence had been misinterpreted as a threat. In an attempt to convey a peaceful intent, the monk bowed his head.
Jacob studied at the monk, then nodded almost imperceptibly in response. Looking back at the crowner, he replied, “I obey, my lord.”
“You have much to answer for,” Ralf said.
Jacob spread his arms. “Ask what you must. I am ready.”
“Witnesses have claimed you threatened to kill Kenelm not long before he was found dead.”
Jacob’s lips twisted into a bitter smile. “He and I argued. Each of us exchanged hot words. Had my corpse been found, would these villagers be so eager to riot and announce that he had threatened me in like fashion? Whether my words made him angry enough to kill is something he can no longer answer. As for me, his words did not drive me to murder.”
“You exchanged blows.”
“We shoved each other. Nothing more.”
“What caused this quarrel?”
“He did mock my faith.” Jacob’s look betrayed resignation. “That, by itself, is little enough if the violence suffered is only with stinging words, my lord. We have learned to turn away when those, like Kenelm, ridicule what is holy to us.”
“But you did not retreat this time.”
Jacob gestured with a sigh toward the stables behind him. “As I said to you before, my wife is close to her term and suffers grievously. She needs rest to keep her strength for the coming ordeal. Kenelm, like that other youth whom you sent away, would not allow her to sleep. With courtesy, I asked him to lower his voice. He…” The man’s face turned red with controlled fury. “I need not repeat what he said, but he insulted my wife’s virtue and raised his voice so she could not help but hear his vile words.”
Ralf nodded, gesturing for the man to continue.
“It was then that I shoved him. Perhaps we did exchange some blows.” He raised his arms, then let them fall to his sides.
“You did not threaten to kill him?”
“I cannot swear to any verbal restraint in that moment. I might have said such a thing, as he might have responded in like fashion to me as well. But words are but sounds, often meaning nothing, as wise men have said. Yet he is dead, and I stand before you, still breathing. Some will surely say that proves my guilt. I can only deny it, and I give you my oath that it is true.”
“Have you any proof of innocence besides your oath?”
“Will you take a woman’s word?”
Ralf said nothing.
“I thought not, but my wife and her mother can confirm that I did not leave them that night.”
“No one else.”
“No Christian man, my lord.”
Thomas looked at Ralf and saw a glimpse of sympathy in his friend’s eyes.
“Yet no one can say that I left the hut, either. May two negatives prove the positive that is innocence?”
Had the matter been less grave, the crowner might have laughed at the man’s jest. Thomas allowed himself to smile.
“Jacob!”
The man spun around.
A white-haired woman emerged from the stable, gesturing with cruelly crippled hands. “Belia’s water has broken. She will soon give birth. We must have a doctor…”
“There is none!” Jacob finally lost control, and tears poured down his cheeks.
For just a moment, Ralf forgot that this man was a murder suspect and grabbed Jacob’s shoulder. “I shall send for Sister Anne from the priory hospital.”
“You must not!” Jacob’s voice was raw with pain. “Our child will be baptized and taken from us.” He fell to his knees and began to pray in a language Thomas recognized as Hebrew.
“You would let your wife and babe die…”
Suddenly Thomas put a restraining hand on the crowner’s shoulder. “Wait!” he said and drew closer to Jacob and the white-haired woman. “Did your family not come originally from Norwich?”
Belia’s mother nodded.
“Sister Anne’s father was a respected physician there. His name was Benedict.”