“No! I do not know what you are talking about.”
“Still lying. It will avail you nothing. The sheriff does not abide liars any more than I do.”
The young man looked down and bit his lip, leaving it red. “But you are lying to make me seem guilty. Why? Because you dislike Jews? You took my father’s hard-earned silver! He trusted you. He was only worried about your countrymen; men who would just as soon spit on him than help him.”
“Is that why you killed those boys? Because you hate Christians so? Or was it to experiment on them in your vile ways? Oh, I know about you Jews and your Passover sacrifices. The lots that are drawn to determine which town will do the slaughter. The drinking of blood. The eating of human flesh.”
“Seigneur Saint! I would never-!” His eyes flew open and his mouth slackened. For a moment, Crispin thought he might finally see a flicker of honesty on the man’s face. But the door closed quickly and Julian raised that pointed chin of his and pressed his trembling lips together. “Who has told you these lies?”
“They are not lies. This is evidence written down from reliable sources.”
“Reliable sources. And what are these ‘reliable sources’? Christians?”
“Of course! Who else would they be?”
Julian measured Crispin steadily, his eyes narrowing to slits. His nostrils flared and his chest rose and fell in quick succession. “What an absurdity! I do not know from what source you say you read such nonsense, but it certainly is not the Scriptures. Do you even know the word of the Lord?” He waved his hand impatiently. “Never mind. I know that you must. A man who troubles himself to quote Aristotle would take the time to know Scripture. If you want evidence to the contrary, then you had best go there.”
“You waste my time.” He made a move toward the young man, amazed at the coolness of the boy’s demeanor, even as he seemed on the verge of bolting. Julian raised a steady hand and for some reason unknown to Crispin, the gesture made him pause.
“Scripture,” said the boy, voice trembling. “Let us take Leviticus. The Law. It is in Leviticus that the Lord says to Moses, ‘It shall be a perpetual statute throughout your generations in all your dwellings, that ye shall not eat neither fat nor blood.’ And so, consuming blood, any blood, is one of the greatest prohibitions. ‘Whosoever it be that eateth any blood, that soul shall be cut off from his people.’ ”
Crispin listened in spite of himself. He dearly wanted to grab the boy by the neck, but he hesitated. And he listened.
“Do you need more?” said Julian, inching closer. “Hosea. ‘They that sacrifice men kiss calves.’ But we cannot forget the last instance that a Jew even tried to sacrifice another living man. That was in Genesis and it was Father Abraham laying a blade to his son Isaac’s throat. ‘And the angel of the Lord called unto him out of heaven, and said: “Abraham, Abraham, Lay not thy hand upon the lad, neither do thou any thing unto him; for now I know that thou art a God-fearing man, seeing thou hast not withheld thy son, thine only son, from Me.” ’ ”
Julian shook his head, tearing his eyes away from Crispin who stood dumbly before him. “We draw lots, do we? Such fascinating organization. Across seas? Across borders? How do we accomplish this feat, we who are watched wherever we go? It is decided that this year a boy in. . in London, is it?. . is to be sacrificed, no? For the Passover? Is your Michaelmas near Passover, our feast held in the spring?”
“That is all very well,” said Crispin. “But an angry youth will kill in the foulest of ways for his own vengeance. Murder is against God’s law as much as this blood prohibition you so passionately plead.”
Julian returned a scathing glare. “You’re not even listening. You, a man of facts. A man of logic. Is it logical to kill four boys, to sacrifice them far from the paschal season, if sacrifice it was? They were crucified, I suppose, as your libels say? You did not mention that. For I have heard of these foul lies before.” He threw up his hands and stalked to the fire. “I weary so of Gentile lies. You claim to be holy and then unjustly slaughter my people to satisfy your own superstitions. Because you do not have understanding. These facts are in the Hebrew Scriptures that even your people consider holy. And yet you do not understand them.”
Julian stared into the flames. The fire played over his cheek. A flicker. A shadow. His skin seemed to glow warm with the fire. Crispin watched and felt a strange clenching in his gut. He did not like these tangled emotions that Julian seemed adept at wrenching from him.
Julian turned to Crispin suddenly, realization awakening in his eyes. “You do this to hurt my father. You steal his money and then extort him for more. This is your plan. I knew it was foolish to hire some outlaw!”
Crispin bristled. “Do not accuse me, whelp. You do not know me. I am not an extortionist.”
“And I am not a murderer!”
“I am done arguing with you. I have witnesses who took your money for their clay. Golem or no-and I still do not believe in your Jewish magic-you were intent on foul deeds. Was your false Golem designed to lure these boys? To ensnare them? You tricked them with your ghastly tales and they were enticed to see this monster that you made, is that it? And after you had entrapped these boys, how did you murder them without your father knowing?”
But Julian’s features suddenly became surprised again. He even took a step forward, putting himself within Crispin’s reach. “You. . you are serious? I thought my father was exaggerating the case, worrying over some foolish parchment. But. . This is horrible.” He grabbed Crispin’s tabard, shaking him. “You must stop these killings! I swear I will help you prove it has nothing to do with Jews.”
He grabbed both the boy’s wrists in one hand. “You do not play the fool well,” he snarled.
“I play at nothing,” he beseeched in a startlingly sincere fashion. His eyes were strangely luminous and very green. But then his earnest expression slowly changed to one of resignation. He sighed deeply. “Your heart is like a lion, to be sure, to protect those weaker than you. Even these slain boys. I. . I suppose, after all is said and done, my father was wise to trust you.”
Crispin’s grip loosened. “What?”
“You tear at the truth like a dog on a bone. There are few men as tenacious or as clever as you. You must be very clever, indeed, to have discovered all this for yourself.”
He shook out the confusion in his head. “Yes. I discovered you.”
“No. These things. These secret things. You discovered them. This is the sort of thing you do to earn your coin? It is very unusual. Surely you see that. You would seem to be a very intelligent man. For a Gentile.”
“Hmph! Useless flattery. And now you will come with me.”
Julian did not resist but Crispin was not moving. His fist was still wrapped tight around both the boy’s thin wrists. But Julian’s expression no longer held fear or anger. Instead, it was suffused with awe. His manner had transformed to one of curiosity and composure. He studied Crispin with disquieting steadiness.
“I’ve never met anyone like you.”
“Ha! You mean someone who would arrest you?”
“No, imbécile. Someone who uses their mind as their sole vocation.” Julian stepped closer even with Crispin still griping his wrists. “You must know that I am not guilty,” he said softly. “Your logic tells you.”
“The witnesses-” said Crispin halfheartedly, compelled by that gaze.
“The witnesses are wrong.” He looked down at his sash, the red cloth wound about his waist. “You thought I had used my sash for some vile purpose. But when you looked at it I could tell you knew it was a lie. Why do you believe that lie now?”
“Because of the witnesses. The. . the witnesses who described someone like you.”