The man’s face darkened. “Yes. They would certainly be mine to confiscate. The parchments you speak of are illicit, smuggled into England for the purpose of its secret Jews to continue their unholy worship from their Scriptures.”
Crispin felt the tiniest of twinges in his gut. Somehow there were too many parchments afoot. And he was beginning to feel as if he had been duped.
“What the devil are you two talking about?” bellowed Lancaster.
“Master Guest knows.” The bishop stepped closer and looked Crispin in the eye, holding his gaze captive. “Give them to me.” He held out his open palm.
“That was what this was all about? The Jews’ wish to worship?”
“These Jews do not belong on English soil. Give them to me!”
“Give them to him, Crispin.”
Crispin gave an angry grin. “They burned. All of them.”
Bishop Edmund looked aghast before his expression changed. He chuckled. “That shall save me the trouble of burning them myself, at least. We shall soon purge these Jewish creatures from the land as easily as burned parchment.”
Creatures. Crispin could not help but picture that boy, John, in his mind, innocently thinking that Crispin could protect their secret. Well, he had, for what it was worth. Not that it would do them any good in the long run.
“May I go?” he spat. He refused to meet Lancaster’s gaze.
Becke waved his hand. “I am through with him. For the moment. But I suspect Master Guest and I shall meet again.” He offered Crispin a last smile. “I am supposing you wish you had taken my gold now, eh?”
“You would suppose wrong.” He looked to Lancaster once more. “May I go, your grace?”
Lancaster swept the two of them with his glance. “Yes, Crispin. It appears you are done here. But when you are through with your other business, you and your servant may find rest in yon alcove. Let it not be said that I was uncharitable this Advent season.”
“Let it not be said,” he grumbled. He instructed Jack to stay, even though there was a pleading look in his eye. It wouldn’t do for Lancaster to see how indulgent he was with his own servant. He decided he would be safe enough in Lancaster’s care.
Once in the corridor he asked a sleepy servant where he could find the Jewish physician and was directed to a door at a far end, away from the other chambers.
When Crispin knocked, it was some moments before Jacob opened the door. “Surprised?” The man’s shocked face did not stop Crispin from shoving his way in.
He gave the room a glance before turning on the physician. “I found your parchments.”
Julianne was pulling on her dressing gown as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes with one hand and carried a candle with the other. She smiled upon first seeing Crispin, but her face took on a look of shock. Bruised, with clothes singed by fire and covered in another man’s blood, he must look less and less like a proper suitor, even a Gentile one. As much as he wanted to fall relieved into her arms, now was not yet the time to rest.
But Jacob, too pleased with the tidings, surged forward. “Where are they?” His eager hands opened, waiting to receive them.
“They were destroyed,” he said with a certain amount of satisfaction. “But even had I recovered them, I would have been forced to hand them over to a Yorkshire bishop. He seems to think they are smuggled Scriptures to be given to the secret Jews of London.”
The color drained from Jacob’s face and he slowly sank into a chair. “Oh.”
“Father, what is he talking about?”
A shaky hand reached up and touched her arm. “My dear child. Forgive an old man for his folly. For the pages of Creation were indeed stolen. But I used that as a ruse to hire this gentleman. I knew of his education and sought to arouse his curiosity by citing their strange provenance. For along with them were the parchments I was truly most concerned about. These were a portion of the Torah. A Torah I brought from France to give to a small band of Jews hiding in London.”
“Mon père! Why? Why risk such a dangerous move?”
“You are not blind, my child.” His body spoke of a deep weariness, but his voice took on a harder edge. “You have seen the persecutions. Our life in Provençal has been good, but it hangs by a thread. The whim of a monarch can send us into certain poverty and sorrow. When I knew I was coming to England, I made preparations.” His eyes blinked once at his disguised daughter before he turned them to Crispin. “My apologies for deceiving you, Maître. I could not very well tell you my mission here without putting lives at risk. As a physician, it is my task to heal. And if that healing is merely spiritual, well. Then that is also my task. And a blessing.”
“You placed me in unnecessary danger without full disclosure. That is unacceptable.”
“Yes. Yes, for that, too, do I apologize. But I am only guilty of the sin of omission. The parchment to create a Golem was missing, but I did not worry over its loss as much as I let on.”
“You waited two months to hire me.”
“It took two months before I first heard of you.”
“There seems a great deal of deception about you, Master Jacob.” And he looked pointedly at Julianne. She pulled her gown tight about her and raised her chin insolently. “Do not fret over the loss. I do not think they will fall to the wrong hands in this instance. I rather think they were also destroyed.”
Jacob nodded. “Perhaps a better end to them. The loss of the Scripture, however, is of great sorrow. It is only that my people wished to worship in the tongue of their forefathers. Why is this so wrong?” He shrugged and stared at the shaky candle flame in Julianne’s grasp. “I will still pay you for your efforts, of course.” He pushed himself up from his chair and ambled slowly toward an iron chest. Withdrawing a key from a ring on his belt, he unlocked it and pulled out a small pouch. “I think this silver will cover your fee.”
Crispin did not allow pride to get in the way of his taking this money. It was certainly well earned. He stiffly bowed his thanks and then turned to Julianne. “I would speak with your daughter, sir. Alone.”
“No.”
“Father, please.”
Jacob did not look as if he would relent, but after a moment of reflection he shuffled toward the inner chamber, pulling the door after him but leaving it ajar.
He gazed at her, small and solemn in the light of the one candle. “I had to see you. I. . wish to continue to do so.”
She took a step closer. “That is madness.”
He pushed a hand through his crusty hair, thinking of the last few hours. “I am mad.”
When she set the candle down she touched the blood on his clothes and face. “Crispin. What happened to you this night?”
“Much. Jesu, but I am weary.”
“But. . you are unhurt?”
He nodded. A hand lifted and touched a lock of her hair. “I have been thinking about you a great deal.”
She shook her head, but gently so as not to dislodge his caressing hand. “We can do nothing, you and I. The best thing we can do is forget each other.”
He stepped forward and engulfed her in his arms. The candle flickered in those glistening eyes. “I am afraid I cannot do that.” He bent his head and took her lips. Even as she tried to shake her head, her mouth responded, opening. The kiss lasted until he needed to take a breath. “Julianne,” he whispered to her forehead, kissing the warm flesh. Maybe something good could come of this horror. Maybe. .
“But Crispin.” She pushed him back. Worry lines replaced the kiss he had bestowed there. “What of the Golem? You must first see to that.”
“That was no Golem,” he said, pulling her back against his chest. How he liked the feel of her there. He wondered what her hair would look like grown out and down to her hips. “It was a man. A potter. A strange man, true, but-”
“No! There is a Golem!”