Angel Time (The Songs of the Seraphim 1)

"And then," said the old Jewish doctor, "if you take Meir and Fluria and all of us to the tower, these people will loot our houses and burn our sacred books. Please, I beg you, take Fluria, the mother of this unfortunate, but let me talk with Meir, that perhaps some donation can be made, Fr. Antoine, to your new priory. The Jews have ever been generous in these matters."

In other words, a bribe. But the suggestion of it worked like a miracle on all who heard it.

"Yes, they should pay," someone murmured, and another, "Why not?" And the news seemed to be traveling to all those assembled.

Fr. Jerome cried out that he would now lead a procession to the cathedral, and anyone who feared for the fate of his or her immortal soul should come with him. "All you that have torches and candles, walk ahead to light the way."

As the horsemen were now putting many people in danger of being trampled, and Fr. Jerome strode off to lead the procession, many followed him, and others grumbled and began to slip away.

Lady Margaret hadn't moved, and now she approached the old doctor:

"And did he not help them?" demanded Lady Margaret, peering right into his eyes. She turned to the Sherriff with an intimate look. "Was he not, by his own words, part and party to it? Do you think Meir and Fluria are so clever as to produce a poison without his help?" She turned on the old man. "And will you remit my debts to buy me off so easily?"

"If that would calm your heart and make you amenable to the truth," said the old man. "Yes, I will remit your debts for all the worry and trouble you've suffered over this."

This silenced Lady Margaret but only tentatively. She cared very much that she not yield on this account.

The crowd was now thin, with more and more joining the procession.

At once the Sherriff motioned for two of his mounted men. "Take Isaac son of Solomon safely home," he said. "And you, all the rest of you, go with the priests to the cathedral and pray."

"None of them is to be pitied," insisted Lady Margaret, though she didn't raise her voice to address the stragglers. "They are guilty of a multitude of sins, and they read black magic in their books which they hold to be higher than the Holy Bible. Oh, this is all my doing that I had mercy on this one child. And such grief that I am in debt to the very people who murdered her."

The soldiers escorted the old man away, their horses making the last few onlookers scurry off, and I could see more clearly that many had gone on following the lanterns of the procession. I put my hand out to Lady Margaret.

"Madam," I said. "Let me go in and talk to them. I'm not from this place. I don't belong to either side in this quarrel. Let me see if I can tell the truth of the matter. And be assured, this matter can be settled in the light of day."

She looked at me almost softly, and then wearily she nodded. She turned and with her daughter joined the end of the procession headed for the Shrine of Little St. William. Someone handed her a lighted taper as she glanced back, and gratefully she took this and went on.

The mounted soldiers drove off all the others. Only the Dominicans remained, eyeing me as if I were a traitor. Or worse, an impostor.

"Forgive me, Fr. Antoine," I said. "If I find proof that these people are guilty, I'll come to you myself."

The man did not know what to make of it.

"You school men, you think you know everything," said Fr. Antoine. "I too have studied though not at Bologna or Paris as you must have. I know sin when I see sin."

"Yes, and I promise you my full report," I responded.

At last he and the other Dominicans turned and went away. The darkness swallowed them.

The Sherriff and I remained at the door of the stone house, with what now seemed a glut of mounted men nearby.

The snow was still falling very softly, and had been all during the melee. I saw it clean and white suddenly in spite of the crowd that had just been here, and I also realized I was freezing.

The soldiers' horses were anxious in this narrow place. But more mounted men were coming, some with lanterns, and I could hear the echo of their hooves in the nearby streets. I didn't know how big the neighborhood of the Jews was, but I was certain they did. Only now did I notice that all the windows were dark in this part of the town, except for the high windows of Meir and Fluria.

The Sherriff pounded on the door.

"Meir and Fluria, come out," he demanded. "For your own safety, you're to go with me now." He turned to me and spoke under his breath. "If it has to be so, I will take them all and keep them until this madness has stopped, or they'll burn down Norwich just to burn the Jewry."

I leaned against the heavy wooden door, and said in a voice that was soft yet loud, "Meir and Fluria, there is help for you here. I'm a brother who believes in your innocence. Please allow us to come in."

The Sherriff merely stared at me. But at once we heard the bar being lifted, and the door opened.

Chapter Seven - Meir and Fluria

ABRIGHT MARGIN OF LIGHT REVEALED A TALL, dark-haired man, with deep-set eyes peering out at us from a very white face. He wore a robe of brown patterned silk, with the customary yellow badge on it. His high cheekbones appeared to be polished, so tight was his skin.

"They're gone for the moment," said the Sherriff intimately. "Let us in. And get your wife and yourself ready to go with me."

The man disappeared, and the Sherriff and I slipped into the house easily.

I followed the Sherriff up a narrow brightly lighted and carpeted stairway, and into a beautiful room, where a graceful and elegant woman sat beside a large fireplace.

Two serving women hovered in the shadows.

There were rich Turkey carpets covering the floors, and tapestries on all the walls, though the tapestries had only geometric patterns. But the ornament of the room was the woman.

She was younger than Lady Margaret. Her white wimple and headdress covered her hair entirely, and they set off her olive skin and her deep brown eyes beautifully. Her robes were a deep rose color, with rich sleeves buttoned over an undertunic of what appeared to be gold thread. She wore heavy shoes, and I saw her mantle over the back of the chair. She was dressed and ready to be taken from here.

There was a huge bookcase against one far wall, crammed with leather-bound volumes, and a large plain wooden desk heaped with what looked like ledgers and pages of parchment covered in writing. A few darkly bound volumes lay to one side. And I saw what might have been a map on another wall, but it was too far from the light of the fire for me to be certain.