"Report speaks him brave and valiant," Conrad said.
"And truly he is so spoken of," said the Grand Master. "But brother Brian came into our Order a moody and a disappointed man, stirred, perhaps, to take our vows and to renounce the world not in the sincerity of the soul, but as one whom some light touch of discontent has driven into penitence. Since then, he has become an earnest agitator, a leader among those who impugn our authority. I am curious to know what this Jew would want with him. Bring him into our presence, Damian."
The terrified Isaac of York was brought into the hall to meet with the Grand Master. He approached, but when he was three paces distant, Beaumanoir motioned him to halt and Isaac dropped to his knees in supplication.
"Speak, Jew, and be brief," said the Grand Master. "What is the purpose of your dealings with Bois-Guilbert? And beware, Jew, should you speak falsely. If your tongue deceives me, I'll see that it's torn out."
"I am the bearer of a letter," Isaac stammered. "A letter to Sir Brian de Bois-Guilbert, from Prior Aymer of the Abbey of Jorvaulx."
"Did I not say that these were evil times, Conrad?" said Beaumanoir. "A Cistercian prior sends a letter to a soldier of the Temple and can find no more fitting messenger than an unbelieving Jew. Give me the letter."
Isaac stretched forth the letter, but Beaumanoir recoiled from him, waiting until Conrad took it and broke the seal.
"Read it," said Beaumanoir. Conrad read the letter.
Aymer, by divine grace, Prior of the Cistercian house of Saint Mary's of Jorvaulx, to Sir Brian de Bois-Guilbert, a knight of the Holy Order of the Temple, wishing health, with the bounties of King Bacchus and my Lady Venus. Touching our present condition, dear Brother, we are a captive in the hands of certain lawless and godless men, who have not feared to detain our person and put it to ransom; whereby we have also learned of De Bracy's misfortune and of your escape with that fair Jewish sorceress whose black eyes have bewitched you. We rejoice in your safety. Nevertheless, we pray you to be on your guard against this second Witch of Endor. Your Grand Master, who cares not a bean for black eyes and cherry cheeks, is said to be en route from Normandy to diminish your mirth and amend your misdoings. Wherefore we pray you heartily to beware, and to be found watching. The wealthy Jew, Isaac of York, has pleaded with me to give him letters in his behalf. The woman is his daughter. I entreat you to hold the damsel to ransom. He will pay you as much as may find fifty damsels upon safer terms, whereof I trust to have my part when we make merry together, as true brothers. Until that merry meeting, we wish you farewell. Given from this den of thieves, about the hour of matins,
Aymer, Pr. S.M. Jorvolciensis
"What say you to this, Conrad?" said Beaumanoir. "Small wonder the hand of God is upon us, when we have such churchmen as this Aymer. A den of thieves is a fit residence for the likes of him! Yet, what does he mean by this second Witch of Endor?"
"I think I know, but I will endeavor to find out for certain," Conrad said. "Jew, is your daughter a prisoner of Bois-Guilbert?"
"Rebecca was taken from me, reverend sir, by that same knight," said Isaac, taking great pains to maintain a subservient tone. "Whatsoever ransom a poor man may pay for her deliverance—"
"Your daughter, Rebecca, practiced the art of healing, did she not?" said Conrad.
"Indeed, gracious sir, my daughter is the very soul of goodness. Many a knight and yeoman, squire and vassal, may bless the gift which Heaven has assigned to her. She has helped many when every other human aid had failed. The blessing of the God of Jacob is upon her."
"Behold the deceptions of the devouring Enemy," said Conrad Mont-Fitchet. "I doubt not your words, Jew. Your daughter cures by words and sigils and other cabalistical mysteries not known to good Christian souls."
"No, no, reverend knight," said Isaac. "She cures in chief measure by balsams of marvelous virtue, not by any mystical art!"
"Where had she that secret?" said the Grand Master.
"It was delivered to her by Miriam, a sage matron of our tribe," said Isaac, reluctantl
y.
"And was this not the same witch, Miriam of Endor, the abomination of whose enchantments caused her to be burnt at the stake, her ashes scattered to the four winds?" said Mont-Fitchet. Turning to Beaumanoir, he said, "The matter seems quite clear now, reverend father. This Rebecca of York was a pupil of this Witch of Endor and she has enchanted Bois-Guilbert so that he has forsaken his sacred vows."
"No! My daughter is no witch, I swear by—"
"False Jew!" said Beaumanoir. "I will teach this witch daughter of yours to throw spells and incantations over the soldiers of the blessed Temple! Damian, spurn this Jew from the gate and shoot him dead if he oppose or turn again! We will deal with his daughter as the Christian law and our own high office warrant!"
* * * *
Bois-Guilbert stood before Rebecca. She sat silently by a small window, looking out across the surrounding countryside. She did not turn when he entered.
"Rebecca," he said. "Rebecca, please look at me."
She turned an empty gaze upon him.
"Rebecca, I have brought you more grief than I had intended. I would it had been otherwise."
"You should have thought of that before you took me against my will," she said softly.
"A passionate man takes what he wants," Sir Brian said, "and I wanted you from the first day I set eyes on you at Ashby. Had we more time, you would have grown to love me, Rebecca."