it. Tentatively, he touched his finger to his tongue.
Saphira was sure she had seen the weirdly dressed talisman seller before. But the large conical hat hid his features well. She had been crossing Fish Street on her way to Jewry Lane and Aristotle’s Hall, when the apparition that had so startled Peter Pady the previous night appeared at the top of the street. The seller had obviously attracted a lot of attention in Carfax because a small crowd of people were following in his wake. Despite the insistent clamour of the church bells calling them, Christians as much as Jews were attracted by magical gewgaws. Everyone believed strongly in the curative powers of talismans and amulets. There were many suffering from all sorts of ailments who would buy from this man. Personally, Saphira would rather depend on the powers of the plants and herbs that Samson was revealing to her. Though, even those held some mystery for her. After all, why should lungwort, whose leaves were supposed to resemble a human lung, ease congested lungs? But it did. Perhaps buying a talisman – a stone or similar with some marks on it – was no less efficacious in the end. Who was to say otherwise? The strangely dressed vendor stopped in the middle of Fish Street and opened the large satchel that hung around his shoulders. From it he pulled out a handful of items dangling on chains and leather strips. Polished stones and silvery boxes glittered in the light. He held the trinkets high in the air and called out.
‘Amulets and talismans to ward off all ills.’
The people that had been following him soon gathered around and began examining his wares. Curious, Saphira delayed her visit to Falconer and walked over to the edge of the crowd. At the front of the assembled throng, a boy with sightless eyes was being pushed forward. He held a silver coin in his trembling hand, uncertain where to proffer it. The talisman seller expressed a reluctance to take his money, but then a sceptic in the crowd snorted his derision.
‘I might have known. Just another Jew trick.’
Saphira looked closer at the seller. It was true that though his eyes were obscured by the hat, and he had his back to her, his long dark beard and hair locks suggested he was a fellow religionist. He stiffened at the jibe, and held out a bright stone with a peculiar mark across its surface that swung on the end of a cord. He dropped it in the boy’s open fist, refusing to accept the coin in his other hand. The boy held the stone to his forehead and slowly his eyeballs, that had been white as an egg’s albumen, rotated. He closed his eyelids, and when he opened them, a pair of dark-brown eyes stared out incredulously. The crowd gasped as one, and the boy darted away, crying out he was cured. Suddenly, hands reached out to touch the Jew’s wares. A young woman with an ugly boil on her neck fingered one of the small silver boxes nervously. She engaged in earnest conversation with the stranger, who clearly reassured her that the amulet could rid her of her existing affliction, as well as it could ward off future ills and ailments. The woman turned to her companion, who groaned and put his hand into the purse at his waist. Another coin was exchanged and the box was hung by its leather strap around the woman’s neck.
As the trader sold more wares, he turned towards Saphira’s part of the crowd. When his conical hat tilted back, she recognized him immediately. It was a man called Covele. Several months ago, he had crossed her path when he had come to Oxford offering to carry out rituals that the majority of Jews deemed forbidden. Rituals that could only be carried out in the Temple of Solomon, which had long ago been destroyed. He had scuttled out of town when his actions had seemed to be mixed up with the death of a child. His deeds had caused untold problems for the Jews who tried to live their life alongside the Christians of England. Saphira recalled he had then had his son with
Saphira was sure she had seen the weirdly dressed talisman seller before. But the large conical hat hid his features well. She had been crossing Fish Street on her way to Jewry Lane and Aristotle’s Hall, when the apparition that had so startled Peter Pady the previous night appeared at the top of the street. The seller had obviously attracted a lot of attention in Carfax because a small crowd of people were following in his wake. Despite the insistent clamour of the church bells calling them, Christians as much as Jews were attracted by magical gewgaws. Everyone believed strongly in the curative powers of talismans and amulets. There were many suffering from all sorts of ailments who would buy from this man. Personally, Saphira would rather depend on the powers of the plants and herbs that Samson was revealing to her. Though, even those held some mystery for her. After all, why should lungwort, whose leaves were supposed to resemble a human lung, ease congested lungs? But it did. Perhaps buying a talisman – a stone or similar with some marks on it – was no less efficacious in the end. Who was to say otherwise? The strangely dressed vendor stopped in the middle of Fish Street and opened the large satchel that hung around his shoulders. From it he pulled out a handful of items dangling on chains and leather strips. Polished stones and silvery boxes glittered in the light. He held the trinkets high in the air and called out.
‘Amulets and talismans to ward off all ills.’
The people that had been following him soon gathered around and began examining his wares. Curious, Saphira delayed her visit to Falconer and walked over to the edge of the crowd. At the front of the assembled throng, a boy with sightless eyes was being pushed forward. He held a silver coin in his trembling hand, uncertain where to proffer it. The talisman seller expressed a reluctance to take his money, but then a sceptic in the crowd snorted his derision.
‘I might have known. Just another Jew trick.’
Saphira looked closer at the seller. It was true that though his eyes were obscured by the hat, and he had his back to her, his long dark beard and hair locks suggested he was a fellow religionist. He stiffened at the jibe, and held out a bright stone with a peculiar mark across its surface that swung on the end of a cord. He dropped it in the boy’s open fist, refusing to accept the coin in his other hand. The boy held the stone to his forehead and slowly his eyeballs, that had been white as an egg’s albumen, rotated. He closed his eyelids, and when he opened them, a pair of dark-brown eyes stared out incredulously. The crowd gasped as one, and the boy darted away, crying out he was cured. Suddenly, hands reached out to touch the Jew’s wares. A young woman with an ugly boil on her neck fingered one of the small silver boxes nervously. She engaged in earnest conversation with the stranger, who clearly reassured her that the amulet could rid her of her existing affliction, as well as it could ward off future ills and ailments. The woman turned to her companion, who groaned and put his hand into the purse at his waist. Another coin was exchanged and the box was hung by its leather strap around the woman’s neck.
As the trader sold more wares, he turned towards Saphira’s part of the crowd. When his conical hat tilted back, she recognized him immediately. It was a man called Covele. Several months ago, he had crossed her path when he had come to Oxford offering to carry out rituals that the majority of Jews deemed forbidden. Rituals that could only be carried out in the Temple of Solomon, which had long ago been destroyed. He had scuttled out of town when his actions had seemed to be mixed up with the death of a child. His deeds had caused untold problems for the Jews who tried to live their life alongside the Christians of England. Saphira recalled he had then had his son with
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