Read Online The Sempster's Tale by Margaret Frazer - Free Book Online
Authors: Margaret Frazer
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friars of the Inquisition have determined that Jews may after all be heretics despite never being Christian, and that therefore they can hunt us at their will.”
Anne rarely heard him bitter, but he had been bitter then, and close as they were lying together, their heads on one pillow, he had seen her worry, had lifted himself a little and smiled down at her and said, “But they don’t hunt us here in England, my love, because…” Had kissed her forehead. “… here in England…” Had kissed her nose. “… there are no Jews…” Had lightly kissed her lips. “… for them to hunt.” Had kissed her then in a way that made all other things cease to matter except that he kiss her more and go on to more than kissing.
Which he had. But afterward, when he was gone and she was left to her thoughts, her thoughts had gone where she did not want them to go. Yes, here in London Daved was safe because here no one looked to find out Jews; but mostly he was elsewhere, and for some of that time when he was not here he gave up his seeming to be Christian. Somewhere he had a Jewish home, a Jewish life. Somewhere between where he was known as a Christian merchant and where he was known as a Jew, he slipped from his Christian-seeming into his Jewish life and then he was open to all the perils that came with being a Jew. And even in the whiles that he seemed Christian, how safe was he, when there were men in other countries whose whole purpose was to find out secret Jews?
Those were thoughts from which she tried to keep; and tried the harder when Daved was away from her. Tried, too, not to think of where he might be, what he might be doing, what might be happening to him. And when he
was
here, she only wanted to think about their happiness and naught else. Most especially did not want to hear some preaching friar threaten damnation to heretics because—another thing she tried not to think on—it could be said
she,
by lying in lust with a Jew, was a heretic and as liable to the Church’s wrath as he was.
Brother Michael brought his arm down to sweep the pointing finger at the upturned faces below him. “Lollards could be among you even here! On consecrated ground. Feigning to be Christians even as corruption gnaws at their souls, devouring them to damnation!”
Anne wanted to hear no more. The friar’s words had nothing to do with her love, nothing to do with Daved, and while Brother Michael warned, “If you listen to these heretics, you risk your soul being damned to burning Hell along with theirs,” she backed from the crowd’s rear edge and walked away.
From here, she had choice of going by either Foster Lane or Gutheron’s to reach Kerie Lane. She meant to take Foster today, it being nearer, but as she went toward it along Cheapside the shift and flow of the ever-moving crowd was changing to clots of people standing in talk with voices rising. That had to mean some news of something was come, but she saw no one she knew to ask what was toward and then had no need, able to hear enough snatches of talk to understand the rebels out of Kent were come back to Black Heath. To hear more as she went, she passed Foster Lane, going on to Gutheron’s, and along with word of the rebels what she heard was open anger against King Henry. “Because if he’d done what he should at the start, we’d be done with them now!” was said one way and another by more than a few, while one man loud among others at the corner of Gutheron’s said outright, “It’s not with the rebels the fault lies! It’s with the king! He’s never done good, and by God’s teeth he’s not likely to start! If he’d kept the upper hand over that ape Suffolk and greedy-handed bastards like Lord Saye from the start there’d be none of this we’ve had this year!
On the whole, there was more anger than fear, because there was still the river and London bridge between them and the rebels; and then Anne, turning into
Anne rarely heard him bitter, but he had been bitter then, and close as they were lying together, their heads on one pillow, he had seen her worry, had lifted himself a little and smiled down at her and said, “But they don’t hunt us here in England, my love, because…” Had kissed her forehead. “… here in England…” Had kissed her nose. “… there are no Jews…” Had lightly kissed her lips. “… for them to hunt.” Had kissed her then in a way that made all other things cease to matter except that he kiss her more and go on to more than kissing.
Which he had. But afterward, when he was gone and she was left to her thoughts, her thoughts had gone where she did not want them to go. Yes, here in London Daved was safe because here no one looked to find out Jews; but mostly he was elsewhere, and for some of that time when he was not here he gave up his seeming to be Christian. Somewhere he had a Jewish home, a Jewish life. Somewhere between where he was known as a Christian merchant and where he was known as a Jew, he slipped from his Christian-seeming into his Jewish life and then he was open to all the perils that came with being a Jew. And even in the whiles that he seemed Christian, how safe was he, when there were men in other countries whose whole purpose was to find out secret Jews?
Those were thoughts from which she tried to keep; and tried the harder when Daved was away from her. Tried, too, not to think of where he might be, what he might be doing, what might be happening to him. And when he
was
here, she only wanted to think about their happiness and naught else. Most especially did not want to hear some preaching friar threaten damnation to heretics because—another thing she tried not to think on—it could be said
she,
by lying in lust with a Jew, was a heretic and as liable to the Church’s wrath as he was.
Brother Michael brought his arm down to sweep the pointing finger at the upturned faces below him. “Lollards could be among you even here! On consecrated ground. Feigning to be Christians even as corruption gnaws at their souls, devouring them to damnation!”
Anne wanted to hear no more. The friar’s words had nothing to do with her love, nothing to do with Daved, and while Brother Michael warned, “If you listen to these heretics, you risk your soul being damned to burning Hell along with theirs,” she backed from the crowd’s rear edge and walked away.
From here, she had choice of going by either Foster Lane or Gutheron’s to reach Kerie Lane. She meant to take Foster today, it being nearer, but as she went toward it along Cheapside the shift and flow of the ever-moving crowd was changing to clots of people standing in talk with voices rising. That had to mean some news of something was come, but she saw no one she knew to ask what was toward and then had no need, able to hear enough snatches of talk to understand the rebels out of Kent were come back to Black Heath. To hear more as she went, she passed Foster Lane, going on to Gutheron’s, and along with word of the rebels what she heard was open anger against King Henry. “Because if he’d done what he should at the start, we’d be done with them now!” was said one way and another by more than a few, while one man loud among others at the corner of Gutheron’s said outright, “It’s not with the rebels the fault lies! It’s with the king! He’s never done good, and by God’s teeth he’s not likely to start! If he’d kept the upper hand over that ape Suffolk and greedy-handed bastards like Lord Saye from the start there’d be none of this we’ve had this year!
On the whole, there was more anger than fear, because there was still the river and London bridge between them and the rebels; and then Anne, turning into
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