Again I heard those noises in the night. Soft shapeless sounds, and others more piercing. But the falling snow seemed to muffle all. "Br. Toby," she said, "go to Paris and put the entire case before Godwin. To him you may tell everything, and let Godwin decide."
"Yes, I will do this, Fluria," I said, but again I heard those noises and what sounded like the distant clanging of a bell.
I gestured for her to let me approach the window. She stepped aside.
"That's the alarm," she said in terror.
"Perhaps not," I said. Suddenly another bell began to ring.
"Are they burning the Jewry?" she said, her voice dying in her throat.
Before I could answer her, the wooden door to the chamber opened and the Sherriff appeared, fully armed, his hair wet with snow. He stepped aside as two serving boys dragged several trunks into the room, and then in came Meir.
His eyes fixed on Fluria, and he threw back his snow-covered hood.
Fluria fell into his open arms.
The Sherriff was in dreadful humor, which was to be expected.
"Br. Toby," he said, "your advice to the faithful to pray to Little St. William produced a stunning result. The crowd stormed the house of Meir and Fluria for relics of Lea and have made off with all her clothes. Fluria, my dearest, it might have been wise of you to pack up all those dresses and bring them up here when you came." He sighed again and looked around as if he wanted something on which he might bang his fist. "Miracles are being claimed already in the name of your daughter. Lady Margaret's guilt has driven her on a little crusade."
"Why didn't I foresee this!" I said miserably. "I only thought to direct them away."
Meir wrapped his arms all the more tightly around Fluria as if he could shield her from all these words. The man's face was a marvel of resignation.
The Sherriff waited until the serving boys were gone, and the door was closed, and then he addressed the couple directly.
"The Jewry is under heavy guard and the small fires started have been put out," he said. "Thank Heaven for your stone houses. And thank Heaven that Meir's letters requesting donations have already been sent. And thank Heaven that the elders have given large gifts of gold marks to the friars and to the priory."
He stopped and sighed. He glanced at me helplessly for an instant, then returned his attention to them. "But I will tell you right now," he said, "that nothing is going to stave off a massacre here except that your daughter, herself, should return and put an end to this mad rush to make her a saint."
"Well, that is what will be done," I said before either of them could speak up. "I'm on my way to Paris now. I assume I will find Br. Godwin your advocate in the Dominican Chapter House near the University? I'll begin my journey tonight."
The Sherriff was unsure. He looked at Fluria.
"Your daughter can return here?"
"Yes," I answered. "And surely Br. Godwin, a worthy advocate, will come with her. You have to hold on until then."
Meir and Fluria were speechless. They looked at me as if they were entirely dependent upon me.
"And until then," I said, "will you let the elders come here to the castle to consult with Meir and Fluria?"
"Isaac, son of Solomon, the physician, is already here for safekeeping," said the Sherriff. "And more will be brought here if need be." He ran a gloved hand back through his wet white hair. "Fluria and Meir, if your daughter cannot be brought back, I ask that you tell me now."
"She'll come," I said. "You have my word on it. And both of you, pray for my safe journey. I'll travel as fast as I'm able."
I went to the couple and I placed my hands on their shoulders.
"Trust in Heaven, and trust in Godwin. I'll be with him as soon as I can."
Chapter Thirteen - Paris
BY THE TIME WE REACHEDPARIS, IHAD HAD ENOUGH of thirteenth-century travel to last me easily the rest of four lifetimes, and though I'd been dazzled repeatedly by a thousand unusual sights, from the dizzying, tightly packed half-timbered houses of London, to the spectacle of Norman castles on varying hilltops, and the never-ending snow falling upon village and town through which I passed, we were intent only on reaching Godwin and laying the case before him.
I say "we" because Malchiah was visible to me off and on through the journey and even went part of the way by wagon with me to the capital, but he would give me no advice except to remind me that Fluria's and Meir's lives depended on what I might do.
When he appeared, it was in the garb of a fellow Dominican, and whenever it seemed that my transportation had fatally broken down, he would manifest himself to remind me I had gold in my pockets, that I was strong and capable of doing what was required of me, and then a cart would appear, or a wagon, with a gentle driver willing to let us ride with the bundles, or the firewood, or whatever was being transported, and in many different vehicles I slept.
If there was any one part that was an agony, it was crossing the Channel in weather that kept me perpetually sick on board the small ship. There were times when I thought we would all be drowned, so stormy was the winter ocean, and I asked Malchiah more than once, and in vain, if in the midst of this assignment it was possible for me to die.
I wanted to talk with him about all that was happening, but that he wouldn't allow, reminding me that he wasn't visible to other people and I would look like a madman talking out loud to everyone. As for my talking to him only in my mind, he insisted this was too imprecise.
I took this to be an evasion. I knew he wanted me to complete this mission on my own.
At last we passed through the gates of Paris, without mishap, and reminding me that I would find Godwin in the University quarter, Malchiah left me with the stern reminder that I had not come here to gaze idly at the great Cathedral of Notre Dame or to wander the precincts of the Palace of the Louvre but to find Godwin without delay.
It was as fiercely cold in Paris as it had been in England, but the sheer press of human beings who swarmed the capital provided some meager warmth. Also there were little fires burning everywhere round which people warmed themselves and many spoke of the dreadful weather and how unusual it was.
I knew from my earlier reading that Europe at this time had been entering into a period of spectacularly cold weather that would last for centuries, and once again I was grateful that Dominicans were allowed to wear wool stockings and leather shoes.
No matter what Malchiah had told me, I went immediately to the Place de Grve and stood for a long moment before the recently complete facade of Notre Dame. I was stunned, as I always had been in my own time, by the sheer magnitude and magnificence of it, and could not get over the fact that it was, here before me, just beginning its adventure in time as one of the greatest cathedrals anyone could ever behold.