To Wear The White Cloak: A Catherine LeVendeur Mystery by Sharan Newman
Authors: Sharan Newman
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anyone’s,” Catherine assured her. “I don’t even have that much.”
Below they heard the gate opening. Margaret looked up in anticipation.
“It’s just Edgar coming home,” Catherine said. “I wonder how his talk with the wine sellers went?”
Then they heard voices. Catherine couldn’t make them out, but Margaret did. She was out the door and flying down the stairs so quickly that she missed the last three steps, throwing herself in a leap upon Solomon.
“Sweeting! You nearly knocked me down.” Solomon caught and held her. “Is that any way to …”
He realized that Margaret was sobbing hysterically.
“Margaret, what’s wrong? What’s happened?” he tried to pull the damp hair from her face.
“I thought they’d killed you!” she managed to say. “I thought you’d gone and died and left me behind! Solomon, Solomon, promise me you won’t die without me!”
“Of course, Margaret,” he said. “Or not at all, if you prefer.”
He patted her back as the sobs diminished to gasps for breath and quieter tears. As Catherine came down, he mouthed a question at her.
“What’s wrong?”
Catherine eased Margaret away from him and hugged her cousin, whispering sternly as she did.
“Solomon, we need to talk.”
Six
Paris, the home of Edgar and Catherine, Sunday 2 Ides May, (May 11), 1147: 10 Sivan, 4907. Feast of Saint Antimius, priest and prophet, who was saved by an angel from drowning in the Tiber, only to have his head cut off.
Et idcirco quæ in peccato originali est culpa … ad utrumque tamen tota redundat: in illam quidem quia peccavit in istum, quia peccanti consensit et peccatum illius consentiendo suum fecit.
Therefore, as to whom [Adam or Eve] is more guilty of original sin … it fills them both to the brim; she because she committed the sin, he because he agreed to the sin and allowed her to sin by consenting to it.
—Hugh of Saint Victor
De Sacramentis Christianæ Fidei
Book I, Part VII
I t was long past sunset. The last of the spring twilight had faded but Catherine, Edgar and Solomon still sat in the hall, sipping their wine and edging around the topic most on their minds.
Finally, Solomon put down his cup. He could barely see the faces of the others in the flickering lamplight.
“Do you want me to leave?” he asked abruptly.
“Of course not,” Edgar’s answer came quickly, with a firmness that satisfied Solomon of his sincerity.
Catherine took longer before she replied.
“You’re needed here.” She spoke slowly, unsure of how to give her suggestion without hurting her cousin. “You and Edgar must show that you can trade as dependably as Father and Uncle Eliazar did, if we’re to live. But it might be a good idea if Margaret were sent away for a time. Either to my brother or, if they’ll accept her, to the court of Count Thibault and Countess Mahaut at Troyes.”
Both men stared at her in horror.
“How can you even think of such a thing!” Edgar exclaimed. “After what she’s been through, to exile her as if she’d committed some grave sin!”
“You want to punish her for being fond of me?” Solomon was outraged.
Catherine stood up and went over to the cold hearth, kicking at–the rushes to release her own feelings. She turned back and faced Solomon and Edgar. It was easier to explain things when she could–look down into their faces.
“It’s exactly because Margaret has endured so much that I feel she should be somewhere else,” she said quietly. “Between the damage to her body and to her spirit, her humors are terribly unbalanced. Apart from the attack, dear Lord, she watched her mother murdered!”
Solomon winced. Catherine looked on him with pity. She knew how he blamed himself for not being able to save Adalisa. She would not have mentioned it but for the seriousness of the problem.
“I know very little about the scars Margaret bears in her heart or how best to heal them, but I do believe that she needs some
Below they heard the gate opening. Margaret looked up in anticipation.
“It’s just Edgar coming home,” Catherine said. “I wonder how his talk with the wine sellers went?”
Then they heard voices. Catherine couldn’t make them out, but Margaret did. She was out the door and flying down the stairs so quickly that she missed the last three steps, throwing herself in a leap upon Solomon.
“Sweeting! You nearly knocked me down.” Solomon caught and held her. “Is that any way to …”
He realized that Margaret was sobbing hysterically.
“Margaret, what’s wrong? What’s happened?” he tried to pull the damp hair from her face.
“I thought they’d killed you!” she managed to say. “I thought you’d gone and died and left me behind! Solomon, Solomon, promise me you won’t die without me!”
“Of course, Margaret,” he said. “Or not at all, if you prefer.”
He patted her back as the sobs diminished to gasps for breath and quieter tears. As Catherine came down, he mouthed a question at her.
“What’s wrong?”
Catherine eased Margaret away from him and hugged her cousin, whispering sternly as she did.
“Solomon, we need to talk.”
Six
Paris, the home of Edgar and Catherine, Sunday 2 Ides May, (May 11), 1147: 10 Sivan, 4907. Feast of Saint Antimius, priest and prophet, who was saved by an angel from drowning in the Tiber, only to have his head cut off.
Et idcirco quæ in peccato originali est culpa … ad utrumque tamen tota redundat: in illam quidem quia peccavit in istum, quia peccanti consensit et peccatum illius consentiendo suum fecit.
Therefore, as to whom [Adam or Eve] is more guilty of original sin … it fills them both to the brim; she because she committed the sin, he because he agreed to the sin and allowed her to sin by consenting to it.
—Hugh of Saint Victor
De Sacramentis Christianæ Fidei
Book I, Part VII
I t was long past sunset. The last of the spring twilight had faded but Catherine, Edgar and Solomon still sat in the hall, sipping their wine and edging around the topic most on their minds.
Finally, Solomon put down his cup. He could barely see the faces of the others in the flickering lamplight.
“Do you want me to leave?” he asked abruptly.
“Of course not,” Edgar’s answer came quickly, with a firmness that satisfied Solomon of his sincerity.
Catherine took longer before she replied.
“You’re needed here.” She spoke slowly, unsure of how to give her suggestion without hurting her cousin. “You and Edgar must show that you can trade as dependably as Father and Uncle Eliazar did, if we’re to live. But it might be a good idea if Margaret were sent away for a time. Either to my brother or, if they’ll accept her, to the court of Count Thibault and Countess Mahaut at Troyes.”
Both men stared at her in horror.
“How can you even think of such a thing!” Edgar exclaimed. “After what she’s been through, to exile her as if she’d committed some grave sin!”
“You want to punish her for being fond of me?” Solomon was outraged.
Catherine stood up and went over to the cold hearth, kicking at–the rushes to release her own feelings. She turned back and faced Solomon and Edgar. It was easier to explain things when she could–look down into their faces.
“It’s exactly because Margaret has endured so much that I feel she should be somewhere else,” she said quietly. “Between the damage to her body and to her spirit, her humors are terribly unbalanced. Apart from the attack, dear Lord, she watched her mother murdered!”
Solomon winced. Catherine looked on him with pity. She knew how he blamed himself for not being able to save Adalisa. She would not have mentioned it but for the seriousness of the problem.
“I know very little about the scars Margaret bears in her heart or how best to heal them, but I do believe that she needs some
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