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closed the ill-fitting door. Bellasez opened his mouth and croaked
a few incoherent words. To Bernard, he resembled, despite his
advanced years, a fledgling in its nest opening its gaping beak for
sustenance from its parent. He sat the old man down on the
only chair in the dark and stinking room, and urged calm on him.
Finally Bellasez was able to marshal his thoughts sufficiently to
tell Bernard what had so agitated him.
They have returned.
Who have? Bernard was puzzled, and wondered if the old man
had lost his mind completely.
I have seen them.
The friar sighed and was about to leave Bellasez to his
30
meanderings when the old man grabbed his arm, and said
something that caused the hair on his neck to rise.
The Ten Lost Tribes of Israel, exiled by God. They have been
released, and are even now encamped outside the town.
The friar scoffed at the old man s assertions, and sought to
calm him down. It was not difficult to achieve, for soon the old
man s fuddled mind drew a veil over what he had seen that
morning, and he slipped back into his normal, soporific state.
Bernard soon had him settled down on the smelly, straw mattress
where Bellasez spent most of his days in dazed slumber, and
was free to leave. Closing the door on Fish Street behind him,
though, he stood pensive. The man was mad, but perhaps he
was a holy fool, and his words had substance. Bernard knew
what he had meant by the Ten Lost Tribes of Israel, but was not
sure how he should react to the idea. It was in that moment of
indecision that a youth whom Bernard recognized scurried past,
excitement in his every step. William East was a promising youth
to whom he had taught grammar on his first arrival in Oxford.
The student was normally a solemn and serious individual, which
is why Bernard, similarly inclined, had taken to him. His current
state of agitation was therefore out of character.
William East why are you in such a hurry?
The youth, his haste having taken him several paces past his
former mentor, threw his response disrespectfully over his
shoulder, in a manner that shocked the staid friar, before hurrying
on his way. Have you not heard, Brother Bernard? There are
Tartars encamped outside North Gate.
Bernard de Genova paled. Had Bellasez spoken the truth after
all? He felt a need to seek guidance.
Now, on his knees before the image of Our Lord, he pondered
that very question, his thoughts as icy cold as the interior of the
chapel. Though the old Jew had seen the Tartars as the lost
tribes of Israel, shut away by God beyond the mountains in the
East, Bernard once again was minded to listen to the words of
Ezekiel, as he had done some twenty years earlier. He spoke the
verses out loud:
This is the word of the Lord God: At that time a thought will
enter your head and you will plan evil. You will say, I will attack
a land of open villages, I will fall upon a people living quiet and
undisturbed & You will expect to come plundering, spoiling and
stripping bare the ruins where men now live again. The monotone
of the recited words formed a whispered echo in the upper reaches
31
of the chapel that seemed to Bernard like angels talking. And
they were confirming what was echoing in the vault of his own
head concerning the true identity of the Tartars now at Oxford s
gate.
The slap of sandals on the cold stone slabs of the chapel floor
brought him back to the mundane. Still bowed and on his knees,
he tilted his head to one side. The sandalled feet at his side, the
toenails of which were coarse and yellow, could only be those of
Brother Adam. Though he often prayed to God to take the thought
from his mind, Bernard could still not restrain a feeling of disdain
for the self-centred Dominican who had been set in charge of the
friary at Trill Mill after the death of Ralph de Sotell. Adam Grasse
was a Breton, and, to Bernard s mind, no more than an ignorant
peasant. That he had a quick mind was, in Bernard s estimation,
to say merely that he was possessed of low cunning.
Adam cleared his throat at the kneeling friar s continuing lack
of respect in his superior s presence.
Brother Bernard. The words were soft-spoken but admonitory.
With a sigh, Bernard pulled himself up to his feet to face his
nemesis.
Brother Adam.
I have a message for you. This immediately piqued Bernard s
interest, for it would be an unusual message that Adam Grasse
was prepared to deliver himself. Brother Adam, who did indeed
resemble a peasant, with his vast, oval face reddened by exposure
to a brighter sun than England could boast, and fat, crimson lips
that caused spittle to fly as he spoke, continued, I have been
asked to release you from your teaching duties temporarily to
perform a most important task.
Before the friar could finish, Bernard, already irritated by what
had been said, interjected. More important than enlightening
the minds of the errant youths who find their way through the [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
