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  “You don’t know,” his lordship said, fixing his eyes on Luca’s face. “Priest, you are too young and you know nothing of the world. I owe a small fortune here, probably several small fortunes. And of course they have to reward me for driving the dancers from their door. What would have happened if we had not arrived?”

  Luca fell silent.

  “The emperor himself and the Church authorize the Jewish people to deal in loans,” Brother Peter observed, as if to himself. “They are expected to take the sin of usury on themselves. They are under the protection of the emperor, and so under your protection, my lord. You would be very wrong both in the sight of the emperor and of the Church to molest them.”

  “For God’s sake, Priest, I’m not molesting them!” his lordship swore. “I’m just checking on what I owe them. I’m simply hoping to reduce my debt. That’s fair enough. I am visiting my creditor to reduce my debt, that’s all.”

  The rabbi came out of the side door of his house, closing it behind him. In the silence, they could hear the quiet shooting of the bolt from the inside.

  “And why do they do that? Why bolt the door if not to hide their treasure?” Lord Vargarten demanded irritably. “They’re hiding something in there!”

  “I am hiding nothing,” the rabbi said quietly. “But my wife is of a nervous disposition. She is afraid of your soldiers.”

  “Nothing to be afraid of! They’re just lads!”

  The rabbi laid his debt book on the table before Lord Vargarten and pointed to an entry. “This is your debt,” he said quietly. “Three months ago, and this earlier, last year. This to pay for some losses you had sustained, and this is the price of my lady’s emeralds that you asked me to obtain for you.”

  “This can’t be right!” Lord Vargarten exclaimed, looking at the total. “What interest are you charging me? This is usurious.”

  At the mention of the sinful word, a few of the young men at the table stood and settled their sword belts on their hips. One or two went to untie their horses and swung themselves into their saddles, as if they thought there might be riding or fighting to do.

  “No, not at all,” the rabbi interjected. “I charge you three percent as we agreed, but I can adjust that if you wish, my lord. Since you are here, and since this troubles you. Shall we say two point five?”

  Brother Peter looked up. “He charges you three percent?” he asked.

  “Is that unfair?” Lord Vargarten asked eagerly. “Is that not a crime?”

  “No,” Brother Peter said hastily. “I was surprised because it is so low. The Knights Templar charge twenty percent, and they have permission from the Pope himself. This is very favorable to you, my lord. You would pay far more in Vienna.”

  “What? What d’you say?”

  Luca could see at once that Lord Vargarten could not calculate his debt, did not understand the concept of percentages, could not even add the simple sums.

  “Brother Peter says it is not usurious,” he said. “He says it is fair.”

  “And why write it in heretic script?” the lord said, rounding on the rabbi. “What does it mean that you write like the infidels you are? Why not write it the proper way? One stroke of the pen means one, two means two, a gate shape means five. Everyone can understand that.”

  “Most people use the Arabic numbers now,” Luca said soothingly. “It’s easier to calculate with them than with the old system. But my lord, if this rabbi charges you only two point five percent, then you will owe him nine hundred and forty-three nobles.”

  “I can’t repay that!” his lordship exclaimed in horror. He turned to the rabbi. “Are you mad? Are you completely mad to come before me and demand this sort of money? I can’t repay that!”

  “But you don’t repay it!” the rabbi pointed out. “I don’t demand it. I never ask you to repay it. It just stays in my books and I—”

  “We can soon remedy that!” Lord Vargarten said in a rage. He grabbed the debt book by the spine and tore out the page. There was a gasp and then a cheer from his men. Brother Peter and Luca exchanged a brief look. The rabbi bowed his head, saying nothing as the lord crushed the paper into a ball and threw it at his feet.

  “Now how much do I owe?” his lordship demanded, thrusting the torn book across to Luca.

  Luca looked at the next few pages. “About six hundred,” he said.

  “Easily mended!” his lordship said joyously, and ripped out another page. “What do you think of that?”

  The rabbi glanced nervously at Lord Vargarten’s guard. More of them had mounted up and were seated on their horses, one hand on the reins, the other on their swords, waiting outside the town, the gates wide open to admit them. The rest were on their feet, standing beside the table, clearly ready to obey orders.

  “I can adjust the entire debt,” the rabbi said. “I can rewrite it to your convenience. We are grateful for your good lordship and happy to have given you a good dinner. I can alter your debt as you leave . . . as you leave . . . ,” he added quietly.

  Lord Vargarten took the book and ripped the whole volume in two, scattering the pages and laughing. He turned to his men. “You can all take one thing!” he yelled at them. “One thing only. No more than that. One thing and then back here to ride for home. As an adjustment.” He laughed loudly at his own wit. “An adjustment, as my friend the usurer here would say.”

  “Wait!” Luca said. “You can’t let them loose—”

  But the men were unleashed. Those on foot simply leaped over the dinner table and ran into the main street of the town; those on horseback spurred their horses on and followed them, jostling each other in the narrow streets, his lordship bellowing with amusement.

  “See what they get!” he shouted at Luca. “They’re such fools. See what they come back with! Ten to one it will be a cooking pot, or a coat.”

  “Stop them!” Luca implored.

  They saw a man wrenching a set of shutters open and then heard the clatter of breaking glass as he elbowed the leaded panes from the window. He plunged into the room and came out with a beautiful, many-branched candlestick.

  One of the horsemen turned his horse in a high doorway and had it lash out and kick at the door. As the door yielded, he ducked his head and rode inside. They heard a scream.

  Luca looked at Brother Peter. “How can we stop this? We have to stop it!”

  “We can’t,” said Brother Peter grimly. “We have no authority to forbid it. They are Jews, this is their punishment. We’d better just leave.”

  “We can’t go!” Luca yelled over the noise of the attack on the village, the splintering of doors, the shattering of windows, and the shouts of protest. “We brought these wolves in! We can’t just leave them here!”

  Brother Peter grabbed Luca’s shoulder. “This is not the first time,” he said urgently. “And it won’t be the last. This time we brought the men in; but they come whenever they wish. The Jewish people know this: this is what they suffer. They suffer, they endure, and then they patch everything up and continue till the next time. The Church allows this; we, the Christians, allow it. The best thing we can do is urge Lord Vargarten to get his men back with their prizes and leave.”

  “Why don’t the Jews resist?”

  Brother Peter pointed to where a man was desperately running down the street with two guardsmen thundering behind him, easily riding him down. He fell under the hooves of the horses, rolling over and over, bunched up, his face in his hands as he tried to protect his head.

  “How would they resist?” he asked. “A Jew raising a weapon to a Christian would be hanged at once, his household broken up, his children baptized and enslaved. His village would probably be burned to the ground.”

  “Why don’t they leave?”

  “And go where? Everywhere is the same for them, and they have not had a home for more than a thousand years.”

  Luca whirled on Brother Peter in a frustrated rage. “Why do we do this?” he demanded. “Why do we allow it? Why does the Church no