The Legend: Part One
Jaime began his story as soon as he took the last bite of bread and gulped down a swig of wine. He stumbled at first, his words as unfamiliar to him as they were to the rest of the crew, but after a few false starts, the young man closed his eyes and began a tale that seemed fantastical.
Over two hundred years—almost three hundred years ago— in England—London—a family lived and grew wealthy. They were moneylenders—Jews. Joseph ben Saolomon sat in his rooms some time just after midnight when he heard a soft rap.
“Come in,”
A short, weasel-like man scurried into the room, closing the door softly behind him. “I have news.”
“I should hope so. Why else would you knock on my door at this hour?”
“I was listening to my father talk with some of the other lords. The king is talking about a Statute of Jewry.”
“What is this statute? What will it mean?”
“The king is appalled at how many of his subjects have lost their lands to the Jews.”
“Then,” Joseph spat, “his people should learn to live within their means and not borrow. I should not be condemned for the poor financial choices of fools.”
“The king doesn’t agree. The statute will outlaw all usury. He’ll take your lands.”
“What else?”
The man shook his head. “They didn’t say anything else, but I think you have a little time. He’s only been home for a few weeks. I would get your money out of the country as soon as possible.”
“You’ve done well for yourself.” Joseph stood and unlocked a heavy metal box. He pulled a ledger from it and thumbed through a few pages until he found the one he sought. “Here you are. I will remove ten pounds from your debt. If this Statute is enacted, I will remove fifty more.”
The protest that had formed on the man’s lips dissolved just as quickly. “Thank you, Joseph. I will go—”
“I have another job for you.”
“Another?”
“I want to commission gold pieces. Do you know a goldsmith we can trust with my business?”
“I—yes. I do. I know of a good one who cares only for profit.”
Joseph nodded. He understood what his informant would not say. There was a jeweler who would do business with a Jew for the right price. He opened a drawer, pulled out a small packet and slid it across the desk.
“Take this to your jeweler. My instructions are enclosed along with a deposit. Come to me in three days and tell me his price.”
“And my account?”
Joseph waved his hand, dismissing the man. “I will reduce your account when you bring me the finished pieces.”
He waited until his informant had closed the door and then rose to stand at the window. Charles de Gyll was so deep in his debt that the man had no hope of recovery and both of them knew it. It had been a long-term investment on Joseph’s part. After all, unless his father met an untimely end, one that the moneylender would not be surprised to hear of, the young man would be in debt for a very long time. The interest rate was staggering—foolish really. They would lose much of their lands if the man lived another twenty years. Then again, if this statute did go into effect…
His fingers played with the silken tassels on the cord that tied back the drapes as he pondered his choices. Joseph knew the resentment for the Jews. A few, such as he, had become quite wealthy over the years. He’d taken his father’s simple business of loaning small amounts of well-secured property for short loans and made a name for himself and the entire family. His sons and his son’s sons would be able to live off the interest of their fortune if he could manage to protect it from the King.
He would send Jacob and his family to France immediately. They would smuggle out gold and then Abram would follow in a month’s time—maybe two. The ideas formed quickly as he returned to his table, opening the ledger once more.
Ingelby… he would be a good choice. His father owned boats at Dover. The debt wasn’t high, but a promise of ten percent erased for each trip might be worth it. He’d eventually work off the entire debt and Joseph’s family would be free.
A new thought occurred to him—one that could speed up the process. Joseph pulled out two small sheets of paper and began writing notes. He first scrawled a summons to Ingelby but did not hint at the reason. It would not hurt to make the man squirm a bit. He then wrote new instructions for the jeweler and for Charles de Gyll.
The servant, Ruben crept into the room at Joseph’s summons. “Take these quickly. Deliver them before dawn but do not be seen.”
“Yes, Joseph. Anything else?”
“Follow Charles tomorrow. I want to know where he goes and who he speaks to.”
The sun rose, but no one in London could feel its warmth or see its rays behind the thick fog that shrouded the city. When Jacob ben Joseph stepped into his father’s study, he found the man still sitting in the previous day’s clothing, hands folded on his chest. Waiting.
“Jacob, we must make plans—today.”