The Demon’s Parchment

5

“Father,” warned Julian.

Jacob made a tight jerk of his head, closing his tired eyes.

“Explain yourself,” said Crispin.

“Please.” Jacob gestured toward the chair by the fire. “Sit.”

Cursing under his breath, he felt a twinge in his wounded arm, and finally stomped back to the fire. He sat hard on the chair.

“I know you find this distasteful, Maître Guest.” Jacob sank wearily onto his own chair. “Forgive me. But the help I need will not come from the sheriffs nor from the court. I sought you out in particular because of the rumors that you often deal with objects of religious significance. Is this true?”

Crispin felt the warmth of the fire at his cheek. It did little to warm the coldness creeping within him. “It is my curse,” he said, half-jesting.

The man did not take it as a jest. He edged forward. “Then you are no stranger to the hand of the Lord.”

He laughed unpleasantly. “Of this I know not. Relics, such as they are, are only relics to those who deem them so. They bear little significance to me.” He swallowed the half-truth with the toss of his head. “Are you saying these parchments are relics? That they have to do with murder? By all the saints, I am at my wits’ end, old man! Say your peace and have done!”

“I fear, Maître Guest, that the monster has been released.”

Jack sprang to his feet. “God blind me!” he shrieked. “Monster?”

“He. .” Crispin steadied himself and shook his head. “He does not mean that literally, Jack. He speaks of the monster of inhumanity-”

“I speak of it very literally, good maître. It is the missing parchments. They contain the words of Creation.” He shook his head sadly and fingered his beard. “And I let them slip through my fingers. I’m a fool. I cannot forgive myself.”

Crispin felt the tension in his body drain away. He saw in his mind a dark shape receding into the misty night. Heavy footfalls. Fear. “What. . what is this. . monster?”

“But we saw it, Master!” cried Jack. “We saw it!”

Jacob gasped. “What did you see?”

“This is utter nonsense,” muttered Crispin. He ran his fingers into his shaggy hair. “It was a man, surely. Tall and very broad. A. . a small. . head. .”

Jacob covered his mouth with his trembling fingers. “The Golem. He has been animated. We are dead.” He reached for his robe and ripped the seam.

“Father!” Julian was kneeling beside him, staying his hand from doing more damage to his robe. “No! It cannot be. This man is lying.”

Crispin raised his chin. “I am not lying. That is one sin of which I am not guilty.” He glanced back at Jack to confirm it but Jack appeared too frightened to speak. Damn this! “Harken to me, all of you. There is no monster. There is only Jewish superstition and odd circumstances.”

“The murders-” said Jacob.

“The fact that you know about these murders makes me very suspicious.”

Jacob shook his head. “When they first happened, I was the only physician nearby. They called me forth. I have since heard of two others. I saw the dead boys. Who but a monster would commit these horrible crimes?”

Who indeed? “What are you implying? That this. . this Golem. . has murdered these children?”

“I saw what was done to those boys.”

“How did you know that I am investigating?”

“One hears things. But that was after I had decided to seek you out.”

Crispin narrowed his eyes and looked across the room, peering into the shadows of the alcoves, trying to discern the strange beakers and jars from the shapes of alchemic apparatuses. “What is a. . Golem?”

Jacob rose and returned to his table, unrolling a scroll with shaking hands. “This, Maître Guest, is the Sefer Yetzirah: The Book of Creation.”

Curious, Crispin strode across the room and looked over the man’s shoulders. He gritted his teeth when he beheld the page of strange symbols interspersed with Stars of David. “These seguloth,” said Jacob, pointing to the symbols, “explain the book. Our Father Abraham was given the divine revelation of these pages by the Lord-blessed be His name-and the rabbis of old have discussed it and analyzed it for centuries. This,” he said, spreading his fingers over the tan parchment, “is the understanding of Creation itself. How the universe was created through the Sefirot, the Ten Sacred Numbers-”

“Enough!” The room felt close suddenly. This talk of Jewish magic made Crispin’s skin crawl. “This monster. This Golem. What is it? Did you make it?”

“Me? Oh no! Never! Only in extreme circumstances and only with the counsel of many wise rabbis would I attempt it. You see, Maître, the word ‘Golem’ means a ‘shapeless mass.’ It is made from mud or clay. The Golem is created to protect the Jewish people from harm. It is a sacred obligation. A man who has a Golem as a servant is naturally imbued with much wisdom and piety. Wisdom in being able to choose the right path, and piety in order to discern the Almighty’s will. If he does not possess these traits, then there is no controlling the servant. No, Maître Guest, it was not me. But someone else. Someone who wanted the power of the demon.”

“So it is a demon.”

Jacob opened his lips as if to explain, but shut them again, his brows working over his eyes. Like a tutor speaking carefully to a pupil, he began. “Adam, the father of Man, was created from mud, from clay. From this clay, the Lord breathed life into him. And so it is similar with the Golem. He is made of clay and can be animated by reading the words on the Sefer Yetzirah and placing the word for ‘truth’ on its body. It is a soulless being with no emotions, no pity, no mercy. A man who uses a Golem for unholy purposes”-he shook his head-“is himself a monster.”

“What makes you think this Golem of yours committed these murders?”

“The strangeness of it. The cutting along the abdomen. The taking of the entrails.” He seemed to notice Crispin flinching and nodded. “As you noticed yourself. I do not think a Golem needs to feed, but there is so little we know of these creatures. The blood and entrails of a youth would be horrible nourishment, but nourishment just the same. If the Golem’s creator wished it, these things would be done. A Golem is only a shell. He does what he is told.”

“And so,” said Crispin, walking slowly toward the alcoves. They seemed to compel him with their strange smells and instruments. “And so these papers were stolen from you. When?”

“It must have been two months ago. That was when the first murder was discovered.”

“Months? Why did you wait so long to say something?”

“I did not want to believe it. I could not. But then, when the murders happened again and again. .”

“This is a matter for the sheriff, then.”

“But Maître Guest, you yourself said you were investigating these murders. Surely you could keep it quiet.”

“A monster on the loose? Should I not warn the populace?”

“Oh no! That would be disaster!”

“For whom? You?” He said the last nastily and meant it.

Jacob drew himself up. “I am not afraid of your Gentile mobs, sir. Lives are at stake. It is more important than the life of one Jewish physician.”

“Noble, I suppose.” Crispin scowled. “Why should I believe any of this? How do I know you are telling me the truth?”

Jacob lifted his arms in an exhausted shrug. “You have no good reason, Maître. I am merely a Jew. I only thought, that if anyone would, you would believe me.”

“Christ!” He thumbed the stubble on his chin and stared at the floor. “Who knew you had such papers here?”

Jacob thought a moment. “I do not know. But I do know that my rooms have been plundered before.”

“Oh? When?”

“Many times since I arrived. My privacy here has been. . less than private. Understandable when I am so close to their Majesties.”

Crispin mulled this. “These parchments of yours. Are they written in Hebrew?”

“Yes.”

“Then this culprit must surely be a scholar of some sort to be able to read it.”

“Yes. That must be so.”

“Who in this court can read Hebrew?”

“This I do not know. But there are astrologers, alchemists, and the like at court. I could not guess at how many.”

“Do you lock your door, Master Jacob?”

“Of course. I bar it each night and lock it each time I go out.”

“And you, boy.” He turned to Julian, who rousted himself to glare anew. “What of you? Are you as assiduous at locking doors?”

“Of course I am! I do not trust these English Gentiles.”

“Many would have a key, though,” Crispin mused to himself.

“Master,” said Jack, looking desperately at the window. “That is the bell for Compline.” He had not noticed the distant deep clang until Jack mentioned it. “It will be curfew soon. And the gate to London must already be locked. How are we to get back home?”

“I have my ways, Jack, never fear.” But he did not relish traveling after curfew. He wondered bitterly if it was snowing again. He stared at the curtained window. “When did you arrive to these shores, Master Jacob?”

“Two months ago.”

“And the murders started then?”

“Much to my regret.”

“These are Christian children.” He pivoted and fastened his steely gaze on the physician. “The explanation could be far simpler than a supposed monster. ‘Entia non sunt multiplicanda praeter necessitatem.’ ”

Jacob’s eyes widened and for the first time, he did look frightened. “You. . you accuse. . me?”

“You whoreson!” growled Julian. “I should have slit your throat rather than stab your arm.”

Crispin spared him a cold glance. “I have not discounted your guilt in this, Master Julian.” He was satisfied to hear the boy’s gasp of outrage.

Jacob braced himself against the table behind him. “I. . I can well see how your Christian sensibilities could accuse me of such deeds, Maître Guest. But I assure you-I swear on my physician’s oath-that I cannot kill. And to kill a child. . Never! Never.”

A disquieting sensation crept over Crispin as Jacob pled his case. No. The physician seemed far too sincere, too compassionate.

Julian, on the other hand. .

“I must think on all this, Master Jacob. These tidings are disturbing.”

“But-”

“I will inform you when I come to any conclusions.” He swept Julian with a spiteful look before he signaled to Jack.

Now, how the hell were they to get out of the palace unseen?

He opened the door cautiously and stuck out his head, staring into the gloom of the corridor. This chamber was near the king’s. God’s sense of humor failed to tickle.

Crispin flipped his hood up and tugged it low over his forehead. Taking a deep breath he plunged into the corridor with Jack close behind.

“Master, what-”

“Be still, Jack,” he whispered. He cocked his head to listen. It was late. Most of court would be abed or perhaps playing a late game of chess or tables.

He stepped into the all-too-familiar corridor, hearing the soft click of the door shutting behind him. That was that. They were certainly on their own now.

Crispin walked carefully, keeping along the walls and listening before he proceeded. He cast a thought back toward Jacob and his parchments. This was damnable. If that Jew was responsible for those deaths, Crispin certainly did not want to appear to be helping him. He recalled the stories he had heard of Jews murdering children. But this had been more than a murder. It had been rape and mutilation, which sounded to him like some sort of sorcery. The man admitted to the use of magic with those damnable texts. But Jacob’s appalled expression did not appear to have been faked. Was he being entirely sincere?

He turned a corner. The wooden floor groaned under his step and he stopped, measuring the empty corridor. When the small noise failed to raise an alarm he continued his steps and his musings.

What of Julian? A sour lad. There was something secretive in his eyes, something Crispin did not trust. Was that boy capable? His distaste for Crispin’s country was palpable. When Crispin shoved him against the wall the boy felt pathetic beneath his crushing grip. Such a slight youth might wish to prove himself stronger over smaller, weaker boys. Was he monster enough to have raped and killed? Maybe his father had no stomach for blasphemous experiments, but what of his son?

And Crispin had neglected to search the bedchamber. Foolish! He had been so concerned with getting out of there that he failed to do the most rudimentary of investigations. A child’s mistake. He would not make that mistake again.

And yet. How was he to investigate at all? It would certainly involve those of the court. He would have to return and make inquiries, but how was he to do that when the king’s mandate still stood? After Crispin had foolishly refused to beg for his lands and title Richard had screamed it to the court that Crispin was not to return. He had even refused the king’s gold. That had been foolish indeed.

He noticed Jack was not as skittish and had graciously accepted Jacob’s pouch of silver when the physician had pressed it on him in the chamber. At least one of them had a head on their shoulders.

But for how much longer?

Crispin was about to inquire of Jack what their next move should be when the door beside him opened. Before Crispin had a chance to react, a hand reached out, grabbed him by his hood, and dragged him inside.