Mercenaries by Jack Ludlow Page B

cautious: he knew that any gentile could represent danger to an Israelite, and the boy standing close to the doorway lantern more than most.
    So, through a hatch in his heavily barred door, he bade the youth re-cover his head and walk off into the gathering gloom of the evening, bidding him come back in another two chimes of the cathedral bell, time in which he made sure his premises were notbeing observed by agents of Pandulf or his Norman hirelings and, by use of his contacts with the less salubrious orders of the city, that his cloaked visitor was not being followed.
    When Guaimar returned he had no need to use the knocker: the door was opened as he lifted his hand and he was swiftly drawn inside. From his doublet, Guaimar produced a wax tablet bearing an imprint of the archbishop’s seal, which the Jew, a tall man dressed in good woollen garments, took close to a wad of flickering tallow, then held the object in even closer proximity to his nose.
    ‘You recognise the seal?’
    ‘I do, honourable one.’
    ‘I am scarce honourable now, sir.’
    ‘You are your father’s son, that is honour enough.’
    There was something in the way the fellow said that which made Guaimar ask a question, his brow furrowed with doubt. ‘You knew my father?’
    ‘It is not an association he would have been keen to let all Salerno know about, but I was often of use to him.’
    ‘In what way?’
    The Jew chuckled. ‘Let us say that rich men, powerful men and others sometimes need to transact business that must be kept from prying eyes.’
    ‘What kind of business did my father have that required your services?’
    ‘Secrecy was our bond. I would not tell even you, honourable one.’
    ‘Then how can I know to believe you?’
    ‘You bear the seal of the most saintly Archbishop of Salerno, but I do not ask how you came by it. Nor will I tell anyone who enquires that you came here or what it is you wish for. That will be our bond, the same secrecy as I kept for your father so that his subjects were not troubled in their respect for him.’
    Those words implied something underhand, even perhaps double-dealing, transactions kept hidden from those who trusted him. Was the father he so revered not as upright as he thought?
    ‘I need money.’
    ‘Many people who come here have that need.’
    ‘You hold in trust certain items for the Archbishop.’
    ‘He fears the clutches of the Wolf.’
    ‘He asks that you advance me sums of coin, with them as surety.’
    ‘How much?’
    ‘How much is there?’
    The Jew laughed, a low and growling affair that shook his shoulders, but attractive. ‘I have a bond with the archbishop too. You must tell me what it is you require and let me decide if what I hold will meet your needs. I see you hesitate.’ Guaimar nodded. ‘If you do not tell me I cannot help you.’
    ‘I do not wish to disclose too much.’
    ‘Do you plan a bribe?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘A purchase?’
    ‘Perhaps that,’ Guaimar replied eagerly, too eagerly for a man as wise as the fellow he was talking to.
    ‘A journey then?’
    The way Guaimar looked then produced from the Jew a hearty guffaw. Then he came forward, took the youngster by the arm, and said, ‘You would grace my house if you would make use of my private chamber.’ The boy found himself led through a door into a sumptuously furnished room and invited to remove his cloak. ‘Pray be seated, honourable one.’
    ‘I do not know your name.’
    ‘Kasa Ephraim, ho…’
    ‘I am Guaimar,’ the boy said, quickly, cutting off the honorific. ‘To say more is excessive.’
    ‘This I know, and I do not seek to flatter you by addressing you so. I think it is no more than you deserve.’
    ‘I am without titles which go with the tribute.’
    ‘You have nobility in your blood, and I think very likely in your person. You will take some wine?’ Guaimar nodded and picking up a ruby-coloured glass jug, chased at the tip with silver, Ephraim began to pour a deep-red wine into a