The Sanctity of Hate by Priscilla Royal Page B

coin. The priory suffered no harm.” “We had children die of fever last winter,” Oseberne snapped. “We grieve for all parents who suffered a child’s death, but
    Sister Anne says fewer died here than usual.”
    The baker stared at Thomas’ feet, as if confirming that he lacked cloven hooves, then shook his head.
    “Was not Kenelm slaughtered on priory ground?” Adelard raised a finger heavenward. “And we have a Jewish family here now. Surely these facts together have meaning.”
    Thomas felt his earlier unease grow even greater. How swiftly that detail of Kenelm’s death had spread.
    Oseberne dropped a hand heavily on his eldest son’s shoulder. “If they cannot pollute wells, they will be driven to find some other way to profane our holy ground.”
    “How did you learn that tale?” Thomas frowned.
    “My son heard some women talking about it after they left my stall.” The baker squeezed his fingers around Adelard’s collar bone. “My special loaves are popular with many.”
    The lad winced, then nodded.
     
    Thomas felt a shiver of fear. These accusations of sacrilege, voiced by the baker, were becoming more common. The safer days of Henry II’s reign, a king who did not tolerate harassment of the Jewish community, were long past. This current king was pulling back both his favor and protection.
    As for these tales of fouling water, crucifying children, or drinking Christian blood, he knew they were slanders born of hate, and the stories were often used to explain unsolved murders and other violence. In this matter of Kenelm’s death, the myths suited those fearful of an unknown killer and longing to turn the accusing finger away from a village man and toward a much preferred scapegoat.
    The youngest son began to tug on his father’s sleeve. Oseberne growled at him.
    Grimacing, the child cupped his hand between his legs.
    Thomas hoped the baker would let the boy go relieve himself elsewhere.
    Oseberne grunted and waved his hand. The youngster fled.
    “Are you suggesting these travelers killed their own guard?” Thomas now welcomed the shift in discussion. He was stray- ing from his obligation to dig deeper into Adelard’s longing for priory life, but Prioress Eleanor had also hoped he might gather useful information about the killing.
    Adelard looked amazed as if the question lacked all reason. “Kenelm was undoubtedly full of sin, but he wasn’t he still a Christian? They hate us as the Devil tells them they should. Of course they killed him!”
    Even if the family housed in Signy’s stable did hate Christians, Thomas thought, they would have been preternaturally stupid if they killed the one person hired to protect them. The Jewish men he had met in his clerical days had been neither better nor worse than those of Christian faith and certainly possessed the same measure of wits.
    Oseberne and Adelard gazed at the monk, eagerly anticipat- ing his reply.
     
    “An odd thing to do, however. Surely they have heard how others of their faith suffered theft and harassment despite the king’s plea that they be allowed to travel in safety. Without Kenelm, they lacked any shield against violence.”
    Straightening his back, Adelard proved to be his father’s true son as he released a fulsome snort. “Knowing these people to be the Devil’s spawn, I watched them. Not long before his body was found, Kenelm mocked the Jew’s faith. Surely he was killed for the truth of his words.”
    Once again the father’s hand clutched Adelard’s shoulder and squeezed it. “My son heard the man called Jacob argue with the dead man. They scuffled.” Oseberne looked down at his son who tilted his head back to stare up at his father. “Did you not overhear the Jew threaten to kill his Christian guard?”
    Adelard looked back at the monk and nodded with enthusiasm.
    “It is not surprising that Kenelm was found dead in the priory mill pond. Is that not a sacrilege?” The baker hesitated, and then his scowl fled