Free The Fifth Servant by Kenneth Wishnia Page B

dreaded Blutbeschuldigungen —”
                “Not another bloodcrime, Popel.” The bishop turned and began the majestic walk down the bright red carpet toward the marble steps. The two priests followed alongside. “I keep telling the legions of the faithful that the Jews don’t use blood. It’s against their Law. Even the Poles know that. King Boleslaw the Pious and His Eminence Innocent IV settled the matter quite some time ago.”
                Zeman was content to keep quiet and let Popel dig himself deeper into this hole.
                “ Rome may have spoken, but the matter is far from settled,” said Popel. “Just last Easter a Jew from Löwenstein tried to buy a four-year-old child for his blood.”
                “Well, God knows you can’t believe anything from that bunch of lunatics in Löwenstein. Aren’t they the ones who are convinced that a Jewish woman once gave birth to a sow?”
                “Those events are well documented, my lord. The Jews have broken into our churches, desecrated holy images, and even mocked the Savior’s crucifixion by wounding the Body of Christ with their daggers.”
                “They did all this in front of a hostile congregation, and nobody tried to stop them? Surely there is some exaggeration here.”
                Popel didn’t answer. He was beginning to understand what it meant when people said that when the mighty arm of the Lord takes human form, the vessel is sometimes too weak to stand the strain.
                As they passed through the main archway and climbed the stairs to the private dining chambers, Zeman asked Bishop Stempfel if he enjoyed the trip from Rome , and if he found the weather to his liking.
                The table was laid out with a variety of Bohemian fare, but Bishop Stempfel filled his plate with German sausages smothered with pepper, cumin, and other costly spices. The Bishop of Bishops, Pope Clement VIII, had personally declared that Stempfel could dispense with fasting during this expedition because he needed to keep up his strength for the fight against demons.
                The bishop sat in the finest chair, with a red velvet cushion and a high back crawling with gilded curlicues in the latest fashion. He took a moment to admire the floral patterns on the high ceiling, which were endlessly reflected by the full-length mirrors.
                Popel tried again: “My lord, give me license to use all available means to deal with the Jews for their detestable crimes.”
                “Leave them to the judgment of God for a moment,” said Stempfel, slopping hot mustard on a steaming pile of sausages. “ Rome has established a clear policy. Our first order of business is to rid the country of heretics, and purge their ranks of those arch-heretics, the witches. We’ll have plenty of time for the Jews later.”
                Popel drummed his fingers on the table while breathing rapidly through his nostrils.
                “Don’t worry, my friend,” said the bishop. “Our sacred mission is to restore the unity of mankind under the banner of the universal Church. First it was the Hussites, with their nasty habit of tossing people out of windows. But we learned to tolerate them. Then came the Utraquists and the Picardians and the Unitarians, and we tolerated them . And now the place is crawling with followers of every persuasion, who act like we still roll into a town, set up a table, and charge people a daler a head minimum to buy off their sins. Heaven is not for sale, they say. Bah! As if we haven’t progressed beyond the wholesale merchandising of dispensations and indulgences.”
                Popel watched the bishop spread a thick blob of liverwurst on a slice of toasted bread. Then he said, “My lord, His Eminence Pope Julius wisely saw fit to ban the blasphemous,