Free The Wandering Arm by Sharan Newman Page B

your many duties, Lord Abbot.”
    “Of course,” Suger responded. “Come in, sit down. Prior Hervé will be with us momentarily. He’s told me something of your business. A matter of grave concern to us all.”
    They all went into the receiving room. The walls were bright with embroidered hangings and the chairs were solid and wide, a tasseled pillow on each one.
    The men eased into them gratefully.
    “Some wine?” Suger asked, raising the pitcher.
    “No, thank you kindly,” Baruch answered.
    “Ah, yes, of course not. You only drink your own wine. ‘ Credat Judaeus Apella, non ego, ’” the abbot quoted, pouring his own cup full. “Like Horace, I am not bound by your laws, so I will have some. Hubert?”
    Hubert looked guiltily at Baruch, then nodded and drew his cup from the pouch at his waist.
    “You are very thoughtful, my lord abbot,” he murmured, wishing that the prior would come soon so that they could get down to business.
    They sat sipping in polite silence until they heard a humble scratch on the door.
    “Enter,” Suger called.
    Prior Hervé came in. His ears and nose were still red from the cold and he accepted the wine with alacrity.
    When the prior was settled, Abbot Suger set down his glass and folded his hands.
    “Now, I understand you men have a plan to help stem this dreadful practice of trafficking in the holy objects of the church,” he said. “I applaud this, of course, but am puzzled as to how I might help in this laudable endeavor, aside from refusing to accept any suspicious materials brought to the abbey.”
    He looked at Prior Hervé, who hastened to add, “As we have always done.”
    “Indeed,” Hubert said. “We are well aware of that and have certainly made every effort to know the provenance of any such object that we might come across in our travels so as not to make you the innocent supporter of this activity.”
    “It is honest Christian merchants such as you whom I trust to protect the abbey from such embarrassment.” Suger smiled at Hubert, who lowered his head, hoping that the abbot would think the movement one of humility rather than of the shame he felt.
    “Unfortunately,” Baruch added, ignoring the implied insult, “not everyone is so conscientious. Among these is the man, Natan, who visited you recently. We of the Jewish community of Saint-Denis and also that of Paris wish to assure you that we do not countenance his behavior. Natan does not have a reputation for honest dealing even among those of his own people who have made transactions with him. He has been warned more than once by the elders.”
    “Do you wish to have him brought before me for judgment?” Suger asked.
    Baruch was horrified. “No, of course not. He is a brother, an erring one, perhaps, but ours all the same. We will deal with him.”
    “He could cause great trouble for all of you if he were caught with stolen church property,” Suger reminded him.
    Baruch leaned forward. “If one of your brothers went astray, would you turn him over to secular justice or would you try to correct him yourself, even if his continued presence in your community were an embarrassment?”
    Suger nodded. “Of course I would attend to the matter myself. One does not hand one’s own into the hands of the secular authorities. I understand completely. However, that still leaves me wondering what you need from me.”
    Hubert cleared his throat. He had touched on this with the prior earlier, but he was still nervous.
    “It is just as you said, my lord abbot,” he began. “Each of us prefers to deal privately with the straying sheep from our own flock. When the utensils used in the Holy Mass are involved, it’s possible that clerics are, also. You are not only the head of the greatest abbey in France, you are also the spiritual leader of many clerics, both in your dependent houses and the parishes of the area. If we discover any such men under your authority who have gone astray, we hope that we can rely on