Great Britain -- History -- Stephen, 1135-1154 -- Fiction; Murder -- Fiction; Revenge -- Fiction; Serfs -- Fiction
He left the chapel, and summoned a theow who was passing the door with a
great bundle of cabbages in his arm.
"Set those down," he said, "and ring the bell for Mass;" and while the
man obeyed, and the bell beat out its summons to prayer--very musical in
the morning air--he strode across the courtyard to the mint.
By this time, in the long, low buildings, the fires were banked up, the
tools lay ready upon the benches, and the men were greasing the moulds
with bacon fat.
The priest went through the room with two raised fingers, turning
quickly and mechanically towards the toil-worn figures who knelt or
bowed low for his blessing. He walked towards an inner room, the door of
which was hung with a curtain of moth-eaten cat-skin--the cheapest
drapery of the time. Pushing this curtain aside, he entered with a
cheery "Good-day!" to find, as he expected, Lewin, the mint-master.
The Jew was a slim man of middle size, clean-shaven, and with dark-red
hair. His face was handsome and commanding, and yet animal. The wolf and
pig struggled for mastery in it. He was engaged in opening the
brass-bound door of a recess or cupboard in the wall, where the dies for
stamping coin were kept in strict ward.
The mint-master straightway called to one of the men in the outer room,
who thereon brought in a great horn of ale in the manner of use. Every
morning the priest would call upon the Jew, so that they might take
their drink together. Each day the two friends conveniently forgot--or
at any rate disregarded--the rule which bids men fast before the Mass.
Lewin attended Church with great devotion, and, like many modern
Israelites, was most anxious that the fact of his ancient and honourable
descent should be forgotten.
Though he himself was a professing Christian, and secure in his
position, yet his brethren, who nearly always remained staunch to their
ancient faith, were in very sad case in the Twelfth Century. Vaissette,
in his history of Languedoc, dwells upon a pleasing custom which
obtained at Toulouse, to give a blow on the face to a Jew every Easter.
In some districts of England, from Palm Sunday to Easter was regarded as
a licensed time for the baiting of Jews, and the populace was regularly
instigated by the priests to attack Jewish houses with stones. Yet, at
the same time, it was possible for a Jew to obtain a respectable
position if he avoided the practice of usury, and Lewin the minter was
an example of the fact.
"This is the best beer of the day," said the priest, "eke the beer at
noon meat. My belly is so hot in the morning, and all the pipes of my
body burn."
Lewin poured out some ale from the horn into a Saxon drinking-glass with
a rounded bottom like a modern soda-water bottle--the invariable
pattern--and handed the horn back to Dom Anselm. They drank
simultaneously with certain words of pledge, and clinked the vessels
together.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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