Another Me (7 page)

“T
his is the fabric I want!” exclaimed Gerda, pointing to a bolt of crimson silk.

“I wouldn't recommend such a bright shade to a lady with your high color, mistress,” said Natan.

I was signaling him behind Gerda's back to be quiet, but he merely stared at me in puzzlement.

“Are you suggesting that my complexion is too ruddy?” Gerda sniffed. “How dare you insult me so! I don't want to deal with a rude oaf like you. From now on, I will purchase my silks at Master Adolf's shop, where they know how to treat their customers.”

Before Natan or I could reply, she rolled out of the store with her purse still full of jangling coins.

Unfortunately, my father heard the entire exchange. Although he rarely lost his temper, this time he gave in to his feelings.

“Have you lost your senses, Hans?!” he thundered. “Did you forget everything I have ever taught you? Your job is to sell our merchandise, not to discourage our customers from buying it!”

Natan's ears became as crimson as the silk he had refused to sell to Gerda. He began to stammer apologies under his breath. I was quick to interrupt him.

“Leave Hans alone, Father! He works day and night to promote your interests. He's exhausted. And finding that dead Jew in the town square two nights ago must still prey on his mind.”

Father seemed surprised at my spirited defense of his journeyman, for I usually ignored Hans.

“I'll admit that you're a hard worker, Hans, but I don't know what has got into you. Yesterday, you couldn't tell the difference between silk from Byzantium and silk spun on the isle of Sicily. Today, you insult a customer with great wealth. When I talk to you, it's as if I'm speaking to a different person.”

I was tempted to explain that Hans had indeed become a different person, but then I remembered Rabbi Weltner's warning not to involve my papa in Natan's problems.

“Hans has been working too hard, Father,” I said. “He deserves time away from the shop.”

Papa nodded. “You may have a free day, Hans,” he said. “But one day only. And I expect the old Hans back tomorrow.”

I rubbed my eyes. “I didn't sleep well last night, Father. I couldn't get the dead Jew out of my mind either. I kept dreaming about him. Can I also have some time away from the shop?”

“Idle hands are the devil's tools,” Papa declared in a sanctimonious tone.

“Who is idle? I want to visit Mother, that's all. I haven't been to her grave for weeks.”

I had lost my dear mother when she brought me into the world, a wailing, puny infant. Papa told me that only the devotion of my wet nurse, Vera—the woman who was now our cook—had saved me from following my mama into the arms of Jesus.

Papa became misty-eyed, as he always did when my mother was mentioned. And as always, I pretended not to notice. I felt terrible lying to him, but I certainly couldn't tell him that I needed time off work to go to the Ammeister's office with Natan. Rabbi Weltner had arranged for us to see Peter Schwarber.

“Don't forget to take flowers to the grave,” he said in a gruff voice before leaving the room.

“The Ammeister will never believe me,” Natan said as we crossed the square toward the town hall. It was an ugly, squat building with a peaked roof, and it housed not only Peter Schwarber's office but also
the chamber of the city council. “I wouldn't believe it either if somebody told me that he was a ghost inhabiting the body of another person,” he continued. “I'd think that anybody making such a claim was possessed by the devil.”

“Well, you must make the Ammeister believe you.”

“There is no way I can,” he said miserably.

Suddenly, he grabbed my hand and pulled me behind a cart filled with hides and furs of all kinds. Its owner was in animated conversation with two other men and didn't notice us.

“What's the matter?” I asked.

“Shh! Look!” Natan pointed toward the steps in front of the town hall. A tall man with red hair and a goatee was leaving the building with two other men. “That's Kaspar! The beast who murdered me! The other two were with him at the well.”

“Are you sure?”

“I could never forget his ugly face.”

Kaspar and his companions were laughing and jostling each other as they headed in our direction. In a moment, they were close enough that we could hear them talking.

“That went well!” one of them gloated.

“Better than I expected. I can't believe how easy it was to convince the Ammeister and his councilors that the Jews poisoned the well in the town square,” Kaspar
said, snickering. “A pox upon the Jews! Let them try to talk their way out of this predicament.”

When they'd passed us, Natan and I just stared at each other.

“It's even worse than I thought,” he finally said. “It's obvious that I can't tell the Ammeister what really happened—not after Kaspar filled his head with his lies.” Panic spread across his face. “What should I say instead?”

I thought deep and hard. He was right. We needed a more plausible explanation.

“We must come up with a story that Peter Schwarber will believe. A story that will prove to him that Kaspar and his accomplices are murdering brutes. Why don't you tell the Ammeister that you saw Kaspar poisoning the well without revealing to him that you're really Natan?”

He thought for a moment. “That could work,” he agreed. “But what about the murder? How do I explain my body on the ground?” Tears filled his eyes as he spoke.

I wanted to cry myself at the thought of my beautiful Natan cold as the frozen earth. I shook my head to remind myself that my lost love was standing in front of me, full of grief. I knew that I should put my arms around him and tell him that I loved him, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. The thought of his pockmarked face against mine and his greasy hair twirled around my fingers filled me with revulsion.
Instead, I forced myself to punch his arm genially. “Just tell Schwarber that you witnessed the murder,” I said. “He'll believe that.”

“I hope so,” he replied wearily as we mounted the steps at the town hall.

We waited for an hour on hard benches. Finally, a clerk escorted us into the council chamber. Instead of being greeted by the tall, powerful figure of Peter Schwarber, as we'd expected, we found the entire council staring back at us. The Ammeister was sitting at the head of a long table, leaning back in a carved chair that looked like a throne. He was surrounded by the master tradesmen who made up the council. They occupied long wooden benches. A large crest of the city was hanging on the wall behind them.

Schwarber motioned us to come into the room. It felt as if a thousand eyes were boring into us. Suddenly, my courage deserted me and I felt like fleeing. Natan must have felt me tensing, for he took my hand and drew me into the chamber after him. Schwarber asked us to come closer to the table. There was no question of disobeying him.

“Who are you?” he asked. “Why are you here?”

Natan bowed deeply. I followed his example and curtsied.

“I'm Hans, a journeyman draper. My master is Wilhelm,” he said. “I'm a member of the drapers' guild.”

“And I'm Elena, the daughter of Wilhelm,” I added.

The Ammeister leaned toward us. “I know your father, mistress. Wilhelm is an honorable man,” he remarked in his deep, sonorous voice. “What brings you before us?”

“My tale is long and difficult to comprehend, but every word of it is true,” Natan began. “Three nights ago, I was crossing the town square when the church bells rang a dozen times. I saw several figures in the distance. Being of rather small stature”—his pudgy hands pointed to his short, squat body, drawing laughter from several councilors—“I knew that I was no match for them, so I hid in the shadows cast by the cathedral walls. I could still see everything that was going on.” He took a deep breath and then continued. “There were three of them, and one of them was dragging a body over the icy cobblestones. The same man was also holding a squirming white cat under his arm. The other two were carrying sacks over their shoulders.”

The councilors began to murmur among themselves. Schwarber banged the table with a wooden gavel to restore order.

“You're doing well,” I whispered to Natan. “You've captured their attention.”

Please God, I silently prayed, let me have given him the right advice.

“Silence!” Schwarber cried. “Silence!”

The councilors stopped talking and Natan resumed his tale.

“Not only could I see the three men, but I could also hear them talking,” he said.

“Had you ever seen these men before?” asked one of the councilors. He was Adolf the draper, my father's chief competitor. Papa always maintained that he wasn't an honest man.

“Yes, I had,” Natan answered without hesitation. I was proud of the way he met Adolf's eyes. “All three are always loitering in the town square. The man dragging the body on the ground was the butcher, Kaspar. You must know him too. He is a great, hulking oaf with red hair and a goatee. He has a shop in Butchers' Lane.”

Several council members nodded.

“What happened next?” Ammeister Schwarber asked.

Natan shot me a quick glance. I nodded in encouragement and he resumed speaking.

“The most incredible thing,” he said. “Kaspar let go of the body and it fell to the cobblestones with a thud. As it was lying on the ground, it began to moan. Kaspar and his henchmen backed away in panic.

“‘He's still alive!' one of the culprits said. He was slurring his words as if drunk.

“‘Not for long!' Kaspar cried.

“He drew his knife and plunged it deep into the man's chest. There was a gurgling noise, then silence.

“‘Good riddance!' he said. In the moonlight I could see a big glob of his spit land on the dead man's face.

“Kaspar then turned to his accomplices and ordered them to empty their sacks into the well. I could smell feces and garbage as they obeyed him without question. The mewing white cat was the last object to be thrown in.”

The councilors were spellbound. Natan paused for a moment to wipe his brow with his sleeve.

“What then?” Schwarber asked.

“Kaspar clapped his hands. He said, ‘Good! Let the Jews try to explain this.' His laughter made the hair on my neck stand up. He sent his friend to get the night watch and said they would tell everybody that they came upon a group of Jews while they were poisoning the well. ‘We'll say that we caught only this lone cur,' he directed. ‘When we tell people that this Jew tried to attack us, they'll call us heroes.' He crouched down and put his knife into the Jew's hand, wrapping the dead man's fingers around the handle.

“I was so frightened that I was afraid to breathe. I crept around the side of the cathedral and went back into the square. As I approached Kaspar and his accomplice, I began to sing as if I too were drunk. The rest
of the tale you already know. They told me the same lying story they told the night watch when he arrived.”

Natan stopped speaking and looked at the councilors expectantly, but nobody asked any questions. It was so quiet in the chamber that you could have heard a pin drop.

“Ammeister and honored councilors,” Natan resumed, “the next day I heard rumors on the streets that these three men were claiming it was the Jews of our city who poisoned the well to bring the Great Pestilence upon us. That's a complete lie! I saw Kaspar and his friends do the deed with my own eyes. The Jews are innocent! I had to step forward and tell you the truth, even though I fear Kaspar's revenge when he hears that I told you what he did.”

He bowed and fell silent again. This time, excited chatter broke out among the councilors.

Adolf the draper broke into raucous laughter. “I don't believe a word you say. Are you in your cups or have demons taken hold of your brain?” He pointed an accusing finger at Natan. “How dare you waste our time with such a foolish, lying tale. Kaspar said that you told the night watch the Jew was already dead when you came upon him.”

“I didn't have a choice, master. The night watch would never have believed me. After all, it was Kaspar's man who fetched him. But I knew that for justice to be
done, I would eventually have to tell the true events to you, most honored councilors, and to the Ammeister.”

“Stop your lies!” Adolf cried. “Brother Kaspar told us a short time ago that he saw the Jews poisoning the well.”

“But, master, that's simply not true! I saw Kaspar poison the well and kill the Jew with my own eyes. You must believe me. I have nothing to gain by telling you such a story. I only want justice done.”

“It's your word against Kaspar's. Why should we listen to your defense of lying Jews?” Adolf sneered. “I'm convinced that Kaspar the butcher is telling the truth.”

Before Natan could even reply, the Ammeister once again banged the table with his gavel.

“Gentlemen, let's consider both stories. Kaspar says the Jews poisoned the well, and Hans here says they did not. It is true that Kaspar could have poisoned the well himself to make the Jews look guilty. But what reason would the Jews have to taint the water? They depend upon it for drinking, just as we do. And I remind you that not one of the Jews we had put on the wheel confessed to the poisoning.”

“The Jews don't die from the pestilence like the rest of us,” Adolf said.

“That's true,” Felix the barber replied. “It is said that they die at half the rate we do. I have heard they made a pact with the devil to protect themselves.”

All the councilors began to murmur and debate.

Ammeister Schwarber cleared his throat. “Does anybody have any questions to ask?”

Here was my opportunity to speak up. “May I address the councilors, Ammeister?”