Legends of the Vengeance : The First Adventure (9781310742866) (26 page)

His Rebekah forgot the loss of their
luxuries as their fortunes recovered. Their grandchildren never
knew the fear of want—and it haunted him. “What you do not
remember, you will not avoid,” he often said. Joseph, on the other
hand, remembered all too well.

“
You must never forget,” he whispered to
his great grandson. “Never forget who you are and who your God is.
We are Jews. We are God’s chosen people as far back as
Abraham.”

Whenever he was home, the others left him to
tell stories to the children. “Keeps him out from under foot,” the
daughters and granddaughters said. Rebekah didn’t correct them. She
knew. His time with those children ensured the continuation of
their family and faith—a priceless gift. They needed the wisdom
that only a grandfather can bestow.

“
Women are stronger than we know and
weaker than they think,” he murmured as Miriam burst into the room
with the news that her best candlesticks were gone—inexplicably
vanished. She’d endured the loss of baby after baby just weeks
after learning they were coming without a tear, but steal her
candlesticks and she acted as if the angel of death had stolen away
her only living child.

“
Miriam, is it possible that Abel has
taken them to be appraised?”

She whipped her head around, tendrils
bouncing against her nose as she stared at him, shocked. “You’re
right. He did mention that a month or two ago. How did you
know?”

“
He asked me for a recommendation when he
got them, but things have been—uncertain since then.” Understanding
dawned as the young woman gulped down air, trying to gain some
composure. “How long before—”

“
Two weeks.”

“
Stay off your feet. Drink and eat well.
Abel can manage with Joel until the danger has passed. You should
come to us. I will speak to him.”

Joseph stood, carried the child sleeping in
his arms to its mother and then led Miriam to his chair. “Sit.
Rest. I will speak to Abel.”

Without waiting for her objections, Joseph
grabbed his hat and hurried into the street. He rarely went to the
counting rooms anymore—just to oversee a few days a month. The boys
thought he had earned a supervisory role. When they had doubts,
he’d sit there in the corner, as if asleep, and watch. He was
seldom wrong.

This time, he entered and pointed to Abel.
“In there, please.”

“
What is it?”

“
Please.”

With the door shut, Joseph pointed to the
closest chair and suggested his grandson sit there. “Your wife is
with child again.” The discouragement—pain—on Abel’s face nearly
broke his heart, but Joseph refused to be distracted. “She will
stay with us a fortnight or two. Joel will come to work with you
for the morning and then you can take him to Jacob’s for
dinner.”

“
But—”

“
You will show her that her pain matters!
You will show your
wife
—” Pain ripped
through him, making Joseph gasp the next words, “—that you will
protect her!”

“
Grandpapa?”

“
I am fine,” Joseph lied, forcing himself
not to sit. That weakness would mean a houseful of hens clucking
over him—unnecessary. Had not the first pain those fifteen years
ago been a solitary event? It must be indigestion again. “My
Rebekah makes my food so rich, and a rush here is exhaustion for an
old man.”

“
You’re not old, Grandpapa!” Seconds
ticked past until Abel spoke again. “Miriam will worry about Joel.
I don’t think—”

“
The women will keep you fed. You might
have to scrub a floor or wash a shirt or two, but you will survive.
You will not refuse me this. That woman will have the knowledge
that if she loses this baby it is not because she worked herself to
its death. Do you understand me?”

Outranked, Abel nodded. “You are right, of
course. I am being selfish.”

“
You are being human. Sometimes though,
my Abel, a man must be angelic. Come to us tonight. We will at
least start you with a good meal.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Dinner was quieter than their usual chatty
affairs. Miriam and Abel spent most of the meal whispering between
themselves, while Rebekah urged Joel to eat more. Satisfaction
filled Joseph’s heart as he gazed at the faces of his
grandchildren.

“
I was thinking, Rebekah, that coming
here kept us closer as a family. This is a smaller place and we
were strangers. In London, Abel would have moved further out even
than Jacob did. We would hardly have known him as a married
man—Joel, almost not at all.”

“
Calais has been good to us.”

His hands folded over a full stomach and
he sighed with satisfaction. “
God
has
been good to us here in Calais. Our children’s children will
prosper because of this place.”

They heard a commotion outside the door and
Jacob’s voice thundering through the hall as he raced to the dining
room and flung open the door. “Papa! An edict from King Edward” He
reached the table, gripping a chair as he panted for fresh air. “It
is called the Edict of Expulsion. Jews in England have until
November first to get out.”

Joseph’s eyes grew wide. It had come then.
This would not stop with England. It would spread to Spain, France,
and slowly across Europe. Anywhere that Rome controlled would drive
out the Jews. The life they had made would be lost when France or
Holland took up the cry against Jewry.

Pain crept over him. Beads of perspiration
grew, but all Joseph could think of was how to protect his family.
Rebekah called out his name, but she sounded so very far away.
Where had she gone? They were all leaving. The pain grew stronger,
more intense. He clutched at his heart again, gasping out one
name. 

“
Jacob.”

“
I’m here, Papa.”

Again, his son sounded as if walking into
another room, but Joseph felt Jacob’s hand on his arm.
“You-must-watch. Protect. Prepare. Your mother.”

“
What am I to do? Are we not safe
here?”

“
It will—” Joseph fumbled for his wine,
desperate for something to keep him going. “Spread,” he gasped.
“This is only the beginning. With the ledgers. I have notes. Read
them carefully.”

A scream filled the room and yet seemed to
flee from him. Joseph’s eyes refused to see the faces that loomed
over him. A guttural groan came—seemingly from nowhere—but at the
wailing and weeping of his Rebekah, he understood. The groan was
his. Blackness crept over him as the pain became unbearable.

Joseph fumbled for the star beneath his
shirt, clutching it, and spoke with his last breath, “Remember.
Never forget. Who. You. Are.”

Sebastian sat transfixed as Jaime finished
his tale. Fighting back tears, he choked, “He died? Joseph
died?”

“This was almost three hundred years ago.
Did you think he lived forever?”

“Why did the king do something like that?
Why?” The boy’s head jerked upward to meet Jaime’s eyes. “It is
true, isn’t it? King Edward really drove all the Jews from
England?”

Jaime nodded. “They are still banned from
there today, Sebastian,” the young boatswain added.

“I hate England!” Sebastian cried, jumping
from his place. He pushed his way through the men and shoved open
his cabin door. The hinges rattled as he slammed it shut again, his
heart aching for the death of a man he never knew, who meant
nothing to him, and yet who had suffered so much because of his
ancestry.

The door creaked open and his father’s
shadow filled it. “Are you all right, son?”

“I hate it,” he murmured, fighting for
self-control.

“Hate what?”

“Um—well—hatred, I guess. It is wrong—so
wrong. Jaime said that Jesus was a Jew. Jesus—the man they worship,
was a Jew. Would they drive Him from their lands? What if one of
those Jews was a distant relative? How could they face their God
with that on their consciences?”

“Blind hatred is evil, Sebastian. More
people have been senselessly murdered by blind hatred than anything
else. You wonder why I have this ship and live this life? My hatred
is just as real as theirs, but mine is not motivated by fear, son.
Mine is motivated by the emotion you feel right now—the desire for
justice for those unable to seek it for themselves.”

“I see.”

His father stood there for some time,
waiting for a response. At last, he turned, pulling the door closed
behind him, and whispered, “Goodnight.”

Alone in his room, the ache in his heart no
less than it was the moment he realized that Joseph would not live,
Sebastian pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms
around them. The words of the story combined with his father’s
explanations until he felt overwhelmed by the bitterness of it
all.

His eyes closed and he whispered to himself.
“I think Papa’s hatred is just as motivated by fear—but the fear of
what? I will become just like him if I allow a story so long past
to plant that hatred in me, but how can I not hate what is so
wrong?” He sighed. “I don’t understand. I’m not as wise and mature
as I thought. I’m just a stupid boy who thinks he knows and
understands things that he clearly doesn’t.”

He pushed himself off the bunk and went to
stare out the small porthole that had given him a glimpse of the
world that floated by him from his earliest memories. “Jaime
isn’t ruled by hate, and yet he respects Papa. He has compassion in
his heart. He fights for the same things Papa does—justice for the
weak. What is the difference?”

His eyes rose to the stars above him. “When
I am a man, I will learn more about God. I will learn what makes my
papa hate the church when Jaime loves it so. I will search until I
know God and what He thinks of these things. Then I will
decide.”

Ahoy!

Working at his father’s table, Sebastian
sketched for hours. From the moment the light hit the room, until
it was too dark, he worked on his picture, drawing it lightly,
erasing mistakes with a damp cloth, and allowing the paper to dry
again before he continued. It took days, but he refused to stop
trying.

The hand in the picture was nearly done.
Different men had sat holding a small chain for him for hours,
taking turns between them, anxious to see what he would do with it.
Once he’d finished the hand, he thanked them and asked them to go,
eager for as much light as he could manage for as long as he could
have it.

The floor sported stars; over and over he
drew and erased them, until he finally had one that satisfied
him. He then added them to the paper. More days passed as he
tried to get the angle and shading just right. The result was
rough—amateurish—but he felt compelled to complete it anyway. Jaime
seemed pleased. His father was confused but indulgent.

Sometimes Jaime came into the cabin and
stood in the darkest corner, watching. Sebastian usually said
nothing, but one time he brought up Joseph again. “I wish I knew
what happened to his family. I wonder about Jacob. Did Miriam have
the baby? Did Rebekah live many more years or did the death of her
Joseph break her heart? Did she follow him to heaven or wherever
Jews go when they die?” When Jaime didn’t answer, he stopped
drawing and stared at the shadow in the corner. “I’m not
complaining—or I don’t mean to. I just want to know, but I suppose
no one knows, do they?”

His father’s shadow filled the doorway and
spread across the floor, covering Sebastian’s practice sketches.
“Jaime knows. He has only told the first chapter of his tale.” With
those words, Nicolo vanished again.

Sebastian sank back on his heels and stared
out the door. “Why does a story hurt him so? He is not a Jew.”

“But he cares about justice, Sebastian. You
know this. I will tell more of the story when we get to Havana. I
haven’t perfected it quite yet.” With those words, Jaime strolled
from the cabin—likely in pursuit of Nicolo.

It took nearly the entire journey to Havana
for him to complete the drawing, but he did. Once on land, he’d
cover it with ink, but not on the boat. As it was, half the smudged
erasures were due to the lurching of the ship as it hit choppy
waters or rose over a swell.

Havana. He’d finish it in Havana.

For the first time since he heard of the
awful death of Joseph, Sebastian felt content. He tacked the
picture on the wall of his cabin and strolled out on deck, curious
to see what the men were doing. There was a buzz of excitement in
the air. The call came the moment he reached the railing.

Havana ahoy!

Watch for the
second adventure in the
Legends of The Vengeance
series.

Sebastian begins to think his troubles are
over when
The Vengeance
reaches Havana. His father seems
disinclined to leave and the men enjoy their time on land—all save
Giorgio. But when Nicolo learns of a man imprisoned on a Spanish
ship for a crime he did not commit, the pirates of
The
Vengeance
rescue the man and steal away in the night. Will they
be able to outrun the Spaniards and survive on the open sea, or
were the rumors true? Will the Caribbean pirates really try to sink
them before they can escape? Follow Sebastian as he learns to
navigate more than the waters near South America, and discover more
of the Legend of Joseph ben Saolomon’s family.

The Legends of The Vengeance: The Second
Adventure

Coming 2015