His father shrugged with one shoulder. “Both, and at the same time, for there is no difference. Karel created no divisions in what he did. He saw no differences between learning how to fight and learning how to write. The tools we use for each might appear to be different, he used to say, but all of them are controlled by our minds, and it is our application of what our mind tells us that makes each of us different, makes one man better than the mass of his fellows, makes one in each group stand out head and shoulders above all others, no matter what the pursuit that they are following may be.”
Andre was wide eyed. “Your Karel sounds to me to have been a wondrous character.”
“I doubt I could have had a finer mentor or a better instructor. And you would have liked him, had you ever met him. But he died before you were born.”
“You have never told me any of this before.” There was a plaintive note to Andre’s voice.
“When you were a boy, you had tutors of your own and Karel was already dead. Why should I have wished to bore you with tales of a dead man? I fed you snippets of his wisdom from time to time, little things that I thought might amuse you.” Sir Henry paused again, his gaze unfocused, then went on. “You have to understand that no one ever questioned Karel’s teachings, or asked me what I was learning in my classes. No one cared, I see now, because my father could neither read nor write, but he could see me training in the arms yard every day and could tell at a glance that I was thriving and acquitting myself well. That was enough for him. My mother, on the other hand, was already sick of the palsy that would kill her by the time I was fourteen, so she had neither the strength nor the will to check into my learning. And there was no one else to care. But fortunately, I was never happier than when I was seated at Karel’s feet, learning of wonders. And as I grew older, he spoke to me more and more openly about what he believed, and about how he saw a man’s responsibilities—any man’s responsibilities—as laid out for him by God. He understood and talked about many aspects of God and godliness— righteousness and piety, things that the ruck of men, including most of the priests I knew, could never have imagined, let alone learned. And he had very strict beliefs and stern opinions concerning God and men and their relationship each to the other.”
“How did he die?”
“Of a pestilence, one that seemed to be everywhere that year. His death left a great hole in my life that would not be filled until I met and wed your mother. But I remember clearly that, on the very last occasion when I saw him well, we spoke of this very matter of Jews and how they are so hated everywhere.”
“Truly, Father?” Andre sounded slightly skeptical. “That was a very long time ago, and your memory might be playing tricks with you. I know mine does with me from time to time.”
His father eyed him sideways, one eyebrow rising in amusement. “Think you so? Well, it might be as you say, were I as old as you appear to think I am. But in this instance I know there is nothing faulty about my memory, because that last conversation became a very special one for me. I recalled it time and again, remembering every word of it because it was the last time we had ever spoken.
“Karel had never been able to come to terms with that widespread hatred of Jews, because it seemed to him to be at odds with everything he had come to believe as a boy. He had asked me why I thought the Jews were always blamed for everything that befell the Savior.” Henry smiled softly to himself. “And before I could come up with a single reason, he went on to point out that if we agree and believe that Jesus was born into our world to give up his life in expiation for our earthly sins, then we also ought to believe, logically, that everything that happened surrounding those events was part of the divine plan, and that, God being by His very nature omniscient, every eventuality of that planning had been foreseen and accounted for. Why then, he asked me again that last afternoon, were the Jews alone vilified for behaving as they did? Their God and ours were one and the same. Had He forsaken them to nurture us? Or were we to believe the Jews the only sinners among mankind, guilty by themselves, beyond all doubt, of creating the need for the Savior’s sacrifice? If that were so, was it only afterwards that all the other races, including the arrogant Romans, were turned into sinners, contaminated by the behavior of the Jews?”
Sir Henry shook his head now, as if bemused. “I must have been twelve years old, and I remember that even at that young age I was able to see through the stupidity underlying those questions. I remember mentally digging in my heels, too, and telling Karel what I thought, and then being astonished when he agreed with me.
“‘Of course it is nonsense,’ he said, and he gave my head a push, the way he did when he was pleased with me. ‘It is an insult to any person with the ability to think logically from one step to another. If the Jews had ever been the only sinners in the world, there would never have been any reason for Christianity to exist. The Jews believed they were already the chosen people, so all that would have been needed was for a Jewish Messiah to come down to earth and do whatever Jewish law demanded need be done. But that is not what happened. The message spread from Israel to all the countries of the world, which then became the Christian world. No one argues with that, do they? So tell me, young Henry St. Clair, what do you think is the real reason underlying all the nonsense about the Jews?’”
“Did you have an answer for him?”
Sir Henry raised an eyebrow. “Would you have offered one, had you been as old as you are today?”
Andre smiled and dipped his head, appearing to acknowledge his father’s point, although what he was actually thinking was that he could, indeed, have answered the question at great length and to Karel’s complete satisfaction. Instead, he merely nodded and asked, “So what did he say then?”
“I have never forgotten what he said. He said it was the priests—Karel was fond of blaming most things on the priests and on the Church in general—who promulgated the anti-Jewish filth to suit their own wishes at some time or another in the earliest days of the Church, some dire occasion when they needed to find a scapegoat to take people’s attention away from whatever they themselves were up to. Karel believed that firmly. The Jews had proved to be an easy target, he said, and the Church took note and marked it, so the guilt by association was never let go.”
A silence elapsed before Andre casually asked, “How do you feel about that, Father—the scapegoat explanation? Do you subscribe to the idea?”
Sir Henry had slipped down gradually in his seat since their conversation began and was stretched almost full length, his legs crossed at the ankles in front of the fire, his chin sunk on his breastbone. Now he sniffed and pulled himself up again before reaching for his cup on the floor.
“I think I always have subscribed to it.” He sipped his wine and grimaced. “Blech! My wine’s hot … too close to the fire.” He stood up and reached for Andre’s cup. “Give me that. The ewer should still be cold. One more before bed, eh?”
When he returned with replenished cups, Andre had thrown fresh logs on the fire and was watching the flames curl up around them. He accepted his fresh drink without looking up, and Henry sat back down and continued speaking as if there had been no interruption.
“I don’t doubt that the Jews have been made into scapegoats, but I can’t tell you why or when it happened. I
“They sent in the legions, who tore down the city of Jerusalem itself and stamped out resistance, as only the Romans could, wherever they found any signs of it. They laid siege to the mountain fortresses the Jewish insurgents held and destroyed them all, one by one, taking as much time, as many years, as that required. And since the religion of the people lay at the center of all their discontent, they destroyed the focus of that religion: they tore down the temple and put its priests to the sword. They were inexorable and utterly merciless because that was the Roman way. They killed or enslaved as many of the populace as they could capture, and generally made the province of Judea uninhabitable, so that the Jews could never trouble Rome again. But—” He sat up straighter, digging the tip of a little finger into one ear, then examining it critically before wiping his finger on his leg.
“But all of that was retribution for the sin of rebellion against Rome. It was punishment justly earned in
