ability to call up a spirit, what good would it be if I couldn’t control it? The stone was a sign, a sign that we had to rise up and take matters into our own hands. HaShem, The Name, the title the Eternal One used of Himself when He delivered us from slavery in Egypt. Our people had to force the pharaoh to let them go. They had to start walking before the Red Sea parted. Now we must do the same. The stone has told me what to do; there can be no mistake — the crossing of gold, the burned offering. It is so clear, Judith.’ Benedict’s eyes glittered in the lanternlight.
As he moved, Judith noticed three small barrels behind him on the jetty, stacked against the arch of the bridge. Benedict pulled the wooden bung out of one of the barrels. A thin stream of black powder began to trickle out across the wooden jetty under the bridge. It looked like the same powder that Judith had seen him dusting from his hands that afternoon.
‘What is that?’ Judith asked fearfully. ‘Is it a dried herb?’
‘It’s a mixture of substances; a little charcoal and sulphur, but mainly saltpetre, scraped from the walls of cellars. My father taught me to make it to treat running sores and cankers of the skin. Alchemists say it’s an elixir of life and will remove corruption from metals. But a few weeks ago I discovered in a book a list of recipes for making different kinds of fire. It was written that if the correct proportions are mixed, when a flame is touched to it, it will burn more fiercely than a blacksmith’s fire. And more than that: for the fire ignites so suddenly and with such force that it can bring walls crashing down. They say it is like a mighty thunderclap and flash of lightning together.’
For a moment Judith couldn’t grasp what he was saying; such a thing sounded impossible. Then she looked again at the three barrels stacked against the pillar of the bridge.
‘You mean to start such a terrible fire now, don’t you, and cause this bridge to tumble into the river?’
‘Yes, yes! Imagine it. Oh, they will rebuild it in time, but it will take a very long time, and think of the money the Church will lose. Think of the terror they will be in, knowing that we have such power. They will not dare lift their hands against us again, for this weapon will strike such fear into them, just as did the plagues of Egypt. And I want to hurt them, Judith, hurt them in the only way they will understand. Make them pay for what they did to my father and the others. All these years they have been bleeding us dry. Now they will know what it feels like to have what they value torn from them.’
‘And do you mean to smite the firstborn, too?’ Judith said furiously. ‘What of the innocent men, women and children crossing the bridge when you unleash this plague on them? Do you intend to drown them in the river like the pharaoh’s soldiers?’
Benedict looked shocked. ‘No. You know I would never kill anyone. The sign was clear — daybreak, dawn. The fire will be lit as the first rays of the sun light up the sky, long before the bridge is open. No one will die, I swear to you.’
‘But we will die, Benedict. Do you think they will allow you or me or any of us to live if they discover we possess such power and pose such a threat? There will be such an outcry in this land that the Christians will not rest until every Jew in England is burning. And what then, Benedict? What if they let you live to watch me burn on a bonfire and our neighbours and our friends, the old women and little children, too? If they let you live to witness that, how will you take revenge then for those innocent lives?
‘Your father went to the gallows still believing in justice; would he have wanted you to take revenge? Old Jacob gave all he had for a stone that he thought would bring peace and hope to all of us. He would be appalled at the thought of you using this stone to bring more destruction and misery.’ She abruptly halted in her tirade as an even more terrible thought flashed into her head. ‘The stone… If Isaac doesn’t have it and you do, then you must be the one who killed Nathan for it.’
Benedict threw his arms over his head. ‘Judith, how could you think that of me?’
‘You are standing there threatening to bring a bridge crashing into the river, and you ask me how I could think that you were a murderer. What else should I think?’
‘But I didn’t kill him! I discovered Nathan’s body in the chamber, but I heard someone in the synagogue, so I slipped away and hid. Then I saw you enter the chamber and come running out. Like you, I assumed Aaron had killed Nathan for the stone. You know how hot-tempered he is, and he was convinced he was meant to interpret the letters. I knew that if the authorities learned of a body in the synagogue they’d start arresting Jews for the murder. They didn’t bother for Jacob, because they guessed his killer was a Christian, but if they thought they could pin a murder on a Jew they wouldn’t hesitate to hang half the synagogue and claim we’d all had a hand in it, so that the Crown could claim all our property, just like they did when they hanged my father. I hid the body, Judith, to protect Aaron and the rest of us, but I am no murderer.’
‘And that’s why you’ll never have the guts to go through with this,’ a voice behind them sneered.
Judith spun around. A tall, muscular woman was leaning against the wall of the bridge, her arms folded over her pendulous breasts as if she was trying to keep them from straying.
‘He’s right, lady. He didn’t kill your friend; I did. My boys had been keeping a watch on this Nathan, but I told them to fetch me when they were sure he was alone. They’d already lost the stone once when they gave that old Jew a hammering, so I wasn’t going to trust them again. If you want something done properly, you need a woman to do it.
‘But young Nathan insisted he didn’t have the stone, even when I half throttled him with a piece of cord, so I finished the job and searched the room. As it turns out, the stinking piece of worm-meat was telling the truth; it wasn’t there. But I figured that if I left the body in the room, the stone would come to me. Your lover there knows what would have happened right enough. They’d have rounded up every Jew in Norwich and thrown them in the castle keep until they could decide how many to hang. The stone had to be in one of your houses, so all I had to do was wait, then send my lads round to search while you lot were rattling your chains and begging for mercy. But you had to go and move the little runt’s body, didn’t you? Still, no matter.’
Magote suddenly unclasped her arms and, too late, Judith saw the flash of metal. With the agility of a cat, Magote sprang forward and in one practised movement had grabbed Judith’s arm and spun her around to face Benedict, twisting the arm behind her back. Judith felt the point of a dagger pressing up between her ribs.
‘Now, lad, you give me that stone and I might just be persuaded to let your little sweeting live.’
‘I’ll… I’ll give it to you. Wait. Don’t hurt her, I beg of you,’ Benedict pleaded.
With shaking hands he struggled to pull the heavy stone from his scrip. After what seemed to Judith like a lifetime, he finally placed it on the wooden jetty next to his lantern so that it was in plain sight.
Holding Judith tightly in front of her, Magote pressed back against the wall. ‘Now, my pretty lad, you walk past me nice and slow and climb up the bank. When I have the stone safe I’ll let her come to you. But you try and make a grab for her and this dagger will be in her body up to the hilt afore you can bless yourself.’
Benedict edged past Judith, his face a mask of fear. Judith heard him trying to scramble up the wet grass, slipping and sliding in a frantic attempt to carry out the woman’s instructions to the letter.
‘You’re coming with me, my sweeting,’ Magote hissed in Judith’s ear, ‘just in case your lover there changes his mind and tries something.’
She slid the dagger around to Judith’s back and, using it as a goad, forced Judith to walk forward on to the slippery boards of the jetty. Without warning, Magote grabbed Judith’s shoulder and pulled her violently sideways. Judith’s feet slid from under her and she crashed into the river. She didn’t have time to take a breath before the icy water closed over her head, as her heavy skirts pulled her down and down into the blackness.
Free of Judith, Magote reached out for the stone, but she moved too quickly and slipped on the slimy boards. The edge of her gown caught the lantern and sent it crashing over. The candle rolled out on to a thin line of black powder, which instantly flared up like a rearing snake. Magote stared at it. She’d never seen the like of it before. The flame raced along the trail of powder and seemed to leap into the hole in the barrel. For a moment nothing happened, then there was a bang. Magote, screaming in agony, tottered backwards clutching at her face. Her gown, soaked in grease from the fat of the many meals she had cooked at the inn, blazed up like a tallow candle. For a few moments she teetered blindly on the edge of the jetty, flames leaping up around her head, before she toppled over into the river with a great splash and hiss.
It was the woman’s screams more than the dull bang that woke the guards, for the black powder was too damp and loosely packed to create a loud explosion and the bridge didn’t even tremble. By the time the guards got to their feet there was nothing to be heard but the sound of rushing water. They searched the length of the bridge but, finding nothing amiss, concluded that their duty was done and, yawning, returned to their posts and their dreams.
Benedict had slid back down the bank as soon as he heard the bang and the cries. But both women had
