“Then let me,” Wil growled.
“As you wish then.” Beniamino took a seat between the two and proceeded to speak in a low voice. “So you want to know my business. Fine. I am to remain here in utter silence until I leave in the morning. I’ve assured the prior, on risk of future dealings, that I will travel far away with no single word to another.” He smiled. “Ah, the web of Christian politics.
“I am a moneylender and am welcome in the company of your churchmen. You see, my business is to loan money to desperate Christian warlords at a high interest.”
“Usury,” grunted Wil. “Tis a sin.”
Beniamino grinned. “Well, only between either Christians and Christians or Jews and Jews. It is not so much a problem between a Christian and a Jew.”
“The tricks of lawyers,” muttered Heinrich.
“Indeed.” Beniamino went on. “At first the lords pay a little back so they can borrow more. I happily loan them more, and soon they refuse to pay. This, you see, delights me beyond words, for I then sell the note of debt to your bishops or abbots for my profit. They, in turn, add their own profit to the value of the debt, then demand payment from the lords under threat of excommunication… a power a poor Jew simply does not have.”
“A shrewd business, to be sure,” interrupted Wil.
“Indeed. What is the best, however, is when a note is bought by an ambitious man like your prior. He was willing to pay more than my normal price to keep the abbot from knowing. You should have seen him smile when he set my little parchment in his box!”
“Prior Mattias?” asked Heinrich.
“Ja, it is he.”
“But why would he be so anxious to buy a debt from you?”
“Here’s the wonder of it: the debt was between myself and the abbey’s protector, Lord Heribert of Runkel!”
“Heribert!” exclaimed Wil.
“Shh, lad!”
Wil’s mind was racing. “What would Prior Mattias do with a debt owed by Heribert? And why would he not tell the abbot?”
“I am rather certain that the man intends to wrest something of great value from either the lord or the abbot. If the abbot needs to press the lord, he might reward Mattias for providing a way. Or it may be that your prior will conduct a private business for profits of his own.”
Heinrich was dumbstruck. He had known Mattias to be a shrewd man, particularly when in league with the steward. “And Lord Heribert’s steward?”
“Ah, yes, Hagan. He is a cursed thief to be sure, a man of avarice. He sent Lord Heribert to me in the first place. I suppose it shall be he who will act as judge in your trials. It is my belief that he and Mattias are conspiring together in this.”
Heinrich grumbled. “I know him. He’s a wicked demon if ever one lived.”
“Indeed. And he is in a good position to plot with Mattias either for or against either the abbot or the lord.”
“And you could spoil the secret,” blurted Wil.
“Yes, I surely could. But it would not profit me to do so. I’ve a handsome sum already set in my strongbox. I’d not want to lose that!”
“So you’re leaving on the morrow?” asked Heinrich.
“Ja. At first light.” The man finally cut Wil’s cords, while Heinrich lost himself in thought.
After a long silence, Heinrich spoke. “Beniamino, might I ask a kindness of you?”
“You might ask.”
“When you leave, would you be traveling through Weyer again?”
“No. I’m going to Limburg.”
Heinrich’s mind was racing. “The uncle I mentioned—Arnold, the peddler of secrets—methinks he might be willing to pay you for what you know. You would be long gone, and he has never once betrayed a seller. This I know.”
“Hmm. Would he pay a Jew?”
“I don’t know. But tell him his nephew says to give you a pound of silver. Tell him Heinrich will pay him back when he is free.”
Beniamino was quiet, then answered with a smile. “When you are free? Ha! I like that. Ja, my friend. Heinrich, I am an old man. I’ll be spending the rest of my days under the sun in Brindisi with my cousins far to the south. I’ll not be back in these cold forests again! So why not? For you and your stiff-necked boy, I shall gladly tell this uncle. And if he doesn’t believe me?”
Heinrich thought for a moment. “Tell him I have news of his son, Richard.”
Beniamino looked carefully at the shadowed figures of the baker and his son. “Done.” He laid a hand on the pair. “You inspire me with your hope. You have not yielded to the moment. May the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob grant you favor.”