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everything he could to eradicate any connection to his old life. Six years ago he had proved that when he allowed his own son, Solomon, to be arrested for murder. His vicious denunciation of the Jews at that time had left deep scars in Hubert as well as in Solomon.
    Hubert suddenly sat up straight on his stool. He hadn’t been seeking a revelation tonight, but one had just come to him anyway. He wondered how he could have ignored this truth for so long.
    He really didn’t like his brother, Jacob. He hadn’t liked him when he was an observant Jew. It was just possible that, even if Jacob hadn’t converted to Christianity, he would still be unlikeable.
    Jacob was an unpleasant person, no matter what his faith.
    “If he wasn’t my brother, I’d have done my best to avoid him,” Hubert said aloud.
    Hubert arose from the stool, wincing at the creak of his knees. He needed to walk and think. He had told Solomon that Jacob was still part of Israel, no matter how far he had strayed. The lost lamb must be sought, even if in this case it was more of an old and ornery ram. Hubert believed this in his mind but not his heart. It astonished him how much he still resented Jacob for what he had done. Despite all his fine talk, Hubert could not bring himself to forgive.
    No wonder he had not been allowed to make the ascent even to the first of the halls of the palace of the Lord! He was unworthy.
    What could he do?
    For now, Hubert knew only that the room was too small for his anguish. He put on his cloak and stepped out through the dark meeting room into the chill evening air.

Three
     
    Toulouse, that same evening. The house of Bonysach.
     
    S’elha no m vol, volgra moris
    lo dìa que m pres a coman:
    ai, las! Tan suaver m’aucis
    quan de s’amor me fetz emblan
    que tornat m’an tal deves
    que nuill ’autre no vuelh vezer
     
    If she doesn’t want me, then that day
    I would die at her command.
    Alas! Suicide seems sweeter
    than this love that has twisted me so
    that no other woman would have me.
    —Cercamón
     
     

     

 
    “Welcome, Solomon!” Bonysach’s wife, Josta, greeted him with a warm hug. “It’s been too long since we’ve seen you. Sit down, have some wine and tell us the news from the North.”
    Solomon took the cup gratefully. “A blessing on you, Josta!” he cried. “I have missed your smile and, even more, your cooking.”
    He settled himself into a chair in the courtyard, next to a table laden with a platter of olives, cheese and dried fruit. As he reached for a plump prune, he spied a small hand come out from under the table, snatch a handful of olives and vanish.
    Solomon bent down and lifted the tablecloth. Two pairs of identical mischievous brown eyes gazed back at him.
    “Peace to you, little ones,” Solomon said. “And who are you?”
    “My brothers,” a female voice said in disgust. “And they give us no peace, so they deserve none from you. Muppim! Huppim! Get out from under there! Go wash your hands!”
    The two boys grinned at Solomon, not at all fazed by the wrath of their sister.
    “Go on,” Solomon told them. “Has no one told you what I do to those who would steal the food from my plate?”
    “No, tell us now!” They spoke at the same time.
    Solomon seemed to consider. “No, it’s too terrible. You would both have nightmares.”
    “You’ll never get them to move that way.” The girl came over and pulled the boys out by their ankles. “Now go!” she ordered.
    They scrambled up and, laughing, finally obeyed.
    The girl smoothed her skirts and adjusted the silver band holding her dark hair in place. She then faced Solomon and held out her hand. His eyes widened as the light from the setting sun fell on her face. He dropped the prune, stood, and bent over her hand.
    “Belide?” he asked. “Can it be? What has happened to the little girl who used to go for rides on my back?”
    Belide sighed, shaking her head. “Oh, her childhood ended sadly.” Her voice rose again.