Gerard looked up and down the street, then drew his arm back and pounded on the door as hard as he could, his face red with anger. "Robert, open this door this instant. You heard me calling you and you run back inside? Open this door!"

"Go away, d' Auxelles!"

"What?" Gerard stared at the wood between him and Robert with disbelief. Was the man gone mad? "Open this door, Robert! Need I remind you of the monies you owe me from the wool you purchased last Fair? You send me a letter, tell me of a building I must hurry back to Tours to purchase before it's too late, and then when I arrive, you hide like a shy maiden! OPEN UP, I said!"

A small peek hole opened in the door and Robert looked out. Gerard could only see part of it, but the expression of disdain in his fellow merchant's face shocked him. A small heavy purse was shoved through to fall with a jingle of coins on the cobblestones, followed by a rolled up piece of parchment. Only stooping to pick these things up saved Gerard from being hit by the gob of spit that came next. He stepped back, now confused even more by the behavior of a man who had adamantly pursued his friendship just a month ago.

The peek hole shut and then Robert spoke again. "There's the money I owe, and the information on the house is on the paper. Now go, before someone sees you outside my house!"

"Robert, why? We were friends!"

"That was before you became a liability. I've lost trade because people knew we were friends."

"A liability? I am one of the most respected wool merchants of Champagne!" The peek hole opened once more. "You really don't know, do you?" Robert gave a snide laugh. "You want to know why? Go to the Coq d' Or. The jongleur's there every day about now. Or go stand in the marketplace for an hour or two and listen. You'll find out. Goodbye, Gerard"

The peek hole slammed shut, leaving Gerard d'Auxelles standing speechless in the street. Then pocketing the purse and parchment he turned and set out for the market place and the tavern beyond. Further down the street behind him as he walked away, a group of children began singing some song. He paid it no mind. By the time he had crossed the Market, he'd heard the chorus sung or whistled near him six times:


"As deep as the ocean
As strong as the flood
Is the bond between kinsmen
When blood calls to blood"

*********

Piccolet's greeting as Gerard entered the Coq d' Or, while not as friendly as the last time, was at least polite. Business at the tavern seemed to be booming; nearly all the tables were full and wine and ale were both being consumed with good cheer. As Gerard found a free spot and sat, some men at the next table glanced at him and then laughed as some jest was made, but before he could ask what was so funny, a hush fell over the room.

Up by the front, in front of the hearth, a masked figure clad all in red began tossing daggers about in mid air at a dangerous clip. The jongleur Robert had spoken of, Gerard guessed, but what did an admittedly amazing juggler have to do with him? He sat and watched as the man entertained the crowd juggling different objects, all the while making bawdy jokes that kept the men roaring with laughter. Then, a last bow as he effortlessly grabbed a blade in mid-flight and made it disappear, and the act seemed finished to Gerard. He was mistaken. The performer turned and picked up a battered lute from where it leaned against the wall. This was a recent thing, jongleurs adding music to their routines, but it was proving popular and this fellow played the instrument very well. He finished a short piece, played a few more chords, and then he began to sing:

"As deep as the ocean
As strong as the flood
Is the bond between kinsmen
When blood calls to blood"

"Brother to Brother,
"Father and son,
We've only each other
When all's said and done."

By the end of the second line, the whole tavern was singing along. Then the singer began the first verse, and men turned to watch as Gerard d' Auxelles listened and entered his own private hell.

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Blood for Blood: Part VI

"I leave on the morrow, before break of day,
Although with my family I'd much rather stay,
But though I must journey to far foreign lands,
My family stays safe, in my brother's hands"

"As deep as the ocean
As strong as the flood
Is the bond between kinsmen
When blood calls to blood"

"Brother to Brother,
"Father and son,
We've only each other
When all's said and done."
Gerard sat motionless as the verses laid out all he had done before the eyes of the world: how he had promised Jehan to look after the two boys, how robbers had attacked his brother as he left Barcelona and taken the proceeds of a very good trade season as loot, and left Jehan to die. Of course no names were named, but the story of Jehan's being robbed and killed at Barcelona was well known.

All through this, whenever the chorus came along, the whole room shook as the men joined in and sang. Then the jongleur started a new verse and Gerard turned pale at the words.


"A young warrior riding alone passes by
Draws rein on his horse as he hears a faint cry.
And although the merchant draws closer to death,
He asks for a promise before his last breath.
He speaks of suspicions, of a father's fears
And then a request the warrior hears:
The dying man asks that he quickly ride
Quickly to Tours and his young son's side."

He blinked in confusion, not grasping the implication at first, then he swore as the realization hit: Firnadan! His guess became certainty as the jongleur sang on, telling how the murderous brother hired the warrior for show, unaware that the man had tricked him into doing so. And then the most damning lines: how killers had been hired to do way with the boy and protector, and then the house set ablaze. The last verse had the souls of the murdered brother and nephew asking God for justice. Then came the final chorus:


"Brother and nephew,
Father and son,
We beg from the our graves
That justice be done!"

"Deep as the ocean,
As strong as the flood
Is our hunger for vengeance:
Blood calls for blood!"

The tavern crowd roared out the last line, and then almost to a man turned to stare at Gerard. The wool merchant's face was nearly scarlet with rage. He pointed at the jongleur. "A thousand gold pieces for the man who brings me that rogue's head!" The crowd now all turned to look at the singer, who blinked behind his mask as the first man rushed at him. "Ah well, so much for moral outrage!" he said sadly, and then smashing the lute into the face of the man closest, dove out the window and made good his escape. Behind him, as the crowd grew silent, Gerard d'Auxelles made his own solitary way out the front door and into the night.

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Blood for Blood: Part VII

Over the next few days, things went from bad to worse. While Gerard was able to purchase the new house, it did him little good. No one wanted to speak to him, let alone do business. Wherever he went, someone was sure to whistle that damn song as he passed, and once, a group of street urchins threw snowballs at him, screaming the song at the top of their lungs. Even the head of his own Guild, a man he had helped win the position, greeted him coolly and cut their meeting short with some lame excuse. It was on the way back from this further embarrassment that Gerard came to the obvious conclusion. He was ruined. Perhaps it might be smarter to take what money there was and start over somewhere else, perhaps England. Yes, a fresh start would be the best thing!

When he returned to the house, he found it dark, and when he finally got a fire going in the hearth the firelight revealed an open, empty strongbox. It was too much. He roared for his men, and then when no one answered, he lit a candle and rushed shouting through the house. "You'll pay for this, whoever you are, you'll pay!" From the open door of his own upstairs chambers, a mocking whistle answered him. "WHO ARE YOU?" He rushed up the stairs, into the room, where the draft from an open window blew his candle out. Against the faint light from the street below, a figure turned to look at Gerard. "I think you know who it is, Master Gerard. I think you knew the other eve at the Coq d' Or."

"Firnadan?"

"Aye, Gerard d'Auxelles, it is Firnadan." The voice was the same, but gone was the deferential tone of an employee to his employer, replaced by a harder note, that of a man used to being in command himself. "I'm afraid both your assassins died that night, as did your poor nephew, to my shame. I promised your brother I'd protect Amaud from you, and I failed."

"What do you want of me? Money? You shall have it!" Gerard's hand edged down for the hilt of his dagger.

"Already have it, I'm afraid. And do not even try to draw that knife. I can see better in this light than you. Do you need proof? Your eye just twitched. Aha…again!"

"What are you, a demon?"

"No, but I am half elven, and I am entirely determined that justice will be done your kinsmen. When I found Jehan, he told me you were devious, but that you were vulnerable because of your single mindedness. I'm afraid I am guilty of it as well, and it cost Amaud his life."

Gerard shook with anger. "Just tell me what you are going to do. Are you going to kill me? Blood for Blood, is it?"

The mercenary shook his head. "Gold flows in your veins, not blood. So, I wrote that song, and used it to spread the story. Nothing fancy, but a tune that is easy to remember and constantly reminds all of what you did. You are finished in Tours, Gerard, and as a merchant, as soon as word gets out to other markets."

"I knew that already. I was going to leave, but my money is gone!"

"Not your money, the family's; the head of the Guild holds it now in trust for Jehan's other son. As for you, here." Firnadan tossed Gerard a small purse. There's enough there to take you to Lagny. What you do from there is no concern of mine. I'm not killing you, Gerard, because it would be too good for you. You can live out your days in poverty, a far worse punishment for you."

"Damn you!" Gerard tossed the coin purse back at his accuser, clawing for his dagger. There was a click, and something hit him hard in the chest, like a being hit with a fist. He looked down to see a dagger in him. This could not be happening. He turned for the door, and then screamed as his boot slipped on something and he stumbled out and over the rail to fall to the floor below. Ian Blackthorn bent over and picked up the gold coin that had tripped Gerard and then went to look down from the rail. Gerard d'Auxelles lay dead atop the empty strongbox.

"My apologies, Gerard," Ian murmured. "It appears you did have blood in you, after all".

********

The choir voices rose on the cold winter air and filled the Cathedral with the beauty of the Requiem. Outside, two figures stood in the shadows and listened. "Ironic, is it not?" asked Jacob ben Ruben. "Such beauty to mark the end of such an evil man." Ian Blackthorn was not pleased. "They should have buried him in an unmarked grave."

"But this way suits Count Thibault's purposes. There was no real proof of the man's guilt we could show, after all. We couldn't use you because of the issue we spoke of before. This way, the stability of the Fairs is ensured."

"Of course. The unfortunate Gerard falls in the dark in his new house, landing on the knife he drew for protection against whatever he thought was lurking in the dark." Blackthorn snorted in distaste. "It matters not HOW justice is served my friend, only that it is. Milord Count is pleased. And the welfare of Jehan's younger boy is guaranteed by the Guild. Everyone is pleased."

"I'm not. Neither, I think, would Jehan be. Shalom, friend Jacob."

"Shalom, my friend" The big man nodded, and then moved off. Behind him, the music of the choir lifted to the heavens in prayer. But it was not Gerard the music brought to Ian's mind.

"Requiescat in pacem, Amaud"

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