That, Baldwin knew, was the result of intolerance mixed with the twin spices of repression and propaganda. He had seen it before. He was determined not to see it here.
“Smith! Come out!”
Simon dropped from his horse and passed the reins to Edgar. Striding to the door, he hammered on it with his fist. “It’s strange he’s not open yet,” he noted. “You’d expect him to have the forge going by now.”
As he spoke, there was the sound of a heavy bar being lifted from its sockets. A moment later the doors swung open, and they found themselves faced with the smith.
Jack had evidently enjoyed his ale the night before. His eyes were red-rimmed, and his complexion, under its layer of charcoal dust and ashes, looked almost transparent. He shivered, although whether from the cold or a reaction to alcohol Baldwin wasn’t sure. Blearily looking from one to the other, he wiped a hand over his mouth as if to remove a foul taste. “What is it?” he asked sullenly. “Can’t a man take a rest without being woken?”
“Your appearance explains a little your behavior last night,” Baldwin said harshly, and shoved the confused smith from his path. The others followed him inside.
“What’s all this about?”
“Shut up! Last night you and your friends chose to attack a pair of lepers, and then you had the bad judgment to put the fear of God into a young woman whose only guilt was that she has devoted her time to caring for those who are worse off than herself. Today I hear you threatened her family.”
“That’s not true,” Jack muttered. “Why’d I want to do that?”
“That is what I want to know, and the explanation had better be good.”
Jack shrugged and walked to his forge, raking the ashes and clearing the old fire out. As he worked, setting out tinder and striking a spark from flint and knife-blade, he spoke as though he was talking to himself. “I don’t see what cause there is for anyone to take upset at trying to get rid of the likes of them. Who wants lepers in the town? They’re defiled by their disease, and they defile the town itself by being here. It’s not like they’re normal. They’re marked out by God-they’d only get that if they were specially evil. They must have committed the most horrible sins.”
“I doubt that’s true,” said Baldwin, and a certain tone in his voice made Simon glance at him.
It was clear to the bailiff that the knight was holding his anger at bay with only the greatest difficulty. It was natural, Simon thought, that his friend should wish to defend the girl-Mary had done nothing that merited the persecution she had received-but he felt at best ambivalent toward lepers. All he had heard said that they had been marked out by God for punishment, as the smith claimed, and their hideous deformities bore it out.
“No one can doubt it,” said the smith, and bent to blow his tinder into flame. When he was satisfied, he set twigs about the little fire, and soon had a cheerful blaze. Only then did he surround it with charcoal, creating a small mountain, and throw himself on the bellows. Soon the cone was glowing red-hot, and the smith lifted the whole sack of coals and upended it, giving the bellows a couple of experimental squeezes to ensure the fire would catch, and then wiping his hands while he waited for the forge to build up its heat. “It’d be heresy to suggest otherwise.”
“It would be heresy to throw them out of their own camp when God Himself caused them to be allowed to live here,” said the knight. “Do you think yourself above God? If they are marked out by God for His own divine justice, you can have no right to execute your justice on them. It is not for you to decide who should live here, and who should not.”
“I am a free man of Crediton. I have-”
“No right in this, smith!” Baldwin suddenly bellowed. He crossed the floor in a couple of steps and grabbed the smith by the neck of his linen shirt. Holding the man close to his face, the knight glared at him. “You have no right to decide on divine or secular justice, understand? I speak for the King in this town, and Peter Clifford speaks for God. We don’t need you sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong! If you so much as speak to a leper in this town again, I will have you amerced for swearing; if I hear you have tried to harm them, I will have you thrown into jail; if a leper is harmed because of your vile and ridiculous slanders, I will have every ounce of pain reflected on your own body! Is that clear?”
The smith met his angry gaze resolutely. “And what if they kill us in the meantime? That’s what they want, you know, to kill us all off so that they can take over our town. They’re going to poison all the wells except their own.”
“What?” the knight expostulated. “Are you so moronic that you believe there is a conspiracy of lepers to kill you off?”
“It’s happening all over Europe, haven’t you heard? The Jews have put them up to it. When they’ve killed us all, they’ll be rewarded by the Jews, and then they’ll take our daughters and wives for their own. It’s down to the clean-living, God-fearing folk like us to stop them.”
Baldwin stared deep into the eyes before him. There was no reason there, and he suddenly felt a gut-churning disgust that was close to retching. “You cretin! You know nothing except what your bigotry wants to believe, no matter what the truth may be. You think they’ll poison the wells with something that’ll just kill off the menfolk but leave all the women all right? You’re too stupid to take seriously!” Contemptuously, he threw the man from him.
Jack tripped on a bolt of iron and collapsed. Before he could rise, Baldwin was kneeling on his chest. As the smith made to get up, he stopped, and his eyes for the first time registered fear.
“Yes,” hissed Baldwin quietly. “I have a dagger at your throat. It would take just a small push to shove it into your brain, if I could find something so small. You listen to me, you fool, and listen very carefully: you will not spread any more stories about lepers, and if you hear anybody else talking such rubbish, you’ll tell them to stop. Is that clear? I will not have them made even more miserable because of a moron like you.”
“Baldwin, you shouldn’t hurt him,” said Simon quietly. He had got to his feet, and now stood a short way from the two men.
The knight slowly released the smith, who lay still, his eyes glittering with rage. “You say you are ”God-fearing,“ so go to Peter Clifford and ask him what God thinks of those who spread lies about others and incite the mob to murder. I will speak to him and tell him to expect you. But for now, don’t forget I’ll be listening to every rumor with a view to hearing what you’ve been saying, and if there’s anything malicious about lepers, you’ll suffer for it.”
He shoved his dagger back in its sheath and left the room. Edgar hurried after him, but Simon paused a moment, staring down at the smith.
“He’s mad,” said Jack with disgust, bringing himself up to a sitting position and brushing dirt from his shirt.
Simon kicked his elbow, and the smith fell back, striking his head on the ground, and cursing.
“Mad he may be, but so help me, if I hear you’ve been slandering that sweet girl Mary,” said Simon pleasantly, “I shall come back here and roast you over your own forge.”
“You couldn’t. You’re an officer of the law yourself, Bailiff.”
Simon gave him a lazy smile. “Don’t try me, Jack. The Keeper always sticks within the law. Me, I’m used to issuing my own justice. So listen carefully. If I hear that Mary has been insulted or hurt by anything you do, I’ll be back here, and I’ll impose my own vengeance on you. You are to be congratulated. In a matter of a few short hours, you’ve managed to make two new enemies, and both are officers, one of the King, one of the Warden of the Stannaries. Don’t make us have to return.” 20