Burning Twilight by Kenneth Wishnia Read Free Book Online Page B

wife let out a strangled yelp.
    A gust of wind blew in through the open door, making the torch flame dance and shiver.
    “What?” Horshky said.
    “Let’s see your hands.”
    Horshky stared at his hands as if he didn’t quite know what to do with them. His palms were just like any other man’s.
    “Look how he hesitates—” a guard interjected.
    “That proves he’s guilty!”
    “I haven’t done anything wrong,” said Horshky. He was eerily calm for a man in his position, like a bored prompter reading a cue line from a play he’d seen a hundred times before.
    Lord Strekov’s men sniggered and shook off his words, then Rabbi Loew stepped in from the shadow’s edge and into the circle of light.
    “Perhaps he truly feels that he did nothing wrong,” said the rabbi. “Because he believes so strongly that he was betrayed by his victims that his hatred has taken on a life of its own.”
    “What victims? What are you talking about?” said Horshky.
    “Look, there’s no point denying it,” I said. “We know all about Father Szymon’s ruling that you had no right to a share of Lord Strekov’s estate since he didn’t marry your mother within the bonds of the Catholic Church.”
    Horshky stood there silently. But silence is also speech, as we say.
    I went down the list, ticking off the main points: “Sir Tadeusz was next in line to inherit the manor house and the surrounding land, including the dyeing mill, Jan Barwicz ran the mill with an iron hand, and Father Szymon blessed the arrangement.”
    Horshky stared right through me to a spot about a hundred yards off in the deepest part of the woods.
    “At least tell them I had nothing to do with Sir Tadeusz’s murder,” said Kassy.
    “And how would I know anything about that?” said Horshky.
    “Was Sir Mateusz next on your list of victims?”
    But Horshky denied everything. “Lord Strekov has many other bastard children in the region. Why aren’t you questioning them ?”
    I could have answered that with two words. But Rabbi Loew handed Kassy his staff and told Lord Strekov’s men, “Take this woman to the graveyard and lead her to Father Szymon’s grave. There you will allow her to pound on the earth three times to summon his spirit and bring it back here to testify at this moment of supreme judgment.”
    Kassy said, “But Rabbi, the law—”
    “The law has established a very clear precedent in this case. Rabbi Karo has ruled that it is permitted to question the spirit of a dead man, provided that you do not attempt to conjure the corpse itself.”
    Rabbi Loew rarely cited such laws in front of unfriendly Christians, but something in his authoritative manner convinced them. The lord’s men nodded, although they didn’t look too thrilled about having to escort an accused witch to the graveyard.
    “Don’t worry, my mother always told me never to trust a man who conjures the dead,” said Kassy. Then she took the rabbi’s staff and left with two of the lord’s men.
    Rabbi Loew took a step closer to Horshky. “God commands us to love our fellow man because our souls are all connected. And so we must conclude that whoever hates his fellow man is actually guilty of self-hatred.”
    “Fellow man? What did any of my fellow men ever do for me?” said Horshky, as the pounding started outside in the cold night. “What have I got to show for all that wonderful love? This world hasn’t given me anything.”
    I looked around the room and saw a wife with a kindly face, a hearth full of embers, a larder that was nearly half full, and a man who gets to breathe freely in the crisp mountain air, unlike so many of us whose lives are restricted to the cramped and fetid ghettos. But obviously Horshky didn’t see that. He only saw his lowly position relative to his brothers, and thought that the world had given him nothing.
    “What have I got to show for it?” Horshky repeated as the pounding grew louder.
    Rabbi Loew nodded, and the squire slipped the