well,” Roderigo added.
Dunstan cleared his throat, flicked away the rushes about him. It was as good as any chance to tell him. Perhaps, with the other men around, Roderigo would exercise some control over his temper. Again the chain was entwined around Dunstan’s finger. He asked permission to speak freely from his father. Jorge nodded.
“Dear Uncle,” Dunstan started off, “Miguel would be an ill-advised husband for Rebecca.”
Roderigo stared at his nephew. “Ill-advised?”
Dunstan nodded.
“Whatever do you mean?” Roderigo stated. “It is Miguel’s religious duty to his brother. He must marry Rebecca and produce a son in his brother’s name.”
Dunstan hesitated, then said, “Such a union would be doomed, Uncle.”
“Where do you come to assert such a statement?” Roderigo asked. “Miguel and Rebecca have known each other for years, they are very fond of each other. She was only promised to Raphael because he was the elder of the two boys. One’s as suitable as the other for a husband. Besides, Miguel has no choice. It’s our law.”
Dunstan looked to his brother for help.
“Uncle,” Thomas said gently. “Miguel is Italian in his practices of love.”
Roderigo’s eyes widened.
“What?” he said. It came out a whisper.
“Where did you hear such twaddle?” Jorge demanded of Thomas.
“From Miguel himself,” Thomas answered, rubbing his naked chin.
“He told us, Father, as soon as he was sure that it was Raphael who’d perished,” Dunstan said.
“Why wasn’t I told?” asked Jorge.
“He begged for no one to know until Uncle had been informed,” Dunstan answered his father. “I thought it best not to contest his wish, seeing the emotional state he was in.”
“Miguel is a buggerer of men?” Roderigo said, horrified.
Thomas nodded.
“Tis not that uncommon, Uncle,” Dunstan said. “Quite the fashion in Venice.”
Roderigo looked at his son.
“No worry, Father,” Ben reassured. “I find the thought very distasteful.”
“We must get back to business,” Aben Ayesh said uncomfortably. “Ruy will deal with his matters as he sees fit—”
“I refuse to believe it,” Roderigo interrupted.
“Ruy—” Aben Ayesh said.
Roderigo stood up and began to pace. “I cannot believe it!”
“Perhaps it’s simply a ruse,” Jorge suggested. “Perhaps the thought of sudden marriage has left Miguel with cold feet.”
Thomas shook his head. “Dunstan and I have known long before Raphael perished. Many times we’ve seen Miguel roaming St. Paul’s Marketplace, frequenting places that specialize in … Italian taste. He fancies himself quite a wit, accompanying the likes of Marlowe—”
“Miguel with Marlowe?” Roderigo gasped. “That godless heretic, that hater of Jews? Impossible!”
“Love is strange,” Dunstan snickered.
Roderigo slapped him soundly across the cheek. Dunstan’s hand went to his face. His eyes burned with fury.
Roderigo said, “How dare you mock your cousin?”
Dunstan spoke slowly, “I mock him not. I simply tell you the truth, whether it be acceptable to you or not, Uncle. I pray you, do not kill the messenger.”
Roderigo sank down onto the floor. Thomas took out a poniard and, without thinking, began to scrape the mortar between the stones.
“Marry, Thomas, put that away,” said Jorge. “You’ll loosen the blocks.”
“Your pardon, Father.” Thomas returned the dagger to his belt. “I meant no harm.”
Dear God, such a horrendous predicament, Roderigo thought. Raphael gone. The mission in jeopardy. And my dear Becca. He said, “How can I marry my daughter to a buggerer?”
Dunstan asked if he could speak. Roderigo nodded wearily.
“Uncle,” Dunstan said. “It’s best if Rebecca remains available until an appropriate suitor is found.”
“The Baron of Herdford seemed interested in her,” Thomas remarked. “At least, he inquired about her quite extensively.”
“Bah,” Dunstan answered, brushing him off. “He’s an old bag of wind whose sword lost his thrust many summers ago.”
“Tis not only rutting that makes a good husband,” Benjamin argued. “He’s rich.”
“Tut, Benjamin,” Dunstan replied. “Have pity on your sister. The Baron of Herdford!”
“The old lord will die soon,” Benjamin persisted. “As a wealthy widow with title, Rebecca could have her pick of suitors.”
“She has her pick anyway,” Dunstan said. “Beautiful, young—”
“Mulish,” Ben said.
“Say rather she’s … an independent thinker,” Dunstan said, smiling.
Roderigo suddenly turned on him. “With quite a bit of help from you, Dunstan. You’ve filled her brain with unfortunate ideas, nephew. Twas not helpful to her or me.”
“Uncle,” said Dunstan, “if knowledge be port, Rebecca be a drunkard. The girl soaks it up. Better she be tutored by a kinsman than a stranger who will lure her away from family—”
“Enough of my family matters,” Roderigo suddenly announced. “It’s my problem and I’ll do what’s best for my daughter … We must concentrate on the problem at hand. There are lives to be saved.”
“Here, here,” said Aben Ayesh. “People are dying! We must save them. As Raphael’s brother, Miguel still is the logical choice.”
“Miguel? Bah!” Dunstan exclaimed. “Better to send Rebecca.”
“Miguel has always been trustworthy,” answered Jorge. “I’m sure he’d be willing to continue his brother’s missions. To suggest him a coward, Dunstan, because of his … his peculiar passions, is ill-advised.”
“Very well,” Dunstan said. “If you think him able—”
“He is able,” Jorge said. “Do you agree, Solomon?”
“We are in complete accord,” said Aben
