The Moneylender of Toulouse Read Online Free PDF

path was taking us from the city to the bourg, I saw. That meant our unknown collector was from the new money part of town. Interesting, I thought. I wondered how far afield the Bishop had to go for his borrowing. It might be that nobody from the old town trusted him enough to loan him money anymore.
    The street fetched up against the Saracen Wall which divided the old from the new. The Maison Commune, built to celebrate the union of city and bourg, was to my right, so the Portaria, the old fort that once guarded the entrance to the city when there was no bourg, had to be on the left. I stopped short of the intersection to glance cautiously around the corner. Sure enough, my apprentice was vanishing through the Portaria into the bourg. It would have been fun to quickly climb to the top of one of the lookout towers to track her, but I didn’t have time to talk my way past the guards who were stationed there. I took a chance and ran to the gate, then peeked through to the other side.
    She wasn’t there. I had lost her.
    I cursed myself under my breath, then slipped through the gate. As soon as I reached the other side, a small hand snaked out to grab my wrist.
    â€œIt took you long enough to get here,” muttered Helga. “I thought you were in better shape than that.”
    â€œCongratulations, Apprentice,” I said. “You passed. When did you figure out I was following you?”
    â€œThe hairs on the back of my neck were tingling about a block after I left,” she said. “I got a glimpse of you at that first big square we crossed.”
    â€œThe Montaygon,” I said. “Well done.”
    â€œI was wondering if you were going to try that on me,” she confessed. “Some of the older novitiates talked about it back at the Guildhall. But I would have spotted you anyway. I’ve been watching our backs ever since we left Marseille. You taught me that.”
    â€œImpressive. Now, impress me some more and tell me where our mysterious man lives.”
    â€œHe went through those gates past the church with the tower,” she said, indicating a cluster of large houses around an interior courtyard. “The center house of that group. I don’t know if that was the master of the house I was following or just one of his men.”
    â€œIt wouldn’t be one of his men on a mission like that,” I said. “No one would send a clerk or a lackey to accost a bishop in a cathedral. That would be adding insult to more insult. If I was threatening a bishop with litigation, I would certainly want to take that task upon myself, if only for the pleasure it would give me.”
    â€œLet me stay and find out some more,” she said. “There are children playing, and there are bound to be women doing laundry.”
    â€œAll right,” I said, pleased. “We will have dinner waiting for you.”
    â€œAnd you should take advantage of my absence,” she said, waggling her eyebrows. “It’s so difficult for married people when there are children about.”
    â€œI will consider your advice,” I said seriously.
    She skipped away, looking all of ten years old. I knew her to be really twelve, verging on thirteen, with all the guile of an adult fool. But there she was, joining a group of girls who were playing tag in front of the courtyard, to all appearances just like them.
    And to think that a month ago, she had killed a man for the first time.
    I sighed and returned home. Claudia was unpacking our gear and inspecting it for any damage it might have sustained during our recent travels.
    â€œPortia’s asleep,” she whispered, then she gasped as I picked her up and slung her over my shoulder.
    â€œWhat do you think you’re doing?” she asked as I carried her into our room.
    â€œTime to put this new pallet to the test,” I said.
    It was a good day for passing tests, as it turned out.
    *   *   *
    We were fully