I saw the meekness and innate kindness of Meir more clearly than before.
"We must wait to see what Godwin will do," he repeated. "In truth, Fluria, I saw this friar leave your house, and he seemed a humble and gentle man. I was watching, because I didn't want to come in if your father was in this study with him. And so I happened to see him very clearly as he came out. His face was white and drawn, and he seemed to carry an immense burden on his soul."
"Now you carry it too, Meir," I said.
"No, I carry no burden. I only hope and pray that Godwin will not seek to take his daughters from you, for that would be a horrid and terrible thing."
"How can a friar take his daughters from me?" I asked.
But just as I asked this question, there came a loud knocking, and the maidservant, my beloved Amelot, came to tell me that Earl Nigel, son of Arthur, was here with his brother the friar, Br. Godwin, and that she had shown them in and made them comfortable in the best room of the house.
I rose to go, but before I could, Meir rose beside me and took my hand. "I love you, Fluria, and want you for my wife. Remember this, and I knew this secret without anyone having to tell me. I even knew that the old Earl's youngest son was the likely man. Believe in me, Fluria, that I can love you unstintingly, and if you do not want to give me your answer now as to my proposal, things being as they are, be assured that I wait patiently for you to decide whether we will be married or not."
Well, I had never heard Meir put that many words together in my presence, or even in my father's. And I felt greatly comforted by this, but in total terror of what awaited me in the front rooms.
Forgive me that I cry. Forgive me that I can't help it. Forgive me that I can't forget Lea, not now as I recount these things.
Forgive me that I weep for Rosa as well.
O Lord, hear my prayer, listen to my cry for mercy; in your faithfulness and righteousness come to my relief. Do not bring your servant into judgment for no one living is righteous before you.
You know this psalm as well as I do. It is my constant prayer.
I went in to greet the young Earl who had inherited the title from his father. Nigel, too, I had known as one of my father's students. He looked troubled but not angry. And when I turned my gaze on Godwin I was once again astonished by the gentleness and quiet that seemed to surround him, as though he were present, yes, and vibrantly so, but in another world as well.
Both men greeted me with all the respect they might have shown a Gentile woman, and I urged them to be seated and take some wine.
My soul was quaking. What could the presence of the young Earl mean?
My father entered and demanded to know who was in his house. I begged the maid to go to Meir and ask him to come in with us, and then, my voice unsteady, I told my father that the Earl was here with his brother, Godwin, and that I had invited them to take some wine.
As Meir came in and stood beside my father, I told all the servants, and the whole body of them had come in to wait on the Earl, to please go out. "Very well, Godwin," I said. "What have you to say to me?" I tried not to cry.
If the people of Oxford knew that two Gentile children had been brought up as Jews, might they not try to harm us? Might there not be some law under which we could in fact be executed? I didn't know.
There were so many laws against us, but then these children were not the legal children of their Christian father.
And would a friar such as Godwin want the disgrace of having his paternity known to everyone? Godwin, so beloved by his students, could not possibly wish for such a thing.
But the power of the Earl was considerable. He was one of the richest in the realm, and had the most power in resisting the Archbishop of Canterbury whenever he chose, and also the King. Something terrible might be done now in whispers and without a public