Act 9: The Oathbreaker (Part 2)
two
"Save me!" the blind man cried, but no tears came out. He opened his mouth, emitting a pitiful, hoarse sob, finally revealing that he was weeping. "I'll do anything... Save me! Save my eyes!"
Yubi pulled back the tattered cloth—a horrifying, tingling sensation, accompanied by goosebumps, crawled up his arm, as if a giant centipede were moving a thousand legs across his fingers. He forgot to speak, forgot to scream. He had tried to make out Schumacher's face, but those once drooping, wise, and beauty-seeking eyes were now two charred, blackened holes—Schumel's eyes had been pierced by a pair of scorching iron spikes, just like the horrific tortures Yubi had read about. The Jew's hair had grown long, matted and tangled, the braids at his temples no longer noticeable; his beard was unkempt, a continuous brown patch, the once witty, curled mustache now completely obscured.
Yubi dared not and did not want to admit it. Was this really Schumacher? He wanted to blame someone, to have a target to shoot at, to give his grief and anger an outlet, but he couldn't find anyone. Should he blame the emperor and the governor, the priests and the imams, or the soldiers and members of parliament, the merchants and the nobles? All these pent-up emotions, like a drawn bowstring, plunged back into himself. Yubi thought, how could he not have expected this, not even considered it? Was he also an accomplice?
He looked up and met Yakov's gaze. The Koslav man simply stood by the pool, silently observing, his face and heart as hard as stone, without uttering a sound.
The slave girl, Naya, was startled when she entered. She clutched the amulet at her chest—a round, sea-blue, eye-shaped stone. "Tsk! Tsk! Tsk!" she cleared her throat three times. Before Yubi could ask her why, Yakov coldly and sternly ordered her out. "Get out!" he shouted, "No one is allowed in the drawing room!"
The Greek slave girl lowered her head and left without a word. "Don't do this, Yakov!" Yubi numbly reprimanded her knight, her voice as soft and indistinct as a mosquito's buzz, "We're all going to get rid of her... don't be so harsh on her."
Yakov fell silent again. He stood there, touching the scabbard, like a knight statue guarding a gate.
“Your voice has changed.” After only a few words, the blind man’s hysteria seemed to calm down considerably. “I didn’t recognize you at first. I thought coming here was all a dream.”
An overwhelming wave of guilt surged silently through Yubi's heart. He wanted to grasp Schumeer's hand. The hand was filthy, stained with mud and wastewater, causing him to hesitate for a moment before finally taking the dark, calloused fingers. "Shumer! I…I thought you'd left long ago." Yubi struggled to calm himself, not wanting to cause his old friend any discomfort—even for him, this was too difficult. The young nobleman anxiously considered how to speak without triggering his terrible memories, without inducing self-pity, while simultaneously demonstrating his goodwill and concern, and still managing to elicit the truth. "What can I do to help you?" Yubi carefully and urgently chose his words. "Are you hungry? Cold? Would you like a good meal, a hot bath? My hot springs overlook the Golden Horn Bay, the view is absolutely stunning, more beautiful than a painting…"
He knew he'd messed up the moment he finished speaking—how could a blind painter possibly see the beauty of Golden Horn Bay? Yubi wanted to bite his tongue off, sweat beading on his forehead. "I'm sorry…" he stammered, unsure if he should apologize at that moment.
“It’s alright,” Schumeer smiled. His wide grin stood out starkly against the blind man’s sorrowful face. “I want a big meal, and I want to take a hot bath.”
While the Jews were bathing, Yakov pulled Yubi away to the study. Frankincense burned before the shrine with the cross, filling the air with a sour aroma.
“He has designs on you.” Yakov leaned forward slightly. He tried to get Yubi to look him in the eye, but didn’t want to appear too cold-blooded. “He came here for you, not for a meal or a bath.”
“That’s Schumeer! He’s our friend!” Yubi looked at him with shock and unfamiliarity. “He’s become like this, and you still blame him! Even if we had to support him for the rest of his life, it wouldn’t amount to much of our money and land!”
“I’m not referring to that. He wants more than just that.” Yakov’s eyebrows furrowed deeply. “He’s a master of deception and extortion, but he can’t escape my eyes. Haven’t you noticed he’s changed?”
“That’s out of politeness and self-respect, something noble that the sick and disabled want to protect!” Yubi was furious at his choice of words. “It’s one thing for you to always make malicious assumptions about others, but you won’t even spare Schumacher?”
“…I didn’t say he acted maliciously.” Yakov didn’t want to continue arguing with him—the Blood Slave tried to calm his impetuous temper and make his words as sincere as possible. “He’s in dire straits, he must want something. If you become his lifeline, you’ll only be dragged down with him.”
“I’m not like you. I won’t let anyone drag me into the water!” Yubi’s fangs flared out of his mouth, barely visible beneath his lips. “If the incompetence and cowardice of mortals make you hesitate, even in the face of a friend’s pleas for help, then I can only laugh at you for being a cowardly and pathetic person! Not only that, you also have to put on a cloak of sobriety and rationality to make your conscience feel better and to find an excuse for not helping someone in distress!”
Did he think himself an omnipotent wish-granting machine, reveling in the pleasure of divine handouts? Yakov was so enraged by this arrogant and ignorant display that his last shred of patience finally ran out. "Then I must tell you plainly, you foolish boy. You're the one who's blinded. You're a naive brat who thinks he's omnipotent just because he's supported by power and ability! You help him only to show off your connections, to fob him off with cheap and selfish pity—it's not out of conscience!" Yakov gripped the hem of his Yubi-woven silk robe tightly. "You want to support him with gold coins and land for the rest of his life? Is that what he wants? The fisherman has lost his nets and boat; you give him a fish every day—are you humiliating him or blessing him?"
"He keeps saying he wants you to cure his eyes! Can you do that?"
Yakov saw his master clench his fists, his cheeks flushed red, the bloodshot marks creeping up to his ears. Yubi stared at him with red eyes, his ten fingers clenched white, opening and closing in his palms. "I can't do it, I can ask my sister!" he finally said, no longer caring whether Schumer next door could hear their argument. "My sister saved your life, she'll find a way!"
“What if Anbichia refuses you?” Yakov was waiting for this question. Like a hunter catching its prey, he let out a cold laugh. “What if she blackmails you, demanding you do something you don’t want to do before she helps? What if she pretends to help but keeps delaying? What if she lies and says she can’t do it, making excuses for your request?”
The young vampire was finally doused with cold water, his arrogant, burning arrogance extinguished, turning into a handful of sour, damp ashes. "I just wanted to help Schumeer," Yubi muttered, feeling wronged. "How will I know the outcome if I don't try?"
“I didn’t stop you from seeking Ambichai’s help, nor did I stop you from taking care of Shumel’s food and lodging.” Yakov’s anger subsided, and he loosened his grip on the hem of the garment. “I just think you should hear all this from me first, and think it through. Don’t let Shumel coerce you, and don’t let Ambichai control you.” The slave closed his eyes and sighed deeply. “This is a small matter for her, and even for you, but it’s not for Shumel. You also need to think carefully about how you will face him if this doesn’t work out.”
“…You’re in the same situation as me, that’s why you think like this. Is that right?” Yubi’s eyes suddenly became clear and bright. “You really care about me, Yakov. I’m grateful for that, but sometimes you really overthink things.”
Yakov felt a sharp, throbbing pain in his brain, as if it were being pierced by an iron wire. He kept his mouth tightly shut, unable to speak. The sound of burning frankincense dripped through him. He thought, pathetically and ridiculously, did Yubi really understand what he was saying?
At Schumacher's request, his beard and hair were styled exactly as before. The barber received his due payment and promised not to reveal that the Jews had spent the night in the inner city—a mere trifle compared to the wicked deeds of other nobles.
Yubi found him a light robe to wear. He studied the face, trying to find that familiar warmth. But Schumacher's eyes were tightly wrapped in clean bandages, blurring his old friend's expression and concealing his thoughts. Yubi thought it was as if a sad, thick wall of ice had separated them.
"Where are we going?" Schumacher groped at his clothes—a decent, crisp robe for going out. He asked, trying to sound nonchalant.
“Let’s go see my sister, Ambicya.” Yubi lowered her head, avoiding the blind man’s empty gaze. “…You see, she saved Yakov’s life, and perhaps she can heal your eyes like Jesus appeared to you.”
“Oh! You’re willing to do this for me,” Schumer said, “just like Queen Esther.”
This was not the reaction Yubi had expected—Yubi thought Schumacher might be moved to tears, or fearful and repulsed, or neither humble nor arrogant, or complaining and blaming others—but the thin Jew simply told the story of the Old Testament in a light and casual manner, as if the three of them were still sitting in the dark forest, sheltering from the heavy snow and warming themselves by the campfire.
"Who is Queen Esther?" Yakov, who was standing guard to the side, turned his head warily.
“Ha, I forgot we have an illiterate one among us.” Shumel raised his finger, intending to tease Yakov, but could only point in the wrong direction. “That is our national hero. More than a thousand years ago, although she was a Persian queen, she dared to admit her Jewish ancestry, spoke to the king, and saved all the Jews in Persia from the clutches of treacherous ministers, thus saving her compatriots from the calamity of slaughter.”
Yakov sensed a deeper meaning in the story, but he couldn't recall anything written in the Bible.
“Yakov is no longer illiterate; I’m teaching him to read and write.” Yubi changed off his heavy, cumbersome headdress and casually chose a Persian-style woven gold belt to tie around his forehead. “He has become a knight and joined the Knights Order, but he prefers to read epic tales of heroes.”
Schumacher remained silent for a while before speaking again.
"Is that so?" he seemed to be implying something. "If that's the case, then he's changed quite a bit."
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