WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: Ceaseless

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◈ The Medieval Heretic King is Too Good at Developing ◈

Chapter 25: The Jew (2)

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Pope Martin V intended to erase me from Christendom.

Excommunication.

All trade routes would be cut off, and no merchant would be willing to trade with Bohemia.

That must have been the Pope's plan, to make us wither and die.

But did those old men in the Papacy truly understand?

That the Excommunication Edict had set me free instead.

Something no king in Europe would dare to do. Something that, even in the original history, only began to happen little by little around the nineteenth century.

To me, Jews were not sinners guilty of killing Jesus.

They were simply capable people who had been unfairly persecuted, citizens who would pay taxes to my kingdom and live alongside us.

Discriminating against people because they practiced a different religion.

Rejecting them because their skin was different.

In the twenty-first century where I had lived, that was what would get someone socially ostracized.

'If they want to call me a man bound for Hell, they can say it all they like.'

If taking in those abandoned by God was the work of the Devil, then I would gladly become the greatest devil of them all.

Of course, the world did not always go as I wished.

Only half a day had passed since the Edict of Jewish Equality was proclaimed.

Just as expected, a fire had already flared up within my own inner circle.

Murmur, murmur.

The audience chamber of Prague's royal palace had turned into a marketplace.

Taborite priests in black vestments, their faces solemn.

Guild masters in splendid silk robes and gold necklaces, their plump faces red with anger.

People who normally would not have mixed any more than oil and water had achieved miraculous unity before their common enemy, the Jews.

'Well, just as expected.'

When people imagined a riot, they usually pictured ignorant peasants with pitchforks and torches.

But that was not the most frightening kind of resistance.

Fine clothes. Cultured speech.

And collective action by elites armed with the most powerful weapon of all, a just cause.

That was the poison that truly threatened royal authority.

"His Majesty King Ulrich I enters!"

As I stepped into the audience chamber at the guard's cry, the marketplace-like uproar stopped at once.

Yet it was not the silence of respect. It was a precarious stillness, like a pressure cooker about to explode.

I sat slouched on the throne and looked down at them.

An old priest stood in the front row.

His sunken eyes were filled with blind fanaticism.

He was Jan Želivský, a priest renowned as one of the most radical and violent among the Taborites.

"You have come, Your Majesty."

Želivský bowed. His manner was polite, but his voice was lined with thorns.

"God's servants and representatives of Prague's citizens have gathered to meet Your Majesty despite your busy schedule."

"Judging by your faces, you haven't come for tea."

I replied dryly, resting my chin on my hand.

"Get to the point. Priest Želivský, are you their representative?"

"Rather than a representative, let it be the earnest counsel of an old man who wishes to save Your Majesty from a misguided path."

Clutching a Bible to his chest, Želivský stepped forward.

"Your Majesty, please withdraw the edict."

"Why?"

"As Scripture says, 'Do not be yoked together with unbelievers.' For what fellowship can light have with darkness, and what harmony can Christ have with Belial?"

His eyes gleamed with conviction. Eyes that did not doubt for even an instant that he stood for justice.

"The Hussite spirit is to return to the purity of the early Church. And Scripture clearly commands us to distinguish what is holy from what is profane."

"And?"

"Jews are those who deny Christ. They cannot be our spiritual brothers. Yet Your Majesty would grant them citizenship and allow them to live among us within the sacred walls of Prague? This is not tolerance. It is contamination!"

Želivský's voice gradually rose.

He looked around at the priests and merchants behind him, drawing their response.

"We shed blood to purify this city! We drove out the Pope's corruption and Rome's decay, seeking to build a city of God where we live by Scripture alone. Yet!"

Thud!

He struck the floor with his staff.

"Why does Your Majesty seek to welcome as our brothers the cursed bloodline that nailed our Lord Jesus Christ to the cross?"

The crowd behind him cried out as though they had been waiting for it.

"That's right!"

"Withdraw the edict!"

"Expel the heathens!"

I watched their "righteous anger" without expression.

I had expected this, of course. If I freed the Jews, the Taborite priests, so tightly united by faith, would resist more fiercely than the Papacy ever could.

That was why I had prepared for this situation long ago.

"Priest Želivský."

At the king's quiet call, the commotion died down for a moment.

"You took up the sword because you hated the Pope, didn't you?"

"That is correct! Rome's Antichrist..."

"Why did you hate him? Because he monopolized the truth, called you heretics, and discriminated against you, wasn't it?"

Želivský reluctantly nodded.

"...That is true, but."

"And look at yourself now."

I pointed at Želivský.

"You are doing exactly what the Pope did. 'We are holy, and you are filthy.' 'We are chosen, and you are cursed.' How is that any different from the Pope's logic?"

"Th-that is different! We follow the truth, while the Jews..."

"It is no different. Hussites are treated as heretics and despised throughout Europe. So are Jews. They are in the same position as us, neighbors beneath the same roof."

Želivský's face twisted into something beyond description at the suggestion that Jews were our neighbors.

I asked him, "Priest Želivský, do you love Jesus?"

"Of course! More than my own life."

"Then you must love Jesus's family as well."

"...What?"

Želivský frowned, like an animal that had sensed a trap.

"What was Jesus's mother, the Virgin Mary?"

"..."

"And his adoptive father, Joseph?"

"...A Jew."

"Then what was Jesus?"

"..."

Želivský closed his mouth.

It was not because he did not know the answer. It was because he knew that the moment he answered, his own logic would close around his throat.

But I did not stop there.

"What about Jesus's foremost disciple, Peter? What about the Apostle Paul? They were all circumcised Jews. By your logic, Jesus was a heathen, and Peter went to Hell as well."

"That is sophistry!"

Želivský shouted, his face flushing red.

"They fulfilled the laws of the Old Testament and established a new covenant! But the Jews in that ghetto now are those who rejected Jesus!"

"Rejected him, you say."

I gave a short laugh and tapped the armrest of my throne.

"There is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus."

Želivský's eyes widened.

"G-Galatians, chapter 3, verse 28..."

I continued.

"What about this? 'There is no difference between Jew and Greek, for the same Lord is Lord of all and richly blesses all who call on him.'"

"That is... Romans, chapter 10, verse 12..."

Želivský's eyes quivered as though struck by an earthquake.

'I saw this coming, so I studied the Bible hard the day before and found a few convincing passages in advance.'

If they attacked with the Bible, I only had to crush them with the Bible in return.

It was fortunate that Ulrich, this body's original owner, knew Latin. Otherwise, I would not have been able to read the Bible at all.

"The 'love thy neighbor' you people speak of always comes with conditions. They must be on your side, speak the same language as you, and benefit you."

Frowning, I looked down at everyone gathered in the audience chamber.

"Where in the Bible is there a footnote saying, 'Love thy neighbor, except for Jews'? Does the Ten Commandments say, 'Thou shalt not murder, except for Jews'?"

"Th-that..."

"Do you not feel ashamed, as Christians, of being slapped by the Pope and taking out your anger on Jews because they are an easier target?"

I spoke to Želivský as though sentencing him to death.

"Priest Želivský, do not use Scripture to justify your hatred."

"...Ah... Aah!"

I turned away from Želivský, who had collapsed onto the floor, and fixed my gaze on the potbellied man standing behind him.

The head of Prague's merchant guild, with jeweled rings on every finger.

"Guild master."

"Eek, y-yes? Your Majesty."

The guild master sprang forward in alarm.

"Did you come here because of faith as well? Were you so worried about Jewish souls that you couldn't sleep?"

"N-no! No, faith is important, of course, but... we wish to speak of a more practical matter. A matter of order."

"Order?"

The guild master broke into a cold sweat and rambled incoherently.

"Your Majesty, Jews know nothing of business ethics! They do not follow guild regulations, and they disrupt the market by selling goods at absurdly low prices!"

"They disrupt the market?"

"That is correct! And they... use evil magic! How else could they make so much money? Honest Christian merchants cannot withstand their sorcery. At this rate, all commerce in Prague will fall into their hands!"

"Magic."

A hollow laugh escaped me.

"Guild master. Shall we be honest with one another?"

I leaned forward and stared directly into the guild master's eyes.

"What you fear is not evil black magic. It is competition."

"...What?"

"You have lived comfortably within the fence of your guild until now. No competition, and you set prices however you pleased. But now Jews say they will come in and sell better goods more cheaply, and that frightens you, doesn't it? You are afraid of losing your livelihoods."

"Y-Your Majesty! We only wish to preserve Prague's economic order..."

"That is not order. It is a monopoly."

I coldly rebuked everyone gathered in the audience chamber.

"There will be no unjust monopoly in my kingdom. If you make better goods and sell them more cheaply than the Jews, the people will buy your goods. If not, they will buy Jewish goods."

"But, Your Majesty! Christian merchants are about to starve to death..."

"Then starve to death."

A cold, oppressive hush spread through the room.

No one could even breathe.

I raised my chin and drove the point home.

"As king, I have a duty to protect my people. But if this is not because of war or a recession, but simply because you lost in competition, that can only mean you are incompetent. Do not hide your incompetence behind faith."

I took a gold coin from my pocket and flicked it into the air.

Clang!

The coin struck the floor with a clear sound. It rolled, then stopped between Želivský and the guild master.

"If anyone can tell whether this coin belongs to a Jew or a Christian, step forward."

No one did.

Money had no religion. Before that simple truth, their righteous cause stood naked and pitiful.

The air in the audience chamber was like a bowstring drawn tight. One more touch, and it would snap.

I could read it in their eyes. Fear, and beneath it, shame.

They vaguely understood that they were wrong. They simply did not wish to admit it.

Admitting they were wrong meant admitting that their faith was wrong, and giving up the privileges they possessed.

'That should be enough.'

They were Bohemia's people too. It was time to soothe them a little.

I slowly rose from the throne and descended the steps one by one.

The king's footsteps echoed through the silent audience chamber.

Stopping right before Želivský, I placed a hand on his shoulder and called to him in a low voice.

"Priest Želivský."

Želivský's shoulder twitched.

He trembled as if burned, but he did not dare shake off my hand.

"We are fighting to prove that the arrogant Roman Papacy is wrong and that we are right."

"..."

"But if we behave exactly like those Romans, what will the world say when it looks at us?"

I met Želivský's eyes.

Within eyes shining with fanatical faith, I saw anxiety and unease he had failed to hide.

"The Pope calls anyone different from himself a heretic and kills them. If we call Jews heretics and drive them out, how are we any different from the Pope?"

"That is..."

Želivský's lips moved. He wanted to refute me, but his expression showed that he had no logical answer.

Feigning gentleness, I patted his shoulder twice.

"I know how fervent your faith is. But true victory is not stabbing someone with a sword. It is showing that we are better than them."

I smiled gently at Želivský.

"I need your steadfast faith, Priest Želivský. Should you not stand at the center and ensure the people do not lose their way in faith while living alongside Jews? Driving them out is not the answer. Enlighten them, embrace them, and prove the superiority of Christians."

"..."

Želivský remained silent for a long time.

At last, he let out a deep sigh and lowered his head.

"...If that is truly Your Majesty's will, we Taborite priests will... guide them through prayer."

It was not a complete surrender.

Still, this was enough. At least they would not run out tomorrow and set the ghetto on fire.

With a satisfied smile, I turned around.

It was the guild master's turn now.

"Guild master."

"Y-yes!"

"You said earlier that Jews were disrupting the market."

"Th-that is right. If Jews are allowed to sell their goods freely, then we small merchants..."

"That is wrong."

I lightly shook my head.

"Why do you only think about fighting over one loaf of bread? Why not think about building a bread factory?"

"...A-a factory?"

"Jews have money. They also have an information network of their own, spread across all of Europe. Capital and information networks so vast that you cannot hope to imitate them."

I placed a hand on the guild master's shoulder.

"Those fine glass crafts you make will not fetch their proper value if you sell them only within Prague. But what if you send them to Venice or Constantinople through Jewish merchant caravans? How many times would the price rise?"

The guild master's eyes flew open. The mental calculator in the guild master's mind was racing furiously.

"That... we could get three or four times the price, no... at least ten times as much!"

I smiled broadly.

"Do not compete with Jews. Cooperate with them and expand the market itself. Stop trying to devour one another in that cramped little well, and go out to sea to hunt whales. Board the ship called the Jews."

"Ah... Aah!"

The fear vanished from the guild master's face, replaced by a greedy flush.

Not competitors, but business partners.

Not people who would steal their livelihoods, but investors who would help them earn even more.

With a slight shift in perspective, Jews no longer appeared to them as hateful heathens, but as geese that laid golden eggs.

The guild master bent at the waist at a right angle.

"Your Majesty, we were terribly shortsighted. Cooperation with the Jews... no, we will immediately seek ways to prosper together!"

"Good. Think it over carefully."

The murderous atmosphere in the audience chamber softened.

The priests had been persuaded by a "moral cause," and the merchants smacked their lips over "future profits."

Of course, centuries of hatred would not disappear overnight.

But at least they no longer had a pretext to raise a rebellion or incite a riot in the name of the edict.

'I've put out the immediate fire.'

But the real problem began now.

My words had sounded fine, but if I could not deliver results in the end, they would bare their teeth again at any time.

This, too, was one of the countless problems I had to solve from now on.

"The audience is over. Withdraw."

The people flowed out like the receding tide, leaving only silence in the empty audience chamber.

I settled back into the throne.

Once the tension left me, fatigue weighed heavily on my shoulders.

"You may come out now."

At my words, someone who had been hiding in the shadows behind a pillar stepped out.

A long white beard and deeply carved wrinkles.

But the old man's eyes were still bright and alive.

It was Rabbi Abraham, leader of the ghetto.

He still seemed unable to shake off the shock of witnessing the absurd scene that had unfolded moments ago.

The king had quoted Scripture to rebuke priests, then used greed to persuade merchants and protect Abraham's people.

"Your Majesty..."

Abraham spoke in a trembling voice.

"...Could you perhaps be the reincarnation of Cyrus the Great?"

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