My Guardian Angel

by Sylvie Weil

  The servant looks around her anxiously. “You mean that it might attract —”

  Elvina finishes her sentence: “— attention. Now, tell me about Muriel.”

  “She’s coughing and she has a fever. She was shivering all night. The mistress sent me to get you as soon as day broke or, rather, as soon as we heard the shamash knocking on the shutters, because it’s not exactly daylight out there. . . . I followed his torchlight, and he wasn’t in any hurry. It isn’t enough for him to knock on the shutters to wake people up. He stops to chat, first with this one and then with that one. . . . I thought I would die of cold. But it’s better to die of cold than of fright!” The servant stretches out her hands toward the fire.

  At the table, Yom Tov and Samuel are finishing their meal. Three days have gone by since the Sabbath, but they have still not completely recovered from their fear, and they are eating their bread and gruel in silence. Judah has already left.

  Elvina picks up the lamp.

  “How are we supposed to eat?” protests Samuel.

  “Open the shutter to let in a little light. How much light do you need to swallow your gruel? I need the lamp to look for the potions I’m going to take to Muriel. The jars and vials all look alike. I don’t want to take the wrong ones.”

  A few minutes are enough to prepare her basket. Before setting out, Elvina rushes up to her room, opens her chest, and pulls out a roll of parchment on which her father had inscribed these few lines when she was little: “Thou shalt not fear the terror of the night, nor the arrow that flies by day, nor the plague that creeps in the shadows.” This she ties around her neck with a string. Then she takes another parchment and hides it up her sleeve. That one is for Muriel.

  Outside, it is still dark. There seems to be no separation between the earth and the sky, between the world below and that above. Everything is drowning in an icy drizzle. Elvina has her basket in one hand while the other checks that her talisman is still in place around her neck to protect her. Like the servant, she pulls her hood down over her face, and the two walk along huddled close together.

  But they are not really alone. Here and there, shutters are ajar. An old woman empties a basin of dirty water into the street; another is on her way to one of the neighborhood wells, bucket in hand, head and shoulders shrouded in a blanket. Two men on their way to synagogue, their hoods up over their heads, wish them good morning.

  At Muriel’s house, the shutters are open. A terra-cotta lamp burns on the window ledge. Bella and the twins’ mother, whom Elvina at first mistook for Muriel’s, welcomes them inside. She kisses Elvina and offers her a glass of spicy mulled wine.

  “Drink up quickly. This drizzle goes right through to your bones,” she said. “We know that your mother and grandmother are in Ramerupt. But we also know that they have taught you their art and that sometimes you can take their place. My sister has gone to fetch water. The girls are in their room. You can go up.”

  The four girls are keeping themselves warm by huddling together under the covers. A wall torch sheds a dim light around the room. Muriel’s face looks flushed, and she has a hacking cough.

  “It’s so kind of you to have come in this dreadful weather,” says Bella.

  Naomi and Rachel have already jumped on Elvina. “Is it true that you invited Crusaders into your house?” asks Naomi.

  “Right in the middle of the Sabbath!” exclaims her sister.

  “How could you do such a thing?” says Naomi.

  “Didn’t you die of fear?” Rachel says.

  A silence falls on the room. All eyes are on Elvina. “I did what I had to do. My grandfather said I was right to do it. And yes, I did nearly die of fright.”

  Muriel has propped herself up against her pillows. “Leave her alone,” she says in a rasping voice. “She didn’t invite the Crusaders in. From what I understand, they invited themselves.”

  “She didn’t have to open the door,” says Bella.

  “They might have beaten it down,” says Muriel.

  Rachel grabs Elvina’s basket and rummages through it.

  “Don’t touch my basket!” cries Elvina.

  “Why? Have you got frogs in there? Or scorpions?” Rachel mocks, holding the basket up triumphantly.

  “Give it back!” shouts Elvina.

  Elvina catches hold of the twins, and one after the other, she pinches them and tickles them, pretending to bite their soft, plump cheeks. But they run off with the basket, laughing, and Elvina once again thinks to herself that she would give anything to have two little sisters just like them, even if they always do exactly the opposite of what they are told.

  “Promise us you will show us everything!” beg the twins.

  “All right,” says Elvina, “but why do you think I brought frogs?”

  “When Grandfather was ill they put frogs on him!” Naomi replies.

  Bella comes to Elvina’s rescue. She takes the basket and pushes the twins back onto the bed. “You are so stupid! It wasn’t frogs they used on Grandfather; it was leeches!”

  “Are you going to put leeches on Muriel?” asks Rachel, wide-eyed.

  “No. Sometimes my mother does that, but I don’t dare. I’ll do it by cupping. I need four glasses and some very hot water to heat them with. And I’ll need a lamp!”

  Muriel stretches out a feverish hand to Elvina. “I knew you’d come. You’re such a good and faithful friend. I’m sorry I said you were proud and pretentious last time you were here.”

  “But you were quite right. I owe you an apology, too. Now don’t talk; it’ll make you cough.”

  Naomi and Rachel are growing impatient. “Stop all your polite talk, Elvina, and show us what’s in your basket.”

  Opening the basket, Elvina explains, “This is syrup of poppies to calm sore throats and coughs.” She produces another vial. “And this is vinegar and rosewater mixed with ashes to rub on Muriel’s temples if she has a headache. And here is some sandalwood, which we will burn to purify the air in the room.” She pulls the parchment from her sleeve. “And I brought a talisman.”

  Muriel stretches out her neck. “Tie it on for me. What does it say?”

  “It’s a verse from the Bible. ‘All the plagues with which I have stricken Egypt, I shall not strike you with, for I am the Lord who heals you.’”

  Bella and her mother bring in glasses, a jug of boiling water, and a lamp. Elvina speaks in her own mother’s calm, authoritative tone: “Fill up the glasses. They have to be very hot. Muriel, lie on your stomach. Bella, pass me a glass; empty it first; just pour the water back into the jug! Quick!”

  Muriel moans, “It’s burning hot!”

  “Don’t worry! Another glass!” orders Elvina. “Get out of my light, girls; I can’t see a thing!”

  Lying on the bed, the twins follow Elvina’s every move. “It works!” they cry out. “The skin is coming up! Muriel, does it hurt?”

  “A bit.” Muriel’s voice is muffled in the pillow. Her back is covered with glasses under which the skin is welling up in huge red blisters.

  Rachel strokes Muriel’s hair, saying gently, “You are a real heroine; you’ll be better in no time!”

  Once Muriel is sitting up again, disheveled but looking happier, Elvina pulls one more sachet from her basket. “These are herbs my mother recommends for fever. You have to make a jug of tea every hour, leave it to cool down, and then let Muriel drink it.”

  As soon as their mother has left the room to go down and make the herb tea, Rachel and Naomi ask Elvina, “Isn’t there a spell against the fever demon? What’s his name? It’s a really long one.”

  “Where did you pick that up from?” Elvina replies in a hushed tone.

  “It’s what people say. We listen; that’s all.”

  “Well, since you are so well informed, you must know that we never mention such things aloud.”

  “But do you know the spell?”

  Elvina doesn’t reply. She has put her big cape back on, but before she
has time to fasten it, the twins catch her by each hand. Their mother has taken the lamp away, but Elvina sees their eyes shining in the semidarkness as they ask again, “You do know the spell; admit that you know it! Teach it to us; teach us the spell against the fever demon!”

  “Stop it!” Elvina protests. “You’re going to pull my arms out of their sockets! I heard my grandfather mention that spell a long time ago. One of his former teachers recommended it.”

  “So what are you waiting for?” urge the twins.

  “I can’t. My grandfather does not allow that sort of thing in his house, and my father certainly wouldn’t want it in his.”

  Rachel and Naomi won’t give up. “Oh, please, Elvina, no one will know!”

  “And we’re not in your house!”

  “Nor in Solomon ben Isaac’s!”

  Bella joins in, “We’ll keep it secret, I promise, won’t we?”

  “Oh yes, yes!” they chant excitedly.

  Muriel begs her, too. “Do it for me, Elvina; I’d be so grateful.”

  “All right.” Elvina finally relents. “But let’s be quick about it. Naomi, Rachel, go to the other side of the bed. Bella, come next to me.” Four pairs of eyes are gazing at Elvina. “The fever demon is called Ochnotinos,” she whispers.

  The resin torch crackles and sputters smoke, its flame grows first bright, now dim, and the shadows dance. Bella is hanging on to Elvina’s arm so tightly that it hurts. The twins are glued to each other. They are all expecting to see the wicked fever demon appear.

  Elvina speaks: “We are going to shorten his name until there’s nothing left of it. The demon will be very upset. He’ll disappear and leave our Muriel in peace.”

  Naomi whispers, “He can’t exist without his name, can he?”

  “No demon can exist without a name,” replies Elvina.

  Without letting go of her sister, Rachel jumps up and down saying, “The wicked demon will get smaller and smaller. . . .”

  “Repeat after me,” orders Elvina. “Ochnotinos.”

  Bella, Rachel, and Naomi repeat, “Ochnotinos!”

  “Good. Now we’re going to make him smaller.”

  The four girls all have their eyes fixed on Elvina, who is leaning toward Muriel. The other three imitate her. Elvina takes a deep breath, then pronounces, “Ochnotinos.”

  “Ochnotinos,” the girls echo.

  “Chnotinos.”

  “Chnotinos.”

  “Notinos.”

  “Notinos.”

  “Otinos.”

  “Otinos.”

  “Tinos.”

  “Tinos.”

  “Inos.”

  “Inos.”

  “Nos.”

  “Nos.”

  “Os.”

  Rachel and Naomi, with their mouths shaped like Os and their round eyes full of mischief, make the “O” last as long as they can: “. . . OOOOOOOOOOOSS- SSSSSS.”

  Then there is silence. “He has disappeared,” Rachel whispers. “I’m sure he’s disappeared. Muriel, don’t you feel better?”

  Muriel sits up, shakes herself a little, and smiles. “I think I do. Thank you, Elvina.”

  Before leaving, Elvina reminds them, “Just don’t forget that you’re sworn to secrecy!”

  XIII

  The day is still leaden and gray when Elvina leaves Muriel, but the sky has returned to its place high above the earth. Elvina pauses on the doorstep. Sniffing the air, she can make out the delicious smell of freshly baked cakes. She thinks that she may buy one. The men have stopped fasting now, for they do not want to become too weak. Her father loves these cakes and it might please him to eat one. This morning, after three days of silence, he has finally asked her if she has slept well . . . but he has also told her to go out as little as possible! The cake may not be such a good idea after all.

  The street looks almost like its old self again, although there are fewer people about and less noise than usual. The women do their shopping as fast as they can and then rush home. The merchants no longer shout at the tops of their voices to attract customers. People hold their children’s hands and forbid them to wander off. The latest news is carried in whispers from one person to another: “Only yesterday the Crusaders were running high and low through the streets of Troyes.” Some say there were twenty of them; others swear there were at least a hundred. The rumor goes that they were men and women and they hadn’t thought twice about helping themselves from stalls and henhouses belonging to Christians as well as Jews.

  On the wide trestle table made from two wooden shutters, Muriel’s father, Joseph ben Simon, displays a magnificent bearskin complete with its head. Elvina strokes it. “This would make a wonderful coat for this freezing weather. Without the head of course,” she adds.

  Muriel’s father laughs. “It was a real bargain. The traveler who sold it to me was in a hurry to get rid of it and be on his way. He had killed the bear with his own hands. He was going through the forest, and the bear attacked him. Poor bear should have known better!”

  Two familiar voices reach Elvina from beside the stall. “Touch the ears!” says one.

  “The muzzle is even softer!” replies the other.

  Rachel and Naomi are wrapped up from head to toe in blankets that are trailing along the ground. “Elvina, we followed you,” Rachel says. “We didn’t want to stay shut up in Muriel’s room all day,” Naomi adds. “We aren’t the ones who are sick. We escaped. Hey, there is Uncle Nathan. He has brought out his skins as well!”

  Muriel’s uncle has spread several skins on the ground in front of his shop. There is a cow skin and several sheepskins whose wool has already been removed. The twins rush over and start jumping up and down on the skins. “You see, Uncle Nathan, we’ve come to help you.”

  “That’s good; keep it up. The more they are trodden down, the sooner they’ll be ready for tanning. They could make you a lovely pair of shoes or a saddle for a fine lady’s horse.”

  Elvina puts down her basket and joins the twins. As she tramples on the skins, she looks upward to the heavy gray clouds scudding rapidly across the sky like battalions of soldiers. No, clouds are not like soldiers, for they carry no threat. Clouds move freely! Where are they going? Where will they be by evening? Above Paris, a city Elvina does not know, or even farther? Will they be flying over the sea, which she has never seen? How she would love to run away with them! If only she could wander freely, as they do, with the whole world unfolding below!

  A slap on the back brings Elvina down to earth. She jumps in surprise. “Ouch! Naomi, Rachel! Why . . .” she begins. But when she turns around she sees neither Naomi nor Rachel.

  “Marguerite!” she cries.

  Under a gray hood two round rosy cheeks, blue eyes, and a smiling face can be seen. “Yes, it’s me,” Marguerite says. “And you, Elvina, you wicked girl, where have you been hiding? We never see you anymore!”

  Marguerite is the eldest daughter of a Christian farmer for whom Solomon ben Isaac has done more than one favor. Taking hold of Elvina’s cape, Marguerite shakes her playfully. “I was just talking about you this very morning with my sister Jeanne. She misses you. You used to be such good friends! What has happened?”

  Elvina doesn’t know what to say. For these last few weeks she hasn’t had time to think about Jeanne and Marguerite. But is it really true that she hasn’t had time? Not exactly. Suddenly Elvina feels boiling hot in spite of the cold piercing through her clothes. She feels so hot that sweat is pouring down her back and she turns away in embarrassment. Facing Marguerite once again, she replies quietly, “You know, we Jews don’t go out much these days.”

  “What are you talking about? You’ve come out today, haven’t you? And it seems the others have, too.” Marguerite has noticed the twins eyeing her. “Tell me, Elvina, who are those little furies sticking so close to you and giving me such threatening looks?”

  “They are Naomi and Rachel, Muriel’s cousins. They come from the country. They don’t
mean to look at you that way; they just don’t know who you are.”

  “I feel like I’m seeing double. Are they twins?” asks Marguerite with a note of fear in her voice.

  When she hears Elvina’s reply, she quickly crosses herself. “They say that twins bring bad luck.”

  “No, they don’t,” retorts Elvina. “It’s quite the opposite, in fact!”

  Marguerite gives a skeptical nod and changes the subject. “So, it seems you’re afraid of the Crusaders? Why? They set up camp calmly in the fields and barns, and they don’t harm anyone.”

  “Oh yes, they do!” shout the twins in unison. They are red with anger.

  Marguerite bursts out laughing. “Your young friends are so funny. They look all ruffled up like a couple of chickens who have been chased by a dog! But I didn’t mean to upset them.”

  Smiling, Marguerite takes Elvina by the arm. “Listen, Elvina, I see you have your basket with you. You wouldn’t happen to have a remedy for Jeanne’s stomachache, would you? It would save me a trip to the apothecary.”

  “I have some barley water to purge her and chamomile, which will stop the pain.”

  “Please come over to our house,” says Marguerite. “It’s not far, and it would make Jeanne so happy.”

  Elvina hesitates. What if there are Crusaders at Marguerite’s farm? She wants to refuse and say she has to go back home, but she doesn’t want to offend Marguerite by looking as though she doesn’t trust her. She is frightened.

  While she is hesitating, she feels someone pinching her leg. Down by her feet, the old idiot beggar is grinning and laughing, dribbling into his beard. His rags hardly cover him. He drags himself over the skins toward Elvina. “You’re in less of a hurry than you were the other day, little lady. Give me something from your basket. A magic potion to give my legs the strength to carry me again, so that I, too, will be able to escape when the Crusaders chase after me.”

  Elvina kneels down next to him. Never before has she taken the trouble to look into this man’s eyes. True enough, they are crazy eyes, but, above all, they are filled with terror, even when he laughs.