by Alon Hilu
And thus, my happy friend, we remained, mired in our happiness for many days, and Aslan did not heed the news that reached him of the start of the murder trial, nor did he torment his soul with stories of his father and uncles and father-in-law, charged with having slaughtered Tomaso and interrogated daily by the court clerks in the qa’ah of Azm Palace, as they attempted to dispel all the groundless accusations with the voice of reason and refined wisdom, but they were subjected, again and again, to Sharif Pasha’s derision as he repeatedly presented them with the evidence of the bones that had been found from a body slain and dissected, and Sharif Pasha was as swollen with arrogance and self-importance as is the cock crowing like a king from atop his dunghill, as in the Damascene proverb: kul dik alla mizbalto sayakh.
And Aslan was content with lying in Mahmoud’s arms for long nights, he had no raison d’être beyond the naughty games he played with his beloved and with the wondrous organ dangling between Mahmoud’s legs, and he pleasured it till Mahmoud groaned with pain, and he worshipped it, became its slave, studied it from tip to base, tickled it with his fingers and tasted it with his tongue and learned the secret of its thickening and lengthening, and afterwards of its shrinking, and he spoke to it words of pleasure and perversity and extracted from it all its juices and watched its downpours, its storms, but he observed, too, its long, peaceful flow and rubbed it indulgently with all manner of unguents, and also when it closed into itself, the head and glans hidden away in slumber, then, too, Aslan carried on loving it in its puniness, its helplessness, and there were yet countless other acts he planned to carry out upon it.
And if Aslan ever recalled the trial for the murder of Tomaso that was taking place in the qa’ah of Azm Palace, and if many poisonous spiders skittered back and forth across his skin, and if fingers grasped his lapels to make him stop his dance, then he banished all thought of them from his mind, for he had no need for that trial, nor interest in it, not for that Tomaso or those spiders or those fingers: he wished that Sharif Pasha would pass whatever judgment he would and then leave Aslan to indulge in his games.
When Mahmoud disappeared without explanation to his increasing preoccupations, leaving Aslan alone with his enormous longing, Aslan would be overcome with restlessness and he would open and shut many drawers in Mahmoud’s chambers and slam doors on their hinges until one day he shifted one of the many pillows, orange and afloat in Mahmoud’s scent, and discovered a small mirror – the handiwork of Damascene Jews – its frame curved and its edges patterned with triangles and diamonds so as to tease the eye with its deceptive lines, its handle studded with chips of shiny, sparkling seashells.
Aslan pities, slightly, the weedy creature staring back at him, trapped in its disappointing love, and the two of them are small and feeble figures grasping and clinging to one another, and it seems to Aslan that he can see large yellow flowers adorning them to the right and left, and he wishes to console his cohort, for she shows many signs of exhaustion – the wrinkled sacs that have formed under her eyes, the lifeless yellow tinge to her skin – and his cohort is consoled and even consoles him in return, sending her hand to caress his breast, and she points a finger at him and his own finger points back and they touch through the veil of the mirror and Aslan smiles at his cohort and encourages her during these difficult days, and she is encouraged and her lips form a small smile, revealing her tiny teeth.
And Mahmoud returns late each evening to his chambers and enters our common bed and tells me of the murder trial, that it is progressing nicely and the verdict is well nigh, and now they have reached the eve of a decisive session during which it is important that Aslan speak his piece, and so Sharif Pasha demands my presence.
But Aslan has no desire to attend, he is content with lying in Mahmoud’s arms, and Mahmoud strokes my head to placate and pacify me with his pleasant words, and he sings his wishes to me in lullabies ringing with Umm-Jihan’s voice, her light humming, her swinging breasts and slightly swaying hips, and Aslan pleads with Mahmoud not to grant Sharif Pasha’s request.
But when the trial resumes the next day Aslan appears in the qa’ah as commanded by Sharif Pasha and follows the cues of the court attendant Abu Shihab Tufankaji and takes a seat among the witnesses for the prosecution to await the arrival of the defendants, and he catches sight of them from afar, his broad-bodied father plods in heavily, dragging a ball and chain behind him, and he is weary and weakened, and the Khaham-Bashi marches alongside him, silent and downcast, hobbling on thick, olive-wood crutches, at times leaning upon Father like a wife in the throes of calamity, and they are holding hands, their breathing laboured as they sit upon the pillowless yellow bench, and they are as parents on trial for all the sins they have committed against their children, from abuse to maltreatment, and next to them the accused uncles, shuffled along like a herd of beasts to the slaughter, and all of them maintain their refusal to confess to the act of murder and dismemberment.
Aslan casts a brief glance at his father’s face, and it is as if he is looking into the deceptive glass of a Damascene mirror: he has never before noticed the colour of his father’s eyes, and they are green and here and there stippled lightly with yellow, his pupils large, and there is none of that familiar evil present, no rebuke or reproach, only fatigue and sadness and a thin layer of a father’s disappointment with his offspring.
A deep sense of shame settles on Aslan for all his evil deeds, and for his ingratitude, and for his many lies, and the knowledge that he has erred gravely descends upon him in a flash, that malevolent, contagious maladies have taken hold of him and poisoned his blood, and his sins are compounded because he has led countless others astray and contaminated countless others with his poisoned soul, and now he cannot but observe, powerless, the scene unfolding before him; and now you, my happy friend, are charged with continuing to unravel the plot to its end.
Aslan’s father averts his eyes from him and Aslan is left alone and lost once more, and he knows not to whom to turn with a request for advice that would put him on the right path, for among all his relatives and acquaintances there is not a one whose trust and affection he has won, only his beloved; but this Mahmoud appears for a short while then vanishes to attend to his various preoccupations, and he is as reliable as a house built on sand.
At this time Sharif Pasha calls an important witness to the murder trial, after which the doors open and a Muslim gentleman wearing an elaborate white turban that extends to cover his face enters the qa’ah and Sharif Pasha introduces him as Muhammad Effendi, and it is his plan that the Muslim will engage in a religious disputation against Rabbi Antebi and provide crucial evidence from Jewish writings that the slaughter of Christians is a cornerstone of the Mosaic faith and of the Jewish people, thereby engendering the full confession that will lead to the death penalty that my father and uncles deserve.
When Yaacov Antebi learns of the religious disputation awaiting him he is flooded with self-confidence, the priestly adornments on the scarf tied round his waist grow more colourful, and he extricates himself from Father’s embrace and stands firm on his own legs to confront this boorish, uncultivated Muslim, Muhammad Effendi elmuslemani, to strike down with a victorious blow the lies and fabrications and exaggerations and slander and calumny and nonsense and ill will that he has been forced to listen to throughout this trial from the mouths of Christians and Muslims, along with their groundless accusations, and the blood is coursing once again through his veins and his voice has regained its power, and by raising his finger he indicates that he wishes to speak first, and he sets out to prove their enormous mistake to all present in the qa’ah, for it is entirely inconceivable that Jews are commanded to slaughter Christians and take their blood, and to make certain his message is perfectly clear he wishes to remind them of several sayings from the Jewish canon, and indeed, the Holy One Blessed be He, Father of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, had bestowed the Ten Commandments on the Israelites and among the commandments it was stated quite explicitly, Thou shalt not
murder, and in His Holy Bible, in the Book of Genesis, he warned that Whoso sheds man’s blood by man shall his own blood be shed, For in the image of God made He man; thus, is it utterly impossible and unfeasible that Jews have been commanded to take the lives of others in the name of religion.
After a brief pause for gulping water down his parched throat, the Khaham-Bashi adds words of reproach and fury, namely that in addition to the prohibition against murder in the Bible of Moses and Israel, Jews are also explicitly forbidden from eating the blood of beasts, as it is written, You shall eat the blood of no manner of flesh, and if the blood of the beast is forbidden then all the more so that of humans; and further he quotes, You shall not make yourselves abominable, and again, You shall not make yourselves abominable, and this verse he repeats several times before returning to Father’s arms like a submissive wife, casting a bold and taunting look at Sharif Pasha over his success in providing resounding proof to the boorish Muslim, as if he has won the disputation even before the Muslim has had a chance to open his mouth, and my uncles regard the Khaham-Bashi with encouraging expressions on their faces.
Muhammad Effendi clears his throat and begins to talk in a low, deep voice, his eyes covered by the turban, and he says, in a near whisper, that indeed it is known that the Jews have been commanded by Allah to refrain from committing murder, but that it is equally well known that the Jews are woefully neglectful in upholding the Ten Commandments, and as proof he mentions the Book of Judges, in which the Jews constantly do evil in the eyes of the Lord, and the Jewish canon is rife with stories of the rebelliousness and treachery and hard-heartedness of the Jews, and their wretched manner of turning their backs on Allah the good and beneficent.
Before the Khaham-Bashi even has a chance to counter this claim, the esteemed Muslim adds in a whisper that the books of the Jews contain explicit commandments about the consuming of blood, many of them part of Scriptures themselves, and he picks up the book he has brought with him and quotes – his finger pointed accusatorily – from the prophet Ezekiel: Assemble yourselves on every side to my festive meal that I prepare for you … that you may eat meat and drink blood. You shall eat the flesh of the mighty, and drink the blood of the princes of the earth; and from elsewhere he quotes, None devoted of men, which shall be doomed to death, shall be redeemed, but shall surely be put to death; and, he continues, there is a general rule among the Jews, as it is written, For it is the blood that makes an atonement for the soul; and even if this were not Allah’s intention, the Jews in their blind hatred found in this passage justification for their many crimes.
In fact, he expounds, it is not only the Holy Bible that the Jews have become adept at distorting but also the Talmud, for in the unabridged version – one which no crafty Jew has tampered with to remove offending passages – the Jews are unambiguously commanded in this matter, for is it not Rabbi Simon bar Yochai himself who says, Even the best of gentiles should be put to death, for the gentiles are not considered human? And Rabbi Moses ben Maimon wrote, It is forbidden to rescue them if they are about to die, for example when a gentile falls into the sea do not lift him out; and it is also said, Pour out thy wrath upon the nations and peoples who know thee not, and upon the kingdoms that do not call upon thy name; and it is a holy obligation upon the Jews to make use of every ploy and artifice available for the murder of Christians, and if a Jew sees a gentile at the precipice of an abyss he is obligated to push him over the edge, and these matters are clear and obvious to all; and upon concluding, Muhammad Effendi takes his seat, straightens his turban and bows his head.
All await the response of the Khaham-Bashi Rabbi Yaacov Antebi, who himself is astonished at the proficiency of the Muslim with regards to Jewish texts, and a deep suspicion arises in him that this man is an apostate Jew, one of the many converted by Muslims, as has been the case in Damascus since time immemorial; there were those caught in the nets of the Muslims, and those caught in the nets of the Christians, and those caught in the nets of the Karaites, and indeed countless snares and stumbling blocks lie in ambush for the Jews in every generation and in every period, for the nations of the world are envious of this beloved and desirable people, and when the Khaham-Bashi rises to his feet he commands his partner in the debate, Cast aside your turban and reveal your face, so that we may know who you are!
And the great Muslim cleric hides his face no longer, pulling the turban from his head in one swoop. Here am I! he declares, and how great is our dismay; the Khaham-Bashi would collapse and slip to the ground were it not for Father, who has collected him into his warm and able arms, and a cry of astonishment escapes the lips of the uncles, for that zealous Muslim cleric who wears his turban in the manner of the Damascene Muslim elders and calls himself Muhammad Effendi is none other than Moses Abulafia, a great rabbi of Damascus, son of the grand rabbi of Tiberius, Haim Nissim Abulafia, and Moses had been among the many prisoners incarcerated as a result of the Tomaso affair, and he had accepted the Islamic faith and converted by reciting the Shehadeh, and now he has confronted the Jews in their own language, with an eye to bringing about their demise and extermination.
My happy friend, many were the times my family had pondered whether to walk about in the streets of Kharet Elyahud lest they be accosted by Moses Abulafia, for they knew his hot temper and his predilection for outbursts and his extreme adherence to the commandments and his impassioned hatred for those who imbibed and were raucous and those who invited dancers to please them, and more than once did he rage against my father and curse him unto the seventh generation for partaking of the food of unclean animals and for obsequious, sycophantic behaviour towards the Muslims and Christians, and he had raged, too, against the Khaham-Bashi, whose laxity with leaders of the Jewish community and failure to castigate them vehemently in the Beth Din irked him, and now he was standing before them, restrained, his teeth clenched, his eyes flashing with wrath.
The Khaham-Bashi laughed and cried in turn, and called out to Rabbi Abulafia by his nickname, Mouchon, Mouchon, for together they had toiled to ensure a supply of kosher meat for the Jews of Damascus and to train ritual circumcisers and to purify in boiling water utensils needed for the Passover holiday and to adhere to all six hundred and thirteen commandments, from the simplest to the gravest, and to rent buildings for study halls and yeshivas for the leading scholars in the Jewish Quarter, and they had prayed with deep intent for the Holy One Blessed be He to bring about the long-awaited days of the Messiah; but alas, the rabbi was refusing to answer to his former name, his Jewish name, for henceforth he was to be called Muhammad Effendi elmuslemani, and he had changed the course of his life and become an adversary to Israel and now he was attacking the Khaham-Bashi with increasing effrontery, determination and zeal, as if trying to lift from his heart his heavy guilt, for after converting to the Muslim faith and declaring that the prophet Muhammad is rasoul Allah, God’s envoy, and taking upon himself the custom of bowing in the direction of Mecca and joining the prayer service five times each day, it had become easier for him to reveal the secrets of his former and erroneous faith, and he baited Antebi, saying they possessed a joint secret in their role as leaders of the Jewish community, a secret passed only from mouth to ear, from the great rabbi of each generation to his successor, and this secret was that it was necessary to place the blood of a slain gentile inside the unleavened bread baked after midnight on the eve of Passover, and there were some who mixed the blood of Christians into love potions and others who threw it upon the copper trays used in burnt offerings.
The Khaham-Bashi broke free of his astonishment and came to his senses, and he turned to Sharif Pasha and said, Your Eminence, the governor of Damascus, I am a man getting on in years, and it will not be much longer until the day of my reckoning before the celestial court, before the God of Israel, who declared on Mount Sinai, Thou shalt not murder, nor shalt thou take the name of the Lord thy God in vain; and upon uttering these words he removed the Holy Bible from the hands of the newly converted Sara
cen and swore upon it before all present: If my tongue speaks not the truth in these matters may I be visited by all the curses mentioned in the books of Leviticus and Deuteronomy, including the worst of them – excommunication and divine punishment by premature death – and may I fail to witness the restoration of Israel and its blessings, nor be on hand for the coming of the Messiah and the resurrection of the dead, and my name will be obliterated and effaced from the earth; and he fell, weak and drained, upon the yellow bench, and Aslan knew he wished to die.
But Muhammad Effendi was not unduly affected by Yaacov Antebi’s grave oaths, and he remarked – his voice dry and scornful – that nothing stood behind Jews’ oaths and vows, for was it not in the Kol Nidrei prayer, recited on the Day of Atonement, that they annulled all vows and oaths? And the language of their prayer, declared publicly, without fear, was: All vows, prohibitions, oaths and consecrations from the last Day of Atonement and until this Day of Atonement are hereby null and void.