A Journey to the End of the Millennium

by A. B. Yehoshua

  It turned out that his vagueness was successful. Despite the plural speech, neither the clever Mistress Esther-Minna nor her wary brother could imagine two real wives, but they were excited at the news of the arrival of a learned, virtuous rabbi, who would want to worship with them until he was sent packing. They had grown up in a home of brilliant scholars, who were sometimes so carried away by a discussion of a biblical text that they forgot to lay the table for supper. Hence they were already exchanging delighted glances. And the southern Jew in his multicolored robe struck them as a possible interlocutor, for he had come to plead not for mercy but for justice, like a true Jew. So relieved did they feel that they added their voices to Abulafia’s request for the swarthy uncle to eat his fill, recover his strength, and then go to bed, and in the morning to go and fetch the rabbi, whom they wished to receive with great respect, because they could already sense the sweet taste of victory.

  Ben Attar too, however, believed that he would prevail—not because of the high hopes he pinned on the rabbi, but chiefly because he could already see in his mind’s eye the living, colorful presence of his two wives in this gloomy, dark house, gradually wearing down the opposition, not by means of an unexpected proof-text or sophistic casuistry but simply through the naturalness of the triangular love relationship, which would flow in its full humanity before anyone who tried to cast a slur on it. This vision of the impending encounter so revived him that he wished to return to his ship at once. But since his hosts pressed him to sit at table, he washed his hands over a silver basin that the Christian maid brought to him, blessed bread in a quiet old chant, and began to eat the two halves of a hard-boiled egg spread with a thick, creamy sauce. Then he turned to the chunks of cock stewed in a brown sauce, surrounded by beans, and continued with a bowl of green leaves sprinkled with crumbled almonds, and rounded the meal off with pears baked in honey. He ate slowly and politely, as though to atone for the child’s frantic haste, and for that very reason he was so taken by the pleasure of eating that he felt a powerful and urgent desire to share it with the women he had left behind on board ship.

  But his hosts, who had welcomed him into their home, were also responsible for his safety, and they forbade him to go outside at this late hour. Instead they offered him a bed not far from that of the child, whose drinking had caused him to snore like a drunken sailor. However, after so many days and nights during which the whole world had been swaying all around him, the North African was unable to find rest in a stationary, boxlike room. Small wonder, then, that when the first glimmer of light caught the window he was ready to set off, leaving the rabbi’s son with Mistress Abulafia, either as a scout ahead of those who might appear later in the day or as a pledge for the safe return of her husband, who gladly accompanied his uncle and former partner. Since the house stood on the southern bank of the river, there was no need to wait for the gates in the walls to be opened and cross to the north bank—or right bank, as Abulafia called it, looking at the river from the point of view of the direction of its flow—for they could simply walk along the south bank—which Abulafia termed the left bank—until they reached the bend where the ship lurked. It was now time to reveal the ship to Ben Attar’s astonished nephew, and not merely the fact of its existence but the richness of its material and human cargo.

  Throughout the two years of separation, Abulafia had never given up hope that his partner and uncle might try to fight against the repudiation that his new wife and her kinsfolk had decreed. In the first months after the non-meeting that summer at Benveniste’s, he had been haunted by false visions of his uncle’s splendid robe in the alleys of the Cité in Paris, or among the stalls of the great market in Saint Denis, or occasionally along the walls of the convent of Sainte Geneviève. But knowing his uncle’s character well, Abulafia was convinced that someone who was accustomed to the comfort and luxury of two fine houses in a calm and temperate seaside town would recoil from the hardships and dangers that lay in wait for travelers on the long and ill-repaired roads of the Christian kingdoms in the twilight years of the millennium.

  Only now, as he stood with his dear uncle in a field beside the fountain of Saint Michel, did he realize how feeble and limited his imagination had been, looking always toward the land and not thinking of the sea, even though it was a genuine ocean. The boldness and daring of his partner, who had persisted in sailing secretly to his very home not only with merchandise but even with his wives, with no prior guarantee or clear chance of winning over the stubborn zealots, moved him with such joy and compassion that he wanted to fall on his knees and beg for pardon for everything he had done to his benefactor. But he stopped himself at the last minute, knowing that begging for pardon would indirectly incriminate his wife and would negate everything she had tried to teach him since their marriage. So he held back and merely threw a friendly arm around his uncle’s sturdy shoulders, as though to support him gently as they walked down the slippery winding path toward the river.

  And so, in the morning chill of early September, in the year 999 of the birth of the Nazarene, corresponding to the last days of Elul of the year 4759 of the Jewish era of the creation, the two hurried to join the ship, which had passed its first night on this long voyage without the presence of its master. So deeply immersed were they in excited speech, interrupting each other constantly in their desire to finish the two conversations they had missed in the past two summers in that ruined inn looking out over the Bay of Barcelona, that they did not feel the ground hurrying past under their feet, nor did they notice the sound of the bells of the great abbey of Saint Germain des Prés, whose high walls touched the water of the river. They were deep in a business discussion in which Ben Attar was attempting to discover the open and secret desires of the Parisian market, so as to know how much he could expect to make from the goods hidden in the hold of his ship. Even though the ship itself was not far off, the merchant could not refrain from enumerating in advance not only all that his estranged partner would soon see with his own eyes, but also those things that had been and were no longer, such as a little she-camel that had been separated from its mate by the lord of Rouen.

  Abulafia was aflame with excitement, not at the thought of seeing the young male camel or the sacks of condiments but at meeting his two aunts, the elder one from whom he had parted years before, and the new one whom he had never seen, even though she had been living since her marriage in his old home, the house of his great lost love. But as he drew near to the big-bellied, tawny ship, well hidden by her captain in the vegetation overhanging the river, he forgot the women for a moment, and a great cry of wonder burst from him at the resourcefulness of blending the military with the civilian in order to undertake an adventure of which even now only God knew what the outcome might be.

  Once again he embraced the brave uncle who had not given him up, and he fell into the arms of Abu Lutfi, who had recognized him from afar and hurried down from the deck to greet him with a loud exclamation, shaking his long-lost partner so angrily and affectionately that he almost strangled him. Then he was taken up the rope ladder to the deck, where the captain bowed ceremoniously before him, ordering a sailor to wave a small blue flag in honor of the guest who would soon become their host. They told the black slave to summon the rabbi, who emerged from his cabin all threadbare and confused, and Abulafia’s eyes widened at the sight of the Andalusian sage, and he kissed his hand and asked his blessing and gave him greetings from his little boy, who was resting under the reliable care of Abulafia’s wife. Then he was led down into the hold, where he was assailed by the powerful Moroccan smells of his childhood, and he felt as though this scarred Arab guardship were a real and precious part of himself, and his eyes filled with tears of sorrow at the parting he had had to undergo and the other parting that was to come.

  Then the women came up on deck. First the first wife, in whom, although she had put on weight and her face had grown rounder in the years since he had last seen her, he recognized an affection that radiated to
ward the whole world. Even though as a child he had sometimes been hugged to her bosom, he was careful not to approach her now, but bowed before her time and again, his hand describing a threefold movement of respect from his forehead to his mouth to his heart, and he greeted her repeatedly, asking after her children in a confused mumble, because his other aunt was now approaching, shyly, fearfully, smiling with her brilliant, perfect teeth. Reddening, he hastily lowered his eyes, for her youth clutched at his heart, not only because he thought about himself but also because of the anticipated pain and anger of his wife, who would not agree to submit to Ben Attar. Yes, he knew this for certain now. His wife would on no account agree to abrogate her repudiation, even if the Andalusian rabbi floored them all with his texts.

  But he knew he could not retract his offer of hospitality, even if it had been exacted somewhat deviously. Even if the thought of his uncle staying in his home with his two wives made him shudder, he knew that he would never forgive himself if he allowed his own flesh and blood, whom the good Lord himself had wafted hither from his native land, to lodge in some strange hostelry. That was ruled out from the start for the five Jews by reason of its questionable food, and even for Abu Lutfi, who dogged his heels, eager as ever to show his northern partner the wonderful goods he had collected in the folds of the Atlas Mountains.

  For a while things went back to being as they had been in the past, except that the half-darkness of the ship’s hold had been exchanged for that of Benveniste’s stable, and the low groans of a lonely camel replaced the neighing and braying of the horses and donkeys. Once again the pungent smells of the spices burst from the opened sacks, and the golden honeycombs displayed their delicate tracery, while graceful little daggers inlaid with tiny jewels were extracted from their hiding places, and Abulafia was carried away by the sight of the new merchandise exposed to his gaze and hastened to appraise its quality and calculate how much it would fetch. All the time he spoke to the Arab, the floorboards undulated beneath his feet and the wooden walls swayed gently around him, for the order had covertly been given to Abd el-Shafi to weigh anchor and carry the travelers forward to the house where the new wife awaited them.

  Even though the wife in question was incapable of imagining the two women sailing toward the hospitality of her roof, already an arrow of anxiety had lodged in her heart on account of the North African who had crossed her threshold, and finding no rest for her soul she went into the yard to detain her brother, who was saddling his horse so as to ride south, a distance of three hours’ journey, to the place named Villa Le Juif, where a couple of days previously a merchant from the Land of Israel had arrived with a precious pearl. This young man, who always knew how to keep precise track of what occurred in his sister’s soul, was amazed to find her pleading with him not to leave before Abulafia returned with Ben Attar and the rabbi. Who was she afraid of, asked the brother, Ben Attar or the rabbi? But she made no reply and said nothing, for even though she was not able to visualize on this bright morning the menace that was sailing lazily into the heart of the Île de France, she could sense it, which is why she mumbled confusedly, The rabbi …, and wondered at her own reply. The brother’s explosion of laughter startled even the horse. What could an Andalusian rabbi say that could frighten her, the daughter and widow of famous scholars? Surely no exegetical sophistry, no well-known biblical tale, no ancient parchment could deflect a clear, new, right decree that was demanded by the circumstances and endorsed by great luminaries. In any case—and here the brother lightly touched his sister’s slight shoulder—no debate should be entertained with anyone before he had set up a special court, which might convert their vague repudiation into a definite ban.

  With these clear words he mounted his horse and set off, but the sister he left behind was not calmed, for she was too clever to believe that the twice-wed partner who had traveled all the way from North Africa would release them from the affront he had suffered merely with a court hearing. She had already understood last night, from his slow, determined movements and his gentle gaze, which had not left her, that this man, whose resemblance to her husband could not be denied, and who had demanded divine justice, was only too well acquainted with human justice, which was why he had penetrated her home—to reveal to her some secret about human nature, although she refused to guess at what it was, unless the child awoke and revealed it to her. But the wine that had been poured like water into the boy’s cup had turned to lead in his veins during the night, and when she attempted to rouse and question him, he only sank deeper into slumber. Even the mute girl, who all morning had followed her like a shadow, now broke into the persistent loud howl of lamentation that she had first uttered two years before, when her Ishmaelite nurse was sent away.

  Into this howl, which had continued since morning and now pierced the noonday silence, entered the two wives, carrying their bundles and following close behind Abulafia, who had decided to accompany them into his home himself, with a presentiment of imminent disaster but also with the confident belief that the right thing was being done here, even if it was temporary. Ben Attar had remained on board to help Abu Lutfi and Abd el-Shafi allay the suspicions of the royal guardsmen who had boarded the ship, which was anchored by the little bridge. Now, left alone, Abulafia’s manner to his wife became all the more bold, and she was not only angry with him but also excited and fascinated by his new commanding tone, as he ordered her to make ready three rooms, two for the two women and a third for the rabbi, who entered with a light, shy step and greeted in poetic and musical language the graceful housewife, whose blue eyes already made him miss the river he had just left.

  And Abulafia repeated to his wife, My aunts, not only to stress the family bond by which he was bound but also to moderate somewhat the reduplicated sexuality, which between the gray walls and the dark furniture received such a powerful, colorful, and scented intensification that the mistress of the house felt the ground opening up under her feet and reached out to the nearest chair for support. But it was neither the new firm look in her young husband’s eyes nor the timorous smile flitting over the rabbi’s pale face but rather the mute presence, so submissive yet so serious, of two veiled women standing before her that suddenly softened her heart and caused her resistance to evaporate and curl slowly heavenward like the smoke from her kitchen chimney.

  As though to demonstrate to her husband that she was not to be outdone by him in fulfilling the sacred duty of hospitality, she unhesitatingly gave orders in the local language to the maids to take her bedding out of her own bedchamber and prepare the room to receive the first wife, and to remove the girl with her belongings and her rag toys from her small room so the second wife might also have a private apartment. She herself led the gaping rabbi, with his meager bundle of clothes, to his son’s bed, where by dint of his parental authority he might shatter the boy’s epic slumber. If it appeared to Abulafia now that his dear wife had accepted defeat in the second round, so that he could leave her calmly and return to the ship to continue rummaging among the merchandise, this was only because of her resolute inner confidence in divine justice, which would soon stand up against the human spirit that had so rudely invaded her house.

  Perhaps it was precisely because of her confidence in the temporary character of her defeat that Mistress Esther-Minna was willing to be so cooperative, that it seemed as though she were seeking to retreat further in order to double the sweetness of her victory when the time came. Instead of standing on her honor in the presence of the two wives, she joined her maidservants in changing the bedspread on her own marriage bed. From the moment this duplication of wives, which had aroused her repudiation from afar, had become a reality in her own home, she sought not to flee from it but, on the contrary, to attack it. And so she told the maids to fetch a large tub and fill it with warm water, and she half seduced and half ordered her guests to undress themselves and wash their bodies, so as to separate the fragrant duskiness produced by the African sun from the filth added to it by their long
journey.

  Thus it was not through the eyes of their joint husband but in the gentle but bright noonday sunlight, in such a distant and strange house, that the first wife and the second wife were asked for the first time in their lives to reveal to each other the hidden secrets of their nakedness, and in the presence of a third woman, a stranger, blue of eye and short of stature, who was not content with looking from afar, from a corner of the room, but approached and took the jug from her maidservant’s hand to rinse the tangled braids and to scrape with niter and soap the curved backs and soft bellies, the breasts, heavy hind parts, shapely long thighs. She dried everything that had been exposed with soft towels, so as to be satisfied that the accumulated dirt of the journey had not distinguished one wife from the other but had merely dulled the deep, true difference between them, which, now that they were gleaming with cleanliness, was revealed in full force, although still without elucidating the secret that joined them in the perfection of a single love.