Master Levitas’s practical nature did not permit him to rake over the sins of the past so long as the urgency of the present threatened him and his home with heaped-up sacks of condiments and woven cloth, large earthen jars and brassware, which were arriving relentlessly from the Arab ship, filling his courtyard and cellar, and even beginning to intrude on the upper story. Nor was his house invaded from the outside alone, for Ben Attar’s wives were loading the large dining table with wonderfully colorful and exotically perfumed dishes, as though their love of cooking, held in check during the ocean voyage, had now burst forth in all its exuberance.
However, when Master Levitas turned to Abulafia to beg him to stop the invasion that was cascading from the ship to his house under the pressure of his partners’ commercial enthusiasm, Abulafia looked at him with a pale, staring face and extended his arms in the graceful, helpless gesture seen in images of the crucified god of the Christians, as though he too since that morning had been transformed into a tortured saint swaying between life and death. The soul of this man, who had spent so many years in solitary travel, had remained fundamentally emotional and shallow, and it was now torn between love and fear, duty and compassion. And this blend of emotions, in which there hovered also the sweet memory of the twin emissions of the night, made the man who had been deliberately starving himself since morning so dizzy that he was in danger of suddenly collapsing.
Before that could happen, Master Levitas hurriedly sent him to his partners’ ship to stop the flow of merchandise, the quantity and variety of which was alarming Ben Attar too. Despite the many days and nights he had spent on board the ship, he had not imagined how full his Ishmaelite partner had managed to fill it. Abu Lutfi, who had not only managed to pack whole worlds of merchandise on board but also remembered them, now scrutinized them minutely as they burst forth out of the darkness and were borne ashore accompanied by the singing of burly seamen, so as to fix them in his memory, ready for the meeting next summer, when he would demand payment for them from the third partner, who had returned repentantly thanks to the trial in Villa Le Juif. Although if he was really repentant, why was he calling to them now from the riverbank to halt the flow of goods that was inundating his house and his yard?
Ben Attar told Abd el-Shafi to halt the unloading and hurriedly joined his nephew, who was standing surrounded by throngs of Parisians crowded among the little old wooden houses on a bridge called the New Bridge. Abulafia tugged desperately at his stubborn uncle’s garments to pull him away from the curious crowd, and while the sunlight traced trailing purple marks upon the lovely peaceful river as it circled gently southward, Abulafia led Ben Attar deeper into the island, among the narrow streets packed at this hour with people returning home, some leading a lamb or a piglet on a cord for their dinner. From the dull look in his nephew’s large dark eyes, Ben Attar knew that some new torment was afflicting him.
Abulafia told him immediately about the rebellion that had broken out in his home, and how his wife had sworn in her distress to go far away to her native town on the Rhine, there to convene a new court of justice to compel Abulafia to divorce her. Although the Moroccan merchant appeared surprised at the news, he seemed to find in it a blessing that might deepen the partnership that had been so laboriously revived. Perhaps the time had really come, Ben Attar tried to inform his nephew obliquely, with roundabout hints, his arm around the shoulder of his beloved nephew, whose pallor lent an additional beauty to his black locks. Perhaps, the uncle speculated wildly, it was really the hand of the Almighty that had urged him to take an old guardship and sail it to this remote little island, which still seemed to him to be rocking in the midst of the river, to rescue a lost lamb. Surely Abulafia could spare the enthusiastic rebel the hardships of a journey to the land of Ashkenaz by simply asking Rabbi Elbaz to put into effect the wisdom of the Babylonian sages and impose the divorce that Mistress Esther-Minna so longed for. In this way Abulafia would be free to travel back not only to the Bay of Barcelona but to the golden shores of the rock from which he was hewn. Surely now that he had proved to everyone and especially to himself that the curse of loneliness within him was broken, he would be able to find a wife to his taste in Tangier, and even a second wife, if he felt inclined to love her too.
But Abulafia, weakened by his fast, merely stumbled and fell in the surge of horses and pigs and hit his head on the cobbles on hearing the fantastic projects that his uncle Ben Attar was planning for him. Ben Attar did not realize how much his very being was interwoven with his love for his new wife and everything connected with her, including even the cobbles of this narrow Parisian street, which had just made his head spin. It was fortunate that Rabbi Elbaz appeared on the scene, sent with his boy to the ship to get some salt and olive oil. He happened on the North African merchant just as he was helping his young nephew to his feet, after a fainting fit that had mimicked that of his fair-haired wife.
A few local Franks, who invested with a status of sanctity any incident of fainting because of the impact of the story of the crucifixion at Golgotha, also hurried up, and sprinkled Abulafia with fresh water from a nearby well and rubbed his temples with red wine before pouring more into his gaping mouth. Ben Attar, afraid to take the young man straight back to his home in the Rue de la Harpe, conducted him first to the ship. There, among the remaining jars and sacks, they laid the frail partner, who opened his beautiful eyes and smiled a smile that held a deep, sweet sadness. And this is what he said when he saw his stubborn uncle’s face bending over him: Uncle, if you cannot kill me, release me, for I shall never give up that woman. Then Rabbi Elbaz had to hear the story all over again, both from the point of view of the despair of Ben Attar, who was once more, at a single stroke, about to lose the object of his journey, and from the viewpoint of the pain of love that had pierced the young partner, who hoped that he would speedily think up a new compromise that would please Mistress Abulafia and Master Levitas.
But not a word would he say to either of them before making the two partners and his son stand and face the Cité of Paris to the east, to say the afternoon and evening prayers in the old familiar mode and manner. Abulafia, who always loved to sing these tunes, could not find the strength in his soul even to mumble them. There was something attractive about these southern Jews, in their white robes and blue turbans, standing on board the Arab ship scarred by the hardships of its valiant journey, surrounded by the strong seamen, whose eyes were fixed on the crowds of Frankish folk thronging the riverbank and forgoing their dinner in order to enjoy the sight of the variegated mass of humanity on board. Suddenly it seemed to Rabbi Elbaz that in the evening twilight of this city, there was not just a vague menace from the approaching millennium but also the veiled promise of a great and unique beauty to be born of the future marriage between the two banks.
The convent of Sainte Geneviève on the northern bank was screened by the smoke of dinners being cooked on the island as the Jews concluded the prayer “True and faithful,” but still Rabbi Elbaz refused to disclose the new idea he had had, since he feared that Ben Attar would stifle it newborn, and preferred to unveil it only after the great feast that the two North African women had prepared. Since the rabbi had followed the preparations during the day and taken part in the tasting and testing, he pinned great hopes on the power of this meal to assist the idea that had captured his heart.
It may have been precisely because of the panic that had seized Ben Attar as Abulafia had pleaded to be released that he too felt very excited about the meal his two wives had made. Since he had set out on his journey he had missed the dishes that each of his wives had always prepared for him, and these wives would now be joined together at a single table. Even Abulafia forgot his woes for a moment, and a tear of pleasure welled up in his eye as he smelled the North African food, not because of his fast, which he had quite forgotten about in the commotion of his fainting fit, but because his memory conjured up the cooking of his first wife, who had died. Master Levitas too was so tired and
hungry that he accepted without remonstrance the new smells and flavors, especially since he was careful not to give offense to his two enthusiastic veiled guests, who, usurping the role of hostess, piled his plate with more and more food. Only Mistress Esther-Minna sat grimly at the banquet that had taken over her dining table, consoling herself with the thought that this would be her last dinner before she returned to the place where she had come into the world.
Then Rabbi Elbaz began to question her, in slow, easy Hebrew, about her native town and the merits and achievements of its Jewish scholars. His purpose was to find out whether she would be finally satisfied if these great and meticulous sages gave their approval to the renewal of the partnership between Ben Attar and her husband. But Esther-Minna found the rabbi’s question redundant, since she had no doubt in her heart that the sages of the land of Ashkenaz would not only find in favor of the repudiation but would almost certainly convert it into a formal ban. The rabbi from Seville, however, was not dismayed by the menace contained in her words. Perhaps, he answered with a strange smile, because they had not yet heard the arguments thought up in Seville and simmered upon the ocean waves for many days and nights. He had not said his fill at the winery of Villa Le Juif. He still had a few choice arguments left, which were stirring in his heart, and he laid his hand on his chest as though to still their motion. Therefore, the rabbi added softly, with a casual smile, why should they not all join her rebellion and follow her to the river of her birth, so as to face the judgment of those whom she accepted as wise and just? If the judgment went against them, they would accept their discomfiture and return as they had come, but if not, the repudiation and the rebellion would be utterly annulled, and all of them would be reunited, she with her husband who loved her so, and he in turn with his uncle who had refused to abandon him.
So surprised was Mistress Esther-Minna by the Andalusian rabbi’s willingness to face another court in her native town that she feared the Hebrew her father had taught her had misled her understanding. So she excitedly asked her brother, whose command of the holy tongue was better than her own, to find out clearly from the rabbi whether he had truly said what she had understood. Master Levitas questioned Rabbi Elbaz, who, without looking straight at his master the merchant, repeated his suggestion so clearly that Master Levitas had no doubt or difficulty in translating it rapidly and fluently into the local language. The rabbi’s words caused the pale, exhausted Abulafia to rise excitedly and bow a deep bow to the startled Ben Attar, in the mistaken belief that it was his uncle who was the true source of this wonderful new suggestion.
5.
While Abulafia was bowing excitedly to his uncle, the same unseen hand that was gently wiping away the painful rift in his soul was transferring it slowly to that of Ben Attar. Although he knew well that the rabbi’s astounding suggestion was connected to an irresistible temptation to repeat the wonderful speech he had made to the court of the wine casks before the sages in the blue-eyed woman’s native town, Ben Attar also understood well that the rabbi was trying to open up a new avenue, so as to avoid a renewed breach between him and Abulafia that was liable to frustrate the whole purpose of their epic voyage. But he shot an anxious glance at his two wives, who were sitting at the other end of the table, their faces beaming with joy at the sight of all the empty dishes, still not suspecting what the little rabbi was cooking up for them. Again, as when a storm whips up the sea, his heart was anxious for his two wives, who would have to journey even farther. Even if he did not fear, like his nephew, that a rebellion might break out in his household, he did fear that the sorrow of homesickness might age them all.
Thus he turned cautiously to Master Levitas and questioned him about the road to the Rhine, the river where he and his sister had been born and bred. And Master Levitas, who had been sitting contentedly stroking his little beard and sniffing the smell of the Moroccan meal clinging to his fingers while trying to discern what was taking place in his guts, was very careful not to let slip a single ill-considered word of discouragement, for although he saw the suggestion of a contest with the sages of Ashkenaz as a dangerous gamble, he also knew that this was the only way of ridding himself of these swarthy visitors, whose presence in his home was becoming more rooted by the hour, and of giving himself a lull, however temporary, from the feverish complications of his sister’s marriage, which he realized now he had been only too right to warn her against.
Thus Master Levitas attempted to depict the route from Francia to Lotharingia, from Paris to Worms, in clear, gentle colors, according to his memories from long ago. Although Ben Attar was disappointed at first to discover that the Creator had not managed in the six days of the creation to link the Seine to the Rhine, so that Abd el-Shafi could be asked to hoist the triangular sail and simply sail the ship to Mistress Esther-Minna’s childhood home, Master Levitas’s reassuring descriptions of villages and small towns on the way led him to hope and believe that this additional journey by land would not put to shame the voyage that had preceded it. Excitedly he heard about the small town of Meaux, which led to the town of Chalons, and about the River Marne, and the Meuse, where Verdun could be found, a pleasant town of customs men and slave traders that straddled the frontier between the county of Champagne and the duchy of Lotharingia. From there easy roads ran through an expansive country past towns called Metz and Saarbrücken, and the rivers Moselle and Saar, until they reached their destination, Worms, which stood beside the River Rhine, to whose marshy banks a few families of Jews had clung lovingly for the past hundred years. And so Ben Attar turned to his two wives, who were trying, each in her own way, to understand what was being said, so that he could soothe the panic that he could sense only too well from the slight motion of their veils.
But while the first wife, unable to restrain herself despite her normally calm and easygoing nature, let out an anguished cry, the second wife recoiled in terror and quickly placed her hands on the lower part of her belly, to protect something that had been occupying her mind these last days as much as her only son, whose last image, standing on the seashore in a little red robe, holding tightly on to her parents’ hands, had floated before her eyes every single day of the journey when she lay down and rose up. Ben Attar, who could immediately discern her panic, even though he did not know yet what was burgeoning in her body, reached out to her with his large hand, and without giving a thought to his neighbors he laid it in her lap, and a light touch seemed to suffice to steady the youthful body.
But during the night he had to go back and forth between bedchambers, to explain and coax, to soothe and comfort, to promise and threaten, so that by dawn, with his practical, Mediterranean wisdom, he could hurry to his ship, which every day seemed to him to have shrunk, to give new orders. There he found his faithful partner seated near the camel, which was diligently chewing its cud after an evening meal in the kitchen garden of the convent of Sainte Geneviève, and he cautiously insinuated into the consciousness of the Ishmaelite the new matter of the additional overland journey. Although Abu Lutfi strove with all his gentile being not to understand this new turn in the wars of the Jews, since he knew that he would have trouble comprehending their full intent, and because he knew from experience that no Jew could truly get the better of another Jew but would only antagonize him, he accepted the news of the additional overland journey with the desert calm he had inherited from his fathers’ fathers, especially since it seemed to his joy that he himself would be exempted.
For Ben Attar had decided to leave the Ishmaelite in Paris, both to protect the ship from its unruly crew and also to begin to sell some of the goods that had been unloaded. However, he had made up his mind to enlist the captain for the overland journey, to ensure that during his prolonged absence the sailors did not try to slink back to North Africa with the ship. Also he was certain that one who had conveyed him so safely and skillfully over the waves of the ocean would succeed in doing the same over solid land. But Abd el-Shafi would not easily agree to exchange the identity
of sea captain for that of simple wagoner. It would be necessary not only to offer him a further reward but also to agree to take along an additional stalwart sailor, so the captain would have someone on land to give orders to.
It may have been the additional Ishmaelite element in the journey that made the Jewish merchant decide to travel to the Rhine not in one wagon but in two, one large and one smaller, each drawn by two horses, selected for their speed as well as their strength. The smaller wagon, which was upholstered in soft fabrics and woolen cloth and scattered with fragrant spices and yellow cheeses, was intended for the three women, who for the purposes of the journey were united to form a single contingent, and for the Elbaz boy, who might cushion the wives’ yearning for their distant children. As for the larger wagon, it was to carry the three Jewish men, and it was also loaded with the choicest of the wares from the ship, such as bags of condiments, carefully chosen bolts of silk, earthen jars full of olive oil, slabs of honeycomb, and gleaming brassware that would make potential purchasers’ eyes light up even in the darkest forests. The first wife, who after a stormy night had decided to reconcile herself to the overland journey, sent for some coarse dark cloth from the ship and of her own accord cut out and stitched a pair of black jerkins for the two Ishmaelite seamen on the pattern of that worn by Master Levitas, so as to conceal their ragged clothes and to make them more appealing, when the time came, to the Jews of Ashkenaz.
A Journey to the End of the Millennium Page 21