The Slaughterman's Daughter

by Yaniv Iczkovits

  So without further ado, Rivkah takes Mende through everything that needs to be done before noon, and the guest takes responsibility for it all. Mende is perfectly aware that the grandmother treats her children cruelly and that she is taking advantage of her own helpfulness – Mende is not a complete fool, after all – but right now, integrating into the household of Natan-Berl’s family is what matters to her most. And so she sets the Sabbath table according to Rivkah’s instructions as if she, and not Fanny, were the old woman’s daughter-in-law. Mende has done the right thing by coming over to help the poor Keismann orphans in their hour of need.

  V

  * * *

  Preparations for dinner have stalled. Mende is doing the exact opposite of what she should. She lights the fire too late, risking a deviation from Queen Sabbath’s schedule. She does not wrap the challah in its embroidered cover. The borscht is flavourless. The kartoshkes are undercooked. Fanny’s five children cavort and caper about, and refuse to obey their aunt when she urges them to wash and get dressed properly.

  Throughout the house, pandemonium reigns. David is wearing his Sabbath clothes inside out, and Gavriellah is polishing the candlesticks even though she has already scrubbed her fingernails. Mende scurries around the house as the children fight, and Rivkah Keismann sits at the table and directs proceedings with her last-minute instructions. If only they had listened to her from the start, all would have been fine. But everything that could have gone wrong has done just that. Rivkah should have assumed that Mende is incapable of rational thought. Next time she will rehearse every last detail with her.

  The chaos is topped off by an argument, because Mende will not stop defending her sister.

  “It’s impossible to know what went through her head,” Mende says.

  This enrages Rivkah. “It is of no importance what went through her head.”

  “Don’t judge someone else until you are in their shoes,” Mende goes on.

  Rivkah bangs her fist on the table. “If this was the case then no-one who committed a crime would ever face judgment.”

  “‘Crime’ is an exaggeration.”

  “Then what would you call it?”

  “A mistake.”

  “A crime.”

  “A mistake.”

  “Let me ask you this,” says Rivkah. “Would you leave? Never. Would you abandon your children? You know you wouldn’t. Well, then: is it a crime or a mistake?”

  “The word is of no importance; it could be that my sister has been miserable for years.”

  “And you, were you not miserable with Zvi-Meir?”

  “I certainly was not,” Mende says, appalled by the mere suggestion. “There were challenging times, but I was never miserable.”

  “And did you disappear from your home?”

  “You go too far! I am not so wild.”

  “A-ha!” The grandmother clasps her hands together. “Why, then, are you so protective of your rebellious sister?”

  “That is not what I meant. Every case is different. Something may have happened to her. Perhaps she was abducted.”

  “And the abductor wrote the note on her behalf?”

  “That I do not know.”

  “Then what do you know?”

  “That she is my sister, and that I should help her.”

  “No-one can argue with that.”

  “Then we agree.”

  “That your sister is wild? Absolutely!”

  Nonetheless, in spite of these futile debates, and although the unruly children are rocking Rivkah Keismann’s chair like a boat on the high seas, a calm pervades her limbs. This is how it should always have been. If only Natan-Berl had married another woman, a woman like Mende Speismann, then Rivkah could have entrusted her son to her capable hands and joined the Creator. Instead, the worries that she has endured in recent years have prolonged her life against her will, and she fears that if she leaves her son this way she will become eternally trapped between this world and the next. Who is she living for? She would have been better off dead.

  As Mende pricks a kartoshke with her fork to test its tenderness, and David puts his yarmulke back on his head, and Gavriellah combs Elisheva’s hair, and Mirl crawls underneath the table with a rag to help her mother clean the dining room, and Yankele and Mishka and Shmulke play with matches, the grandmother asks herself, why shouldn’t it always be this way? Fanny will not return, and even if she does, Natan-Berl will not take her back. Perhaps eloquence and vivacity are not among her son’s strengths. But there’s nothing he cares about more than dignity and propriety. A mother knows her son’s innermost thoughts, and Rivkah is confident that Natan-Berl has made up his mind to forget Fanny. Well, why should she not invert the practice of yibum, and replace the absent wife with her present sister? If Jewish men may marry their brothers’ widows, why not marry Mende to her widowed brother-in-law? Certainly, this matter should be discussed with Reb Moishe-Lazer Halperin in the first instance. After all, she is not qualified to make halakhic rulings. Still, it is hard to imagine that the law would be opposed to a natural unification of the family.

  With this in mind, when Mende absentmindedly pulls out the lamb shank she brought from Simcha-Zissel Resnick to place it in the oven for roasting, the grandmother stands up, lays her hands on Mende’s waist and explains that it would be better if Natan-Berl never knew that meat had entered his kitchen. Mende trembles all over: how could she have been so stupid? But the grandmother soothes her; luckily for her, Rivkah is here, otherwise who knows what would have happened? Natan-Berl might have upended the table in his rage and never looked at Mende’s pretty face ever again. But now that the disaster has been averted, Mende Speismann sighs with relief and starts to believe that her face has perhaps remained handsome despite its recently added poundage. Rivkah Keismann has said so herself. Upon hearing Natan-Berl’s voice calling to his goats near the house, she feels a fluttering in her stomach.

  Natan-Berl does not enter the house in his usual way. Perhaps Mende’s cart parked outside raises his suspicion, or perhaps it’s the commotion inside the house. It might be the unfamiliar smells coming from the kitchen – there’s no knowing how Natan-Berl’s mind works or how far his keen senses might stretch. In any event, as he stands on the threshold he peeks inside, counts the number of people and realises that it is higher than usual. Raising his eyes hopefully, he sees his sister-in-law, Mende. Embarrassed, Mende begins to explain why she is here, but the grandmother pinches her arm, as if to say: Natan-Berl’s silence is a good sign. There’s no need to ruin the moment with words.

  The children immediately jump on the back of their bear-like father, and even Yankele and Mirl are happy to see him. David and Mishka are already arguing about who will go out with the shepherds on Sunday, and Gavriellah is angry with both of them, as they have broken a bowl of cabbage in their rush for their father. Young Elisheva slips in between everyone to hang around her father’s neck, “Me! Me!”, and the sudden relief in his face tells them all that he has made up his mind. Somehow, under their very noses, in a brief moment of inattention, the father and his youngest daughter have made a pact with a single glance. It is decided that Sunday will be Elisheva’s day to go out with the flock.

  But their envy does not turn to bitterness. Elisheva’s siblings know that she needs their father more than they do. For the past three nights she has been calling for their mother without getting a reply, and although her grandmother has tried comforting her – “There there, Bubbe is here” – the little girl will not stop sobbing, falling back asleep only after yielding to her fatigue. The children do not talk about this among themselves, and yet they understand that this is not the time to act spoiled when they don’t get their way. Their mother would have wanted them to be generous with their baby sister. After two weeks’ absence, the memory of Fanny has blended with anger and resentment. Her soft voice still echoes in their minds, and th
eir painful longing for her only grows stronger. Defying all logic, their inability to understand why she has disappeared doesn’t shake their confidence that she will return. They will settle their accounts with her in due course.

  And as for Natan-Berl, there is no knowing what goes on in his mind. He blesses the wine and then ritually washes his hands. Sitting down at the head of the table, he appears not to remember why they are gathered, or realise that he should pass around the challah after the hamotzi blessing over the bread. The grandmother clears her throat and Natan-Berl sits up, surprised. If someone had told him that today is Tuesday, he would have said, “so much the better”, and started eating. Mende notes to herself that this household does not greet the Sabbath as extravagantly as Zvi-Meir and she once did in their home.

  The adults do not exchange a single word during the meal, although they do turn to the children every now and again. The grandmother with reprimands, Mende with requests and Natan-Berl with the occasional nod. Mende thinks to herself that if Natan-Berl returned home and found the three Patriarchs and the four Matriarchs seated at his table, he would lower his head, sit down and gruffly chew his food. Can anyone blame her sister for running away from such boredom? If these were distant relatives, she would have thanked them at the end of Shabbat and gladly returned home. But these children, God help them, they are her nephews and nieces, her own flesh and blood. How can she leave them to their own devices, without a mother to teach them right from wrong? She is not free to choose. She has been commanded to help them. If she leaves when the Sabbath ends, she will never be able to look herself in the mirror again.

  At the same time, she thinks that silence might have its advantages, too. She recalls a Friday night when she was very tired and Zvi-Meir had come home in a state of great agitation, wanting to discuss with her an issue that no Torah sage had ever contemplated before: how could Adam and Eve have grasped God’s prohibition before they ate the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge that endowed them with reason?

  “See how great this paradox is?” he had said.

  “Sort of.”

  “What do you mean, ‘sort of’?”

  “Later,” Mende had sighed.

  “This cannot wait. Why can’t you understand?”

  The exhausted Mende had been forced to stretch the limits of her comprehension, and nod throughout Zvi-Meir’s chaotic lecture that had lasted the entire meal. He saw that she was tired, and asked her to repeat the last thing he had said; she asked him to let the matter go, admitting to her fatigue. Zvi-Meir had risen from his chair and slapped the table. “Exhausted? You are simply stupid!” He’d sucked in his cheeks, which were reddened by alcohol, and hissed, “Why am I even discussing matters of Torah with a woman?”

  Now, as she sits quietly, Mende thinks to herself that there is nothing wrong with flowing silences. And in any event, her experience has taught her that people can talk to one another endlessly without really communicating anything. Yet when Natan-Berl leaves the table without even gracing her with a sideways glance, she knows that her days here are numbered. Rivkah touches her foot and whispers in her ear, “Can you see how glad Natan-Berl is that you are here? I haven’t seen him this happy for a long time.”

  VI

  * * *

  Mende’s flaws are few. At her best, she is a comely, respectful and modest woman. Staunchly opposed to the frivolities of Hasidism, Mende does not ask questions about lofty matters and never doubts what she was taught to believe. Her faith rests on the fulfilment of the commandments. Even if someone presented her with irrefutable proof that the Creator does not require her to fast, she would still persist with this self-inflicted torture. Mende puts her trust in the millennia-old practices of Jews without ever concerning herself with why such practices should remain necessary. And being so accepting in matters of faith, she is not particular when it comes to family matters either. When her mother died during her childhood, she distanced herself from her father and her peculiar sister, harbouring a single wish: to have a family of her own. She did not dream of a husband who would be a brilliant scholar or a seasoned businessman. She could barely visualise a face. In fact, she had no notion of what he would be like at all. But whenever she thought about her five imaginary children sitting around the table as she served beef and potatoes, she knew that he would also be there. His figure was beyond her grasp, but his presence was beyond question.

  Some would say that Mende Speismann had low expectations when it came to her future husband. Presence, being in a certain place at a certain time, is after all a clear necessity in a spouse. Yet, in all honesty, Mende never asked Zvi-Meir for anything more than that. Just as his sharp mind and studies at Volozhin’s prestigious yeshiva were an unexpected gift from the God On High, so her husband’s rudeness and tongue lashings were defects she had to endure. The good is always bound up with the bad, and life is never black-and-white. As long as they sat together for the Sabbath dinner then that was enough, and praise be to God.

  And so the breakfast that Mende prepares on the seventh morning of the week for Fanny’s family strikes her as the fulfilment of her vision. Five children are sitting around the table. Her Yankele and Mirl are helping her serve the krupnik she had prepared before Queen Sabbath stepped in. The bubbe is watching over everyone and Natan-Berl is eating to his heart’s content. The household is bustling – clattering dishes and spoons, cries and laughter – and Mende does not have a second to spare. A humming heart free of cumbersome thoughts is exactly what she needed. The cooking and cleaning make lying idly in bed all the sweeter. One cannot rest if one does not work. An idle woman without a home to run or a family to care for sinks to the bottomless depths of the soul and drowns in an ocean of discontent.

  But Mende is no fool. She knows that this commotion is not hers to have and that this place is not her home. With the sun’s yawn and the first blinks of the stars as Sabbath the Queen departs, Mende wonders whether she can sacrifice so much for the sake of something that is not her own.

  She quickly discovers that this choice is not hers to make, as the Blessed Holy One is leading her to her calling by giving out one sign at a time.

  The previous night Mende and her children had slept on the dining room floor. But now the bubbe appears with clean sheets and blankets, and leads her and the children to the cabin in the yard. The grandmother explains that she herself used to sleep in this nice, cosy room. It offered her more peace and rest than she could ask for. But now she must sleep next to the poor children who need their grandmother. During most hours of the day, Mende and her children will stay at the house, there will be no difference between Keismann and Speismann. It is in their common interest to gradually merge the two afflicted families together. Two tragedies have occurred and their blood ties require them to take care of each other now.

  “But is this really a tragedy?” Mende says, thinking of Zvi-Meir.

  “Your sister’s death is not a tragedy?” Rivkah asks, surprised.

  “My sister’s death? God forbid!”

  Rivkah Keismann cannot understand why Mende should be so horrified. What did she think? Can a wife abandon her husband and not be considered dead by her mother-in-law? Then she sees that Mende has taken her words literally and is deeply shaken by the idea that Fanny might really be dead, and an idea flashes in Rivkah’s mind.

  “Haven’t you worked it out by now, you poor creature?” she says, patting Mende on the back. “How could a woman fend for herself all alone in a world of violence and depravity, with a buffoon by her side who can’t even talk? What did you think? That they were in Minsk, or in Pinsk, maybe? Living happily ever after? He in his rowing boat and she in a cabin? They must have left Motal only to be attacked by brigands or devoured by wild beasts.”

  “How do you know that?” Mende is in tears now. “You’re provoking the Evil Eye.”

  “One cannot be more confident of the truth than when rumour and common sen
se are aligned.”

  “Rumour?”

  “This is what people say in Motal.”

  “In Motal? Since when?”

  “Since the first day of her disappearance. I’m sorry to be the bringer of bad news, but would you rather I’d hid this from you?”

  “No, of course not,” Mende whispers.

  “Well, go and get some rest, my dear, we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

  * * *

  Mende tosses and turns throughout the night. She wishes that the world would be still, that the Blessed Holy One would open up the gates of Heaven for the angels to cry with her, or that the skies would show a sign that her sister is still alive. Could it be that at this very moment the angels of destruction are torment-ing her poor little sister, just as Grandpa Yankel Kriegsmann of blessed memory used to describe? By midnight, she has yielded to her exhaustion. When she wakes up at the rooster’s call, her eyes meet the sun, resplendent through the window. The world has continued to spin as if nothing has happened: the golden furrows, the harvested fields, and the black bogs guarding the horizon like drowsy monsters. Once again, Mende struggles to get out of bed, but, looking at her sweet children, she vows to never let them come to any more harm. Peeking through the window again, she sees courgettes nestled in the soil, boughs glistening with apples, daisies everywhere in between, and the tree in her sister’s garden heavy with cherries. Fanny’s favourite fruit. Is it a sign? Mende cannot tell. But for now she must concentrate on the things she knows with certainty. She is here. Her children are here. And what about her sister? Surely, Rivkah must care about her daughter-in-law’s well-being; she wouldn’t lie on that score. All the same, until Mende is given clear-cut proof that supports the claims made about Fanny, she will not believe them. In the meantime, she will wait for the day when her sister’s family can finally come out of this living nightmare. Only then will Mende’s work at the Keismann household have reached its end.