8 Great Hebrew Short Novels

by Неизвестный

  The boys started sobbing and crying again. Abu Il-Shawarab lost patience with them, and angrily slapped the eldest on the cheek. The boy continued weeping and wailing. He was about to hit him again when the rider beside him, who could be clear-minded in this crisis, grabbed his arm and stopped him, saying:

  “No! No! Ya Nimmer, leave them be. Thus spoke Ahmed the Bedouin, Allah grace him: ‘Let not woman or child weep before you set out on your way.’5 Let them ride with you a little, as far as the gate of the mosque, at least, to gladden their hearts.”

  Abu Il-Shawarab remained adamant. The rider raised his head high in the air, replaced his silver sword in its sheath, and tightened the clasp to the handle, making it fast. Then he reached out his hairy arm and without saying a word took the children from their father’s arms one after the other, placed the younger one in front of him and the elder behind him on his horse’s back, and rode off with his spoils.

  All the other horses leapt off after him, only to pause, skittish, at the stretch of water running alongside the road. One of the horses, however, jumped across fearlessly, and then all the others rushed across after him, in haste and confusion, as if ashamed of their needless fear.

  The riders lined up in columns, drew their weapons, and waved them above their heads. The blades glinted in the sunlight. The eldest man in the group drew himself up to his full stature, and turned about to look for Abu Il-Shawarab, who in his modesty was riding toward the rear.

  The sharp eyes of the elder soon found the flag-master. He wrapped his horse’s bridle around his arm, turned the horse around, and rode back through the tightly packed rows of riders. Reaching Abu Il-Shawarab, he cried out:

  “Advance, ya sheikh Al-Shawarab, and ride at our head! This day is your day, and from now on your word commands us!”

  At first Abu Il-Shawarab refused. Not moving from where he sat on his horse, he curled his moustache and said:

  “May Allah forgive! There is yet time. When I carry the flag, then will I ride at the head and it will not be held against me as a sin…There are elder than me among us. Go you and ride at our head. How may I raise my face to you, when you are older than my father?!”

  The old man replied:

  “Lead us! Allah will forgive you! By the beard of the Prophet, we will not march one step if you are not at your post!”

  Abu Il-Shawarab was compelled to accede to his request. He left his position and began moving forward. Drawing his long, sharp-edged sword, he wound his shawl around its handle, whirled it around his head several times, turned this way and that, and proclaimed:

  “Hear me, believers and servants of Allah! Prepare for the pilgrimage! Spur on your animals and set out on the road. Long life and peace be with you!”

  The riders moved forward, cutting through the milling throngs that swayed and bent and straightened like waves in the open sea. From rooftops and from behind fences women burst out in loud cheering. The air rang with the beating of drums they held under their arms and with the shouts of their songs.

  When the road was cleared somewhat of men, groups of women suddenly appeared, with babies on their shoulders, their veils slightly raised, revealing their blue-painted eyelids. They glanced aside suspiciously as they ran, to be sure that no man could see them. Quickly they darted past fences, gardens, and vineyards, climbing through hedges and trampling on fields of grain, running without a pause until they reached the orange orchards surrounding the square of the mosque, which they reached before the riders, who were advancing slowly. There they again lowered their veils, and stood craning their necks. Later arrivals shoved through them, pushing them aside with curses and screams, kicking and elbowing in an attempt to force a way through to the front rows for a good view of all the proceedings.

  In the distance Abu Il-Shawarab and his horsemen appeared, and the criers proclaimed their arrival in loud song. The thousands of men and children who had been squatting on the ground, crammed tight up against each other, quickly rose to their feet. Caught up in the excitement of the pilgrimage, they began to sway and rock, knocking into each other, mixing and milling together.

  In the center of the square Abu Il-Shawarab gave a signal with his drawn sword—and the drumming and clashing of cymbals ceased. The criers fell silent, and there was stillness like the calm before a storm. The many flag-bearers hurried into the square from all sides and lined up in columns. Rows of horsemen charged at the crowd with drawn swords, crying: “Make way! Move!…Back! Make way for the glorious flag!”—and people looking for their animals or their relatives moved back for the moment. All eyes turned in anticipation to the gate of the mosque.

  When the top of the red-gold flag flashed through the dark gate of the mosque, like a crescent moon bursting through layers of thick cloud, the crowd burst into applause. Those with musical instruments began to play, and a cry of rejoicing and cheering burst from the mouths of all present, so loud that the horses began to panic and scamper. Sheikhs and hadjs and dervishes all called out:

  “Allah wakbar! Allah wakbar! ”6

  The women emitted sharp broken ululations of joy, which were cut by a quick repetitive knocking of their tongues against their lips. They threw showers of sweets and raisins down upon the dervishes who, the veins in their necks standing out blue and contorted, snorted and frothed as if they were being strangled while they mumbled the prayer of union.7

  The name of Abu Il-Shawarab was on every tongue. Lithe as a cat he leapt off his horse, handed the reins to the rider beside him, and ran straight ahead to the flag. He lowered his sword, bowed his head, took the flag from the imam, and waved it in the air. The flag unfurled. It was of black velvet, with a band of gold the width of a finger sewn round its edges, and passages from the Koran embroidered in gold thread on both its sides. He placed the end of its silver pole into the ring on his belt that had been specially designed for this purpose. Then, proudly raising his head, he marched with measured tread toward the other flag-bearers.

  They advanced quickly toward him. At some distance from him they turned aside, made several circles around his flag and touched it with theirs, encircling it and crowning it with a wreath of flags, but always with care that its top remained higher than all the other flags.

  The riders crossed swords with a clang, the drummers beat mightily on their drums, and the rite was over. The circle of flag-bearers broke up: each of them returned to his own group or sect or village troop, which meanwhile lined up in readiness to set off, all of them facing the road to Jerusalem.

  Glowing, radiant, with sunbeams dancing on his sword blade and flag, Abu Il-Shawarab walked quickly toward his horse. As he placed the flagpole into the saddle ring and mounted his steed, the armed men waved their pistols and rifles in the air. A wild burst of shots exploded in the air all at once, accompanied by loud cries of cheering. Then the whole camp moved off, progressing slowly and heavily, through the valley, singing as they went, until they reached the foot of the ’Amud where, as had been the custom since ancient times, they stopped for some time and burst into a renewed spate of dancing and games in honor of the forty prophets of Israel buried in its folds. From there, the procession wound onward, like a huge dragon, among thick sycamores and olive trees that at times hid them from view.

  The many spectators who had accompanied them to this last station, though it was not the custom to do so, stood here for a long time to gaze with wonder at this splendid procession, the like of which not even the eldest person present could remember. Many of them slapped their thighs and clapped their hands, nodded their heads up and down, and sang in response to the song of the pilgrims, which reached them from beyond the groves of gray-green olive trees. Only when the echoes died down in the quiet of the hills did the crowd begin to disperse. The shopkeepers and merchants began rushing back to town, wondering how they could have so forgotten themselves as to leave their shops untended all this time; the visitors who had neglected their beasts hurried to the khans to feed and water them. Bustling, noisy, al
l talking at once, they hurried back to town, with many tales of praise about this wondrous and unique pilgrimage.

  The only ones who were silent and angry were the young women. On this day they had allowed themselves some laxity with the precepts about covering their faces and not raising the voice. The celebration had finished so quickly: the spectacle was over, and they again felt their enslavement. Ahead of them stretched a long line of gray, monotonous working days, with no spark of joy or consolation to illumine them. Again they would have to close themselves up in their homes and continue bearing the yoke; again they would have to suffer in silence at the hands of their rivals and mothers-in-law, to submit to having their every movement watched and used as a pretext for hints and slanderous remarks against them to their husbands, who severely punished any wrong move or error, and beat them for the slightest motion of their eyelids, or for any superfluous dallying by a window or a door.

  Sad and dismal, full of apprehension, they made their way back mutely along the sides of the roads. In their anger they kicked and scratched their children, lowered them from their shoulders and made them scurry along behind them. At the town gate they covered themselves properly again, hid the hand drums under their arms, and, dark as outcasts, moved on with a groan, slipping away like shadows into the dark narrow alleys of the town.

  Notes

  1. According to Numbers 11:30, Mount Ebal and Mount Gerizim.

  2. Large kerchief with which Arabs cover their heads, held in place by a looped cord.

  3. A kind of hot drink.

  4. So God has made it!

  5. Ahmed the Bedouin was a renowned Egyptian mystic and dervish. His words may be intended to prevent a woman or child putting the evil eye on one setting out on a journey.

  6. “God is mighty!”

  7. the prayer of the oneness of God: “There is no God but Allah and Mohammed

  is his Prophet”.

  Chapter four

  After two days’ march along winding roads, with stops at every village and spring, enthusiastic dancing at every crossroads and at all the tombs of the saints, and a night’s sleep under the open sky, the pilgrims reached Jerusalem at dawn, while the star of the shepherds was still twinkling on the horizon. Despite the early hour, and their weariness, they did not enter the city in silence. On reaching the deserted and still-dim road leading to the Damascus Gate, Abu Il-Shawarab rose upright among the riders, who had been riding along without order, and commanded them to line up along the sides of the road, so as not to allow the pilgrims to scatter. Then he alerted the flag-bearers and the musicians. He divided them into groups and placed them in position, and galloped off down the entire procession, spacing it out in an orderly manner, separating those who were too close together, and spurring on the stragglers who had sat down to rest by the roadside, forcing them to their feet and even waving his staff at tired beasts who were advancing with lowered heads, hitting them occasionally to make them move along smartly.

  To add to the splendor of the procession and make a greater impression on the Jerusalemites and Hebronites, Abu Il-Shawarab ordered his assistants to take the two expensive carpets—the gift of the people of Nablus to the mosque of Nebi Moussa—out of their wrappings. The men tied the carpets to each other by their fringes and then draped them over either side of the camel that had been selected for the sacrifice. Then Abu Il-Shawarab called to the shepherds, who led forth the cattle and sheep and goats that were to be given as offerings. The horns of these animals were painted crimson. The shepherds brought them along the sides of the road and herded them into the space in front of the riders.

  A light breeze blew, the last stars faded, rays of light glinted on the points of the spires and the teeth of the city wall, the lights of the streetlamps on the corners paled, and atop the dome on the Temple Mount there spread a reddish glow.

  Filled with the excitement and greatness of the occasion, his head high, Abu Il-Shawarab reappeared on his horse in front of his followers. He turned toward the Valley of the Giants, where they were to meet with the pilgrims from Jerusalem and Hebron. A wave of pride rolled through him as he gazed first at the city before him and then at the milling procession behind him awaiting his command to set out.

  Abu Il-Shawarab took hold of the flag and waved it. Immediately the drums, the cymbals, and the flutes burst into clamor.

  At the head of the musicians stood a Negro with a goatskin bag from which a pipe protruded. He blew and gurgled through it with all his might, contorting his face, baring his teeth—and began walking forward. The stream of pilgrims moved off after him and burst into the city. The sound of their raucous song could be heard from far off. Windows shook to the noise of their marching feet. Swallows nesting in the crevices of the city wall rose in panic and flew about emitting cries of alarm, sweeping around in circles as if fleeing a storm. For some time they hovered above the heads of the pilgrims, shaking their wings in wonder, and then flew off into the distance.

  On both sides of the street, doors and gates grated and creaked. The residents of the houses, barefoot or hurriedly shod, pressed out onto the sidewalks which were still wet with dew, some marveling, some yawning, others watching the arrivals with curiosity. Sleepy faces peered out from windows and balconies. They all watched in wonder, for a long time, not moving away until the tail of the procession had left the city on the other side.

  The pilgrims moved away quickly from the narrow path and turned left to the wide thorn-covered field, opposite the German Colony on the way to Hebron. The riders had barely managed to put down stakes to tether their horses, and the dancers and singers had hardly found a place to rest awhile among the brambles, when several horsemen appeared at the edge of the valley and sent out a courier to say that they requested a meeting with Sheikh Il-Shawarab. Abu Il-Shawarab remounted his horse, and advanced toward them. Several paces away from them he dismounted. The other horsemen did likewise. With a sweep of their hands they unfurled the kefiyehs covering their faces. The men stood looking directly at each other for some time.

  The eldest among them drew himself erect and then bent his thin neck before Abu Il-Shawarab. He placed his hands on the other’s shoulders, fell upon his neck, and kissed both his shoulders, and then, smiling joyfully, said in a loud voice:

  “The blessing has come to us, and a thousand greetings be yours! May your feet be blessed within our bounds. All this land is yours, and all that is upon it—and we have first call on hospitality, we your brothers of Hebron, with Abu Faris at our head. We have been awaiting your arrival since morning… . Give orders to your people, and set out to greet the flag of our lord Ibrahim, the Friend and the Merciful… .”1

  A shadow passed over the face of Abu Il-Shawarab as he heard this, and he replied, curling his moustache upward:

  “The flag of Ibrahim the Friend—may Allah pray for it and may manifold peace be upon it! We are both are the guests of Nebi Moussa, may Allah value his generosity! The provisions our people of Nablus are carrying will be enough to provide hospitality for you, and more…Our camp and yours are now on the lands of the people of Jerusalem, and neither of us is the first among guests…If we have come into your bounds as you say—then it is your obligation to come and welcome us and greet our flag…”

  The elder turned angrily away, raised the flaps of his abbayeh, and prepared to ride off. He cast a penetrating and furious glance at Abu Il-Shawarab, and added:

  “Hear this, Nimmer! He who honors others obtains honor… . Were you noble, nobility would show in your face…”

  Abu Il-Shawarab did not remain to hear more. He had already turned his horse back toward the inquiring chiefs and dignitaries of his own camp. He rose straight to them. One of his men, seeing him pass and grasping his mood, gave a signal to some others, and they all galloped after him until they reached a many-branched fig tree, whose soft leaves still covered its buds and quivered in the morning breeze. There they stopped and waited with bated breath for the rest of the inner circle.

>   Abu Il-Shawarab told them all that had happened. The men all shook their heads in amazement, pursing their lips in contempt. Abu Il-Shawarab was furious. His face was flushed and his moustache trembled, and his voice choked as he tried to speak. Finally he folded his arms and said:

  “They’re puffing themselves up like Ethiopian cocks. They want to shame us…we have not even met Abu Faris yet, and he is already trying to exalt himself above us… .Every dog barks in his own garbage and in the gate of his own yard… .Our flag will go to greet theirs only when our camel mounts the spire of the mosque, not before. But you are the rulers and wisdom and understanding are yours: consider what lies before us, and give your counsel…”

  Everyone turned expectantly toward old Abu-Zaid. The elder drew himself erect on his horse. Smoothing his pointed beard with his bent bony fingers he spat out:

  “The curse of Allah upon the troublemakers…your answer to them was frank and correct and its weight is as gold…we are of greater repute and honor than they…the smallest shoe among us is worth the price of their heads…we must not give in to them in the slightest thing. If they have made light of the respect due to guests, it is our duty not to yield an inch. Go and tell all our people to scatter across the entire valley!”

  In a flash all the leaders rode off swiftly toward the rest of the procession and blocked the waves of people pouring across the track toward the sounds of voices coming from the horizon. Galloping backward and forward to the right and to the left, they drove the pilgrims like shepherds assembling their scattered herds, each leader calling his own people to him and then leading them toward the plain. When they were all spread out far across the plain, the order was given for them to stop and rest and refresh themselves with a meal.