Envy - The Seculary of a Wandering Jew (Book 1)

by Paulo Barata

  Year 61

  Festus’ government lasted almost for two years. A recluse, he was seldom seen in the city, and apparently he never even went to Jerusalem, but his justice was felt throughout the province. He stopped the violence and ended the contention that plagued the various communities. He also put an end to many of the robbers and bandits that had assailed the countryside for so long. He reduced some of the unjust taxes that had been introduced by Felix, and his efforts to guarantee the uninterrupted supply of grain from Egypt were amply appreciated by us all.

  Away from his home and his family, Festus never adapted to Caesarea, and died, a victim of an incurable fever, leaving behind a void of authority and power.

  Ruth, aged and increasingly whiny, was now also withdrawing from the real world, ever more absorbed in her credulity and so devoted to her creed that she became a real ascetic. She stopped eating meat, isolated herself for days on end to pray and fast, and would quarrel with anyone who commented on these bizarre habits. Curiously, more than her caustic remarks and rebukes, it turned out to be her lack of hygiene that drew me even farther away from her.

  Adad, old friend and rival, ever more fickle and inconstant, kept ranting me about my youthful gait, devastated that such a gift was granted to a mere Judaean. His paranoia and fixation were such that he repeatedly offered me his entire fortune, in exchange for the secret of my ageless condition. In other days, softened by prodigious gulps of that sweetened Syrian wine, he would mournfully reveal his deep envy with my condition, and of his dread of death and of the afterlife, an inconsolable terror that drove him into the comfort of the Nazarene cult, ever more active under the leadership of the rarely seen Zacheus, which I later learned had once been an ex-Publican in the service of Rome.

  Ioanis, ever the faithful friend, and now older, informed me that he wanted to retire soon, but I persuaded him to postpone his decision until his successor and son was ready to take his place in the business. Within a year, I promised him, and before that could happen, I wanted Alexander to go to Jerusalem and take charge of the emporium in that city.

  Year 62

  Some tiredness with Caesarea, and even more with the rapacious looks of some friends and acquaintances, induced me to spend the next pesach in Jerusalem, although I must admit that I was apprehensive with the reaction of Isaac about my physical condition. We had not seen each other for almost three years.

  This time, it took us four days to reach the city, dodging rumors and imaginary sightings of potential assailants that once again plagued those dusty and winding roads, now without much vigilance as the Romans were quietly waiting for a new Procurator to arrive.

  Although I left with some guards and servants of my own, these would not be sufficient if we met with a large and determined group of robbers and cutthroats. But we finally arrived, safe and sound, to a city that was now abysmally different from the one I had known so well.

  A city in a state of visible disorder and human disarray. The streets cluttered with garbage and animal feces, the people visibly sloven and ragged, and the buildings painted with obscene graffiti and filthy imagery. Even the Roman guard, generally tidy and neat, could now be seen in laxly poses and careless vigilance.

  The only constants in the city were still the immaculateness of the Temple and the all too visible sights of rubble and construction. Always something to build, amend or tear down in that city.

  “Its all due to lack of leadership,” assured me Alexander, when I commented about these first impressions, “and also, Ahasver, your eyes are still fixated in Rome. What a city that is!”

  “As far back as I can remember, Alexander, I don’t recall ever seeing this city so dirty. Not that it ever was an example of orderliness and cleanness, but it has grown a lot worse. What about the Council? Why don’t they do something?”

  “They don’t do much, that is true.”

  “And the Romans? What is going on there? I saw very few soldiers. That is unusual at a time of festival.”

  “Well, the tribune has left for Caesarea. All that is left is a small militia led by a centurion of dubious repute. Is it know who is coming to replace Festus?”

  “Not to me. And how is business?”

  “Regular, I would say, but we are having some trouble on the roads. Assaults. I had to reinforce the escorts and raise some prices too.”

  “Did you inform Isaac that I was coming?”

  “Yes, I did. Shall I send someone to let him know that you have arrived?”

  “Yes, ask for him to come to see me this evening.”

  “Simon is doing well.”

  “My nephew?”

  “Yes. Isaac asked me if Simon could work here in the emporium.”

  “That is good news. He must have grown since I last saw him.”

  “Yes, grown in age, not in height,” smiled Alexander, “takes after his father, I guess. Or the mother. They are both short.”

  “How is Isaac these days?”

  “Old, Ahasver, quite old. I almost didn’t recognize him when I arrived here.”

  “But he is not that old.”

  “Well, he doesn’t look like your father…”

  “Alexander, you never met my father, as far as I remember.”

  “No, Ahasver, what I meant to say is that he doesn’t look like your father, he looks more like he could be your grandfather.”

  It was sadly true. In the late afternoon of that same day, when we both met under that same arbor of ancient memories and days gone by, we stared at each other gaping with astonishment, each more dumbfound than the other. Was that old man truly my brother?

  “Isaac!” I welcomed him, rising from the couch.

  He, stepping back, couldn’t help stammering “Ahasver! Oh my Lord! Ahasver is it really you? It’s true then…” settling over me a look of deep consternation, “Oh brother…”, once more hesitant and mumbling.

  But I did not hesitate and we both awkwardly embraced. How strange that moment. In a matter of three years so much had changed between us. And I finally broke that silence.

  “How are you, Isaac? How is the family? Rebecca?”

  “Ahasver…” but still he stuttered.

  “Isaac, please, break it off. I am well as you can see.”

  “Ahasver…”

  “Calm down. I’ll ask for someone to bring us some of that wine from Jericho that I left breathing downstairs. That is if Alexander hasn’t finished it off yet.”

  “No, Ahasver. Just some water for me.”

  I allowed for time to pass so that Isaac could get his wits back. Surely he would soon recover. But I could see that he was particularly stunned.

  “Ahasver, I’m so sorry…”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You don’t know? You, the way you look. Ahasver, you cannot stay here, in the city, I mean…”

  “Isaac, you exaggerate.”

  “No I’m not. There is talk in town about a Judaean from Caesarea who it is claimed was blessed with a miracle of everlasting youth by the Nazarene messiah.”

  “Where did you hear that?”

  “The Nazarenes are spreading it. I heard it among some people in the Temple.”

  “You should know better. Those Nazarenes are always talking about miracles. Everyone knows it by now.”

  “It’s true. They do speak about cures and conversions. I’m not talking about that. They say that this man was blessed because he helped to spread the word of their messiah.”

  “And is that why you thought of me?”

  “Who else could it be? Yes, I do remember all the help you gave them. I even know that sometimes you hid it from me.”

  “You know what that was all about. Joseph…”

  “I know that, of course.”

  “Well then, what’s the problem? They are probably talking of someone else. It has been years since I last met with any of them.”

  “It could be, but what if you are recognized? What if someone sees you and remembers y
our face? It hasn’t changed, you know!”

  “It has been years since I was last in Jerusalem. Who will recognize me?”

  “Ahasver, there are many in the city who know you. You were not exactly an unknown. You were a member of the Sanhedrin. There are customers, associates, people who knew you well. You cannot stay. If they recognize you, the Nazarenes will not remain silent.”

  “What can they do?”

  “Ahasver, it’s too obvious what they will do. They will point at you as the living proof of a miracle performed by their messiah. Do you understand what that means to them?”

  “I will deny it, of course. It’s utter nonsense.”

  “You may do so, but what if the Kohanim decide to investigate?”

  “I am a faithful Judaean. I’ve always been.”

  “You have not come to the holy city for more than three years.”

  “I was traveling.”

  “Ahasver, it’s not me who will be saying it. It’s them. Can’t you see the danger? They will come to some conclusion, whether you like it or not.”

  “And what would that be?”

  “That you are either a Nazarene or you have been cursed.”

  “What did I do to be cursed?”

  “Well, you helped the Nazarenes, for one.”

  “That’s the most preposterous thing I’ve heard all day.”

  “Since when, Ahasver, did logic explain the actions of the Kohanim?”

  “Isaac, that doesn’t sound at all like you.”

  “Maybe, I am also not the same Isaac you once knew.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I have grown old, Ahasver. I’ve spent too much time in the Temple among the clergy.”

  “Loosing your faith, Isaac?”

  “Only in men, never in the Lord.”

  I was tired from the trip, fed-up of invoking plausible reasons and excuses, of maneuvering through denials and hypothesis, forward and back, of long and pointless explanations to what seemed unexplainable or even reasonable. So I decided to end that conversation, promising Isaac that I would think on all that was said, and I would make a decision in the next day.

  After a too short and restless night, unusual in me, the day dawned cloudy and rainy, awash with shadows and grays. Aware of the risks invoked by Isaac, I was reluctant to go out into the city and be recognized by the wrong people. Then I thought of the rain. The rain was an opportunity and the means to ensure my anonymity. I could go out in some hooded cloak. I wanted to go the Temple. I needed to go to Temple. At breakfast, I told Alexander of my plan, and he immediately volunteered to accompany me.

  Two cowled men in long capes, among the many that drifted their way to the Temple, did not raise anyone’s attention. We ended-up staying in the large courtyard of the Gentiles, now empty of the stalls of the moneychangers and dove-sellers, who had taken refuge under the side colonnades. I had thought of going into the inner courts, but I did not want to leave Alexander behind and alone.

  Prostrated in prayer, I repeated the eternal homages and invocations to the Lord, as I did feel very strongly His presence on that day. I prayed for guidance. I prayed for my dearest and nearest, for my long gone son. I asked for His mercy, for His forgiveness, for His protection, for His piety and for His blessings. I made promises, swore commitments and even donated a large sum of money to the korban. I could think of nothing else to do there. I left with the premonition that I would not return.

  Alexander, who knew enough of me and of my moods, and seeing how distraught I was, tried to cheer me up on our way home, telling some innocent jokes and improbable tales.

  “Alexander?”

  “Yes, Ahasver.”

  “Tell me something. What’s your opinion regarding all this that is happening to me?”

  “I don’t think much of it. You know how people like to make up stories.”

  “You don’t think it’s strange and bizarre my appearance?”

  “I admit that it can seem awkward to some, yes.”

  “Why not to you?”

  “Ahasver, it’s like father has always said to those who question him. You have been blessed with the gift of a long life. You are not the first, you know. There are stories of similar cases in your own scriptures, and in some of our chronicles too. Men that lived for many, many years.”

  “Simple as that?”

  “It’s the only possible explanation. Only those religious fanatics out there could come up with any other reason.”

  When we got home, Isaac was waiting for me, visibly upset with my excursion. But I did not want to go back to our conversation of the previous evening. It was futile, and a waste of time to go over the same arguments.

  “Have you made a decision, Ahasver?”

  “Not yet, what’s the hurry? To be honest, I still don’t think it’s as dangerous as you claim.”

  “But it is. Take my warning seriously. I strongly recommend that you return to Caesarea soon.”

  “I told you, let me think it through. By the way, isn’t Rebecca coming by to see me?”

  “I told her about our meeting and our chat of yesterday.”

  “She doesn’t want to see me?”

  “She will come, yes. Maybe later in the day, when this rain stops. I’ve prepared her.”

  “Does she have an opinion too? Everyone seems to, these days.”

  “If she does, she has not shared it with me.”

  “Well, I could go to pay her a visit too.”

  “No! You mustn’t. Don’t forget that we have relatives in the house at this time. I haven’t mentioned to anyone that you are in town.”

  “This is totally absurd, Isaac. Am I now a reprobate? No, don’t answer that. I refuse to get back into that kind of talk. Please go now. Come back with Rebecca if she wants to.”

  But neither of them returned that day.

  Alexander, busy with the affairs of the emporium, was also away for most of the day, and alone, I spent the day watching the rain washing some of the garbage downhill towards the theatre. I thought of paying a visit to Simeon, Gamaliel’s son, but I admit that I was afraid of his reaction. It was bad enough the intrigued and questioning looks I was getting from the older servants and employees. And thinking back to Isaac’s words, I could see that the prospect of spending the pesach and the seder in family would not happen. What was I doing there?

  Deep in these thoughts, I first didn’t notice a servant coming into the atrium and saying that there were two men calling for me at the side gate.

  “Who are they?”

  “Master, their names are James and Simeon, and they claim to be your brothers, I think. Or they are brothers…”

  “My brothers?”

  “I thought it very strange too. But one of the slaves recognized them as Messianics, and it is known that they call themselves brothers. Shall I say you are away?”

  Well, well. I did know who they were. They had been there shortly after Joseph’s burial. I had some sympathy for Simeon, and I decided to see them and also to hear what they had to say about me.

  “No, let them in. I’ll see them in the atrium.”

  “Brother Ahasver, we can see that brother’s Saul prediction was accurate,” said James, once we had finished with the usual greetings, “or are you still an unbeliever?”

  “Master James, I was never an unbeliever in the truth. I only don’t believe in the divinity of the prophet Yeshua, but, on the other hand, we both believe in the Lord" I answered, surprised with their lack of surprise when they met me.

  “Brother Ahasver,” said Simeon in a true sad tone, “how can you still deny the truth, when the truth is so clearly evident in yourself?”

  “Simeon, the truth is often fleeting and always elusive.”

  “But not faith, that is eternal.”

  “Nothing is eternal, Master James. Chronos is the guarantor of the impermanence of everything.”

  “Chronos, brother Ahasver?”

  “An old friend.”

&nb
sp; “A Gentile?”

  “You could say that. But may I know the purpose of your visit? Is this just a social call to an old and skeptic friend?”

  “It is always a pleasure to see you, Master Ahasver. Do not think that we will ever forget all that you did for us.”

  “Joseph did. How many times do I have to keep saying it?”

  “Of course, and we will never forget Joseph. I assure you that he is in our prayers and in the eternal grace of the Lord and His son. But we have never forgotten you either, brother Ahasver.”

  “I am sorry, but we’ll have to be brief. I do have other business to attend to.”

  “I understand, we are taking your time. Actually, we came here because of brother Saul.”

  “Saul ? Isn’t he in Rome?”

  “Yes, he is still there and in good health.”

  “So?”

  “He told us that you had asked him not to disclose your situation, regarding this miracle.”

  “How many times do I have to repeat myself ? It’s no miracle.”

  “But brother Ahasver, just look at you.”

  “No. My answer is no. It will always be no. I don’t want my name mentioned for any of your purposes. And tell me, how many more miracles do you still need? In Caesarea they speak of your miracles. Even in Jaffa I heard of another miracle. We’ve never heard of so many miracles!”

  “We live glorious days, brother Ahasver. We are living the last days of man’s suffering in this world. The return of the Messiah is imminent.”

  “According to Saul, you are one of the chosen to attend the end of days. Yeshua promised it to you. To none of us was such a promise made.”

  “You believe what you will, but don’t involve me, I ask you.”

  “I’m sorry that you think like that. But the truth will come out, sooner or later. You cannot hide for much longer what is happening to you. Embrace our faith. You could be one of our greatest missionaries. With your example, thousands would find the truth of Yeshua.”

  “Those same thousands would envy me and ultimately destroy me. Let us not be naive about that. Some of you have already died for spreading Yeshua’s words. Be careful that the same will not happen to you.”

  Fortunately, Alexander, just returned, came into the atrium.

  “We have to say goodbye now" I said, rising from the couch.

  They did leave, but not before promising to keep on praying for my sake, and hoping that their messiah would eventually enlighten me.

  I was upset. What did I expect from them, I asked myself.

  “Alexander start packing your things. The day after tomorrow we’ll return to Caesarea.”

  “Both of us? Me too, Ahasver? And the emporium here?”

  “We have two days to arrange it all. I’ll appoint Baruch as the manager in Jerusalem. He is experienced and has been with us for many years. We’re going to Caesarea and you will take your father’s place.”

  “Seriously? He’ll be very pleased. And I’m too, of course.”

  “Good, I am glad. At least I can still make some people happy. Now, send for Isaac. I need to talk to him.”

  This time they both came. Rebecca cried a bit, dried her tears and cried again. I tried to understand it, but I was not moved by such watery feelings. I explained to them my decision, and saw relief in their gaze. I explained the simple argument of Alexander that explained my own condition. They were skeptical, but I could see that they wanted to believe it. I mentioned the prophets of the past and their extreme longevity. I don’t think they took it in. I felt hurt by their implicit denial, but I could also understand my own oddity. And we finally said our goodbyes. Lastly, I called Simon, my nephew, and promised to call him soon to work in Caesarea.

  The following day, the rain was gone, and the sun shone again. It was a good augury. Busy with the paperwork and the tasks and preparations that needed to be done for my departure, the day was progressing smoothly when suddenly we were interrupted by Isaac.

  “Ahasver! I’m so glad to find you here. I was afraid that you were out.”

  “What is the matter? What happened now?" I asked.

  “A Nazarene was killed this morning, close to one of the entrances of the Temple.”

  “Who killed him?”

  “Some crowd, probably Zealots.”

  “Why did they do it? I thought the Nazarenes were now more tolerated.”

  “That was before. Without the constraint of the Romans, the Zealots have taken to persecute them again. He was preaching at the entrance.”

  “What’s so strange about that? They are always in the Temple. One of these days they will even expel the Kohanim from there.”

  “Don’t joke. This was one of their leaders.”

  “You knew him?”

  “Yes, I had heard of him. James was his name.”

  “An old man? A thin old man with a large beard?”

  “You knew him?”

  “If it is the one I’m thinking of, he was here yesterday.”

  “Here? Have you gone completely mad? You received Messianics here, in the house?”

  “How did they know you were here, Ahasver?” asked Alexander.

  “It seems that our disguise of the other day was not very effective.”

  “Wasn’t that,” said Isaac, “obviously the Messianics in the household told them that you were in the city.”

  “And they killed James…” I remarked pensively.

  “He was stoned to death.”

  “There were times when they took the trouble of taking them to trial. Now they kill them off just like that. Yes, Alexander, we are leaving this city in good time.”

  I said my farewell to Jerusalem on a sunny morning, under a celestial blue sky dotted with foamy clouds, a sky divinely colored for final goodbyes. For all purposes, I was leaving against my deepest desires, but also somewhat relieved to depart from that hotbed of religious fanatics, with little hope of returning anytime soon.

  I could not stop myself from thinking about the words of James, now more present in my mind with his death, and I wondered if the Nazarenes were not happier than us, living under the illusion that one day their messiah would exorcise all the iniquity and suffering from this world. And that, that would really be the miracle of all miracles.

  Years 63 - 64

  Not long after our departure from Jerusalem, the new Procurator, Lucceius Albinus, arrived in that city. Unlike his predecessors, Albinus rarely came to Caesarea during the time he ruled the province, and his government was tainted by constant bickering with the priests and also with the Sanhedrin, episodes that Simeon, the son of Gamaliel, would impart to me through his letters.

  Alexander, finally replacing his father as the head of the emporia, was still my most faithful companion, as I became ever more isolated in my uneasy reality. If, for most of the city, I was as anonymous as anyone in a crowd, I was also too aware that there were those who watched me with resentful jealousy, the subject of the most disparate rumors and improbable tales. Even Adad, a friend and former confidant, now seemed to avoid my company.

  Then, there was also Ruth and Isidora. Two women and two opposites.

  With the first, I maintained a restless complicity, very far from the intimacy of distant days, and with the other, I continued to enjoy lusty adventures and licentious fleeting pleasures.

  But it was mostly during the unfilled hours of sleepless nights, lulled by the familiar hissing of the wind rushing through the lattices of windows, that I was assailed by doubts and searched for answers and solutions to irrational and senseless dilemmas. I looked for comfort in Ruth’s monologues and in the auspices of sibylline letters that Isidora commissioned for me, and I even reread the wordy discourses of Plato.

  I had finally forced myself to read that roll of parchment that I had brought from Alexandria, but all I could find there were Socratic solutions for the cure of personal torments and public guilt.

  Finally I came to terms with the decision that I had been carryi
ng since my return from Jerusalem. A solution embodied in the need to escape from that reality that stared at me from the yellows of polished brass and the reflections I saw of myself in liquid surfaces of chalices and amphorae.

  I took to occupy myself with routines. I asked for reports, revisited warehouses and granaries, and even helped with the counting of the inventory. I spoke to workers, servants and acquaintances. I visited Ruth and called on Ioanis. I paid a last visit to Isidora and sent a message to Adad. I wrote to Isaac and Simeon. I made promises to the Lord and sent generous contributions to the synagogue.

  And I spoke at length with Alexander.

  “But is there no other solution, Ahasver?”

  “No. I’ve made my decision, it's irrevocable. And for the good of all.”

  “But why now?”

  “And why not? What’s the purpose in delaying it?”

  “I can’t believe it…”

  “Don’t upset yourself. You know it’s the only option I have left.”

  “No, it’s not, Ahasver.”

  “The time has come, Alexander. It’s time to face it. I’m sixty years-old!”

  “No, Ahasver. There has to be another way out.”

  “There could be, but I have made my choice.”

  This sort of dialogue would repeat itself, with more or less vehemence. Everyone was against it, and the more opposition they made, the more resolute I grew. Signs of old age, I suppose.

  “That is not the answer, Ahasver,” Ruth would repeat, “the solution is for you to accept.”

  “And what would change in my life, if I did as you say? Will they look at me in a different way? Will they just ignore what they see? Will I turn into some living miraculous relic for your cult?”

  “On the contrary, accepting will be your deliverance. Your eternal salvation.”

  “Saved after dead, when what really troubles me is this life. You people care little for the living, and the redemption you promise can only be reached after death. What a promise! No wonder only the old and the ignorant adhere to your creed.”

  “Ahasver, I am speaking of spiritual life. Our life in this world is just a passage. Accept the truth of the Messiah. Saul has taught us that it is irrelevant what we are and do in this life, whether you were rich or poor, if you were charitable or miserly, just or cruel. The only way to salvation is the true faith. It’s believing in the Messiah and the Lord, His father.”

  “Ruth, how is it possible that you have changed so much? That is not the way of the Lord at all, not what the scriptures tell us. What is important is the way we act while we are alive, our deeds, our morals. What we as living beings achieve in this world.”

  On other days, the conversations were more personal and intimate.

  “Ahasver, what is going to happen to me?”

  “You don’t have to worry about that. Alexander will look after you.”

  “But you won’t be here. Am I condemned to die alone, with no son and no husband?”

  “We all end alone” I answered bitterly.

  Even Adad, came to say his goodbyes.

  “My most dear and ever more eternal friend. How these tired eyes of mine rejoice to see you once more. How it fortifies my faith in Christ when I see the result of His divine blessing on you. What other proof is needed to attest His divinity and power?”

  Once Syrian, always a Syrian, even a Christian one.

  “And how are you these days, Adad, now that you have embraced the Christian creed?”

  “The power of the Christ is unmatched, Ahasver. I just mourn for all the years that I spent in the darkness of my former pagan ways, away from the sun of this most truthful creed. And soon, my friend, at the will of Jesus, I will be living in the other world, amid joyful believers and in the company of the righteous.”

  “How nice for you, Adad. Nothing like such good and strong faith, right? And it must be so comforting to know that you will get your just reward in the end” I remarked sarcastically, but he was too engrossed in his own revelry to notice it.

  “But, Ahasver, why this decision now? You could be the light of our faith, one of the guiding hands on the path to redemption.”

  “Adad, you know that sooner or later I would have to make a decision. How much longer, do you reckon, I could survive the cruel judgments and the envy of others ? And you are talking of conversions. There are enough of you doing that already.”

  “Ahasver, let me confide in you. I became a Christian because of you. Because of what I saw in you. You were my guide.”

  “What utter nonsense, Adad. Let no one hear you say that. I am not and never was a Christian, or even close to being one. So, how can your brothers claim that I received a blessing, or a miracle, whatever it is? Is your messiah so altruistic that it rewards the unbelievers? I don’t think any religion does that, my friend.”

  “And why not? In that you see the mercy and goodness of the Christ, who healed the sick, the lepers and even raised dead people that had never met Him before.”

  “But he hasn’t done much to save your brothers from the intolerance of your enemies.”

  “Those are our martyrs, Ahasver. Saintly brothers who gladly give their lives in the name of the Lord.”

  “There are names for people who act in such fashion.”

  “But, Ahasver, I beseech you, do not do it.”

  “I have made my decision, Adad. Everything is almost ready.”

  “But why Rome?”

  “It’s sufficiently far and large enough to live anonymously. It also has synagogues and a Judaean community. I’ll be just another one in the crowd. And I believe that there are very few, if any, Christians in that city. I won’t be noticed, coveted or envied.”

  “That’s not entirely true. Brother Cephas and Saul are there.”

  “Cephas? The same Cephas that lived in Jerusalem and who called himself the first disciple of your messiah?”

  “Yes. One of the apostles also known as Simon Peter.”

  “Is he in jail too?”

  “No, Ahasver. Brother Zacheus tells us that they are both teaching the words of the Christ to the Gentiles.”

  “Only to the Gentiles? Can’t you get the Judaeans to listen to you anymore?”

  Not much else of any consequence was further discussed in that last meeting with Adad.

  He was now totally immersed in his new faith, exhorting all who listened to him to save themselves, fervently hoping that his late, but unconditional, conversion would save him from the terror of his own death.

  It took me almost four months to prepare everything for my departure, impatiently entangled in trivial activities and torturous chores. I was already feeling the aches of yearning for those who were still close, feelings brought forward by imagining the coming days and the far distances. Days of solemn promises of return, of remembrances, and of the hunt for small mementos, future catalysts of memories. Days of long and sinuous walks around the city, last opportunities to embed my mind with the sights and sounds of a city where I was not wanted. How everything is different, when savored for the last time.

  THE ENVIED