by Kim Fielding
“I will.”
“Why?”
“It’s what I was made for. And… he’s my friend. He treats me like a real person.”
She looked back at him. “He treats you like a man.”
“Yes.”
“I love all my sons, as a mother should. But my Jakob, my Yankele, he’s special. He almost died of a fever when he was a baby. And then he grew up so strong, and with a voice to make the heavens envious. But he’s always so sad, my Yankele. So lonely.”
Not knowing what to say, Emet only nodded.
She sighed. “Do you get lonely too? I know you’re a golem, but you might have feelings too.”
“I get lonely,” said Emet.
“Yankele has always been the quiet one. Not like his brothers, always shouting over each other. If it weren’t for his singing, there are times I’d have wondered if he’d lost his voice entirely. But lately… since he’s begun working with you… he speaks more. Tells everyone how wonderful you are.”
“I…. He does?” What was that fluttery feeling in Emet’s belly?
She narrowed her eyes. “How far would you go to protect my son?”
“I’d do anything. I’d… I have nothing but my name and this cloak, but I’d give everything. I will crumble to dust before I allow him to be hurt.”
“Good. This is very good. Yankele may need someone fierce on his side.” She smiled. “Someone almost as fierce as me.”
She reached up and briefly touched his face. She wore soft woolen mittens. She was the third person to touch him, and for a moment he thought he might melt from the tenderness of it. Then she dropped her arm and stepped back. “Tell Jakob to bring back the barrow tonight. And to hurry and finish so I can see his new house.” She turned and marched quickly down the path.
“What did my mother have to say?” Jakob was just placing the rug near the fireplace. He’d already set the other things from his mother on the shelves. The few personal belongings made the house look like a home.
“She loves you,” said Emet. “And she calls you Yankele.”
“That’s not the worst of it. She used to call me tsigele until I begged her to stop.”
“Baby goat?”
“And my brothers would make meh-meh sounds at me behind her back.”
Emet grinned. “You don’t remind me much of a goat.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear that.” Jakob bent to straighten the rug a little more. When he stood straight again and glanced at Emet, he must have noticed something in Emet’s face. “What?”
“She told me you talk about me.”
Jakob’s face reddened and he looked away. “What else would I talk about? I spend all my time with you.”
“She said you tell them I’m wonderful.”
“I… I never used that word.” Jakob apparently decided his small stack of towels needed refolding. He turned his back to Emet.
Emet came a few steps closer. “Is it true, Jakob? Do you think so well of me?”
After a long silence, Jakob nodded. “I do,” he said without turning around.
“Even though I’m a golem?”
“That’s… that stopped mattering a long time ago, Emet.”
Chewing his lip, Emet tried to frame his words carefully. “In the Song of Songs, they loved each other with their souls. But I think maybe… maybe it’s possible for a creature without a soul to love. When I heard you singing yesterday, it was as if something stirred inside of me. A heartbeat with no heart. Is that what love feels like?”
“Love feels like a heavy stone in my chest, so heavy I can’t breathe. But oh Blessed Lord, I can’t live without that stone.”
Jakob turned at last. His eyes glittered with unshed tears, and his hands opened and closed at his sides. “It’s a transgression as great as murder, Emet.”
“Love is a transgression?”
“I want to be a righteous man! I do. But I can’t… I want you, Emet. I dream of you. I ache for you.”
“Then lie with me, Jakob. Please.” It wasn’t only love that made Emet beg, and not only his desperate need to be touched. It was also the knowledge that his time with Jakob was short. The house would be finished. The duke’s men would attack—or the duke would see reason, and Rabbi Eleazar would have no more need for a golem. It felt so unfair to be given such a short time in such a big world, but Emet wouldn’t complain if he could only be close with his beloved just once.
Jakob threw himself so heavily against Emet that Emet rocked back a little. But he didn’t mind, because now they could embrace, and now Jakob could rub his whiskers against the skin of Emet’s chest. “Oh,” Jakob moaned. “You feel so real.” Jakob felt real too—solid and warm and more precious than any jewel.
Somehow they ended up lying on the green rug, their limbs entangled. The air was far too cold for Jakob to undress completely, but Emet happily removed his own clothing and let Jakob explore his body with rough fingers and soft lips. “Do I look like a real man?” Emet asked.
Jakob smoothed his palm over the letters inscribed on Emet’s chest. “I’ve never seen another man naked. You’re beautiful. But there are a few differences between us.”
“Can I see?”
“All right,” Jakob said, smiling.
Emet’s large fingers were clumsy on the buttons of Jakob’s coat and shirt, but eventually he managed to get them undone, and then he pushed the woolen undershirt up to Jakob’s neck. Jakob’s chest was muscular, with a triangle of dark hair. He gasped when Emet tentatively touched a thumb to a small nubbin of flesh. “I don’t have these,” Emet said, glancing down at his own blank chest.
“Nipples. They don’t serve any purpose to a man. But… oh. That feels nice.” Jakob writhed slightly as Emet gave each nipple a gentle pinch.
Emet was missing other parts as well. He had no navel, although Jakob did, and Jakob liked it when Emet dipped the tip of his tongue inside. A few minutes later, Jakob discovered that the cleft between the cheeks of Emet’s ass was uninterrupted. Jakob unbuttoned his trousers, pushed them down, and showed Emet the tight little rosette between his cheeks. “May I touch it?” Emet asked.
“Yes. Please.”
So Emet did, first with fingers and then with his tongue. He loved the way Jakob tasted, loved the scratch of Jakob’s wiry hairs against his face.
Jakob spent a very long time playing with Emet’s cock. He seemed to think it funny that Emet was circumcised. As far as Emet was concerned, Jakob could chuckle all he wanted, just so long as he continued to stroke like that with his calloused fingertips. And when it was Emet’s turn to explore Jakob’s cock—the silky skin and turgid veins, the slick smoothness of the flared head—Jakob emitted a string of satisfying grunts and groans.
“I’m not sure how to do this,” Jakob said breathlessly. With his clothing still on but badly askew, he lay atop Emet’s body.
Emet was so lost in sensations he could barely form the words to answer. “I think… think you’re… doing well.” If he had been capable of further speech, he would have told Jakob a golem did need sustenance after all, that every bit of contact between Jakob’s skin and his was a delicious mouthful of a wondrous feast. But maybe Jakob knew this anyway, because he kissed Emet ardently and tried his best to touch every inch of him.
Emet’s hand was bigger, softer; Jakob’s was more clever. Both hands wrapped around the shafts of their cocks, pressing the lengths together. It was a far better thing than Emet’s solitary touch as he lay alone in his attic. He tingled from head to toe and no longer felt the cold. Jakob cried out his name, and for a few endless moments, Emet was no longer a creature sculpted from clay but was instead a man of flesh and blood. “Emet!” Jakob shouted again, his voice ragged and hoarse, and hot liquid sprayed their bellies.
Their movements slowed. Jakob collapsed, still half atop Emet, and Emet pulled his new cloak over them both. Jakob nuzzled his face into the crook of Emet’s neck. “God hasn’t struck us down yet,” he murmured. “But if he does
, I think it was worth it. You’re worth it.”
Emet smiled and held him close. For the first time, he felt truly alive.
8
The house was finished and Jakob had moved in, but he kept inventing excuses to require Emet’s help. He needed firewood collected and carried and chopped. He wanted a low stone wall built around the top of the hill. A cistern needed to be dug and lined with rocks, and then—because little rain fell this time of year—he required many buckets of water to be drawn from the well in the center of Mala Lubovnya and then toted up the path.
Rabbi Eleazar was no fool, and he no doubt saw through Jakob’s ruses. He’d lift an eyebrow and shake his head as Jakob explained his newest task, but then the rabbi would push Emet toward the door and say, “Work hard, Golem.”
Emet did work hard. He moved boulders and dug holes and carried water. But only for part of the day, because before the sun dipped too far, he and Jakob would stoke the fire, strip off their clothes, and lie together in Jakob’s bed. They discovered all the things their bodies could do together. And while Jakob still occasionally voiced his concerns about offending God, Emet was thankful for being made capable of such joy.
“You’re a miracle,” Jakob whispered to Emet one afternoon. Jakob was naked and sweaty underneath his thick quilts. Emet was naked too, and almost perfectly happy.
“I know,” Emet said. “Clay that walks and talks. A miracle indeed.”
“That’s not what I mean. The Torah says all men come from Adam, and he was made of dust. So you’re no more a miracle in that regard than I am, or anyone born of a man lying with a woman. I mean you’re a miracle because you’re so new, and you began so alone, yet you’ve taught me what love feels like.”
“I do love you, Jakob.”
“I know. You’re a miracle and a blessing.”
Emet still spent Shabbos and nights in the attic, but his room didn’t seem as empty anymore when his head was filled with memories of time spent with his beloved. And when the minyan gathered at sundown to sing the evening prayers, Emet could listen to Jakob’s voice and know that Jakob was singing not just for God but also for Emet.
The weather grew bitterly cold. Emet helped Jakob collect and deliver firewood to old people, some of whom complained it was the worst winter they’d endured, while others claimed the winters of their childhood were much worse. Mrs. Abramov trudged up the hill to inspect—and, happily, to approve—Jakob’s house and to deliver a new sweater for Jakob and a thick quilt for Emet. “Ach, it’s nothing,” she said when Emet thanked her for the blanket. But he could tell she’d taken great care to embroider it with colorful flowers.
She also brought a huge pot of stew and dumplings because, she said, Jakob was likely to waste away without a woman to cook for him. “At least you keep your house tidy,” she said as she inspected the shelves for dust.
“Emet cleans it for me. It keeps him busy.”
“You’re good boys,” she said, which made Jakob laugh and Emet duck his head.
Then it snowed for two days straight. Jakob didn’t come to fetch Emet, who fretted his way through a series of chores Rabbi Eleazar assigned him. “He’s by himself, Master,” Emet said as he moved the rabbi’s ancient and enormous desk.
Rabbi Eleazer bent to pick up paper and other bits of debris that had no doubt accumulated behind the desk for decades. “Jakob Abramov is a grown man. He can survive a little snow. He built his house tight and sturdy, didn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“Of course he did. He’s a fine craftsman.” The rabbi peered speculatively at a broken quill pen. “He will be fine.”
Emet worried anyway.
The weather turned unseasonably warm and the snow melted. Jakob returned for him, smiling broadly and mumbling a nonsense excuse to the rabbi about why he needed the golem’s help. The rabbi sighed and flapped his hands at both of them. The road was a muddy, mushy mess, but neither Jakob nor Emet minded. They hurried up the hill and into Jakob’s house, tore off their clothing, and tumbled into bed, where they made up for lost time.
The sun shone for over a week, the days grew longer, and the promise of spring was supported by little bits of green in the fields and on the trees. Jakob said he would have to return to his regular work when the building season began, and he promised to ask his father if Emet might join them. “We won’t have so much time alone, but at least we’ll be together. When they see how hard you work and how helpful you are, I think they’ll welcome you.” He grinned. “If Papa is reluctant, I think Mama might help me argue our case. He doesn’t stand a chance against her.”
But as it turned out, the promise of spring was false. The skies darkened and the air again chilled. Sleet fell fitfully for days, making the cobblestones hazardous, and people ventured out as little as possible. Emet and Jakob still walked to Jakob’s house, but Jakob exclaimed when Emet got into bed with frozen feet, and the next day he presented Emet with a pair of shoes. “The shoemaker is my uncle. I had to beg him to finish them quickly, and he says they probably won’t last long. But I can get you a better pair later. Do they fit? I had to guess your size.”
Emet smiled as he put them on. They were small on him and pinched his toes a bit, but he was still delighted. “They’re perfect, Jakob.” Then he thought of something that made him frown. “You’ve given me so much, and your mother too, and I have no gifts for you.”
“You’ve done a dozen men’s work for me for months, Emet.”
“That’s my duty.”
“But you’ve given me your love as well, and that’s the finest gift I could ask for. I wouldn’t trade a king’s treasury of gold for it.”
So Emet wore his too-small shoes and a patchwork cloak and felt better dressed than any nobleman.
“I didn’t hear you sing last night,” Emet said as they walked up the hill. The clouds had fled, but the temperature was still very cold.
Little puffs of moisture escaped from Jakob’s mouth when he spoke. “My throat was a little scratchy, so I decided to rest it. I didn’t want my brothers reporting to Mama that I was hoarse—she’d smother me with ointments and teas.”
“She told me you almost died when you were a baby.”
“And she never lets me forget it!”
“I understand how she feels. If you were to become ill—”
“I won’t.” Jakob gave Emet’s arm a light punch. “Don’t you start smothering me too. It was a scratchy throat and nothing more. I probably howled too loud when we were in bed together yesterday.”
Emet smiled at the memory. Jakob had been pretty loud. Emet hadn’t been all that quiet either.
“Do you really have work for us today?” he asked. Rabbi Eleazar didn’t even ask for an excuse anymore—he just ushered Emet out the door.
“Mm, not exactly. I had an idea, though.”
If Emet had eyebrows, he would have waggled them. “Oh?”
“Not that sort of idea. Well, that too. But I thought maybe you might like to learn to read.”
“Read?” Emet nearly stumbled with astonishment. “But I’m—”
“Only a golem. I know. Emet, you’re as smart as any man I know. Much smarter than my brother Haskel, and even he eventually learned his letters.”
They’d reached the top of the hill. Jakob opened the little wooden gate he’d attached to his stone fence, and Emet followed. They stopped just inside the yard, and Jakob reached up to caress Emet’s cheek. He said, “You don’t have to learn, but I thought you might like to.”
“I’d… I’d like to try.”
“Good.”
Jakob turned to close the gate—then gasped. “What….”
Emet spun around, and what he saw made his belly clench. Mala Lubovnya was on fire. Not all of it, to be sure, but thick smoke rose from many of the houses.
“The duke!” Jakob cried.
Emet didn’t bother with the gate. Instead he vaulted the stone wall with very little effort. He sped so quickly downhill that it was as if
his feet barely touched the ground. At first he was dimly aware of Jakob running behind him, but Emet was much faster. He glanced quickly over his shoulder when he reached the town gate, but there was no sign of Jakob behind him. He could hear voices coming from the center of town—shouts and screams and people crying.
As he ran, he passed a few burning buildings and some shops with smashed windows. People were busily nursing the wounded. Since there was no sign of anyone with weapons, Emet continued toward the shul, which was just a block from the main square. He hoped Rabbi Eleazar would be there to give him orders.
But before he got to the shul, he came to the covered market and discovered an uneven battle. Old people and children huddled among the stalls, wailing, while men and a few women tried to fend off a crowd of strangers. The strangers were outnumbered, but they wielded swords, clubs, and spears, while the townspeople defended themselves with whatever they could grab. Bodies lay unmoving on the ground, and blood puddled on the cobbles.
Emet couldn’t wait for someone to tell him what to do. He roared and charged into the melee. While the townspeople ran back toward the stalls, Emet grabbed the nearest man with a sword and tore off his head. It was an easy thing to do, killing a man. Plastering a ceiling was much more challenging. He lifted another man into the air and broke him over his knee like kindling. The others attacked him, and although steel bit into his body and heavy pieces of wood thudded against his back and head, he didn’t slow. He didn’t stop until every stranger lay unmoving.
Blood was everywhere, and the reek was indescribable. The townspeople continued to cluster among the market stalls. They stared at Emet with round eyes and snow-white faces.
Emet came back to himself enough to notice that there was no sign of his beloved. “Jakob!” he shouted. “Jakob!”
No answer came. But smoke from burning buildings still rose into the sky, and somewhere nearby more shouts resounded. Emet ran. He made several wrong turns—the sounds echoed and bounced confusingly off the stone buildings. But where a narrow street dead-ended against a wall, he found more people. They ran around and screamed, and the thick smoke made visibility poor. Emet nearly tripped over a man who knelt on the cobblestones, sobbing over the broken corpse of a woman in a gray scarf. The man looked up at Emet, his eyes wide with grief, and it was Emet’s turn to cry out, because he recognized the man: Jakob’s father.