A Journey to the End of the Millennium (16 page)

But the rabbi from Seville, as he sat deep in thought on the deck of the ship, did not imagine that this pledge of defense would have to be
called upon this very day, which was dawning slowly and stirring deep fears not only in Mistress Esther-Minna, who had hardly closed her eyes all night, but also in her brother, Master Levitas, who despite his habitual equanimity and confidence was wondering whether the little tribunal that he had organized so hastily in Villa Le Juif would be able to get to the root of the matter and conclude its work before sunset, so that he would be able to rid his home speedily of this southern
company
that had taken up residence with excessive alacrity. Even though Ben Attar and his small retinue had made every effort to maintain a polite silence during the night, Mistress Esther-Minna was unable to avoid the feeling that her secure existence was being invaded. Since she had lain awake most of the night, she had been unable not to hear the groaning of the bolts of the front door in the middle of the night and the light footsteps disappearing outside. At first she had tried to restrain herself and had not stirred from her bed. But when a long time had passed and the footsteps did not return, she went downstairs and discovered that the door was wide open, the house was abandoned, and there was no one outside in the street. Then she experienced a strange feeling, joyful, yet painful too, that the second wife might have decided to disappear suddenly, either from fear at what the next day would bring or from a sense of guilt at her redundant status. The thought of that dark young woman wandering all alone outside upset her so much that she decided to waken Abulafia to go out and bring her back, for she now felt stirred by compassion.

Before waking her husband she went to confirm her suspicion, but she found Ben Attar’s first wife sleeping peacefully in her place, and the second wife too in the place that had been allotted her, the wretched girl’s cubicle, lying naked in her husband’s embrace. When Mistress Esther-Minna realized her mistake, she found the courage to draw aside the curtain to the rabbi’s bedchamber, and there she discovered an empty bed. Was it possible, she asked Abulafia as the morning dawned, that the legal genius who had been brought
especially
from Andalus had already fled the field of combat? But
Abulafia
refused to believe that. No, it was not, he said; why should he run away? It was evident that for some reason Abulafia was in a very good mood, as if he nursed another secret that his wife did not share.

Indeed, this new happy mood that had come upon Abulafia since his uncle’s astonishing arrival exacerbated his new wife’s constant
anxiety
for the well-being of her marriage, for despite its sweet and bitter moments, it was still impossible to tell whether its spiritual (as
opposed
to its emotional and physical) sanctity had yet penetrated her young husband’s heart. Even though she was convinced that the hastily convened tribunal that her brother had arranged in Villa Le Juif would have the skill to repulse this bizarre and impertinent invasion that had originated in the south and attacked them from the west, whether it was personal or religious in nature, still she was nagged by a fear that lurking behind this was a new scheme to revive the proscribed
partnership.
That would revive Abulafia’s traveling, and he would be once more exposed not merely to the menace of highway robbers but also to the temptation of dual matrimony, which the sturdy uncle was trying to demonstrate in the heart of her home could be undertaken without pain or effort.

In the intensifying light of day, when it was impossible to ignore the happiness not only of Ben Attar but of Abulafia too on seeing Rabbi Elbaz returning from his nocturnal visit to the ship, contented after roaming the narrow streets of the Parisian island and replete after his fish breakfast, Mistress Esther-Minna’s beautiful eyes darkened, and biting her thin lips she went to the yard to gain encouragement from her brother, who was inspecting the wheels of the large wagon that was to transport the parties to their tribunal. Since Ben Attar insisted adamantly that the two wives must accompany them, firm in his faith that their presence at his side would strengthen, not weaken, his case, the driver must be asked to give additional power to the wagon by joining a partner to the stout, shaggy horse that was already standing harnessed and ready. How fortunate, Master Levitas
chuckled
to himself, that the Ishmaelite partner had remained on the ship and did not demand to be a party in the legal dispute, so that they were spared from having to order a third horse. Handing a coin to the
Frankish
wagoner, he sent him to hire one of the horses that were plowing a field close to the large monastery. And even though Villa Le Juif was not far away and the whole business should be over by evening,
Mistress
Esther-Minna’s brother sensibly ordered the servants to make ready plenty of food and drink, as provisions for all the travelers, no
matter which side of the barricades they stood on, so that the
adjudication
should be conducted in a mood of satiety and good cheer on all sides.

Indeed, both parties set forth together in good cheer and
comradeship,
three on one side of the wagon and four on the other, since the boy chose to sit next to the sturdy Frankish driver, who marveled without cease at the darkness of the little Jew’s skin. As soon as they had laboriously climbed a steep hill, still scattered with the remains of Roman stones and columns from the fine houses of the city of Lutetia, which had been sacked by marauders from the north, the road ran level and smooth past a peasant hut, a field of barley, and a hedge of vines. Thanks to the pleasantness of the road they felt no weariness when at midday, after only three hours of traveling, Master Levitas called a halt so that they could eat in a charming wood, which had not only a stream winding among the trees but also a hillock from which one could see the estate of Villa Le Juif on the horizon. Perhaps because he was convinced that the clear verdict of the tribunal would make this their last meal together, he had decided to embellish it with fine
embroidered
tablecloths spread upon the ground and with elegant cutlery. And even though Mistress Esther-Minna was perfectly able to arrange everything herself, her brother helped her and sliced the long loaves of bread and the dark cheese and offered the large slices on his knife first to the three men and then, after a moment’s hesitation, to the two women too, whom fear had brought closer to each other ever since they had disembarked from the ship. When Master Levitas felt that his usually firm hand was trembling slightly under the burning looks
coming
from behind the fine veils, he allowed himself to blush a little and to smile shyly into his little beard, before hastily drawing out of the folds of his robe a red leather-bound prayerbook in Amram Gaon’s edition, which he wanted to compare with the one he had noticed in Ben Attar’s bag, which turned out to be in the edition by Saadia Gaon. This was not merely because of a sudden upsurge of scholarly
curiosity,
but also so that religious conversation might ensure that this simple meal in the bosom of nature did not become a partaking of the
sacrifices
of the dead.

All at once Rabbi Elbaz, seized by a troubling thought, hastily thrust away the bread and cheese, which he placed on the plate of the
ever-hungry child, and arose in agitation and went to the stream to refresh his face and hands. Then he addressed Master Levitas, who was still feeling the two prayerbooks with his thin fingers, with a
question
about the character and identity of the tribunal awaiting them on the horizon. Levitas seemed to hesitate slightly, as though he were afraid to enumerate the special merits of the judges, and contented himself with general praise of the good qualities of the Jews in Villa Le Juif, which was the large estate of an extensive family, containing
various
workmen, servants, and retainers and even a large winery, which made wine untouched by gentile hands for the benefit of those Jews who strictly observed the law concerning the wine of idolatry. A real law court was not needed in such a family estate, where any problems sorted themselves out. But for the sake of the visitors coming from so far, with their southern plaint, he had decided to assemble a special rustic law court.

Indeed, an impression of fertile fields and vineyards welcomed the party before they entered a gate in the moss-clad stone wall that
surrounded
Villa Le Juif, which consisted of no more than eight or nine single-story buildings arranged around a central courtyard. To judge by the long-haired children who came running up excitedly, the local Jews already seemed to know about the debate that was about to take place in their courtyard. There was no doubt that the knowledge that a rabbi had been specially brought from Andalus to assist in the contest
particularly
inflamed the locals’ curiosity, which was already very excited, not only because of the pleasure of an argument but also because of the inherent attraction of the subject matter.

This attraction had even drawn in one or two Christians, like wasps to a honeycomb, from the neighboring estates; they pronounced their urgent desire to be present at a dispute between Jews and, who knew, maybe even to assist, thanks to their religious superiority, in the
formulation
of the verdict. Since word had got around that the two women who were at the center of the case would be present, it was clear to all and sundry that the little synagogue of Villa Le Juif would not suffice for such a gathering, and a more spacious and less sacred place that could contain such a large crowd would be required. Consequently, Meshullam the Priest, the proprietor of the winery and a close friend of Master Levitas, had given orders for the open main hall of the
winery, which stood on a lower level, to be cleared, and already the large wooden vats and the jars had been removed, the small casks had been stacked one on top of another, and the piles of wood that had been prepared against the approaching cold weather had been
dismantled
in order to form a sort of small raised dais on which the judges would sit, so that they could survey not only the parties to the suit but also the feelings of the public standing behind them.

But
who
will
be
the
judges?
Rabbi Elbaz asked Ben Attar this time, but the merchant, who knew nothing, merely descended excitedly but in silence along the rough stone steps leading to the hall, whose dusty floor was stained pink by grape juice oozing from a large wooden press into a deep round basin, from which the foamy liquid exuded a
perfumed
sweetness. The audience was already waiting there, most of them presumably people who worked in the winery, bearded,
bareheaded
Jews dressed in faded, shabby clothes, and nearby a group of bare-faced women, their unkempt hair covered by small headscarves, their feet unshod and stained from stomping grapes. Unruly children were running to and fro between the men and women on little errands, their guttural babble mingled with occasional words of Hebrew, whose sounds were completely distorted.
But
who
will
choose
the
judges
?
the rabbi asked again, still delaying his descent to the lower level, refusing to believe that they were liable so hastily, without real preparation, to miss a fateful, longed-for moment for which they had bobbed on the ocean waves for nearly sixty days.

Have
the
judges
already
been
appointed
?
Relentlessly he seized hold of the corner of Abulafia’s black coat as the man shrugged his
ignorance
and gently guided his two aunts, who raised the hems of their colorful robes so that they should not sweep the dusty steps. He
presented
them to the proprietor of the winery, who in his turn proudly introduced them to a guest of his own, an oriental courier who had passed through the Land of Israel. A genuine Radhanite, this plump, alert man wearing a green turban was a dealer in precious stones who had arrived a few days previously from the east, bringing with him two large pearls, about whose value and price Master Levitas had not stopped speculating since the previous day. Both sides were now
intermingled
, and the Moroccan ladies were seated on wine barrels covered in soft tapestries next to the proprietor’s wife, a tall woman with a
delicate, sickly face. It was simply impossible to proceed in such haste, thought Rabbi Elbaz, his heart tormented by doubts and stirred by compassion for the second wife, who sat silently, erect, her veil
fluttered
by a slight breeze that might herald the advent of autumn.

But
on
what
basis
were
the
judges
chosen
?
he repeated, demanding an immediate reply from Master Levitas, who now opened a side door and produced three gaunt men dressed in dusty black caftans, bearing a large parchment roll and a small sheet of green glass. They were scribes specializing in writing scrolls of the Law, phylacteries and
amulets
for doorposts, brought in from towns in the region to constitute the court.
Scribes?
the rabbi muttered disappointedly.
Men
who
try
to
dis
cern
what
is
written
merely
to
copy
it
over
and
over
again?
But Master Levitas thought highly of them. They would be able to judge on the basis of what was written in books. But what books? And what was the point of books? Rabbi Elbaz protested vehemently. If the answer was written explicitly in a book, would it have occurred to him to leave his city and entrust himself to the ocean to demand justice for his
employer
? Would he have allowed Ben Attar to put his wives at risk for something that was written in a book? But the words of the foreign rabbi made no impression on Master Levitas, and dismissing him with a polite smile, he continued to steer his three judges down to the lower level. The indignant Andalusian had no alternative but to hurry to anticipate them, and leaping onto the small dais, he demanded, in a wild shout that seemed unlikely to issue from such a pleasant, dreamy personality, that the judges should be changed forthwith.