My Guardian Angel (6 page)

XI

What girl could sleep after being so shaken, so frightened, and so upset? Your Elvina is so sad, Mazal. I'll tell you why, just in case you don't already know. Right now, the wind is howling and huge raindrops are beating against the canvas stretched over the window. I thank the Lord that my family and I are warm in bed, but still I can't sleep.

When my father and grandfather returned, they found me huddled in a corner, shivering with terror, still clutching the jug of wine I had served the Crusaders before they left.

Samuel and Yom Tov came back at nightfall, dirty, disheveled, and green with fear and exhaustion. They had put up a brave fight against their captors; their tunics were torn in several places. Their teeth were still chattering, but they had not been harmed.

I quickly gave them mulled wine to drink and began to tell them they should be grateful to me, but my father did not let me finish my sentence. Mazal, you know that I had played no part in their misadventure, so why did my father direct his anger at me?

“Are you never going to behave like a self-respecting daughter of Israel?” he shouted. “Are you always going to meddle with things that are none of your business?”

Finally, he told me that he was sorry he had paid me compliments earlier.

Zipporah, who was bringing in the lamps, made things worse for me by repeating at least ten times that she had tried to stop me from opening the door to the Crusaders. And poor me sitting there sniffling, stuttering that I only thought I had been doing the right thing.

Then my grandfather spoke, and according to the rules of respect toward Solomon ben Isaac, everyone fell silent. He spoke as he teaches, beginning with a question: “What is one supposed to do if a sick or wounded person arrives on the Sabbath and the person is not one of our community?” Without waiting, he gave the answer himself: “In such a case we must think carefully whether there are lives in danger. Not only the life of the injured person, but also the lives of those on whom his companions might take revenge.”

From the corner of my eye I saw my father biting his lip and fidgeting with his beard, as he does when he is displeased but unable to say anything. Solomon ben Isaac is not just his father-in-law. He is also his
teacher
! Throughout his whole life, a man remains the pupil of the teacher he has had in his youth.

My grandfather concluded, “We must be cautious, but we must also show charity.” He remained silent for a few seconds, and so did we. You could have heard a fly, if there were flies in winter. My grandfather continued in a lower, sadder voice, “It is only in this way that we may avoid catastrophe.”

He laid his hands on my head. “In the future, Elvina will not sit by the window when she is alone in the house. But for today, Samuel and Yom Tov owe her their gratitude.”

“We would have gone to fetch them,” my father said, half-protesting.

“Of course we would have gone to fetch them, but this afternoon God willed that Elvina's kindness not go unrewarded. We should all be grateful and thank the Lord. And now that the Sabbath is over, we shall recite
Havdalah
.” He asked Samuel to bring the spice box and fill it up. He blessed the wine and the spices. We all smelled the spices and filled our nostrils with the warm, rich scents; then we burned them so that their perfume would spread throughout the house to comfort us for the departure of the Sabbath.

Next my grandfather lit the lamps and blessed the light. We all looked at the light through our nails and fingers. This is usually the moment when we all look at one another, relishing the pleasure of being all together and in good health. My grandfather taught us that on the evening of the first Sabbath, Adam had been terrified of the darkness. Then the Lord sent him two stones and inspired him to rub them together until sparks flew. From these sparks fire was born, and that is how Adam discovered light. “It is the light that we bless, not the lamps,” says my grandfather. “And the best way to bless light is by watching it illuminate the faces of those we love.” But yesterday there was no joy in our faces, even though Samuel and Yom Tov had come back to us safe and sound!

We ate, and then everyone went to bed. Zipporah unfolded a bed for the boys in the downstairs room. They were too tired to go back to the dormitory. My father went up to his room without saying a word. He didn't even wish us good night.

First Letter to the Mazal

My Dear Mazal,

My heart is heavy and my head is full of trouble, and the night has brought me no relief.

My father left as soon as Simcha, the
shamash,
knocked on the shutters. Zipporah went down to give the boys their meal. I went down, too, but I wasn't hungry. I grabbed a torch, lit it with embers from the oven, and came back upstairs to hide in my room. I couldn't possibly write you in front of the others.

My dear Mazal, I want to tell you what is on my mind. It isn't only that I have once again displeased my father. There's something else, too. Last night, I saw my father, Judah ben Nathan, worn and tired. I saw him biting his lip to keep back his words. He was displeased, but he had to hold his peace out of respect for my grandfather, Solomon ben Isaac. And it was all my fault that my father was humiliated. For once, I regretted that Solomon ben Isaac didn't pour out his wrath on me, as the Bible puts it. Can you understand that, Mazal? Do you see why I woke up with such a heavy weight on my heart?

XII

Turiel is sick!” The servant standing outside the door is wrapped in a cape with the hood pulled tightly over her face. Elvina can only make out one anxious-looking eye and the tip of a nose, red with cold.

“Muriel is sick!” the servant repeats.

“Don't tell me she is sick,” says Elvina. “Tell me she's well.”

“If she were well, do you think my mistress would have sent me out to fetch you, in the dark and in weather that even dogs avoid?”

Elvina pulls the servant inside by the arm and shuts the door. “Warm yourself up. And tell me, what's wrong with Muriel! But don't shout. It's not the sort of thing you yell from the rooftops.”

The servant looks around her anxiously. “You mean that it might attract —”

Elvina finishes her sentence: “— attention. Now, tell me about Muriel.”

“She's coughing and she has a fever. She was shivering all night. The mistress sent me to get you as soon as day broke or, rather, as soon as we heard the
shamash
knocking on the shutters, because it's not exactly daylight out there. . . . I followed his torchlight, and he wasn't in any hurry. It isn't enough for him to knock on the shutters to wake people up. He stops to chat, first with this one and then with that one. . . . I thought I would die of cold. But it's better to die of cold than of fright!” The servant stretches out her hands toward the fire.

At the table, Yom Tov and Samuel are finishing their meal. Three days have gone by since the Sabbath, but they have still not completely recovered from their fear, and they are eating their bread and gruel in silence. Judah has already left.

Elvina picks up the lamp.

“How are we supposed to eat?” protests Samuel.

“Open the shutter to let in a little light. How much light do you need to swallow your gruel? I need the lamp to look for the potions I'm going to take to Muriel. The jars and vials all look alike. I don't want to take the wrong ones.”

A few minutes are enough to prepare her basket. Before setting out, Elvina rushes up to her room, opens her chest, and pulls out a roll of parchment on which her father had inscribed these few lines when she was little: “Thou shalt not fear the terror of the night, nor the arrow that flies by day, nor the plague that creeps in the shadows.” This she ties around her neck with a string. Then she takes another parchment and hides it up her sleeve. That one is for Muriel.

Outside, it is still dark. There seems to be no separation between the earth and the sky, between the world below and that above. Everything is drowning in an icy drizzle. Elvina has her basket in one hand while the other checks that her talisman is still in place around her neck to protect her. Like the servant, she pulls her hood down over her face, and the two walk along huddled close together.

But they are not really alone. Here and there, shutters are ajar. An old woman empties a basin of dirty water into the street; another is on her way to one of the neighborhood wells, bucket in hand, head and shoulders shrouded in a blanket. Two men on their way to synagogue, their hoods up over their heads, wish them good morning.

At Muriel's house, the shutters are open. A terra-cotta lamp burns on the window ledge. Bella and the twins' mother, whom Elvina at first mistook for Muriel's, welcomes them inside. She kisses Elvina and offers her a glass of spicy mulled wine.

“Drink up quickly. This drizzle goes right through to your bones,” she said. “We know that your mother and grandmother are in Ramerupt. But we also know that they have taught you their art and that sometimes you can take their place. My sister has gone to fetch water. The girls are in their room. You can go up.”

The four girls are keeping themselves warm by huddling together under the covers. A wall torch sheds a dim light around the room. Muriel's face looks flushed, and she has a hacking cough.

“It's so kind of you to have come in this dreadful weather,” says Bella.

Naomi and Rachel have already jumped on Elvina. “Is it true that you invited Crusaders into your house?” asks Naomi.

“Right in the middle of the Sabbath!” exclaims her sister.

“How could you do such a thing?” says Naomi.

“Didn't you die of fear?” Rachel says.

A silence falls on the room. All eyes are on Elvina. “I did what I had to do. My grandfather said I was right to do it. And yes, I did nearly die of fright.”

Muriel has propped herself up against her pillows. “Leave her alone,” she says in a rasping voice. “She didn't invite the Crusaders in. From what I understand, they invited themselves.”

“She didn't have to open the door,” says Bella.

“They might have beaten it down,” says Muriel.

Rachel grabs Elvina's basket and rummages through it.

“Don't touch my basket!” cries Elvina.

“Why? Have you got frogs in there? Or scorpions?” Rachel mocks, holding the basket up triumphantly.

“Give it back!” shouts Elvina.

Elvina catches hold of the twins, and one after the other, she pinches them and tickles them, pretending to bite their soft, plump cheeks. But they run off with the basket, laughing, and Elvina once again thinks to herself that she would give anything to have two little sisters just like them, even if they always do exactly the opposite of what they are told.

“Promise us you will show us everything!” beg the twins.

“All right,” says Elvina, “but why do you think I brought frogs?”

“When Grandfather was ill they put frogs on him!” Naomi replies.

Bella comes to Elvina's rescue. She takes the basket and pushes the twins back onto the bed. “You are so stupid! It wasn't frogs they used on Grandfather; it was leeches!”

“Are you going to put leeches on Muriel?” asks Rachel, wide-eyed.

“No. Sometimes my mother does that, but I don't dare. I'll do it by cupping. I need four glasses and some very hot water to heat them with. And I'll need a lamp!”

Muriel stretches out a feverish hand to Elvina. “I knew you'd come. You're such a good and faithful friend. I'm sorry I said you were proud and pretentious last time you were here.”

“But you were quite right. I owe you an apology, too. Now don't talk; it'll make you cough.”

Naomi and Rachel are growing impatient. “Stop all your polite talk, Elvina, and show us what's in your basket.”

Opening the basket, Elvina explains, “This is syrup of poppies to calm sore throats and coughs.” She produces another vial. “And this is vinegar and rosewater mixed with ashes to rub on Muriel's temples if she has a headache. And here is some sandalwood, which we will burn to purify the air in the room.” She pulls the parchment from her sleeve. “And I brought a talisman.”

Muriel stretches out her neck. “Tie it on for me. What does it say?”

“It's a verse from the Bible. ‘All the plagues with which I have stricken Egypt, I shall not strike you with, for I am the Lord who heals you.'”

Bella and her mother bring in glasses, a jug of boiling water, and a lamp. Elvina speaks in her own mother's calm, authoritative tone: “Fill up the glasses. They have to be very hot. Muriel, lie on your stomach. Bella, pass me a glass; empty it first; just pour the water back into the jug! Quick!”

Muriel moans, “It's burning hot!”

“Don't worry! Another glass!” orders Elvina. “Get out of my light, girls; I can't see a thing!”

Lying on the bed, the twins follow Elvina's every move. “It works!” they cry out. “The skin is coming up! Muriel, does it hurt?”

“A bit.” Muriel's voice is muffled in the pillow. Her back is covered with glasses under which the skin is welling up in huge red blisters.

Rachel strokes Muriel's hair, saying gently, “You are a real heroine; you'll be better in no time!”

Once Muriel is sitting up again, disheveled but looking happier, Elvina pulls one more sachet from her basket. “These are herbs my mother recommends for fever. You have to make a jug of tea every hour, leave it to cool down, and then let Muriel drink it.”

As soon as their mother has left the room to go down and make the herb tea, Rachel and Naomi ask Elvina, “Isn't there a spell against the fever demon? What's his name? It's a really long one.”

“Where did you pick that up from?” Elvina replies in a hushed tone.

“It's what people say. We listen; that's all.”

“Well, since you are so well informed, you must know that we never mention such things aloud.”

“But do you know the spell?”

Elvina doesn't reply. She has put her big cape back on, but before she has time to fasten it, the twins catch her by each hand. Their mother has taken the lamp away, but Elvina sees their eyes shining in the semidarkness as they ask again, “You do know the spell; admit that you know it! Teach it to us; teach us the spell against the fever demon!”

“Stop it!” Elvina protests. “You're going to pull my arms out of their sockets! I heard my grandfather mention that spell a long time ago. One of his former teachers recommended it.”

“So what are you waiting for?” urge the twins.

“I can't. My grandfather does not allow that sort of thing in his house, and my father certainly wouldn't want it in his.”

Rachel and Naomi won't give up. “Oh, please, Elvina, no one will know!”

“And we're not in your house!”

“Nor in Solomon ben Isaac's!”

Bella joins in, “We'll keep it secret, I promise, won't we?”

“Oh yes, yes!” they chant excitedly.

Muriel begs her, too. “Do it for me, Elvina; I'd be so grateful.”

“All right.” Elvina finally relents. “But let's be quick about it. Naomi, Rachel, go to the other side of the bed. Bella, come next to me.” Four pairs of eyes are gazing at Elvina. “The fever demon is called Ochnotinos,” she whispers.

The resin torch crackles and sputters smoke, its flame grows first bright, now dim, and the shadows dance. Bella is hanging on to Elvina's arm so tightly that it hurts. The twins are glued to each other. They are all expecting to see the wicked fever demon appear.

Elvina speaks: “We are going to shorten his name until there's nothing left of it. The demon will be very upset. He'll disappear and leave our Muriel in peace.”

Naomi whispers, “He can't exist without his name, can he?”

“No demon can exist without a name,” replies Elvina.

Without letting go of her sister, Rachel jumps up and down saying, “The wicked demon will get smaller and smaller. . . .”

“Repeat after me,” orders Elvina. “Ochnotinos.”

Bella, Rachel, and Naomi repeat, “Ochnotinos!”

“Good. Now we're going to make him smaller.”

The four girls all have their eyes fixed on Elvina, who is leaning toward Muriel. The other three imitate her. Elvina takes a deep breath, then pronounces, “Ochnotinos.”

“Ochnotinos,” the girls echo.

“Chnotinos.”

“Chnotinos.”

“Notinos.”

“Notinos.”

“Otinos.”

“Otinos.”

“Tinos.”

“Tinos.”

“Inos.”

“Inos.”

“Nos.”

“Nos.”

“Os.”

Rachel and Naomi, with their mouths shaped like
O
s and their round eyes full of mischief, make the “O” last as long as they can: “. . . OOOOOOOOOOOSS- SSSSSS.”

Then there is silence. “He has disappeared,” Rachel whispers. “I'm sure he's disappeared. Muriel, don't you feel better?”

Muriel sits up, shakes herself a little, and smiles. “I think I do. Thank you, Elvina.”

Before leaving, Elvina reminds them, “Just don't forget that you're sworn to secrecy!”