My Guardian Angel (8 page)

XV

A week has already gone by since Miriam and Precious left the house. It has been two whole weeks since Elvina last slipped discreetly into the back of the younger boys' classroom, and tomor- row it will be the Sabbath once more!

As Elvina quietly opens the door to the school, she is thinking,
Mazal, Mazal, since you are the one who speaks up for me in heaven, please see to it that my Sabbath is calm and peace- ful, even if the day of rest decreed by our Lord isn't as joyful as it should be.
The door is a heavy one of worm-eaten wood, and no matter how careful she is, it creaks on its rusty hinges. A narrow hallway leads from the door to the classroom, and that is where Elvina stops.

The first thing she notices is a thick pile of straw on the ground in the corner where she usually sits. It is here that she can listen to what goes on in the classroom, without anyone being able to reproach her for attending a class where a girl has no business being.

The straw smells fresh and sweet. Elvina smiles to herself, thinking that it cannot possibly have been lying here on the icy ground for the last two weeks! Could that mean that someone puts new straw down every few days? Just for the only person who ever comes to sit here . . . just for a certain Elvina?

Elvina remembers the first time she found a pile of straw in “her” corner. It was during the first cold spell of autumn. That morning she had found a shiny boar's tooth left on the straw as if by accident. No scribe could have dreamed of having a more beautiful boar's tooth to smooth his parchments! And that morning, like all the others, Obadiah had pretended not to notice Elvina's presence.

She sits down on the straw and takes a bone stylus and a wax tablet from her sleeve. Pulling her cape tightly around her, she casts her eyes over the classroom.

The room is poorly lit. On one side are two narrow windows, and on the other are two resin torches that produce more smoke than light. An open fire gives out a little heat, most of which escapes out of the windows along with some of the smoke. The smoke makes Elvina want to cough, but she has to stifle it. With luck Samuel and Yom Tov won't see her! They are sitting in the front row, with their backs to her. This is their last year in the younger boys' school. Elvina is glad to think that next year she will be able to come here without worrying about her brother and cousin and the embarrassing scenes they always make for her at home after school.

Obadiah ben Moyses, the master, is one of Solomon's pupils. He has chosen just the moment when Elvina closes the heavy door to turn his back on her and kneel down beside a row of five- or six-year-olds. As Solomon likes to remind his students, the scriptures say that a master should always place himself at his pupils' level and not talk down to them. Elvina can only see Obadiah's mane of black hair falling about his shoulders.
It is a mane,
thinks Elvina,
but a clean mane.
Obadiah's clothes, too, though patched and worn, have obviously just been washed. In the summer, keeping clean is easy. Everyone can go to the river to wash themselves and their clothes. But at this time of year, in winter, it's a different story! What is more, Obadiah lives in the school dormitory! Elvina wonders how he manages. She knows that he is the eldest son of a poor widow and that he has taken on teaching the little ones to make enough to live on while he studies, for he is proud and doesn't wish to owe anything to anyone. Elvina thinks of the previous master, Jacob ben Eliezer. He was thin, dirty, and always angry. His shrill voice rang out with the children's, especially when he was shouting, which was most of the time!

Although he is only nineteen, Obadiah has a deep voice, and he speaks with the even tones of a man who doesn't lose patience easily. “Now, read, and pronounce each syllable distinctly. Follow the text with your finger and show me each word as you say it.”

The four little boys are reading a passage from Leviticus, the first book in the Bible to be read and learned. Obadiah has copied the passage onto two wax tablets. The four childish voices chant the Hebrew text in chorus, and Obadiah translates slowly:

“‘All that which slithers on its belly, or moves on four feet or on a great number of feet, as do reptiles crawling along the ground, these thou shalt not eat, for these are unholy things.' Now it's your turn; repeat.”

The four high voices repeat, “‘All that which slithers on its belly . . .'”

“Good. Now tell me, which are the creatures that creep and crawl on the earth? We read it last week.”

The boys all shout at once. “Mice, rats, tortoises!”

“Toads, centipedes!”

“Slugs, moles, hedgehogs, lizards!”

One of the children shrieks with laughter. “Who would want to eat a slug?”

“Our neighbors eat pigs!” retorts another.

“But we don't. For us it's forbidden . . .” says the third.

“Because we are the children of Israel!” pipes the fourth child.

“That's enough! Calm down.” Obadiah taps a few of them on the head, but they are light taps, delivered by a friendly hand. Elvina knows he must be smiling, even though she can only see his back. In his left hand Obadiah holds a stick — what schoolmaster doesn't hold a stick or a whip? But he holds it as if it were a sprig of myrtle for a wedding dance. Elvina has never seen him use the stick to hit a pupil. Jacob ben Eliezer, on the other hand, would often whack the children smartly on the shoulder. Elvina remembers having left the classroom crying on more than one occasion, revolted by his unnecessary and useless brutality. Obadiah follows Solomon ben Isaac. Solomon teaches that one should always treat young pupils gently, so that they will learn to love studying.

Obadiah has risen to his feet. Of course Elvina doesn't look at him, but she sees him place his hands on the boys' heads. His large hands cover their heads completely.

“Now you will repeat this whole passage by yourselves until you can read it perfectly. Then you will learn it by heart. When we read the Torah, which is the divine Law, we must not stutter or stumble. Every word of the sacred language must be pronounced to perfection.”

He pats their heads and then goes over to the other side of the room. This time he kneels down opposite Elvina, in front of Samuel and Yom Tov, who are in the front row. Obadiah speaks quietly, never raising his voice, but Elvina hears every word he says.

“It's your turn now. I'm listening.” Obadiah gives the children his attention and they read. “‘They brought before Moses the tabernacle and the tent and all the parts, staples, planks, pillars, and supports . . . '”

Half a dozen of them read the week's lesson together. Elvina can make out the voices of her brother and cousin, especially Yom Tov. She thinks to herself that nothing on earth will ever make her brother less conceited, even being captured by the Crusaders through his own stupidity.

“Let's explain the words.” Obadiah begins. He often quotes Solomon, saying, “This is the way in which our master Solomon ben Isaac wishes us to interpret this verb; this is how he translates this difficult passage.”

Elvina doesn't feel the long morning pass. She stays there in the warm little hallway, bent over her tablet, her head empty of everything except the words and the explanations, which she writes carefully on the wax with her stylus. She loves to hear her grandfather's explanations transmitted through the serious young voice of Obadiah.

She hears Obadiah continue, “Tomorrow, as you know, it is the Sabbath. After the morning service, our master Solomon ben Isaac will, as usual, give his commentary on these verses. He will explain that because Moses had not been able to do any work on the tabernacle, the Lord reserved for him the privilege of putting it up. Now, no one was strong enough to put it up because the planks were so heavy. Tomorrow Solomon ben Isaac will tell us how God ordered Moses, ‘Get to work, and it will seem as if you had built it yourself.'”

Yom Tov sits bolt upright, almost standing in his seat. He gesticulates madly, his hair wild and his cape slipping halfway off his shoulders. He yells out proudly, “The tabernacle arose by itself! My grandfather already told us about it at home!”

“Very good. Sit down,” says Obadiah with his eyes directed straight at Yom Tov. But for an instant his gaze shifts from the unbearable younger brother to the back of the class, where the elder sister is crouching out in the hallway. Only for an instant, but an instant too long! The boy in the back row is yawning and dozing, his head buried deep inside his hood. But from under his hood he sees his master's gaze. This wakes him up, and he turns around. Spying Elvina, he points her out to his neighbor. The neighbor taps the shoulder of the boy in front of him. From nudge to nudge the word goes around. It doesn't take long, for it doesn't have far to travel. In less than one minute, the news is whispered into Yom Tov's ear.

Elvina is still bending over her tablet as if nothing else exists in the world, but she does not need eyes to know that her brother and cousin are livid with anger. She can almost hear the complaints that they will repeat later that evening to anyone who cares to listen. “Elvina will make us die of shame,” they will say. “Everyone laughs at us. No one else's sister studies like a boy, let alone comes to school for everyone to see!”

Elvina also knows that Solomon ben Isaac will silence them.

From the corner of her eye, Elvina sees Obadiah brandishing his stick high above the boys' heads, which are once more bent earnestly over the parchments and tablets. Even the torches tremble at the sound of Obadiah's voice, and they smoke even more than before. “Read. Read loudly and clearly, and read properly; concentrate. You shouldn't think of anything else when you are reading the holy text.”

Elvina pulls her hood over her face and smiles. She thinks that when Moses spoke to the Hebrews in the desert, his deep voice must have made them bow their heads in exactly the same way.

XVI

Mazal, O Mazal, where are you hiding? Have you given up looking after me? Or were you the one who inspired me this after- noon? What I did was so unexpected and so strange that even I don't recognize myself. Who can I confide in, if not you? That's why I've been silently talking to you ever since I started preparing the table for the Sabbath.

Zipporah and I swept everything clean, so that not the slightest crumb was left. We put away all the dishes and pots, and I filled the lamp with oil. In my mother's absence, I am the mistress of the house. When the time is right, I will light the Sabbath lamp, and I will bless the Lord, who commands us to light it. I have put out clean clothes for Samuel and Yom Tov. The sweet smell of meat gently stewing with spices and vegetables gradually fills the house. All is well, and the Sabbath will be welcomed in as it should be.

But despite all this, my dear Mazal, I have to admit that my heart and mind are not in it. I keep seeing myself in the street on the way home from school. I had just seen our neighbor Simonet's cart go by. It was piled high with supplies for the Crusaders. Simonet was leading the horse, and as he passed, he cried out to me, “It's my turn to do the dirty work today! How long is this going to go on?”

Just as I was turning onto the narrow street that leads home, the church bell pealed out midday. I told myself that I had no time to lose, because in winter the day is soon over. The bell stopped ringing, and there was a moment of silence as a sunbeam glinted against the street. Then I heard a bird's cry, followed by a long whistle. At first I thought it was another bird, but the sound seemed to be coming from the ground. The street was deserted. I looked around for the beggar near the bottom of the walls and even in the gutter, but I didn't see him. Then the whistling stopped.

Between two of the houses, there is a space, a kind of burrow, where abandoned dogs sometimes find shelter. I wondered if the beggar had gone in there, feeling too sick to crawl around the neighborhood as he had been doing for so long. Perhaps he had dragged himself into that hole to die. I felt so sorry for him that I drew closer. Mazal, what kind of trick were you playing on me? You know perfectly well who I found in the dog hole with his face and hair covered in mud! It was the young wounded Crusader, the one they call Gauthier! He really scared me! And it was even worse when he stretched out his arm, caught me by the sleeve, and pulled me toward him. I stumbled, slipped, and then there we were, face-to-face inside that horrible little space!

He was still holding on to my sleeve, and he smiled at me. “You don't need to be frightened,” he said. “But if you stay out in the street they'll see you, and they'll wonder who you are talking to. Then they'll find me.”

“Are you hiding? Are you sick?” I asked, trying not to let my fear show.

“I'm hiding, but I'm no longer sick,” he replied. “Thanks to you, my leg is nearly healed. That's why, when I saw you pass by all by yourself, I whistled. You are the only one who can help me.”

“Me? Help you? You must be joking! Let me go on my way.”

“Please, just listen. You know I have to leave for the Crusade.”

I nodded.

“Well, I'd rather die right now than go there. I hate fighting. It's not that I'm a coward; believe me, I'm not afraid of anything. But ever since I was a child, the only thing I have ever wanted to do was study. I can stay hidden in this hole for weeks. It's big enough. Look, I can even stretch out and lie down. If I stay here until Peter the Hermit gives the signal to leave, they'll give up looking for me. There's a monastery I can go to where the monks will take me in and let me study.”

Mazal, O Mazal, there I was, in a hole, all alone, face-to-face with someone who is neither Tova nor Muriel nor even Jeanne or Marguerite, but a boy whose eyes made me think of clear, fresh water. And this boy had a kind voice. He expressed himself gently, and his hand rested on my arm.

“You are the only one who can help me,” he repeated. “All I ask is that you bring me food and drink.”

Although they are always saying I talk too much, for once I found myself speechless. Then the boy continued. “Think about it. I could help you, too.”

I stammered, “How could
you
help
me
?”

“If you or your family are in any danger, I will warn you. Then you will be able to defend yourselves. You can save your people — just like Queen Esther.”

Mazal, can you imagine how amazed I was to hear this? And then the boy began to laugh!

“Don't sit there with your mouth open; you'll get dirt in it! Did you think you were dealing with an ignorant peasant? An illiterate farm boy? Well, now you know! I've read the Bible, I know Latin, and that's just the beginning. I told you I'd rather die than have to give up studying. I didn't make this decision lightly, for it is a noble deed to go and recapture our Lord's tomb.”

He was no longer laughing, and I found my tongue. “If you are holed up in here, how will you know what the Crusaders are doing?”

“My elder brother knows where I am. He loves weapons and acts of bravery and dreams of going to battle. He'd fight anyone. But he loves me and will not betray me.”

“Can't your brother bring you food?” I asked.

“He would have to steal it, and if he came here every day my uncles would soon get suspicious. But you live right nearby, and no one would ever suspect you.” Gauthier squeezed my arm tightly. “Please say you agree. I promise you will be informed of every plan Peter the Hermit dreams up against the Jews.”

Mazal, where were you at that moment while I was telling myself that, thanks to me, my father would be warned in time? It's true that the small familiar voice inside me instantly whispered, “Don't get mixed up in men's affairs, girl. Your father and grandfather don't need you to tell them what to do.”

Was that by any chance your voice, Mazal? If it was, then you did everything you could, and I shouldn't blame you! But I didn't take heed of that little voice; I only retorted, “Think of Queen Esther —”

The little voice rudely interrupted me, saying, “Have you gone crazy? Who do you think you are to compare yourself to Queen Esther! Anyway, she was only obeying the wishes of her Uncle Mordecai, whereas you, just for a change, are getting yourself involved in . . . goodness knows what!”

Gauthier had finally let go of my arm, but he was still feeling about my sleeve. “What do you have in there?” he asked when he came across the tablets. “You don't know how to write, do you?” he asked in astonishment.

“I can read
and
write,” I replied coolly, bringing out my tablets to show him, pleased with the opportunity to gain a little time.

“Did you write this?” he asked.

I nodded.

“What kind of writing is it?” he asked again.

“It's our holy language, which the Almighty gave to my people. He used it to dictate his Law to Moses, who is our teacher.”

“I have read the Bible in Latin,” Gauthier said.

“But Latin is just a translation. It's not a holy language. It's just an ordinary language like the one we are speaking right now.”

Now it was Gauthier's turn to be speechless. He had probably never heard a girl talk this way. “And I can tell you something else,” I continued. “Your Jesus spoke our holy language. All Jews know that!”

“I know it, too. The monks taught me.” He frowned, then continued with his request. “Please say you'll help me. Bring me food in your sleeves. No one will notice. Women are always hiding things in their sleeves; that's what those wide sleeves are for. When I was little, I would hunt around in my mother's sleeves, and I always found some treat she'd kept for me. She was a good and gentle woman. If she were still alive, I know she would have taken my side against my uncles, and she would have convinced them to let me study. Then I wouldn't be holed up in here like a dog.” His voice had started to quiver. “Do you remember how dark it was last night? There was just a tiny crescent of a moon!”

At this, his eyes filled with tears that spilled down his cheeks, mingling with the dust. He wiped them with his hands, but his hands were dirty with earth and streaked mud all over his face. Amid all this filth, I saw only his clear eyes brimming with tears. In that hole, all I could see was a boy my age, a lonely boy who missed his mother. I thought of my mother in Ramerupt, and I started crying, too. Then I promised Gauthier that I would bring him something to eat. “You won't tell on me, will you?” he whispered. He had stopped crying; his eyes were staring into mine, and I was staring back.

“What do you take me for?”

“You are a girl, and girls talk.”

“I'm not like the others,” I said. “I'll show you that a girl can hold her tongue. But don't
you
forget your promise.”

Mazal, that's why I'm in such a hurry now. In a few minutes, I'm going to pretend that I have to feed my uncle's ewe and that I have one last errand to run. I'll rush off with my sleeves stuffed full of bread and cheese — and I'll put in an onion, too, because onions keep your strength up. I'm also taking some vials of water; a jug would look too obvious.

Oh, Mazal, please make sure I don't run into a soul!