Crossing To Paradise (23 page)

Brother
Gabriel said not a word.

Three abreast they plodded towards the crest of the hill. The sky began to open around them like a pale violet flower, a periwinkle, say, healing and infinite.

As they reached the top, a light, scented wind from the south dabbed their cheeks. The dry, scruffy ground leveled, then it began to give way in front of them.

There it was!

Jerusalem!

At once Gatty reined in.

There it was. Waiting for her.

No need to ask. She recognized it like a home from which, long ago, she had strayed. Its contours were her own heart's and mind's contours. She felt like a little girl again. No need to say anything.

The Holy City, golden, grew out of the gentle slopes on which it sat. Or was it the other way round? Did the Holy City, Gatty wondered, come down from God, out of heaven? And did the hill slopes and the valleys and everything else on earth grow out of it?

Oh, Arthur! I wish you were here, thought Gatty. Right beside me. It's you who should see this.

All that stood between the pilgrims and the golden domes, the clustered towers and columns and walls was one last shallow valley, dark with olive groves.

Gatty swung down from her mule. She lifted her flowing
abaya
above her knees; then she knelt on the dusty track, and bowed down so that her forehead touched the ground. She kissed the earth.

Snout did as Gatty did, and then she grasped his hand, pulled him up and embraced him.

“The city of the living God,” Brother Gabriel said reverently.

“Amen!” shouted Gatty and Snout, reaching towards it. “Amen! Amen!”

Then the three of them joyfully sang the
Te Deum
: “We praise Thee, O God, we acknowledge Thee to be the Lord.”

“Today is the first day of August,” the Hospitaller told them. “The feast day of the three sisters and martyrs, Faith and Hope and Charity.”

“Ohh!” cried Gatty, wild at last, and shining. “It's like the Bible says: I see a new heaven and new earth. Nothing can't never be the same again!”

Absolving
and blessing, caterwauling, dancing, elbowing, fiddling, gawping, haggling, insisting, jeering, kissing, limping, mourning, neighing, ogling, pick-pocketing, questioning, rosary-telling, sweating, taunting, ululating, vowing, wailing, exclaiming, yelling, zither-plucking; zit-picking, yawning, explaining, whistling, vandalizing, uttering, tale-telling, shoving, rabbiting, quaffing, pleading, oat-eating, nagging, money-changing, laughing, kneeling, jostling, hugging, gossiping, flagellating, entreating, doddering, chanting, breast-beating and arguing: From the moment Gatty passed under the Fish Gate, side by side with Snout, she was caught up in a bubbling tide of people such as she had never experienced before, not even in London or Venice. She and her mule were carried almost bodily along the seething streets and swept into the courtyard of the Hospital of Saint John.

Gatty was panting. She dismounted, and pulled off her
burqa.
She unwound her
hijab.
She filled her lungs with air, and then let it all out again, noisily.

“Snout!” she yelled, and she seized and hugged him. “I knew we would! I knew it!” Still holding the cook, she tried to dance, but all she succeeded in doing was taking him off-balance so that they both staggered sideways, and fell over.

Laughing, Gatty helped Snout up. “I didn't, though,” she said. “Not all the time. Not in Kyrenia, for a start. Not when those Bedouin surrounded us.”

The Hospitaller stretched out his hands, palms upward, as if he were begging, and Gatty grew quiet.

“Jerusalem,” he said. “The center of the world.”

“It feels like it,” said Snout. “At least it did out there in the street.”

“The outer world and the inner world,” the knight-brother continued. “As maps show us, Jerusalem is the hub of the wheel.”

“The world's not like a wheel,” Gatty objected. “It's like an egg or a pig's bladder.”

Brother Gabriel ignored this. “The inner world,” he repeated. “The world of the spirit. Jesus lived and died here, He rose from the dead here, but this city is also sacred to the Saracens—and the Jews. That's why we fight over it.”

“Why is it sacred to them?” Gatty asked.

“That's a short question with many long answers,” the Hospitaller replied. “Within these walls the Temple of Solomon once stood, and this is where King David brought the Ark of the Covenant. From this city the Prophet Muhammad ascended to heaven on a winged horse while he was still alive, and glimpsed paradise. Ah! Here comes Gregory.”

Gatty and Snout watched a man crossing the courtyard: He was slight, with thin, receding dark hair and beady eyes.

“One of our helpers,” the Hospitaller explained. “He's English.”

“Brother Gabriel!” said the man, smiling only with his mouth, not his eyes. He gave the knight-brother a perfunctory embrace, and then surveyed Gatty and Snout without enthusiasm.

“My companions!” said Brother Gabriel. “My two wives, actually! My English wives!”

“Gatty and Snout,” Gregory said.

Gatty's mouth fell open. Snout hastily crossed himself.

“Who told you?” Gatty demanded.

The guide sighed. “City of miracles,” he said in a world-weary voice.

“I know,” said Gatty. “You talked to our companions.” She didn't like Gregory's waxen skin. She didn't like the way he watched her under his heavy eyelids.

“Are they still here?” asked Snout.

Gregory shook his head. “They left you messages. Ask Janet.”

“Gregory's wife,” Brother Gabriel explained. “Gregory and Janet came
here as pilgrims five years ago, and chose to stay. I don't know what we'd do without them.”

At this moment, something near them whirred; then dust spurted, as if the courtyard had sprung a leak.

“A snake!” said Snout, tensing his shoulders.

Another whirr; another spurt; something jumped and hopscotched towards them.

A jagged stone!

“Quick!” said Brother Gabriel.

Gatty and Snout and Brother Gabriel and Gregory ran across the courtyard, holding their arms over their heads.

Twenty paces, and they were out of harm's way. But Gatty was shocked and Snout was panting.

“Saracens,” Brother Gabriel told them. “Young boys, probably. We get used to it.”

“Why don't you stop them?” Gatty asked.

“Because we'd soon have a fight on our hands. And, as you know, in this Holy City, the Saracens are many and Christians few.”

“They do not love us,” Gregory said. “But for the most part, they tolerate us.”

“And make money out of us,” the Hospitaller added. “Our most sacred shrines are in their hands, and we have to pay the Saracens to see them. The cross-legged devils!”

“The crusaders will pay them and all!” Gatty declared.

“We've fought over this city for one thousand years!” Brother Gabriel said. “Sometimes I think this conflict between Christians and Saracens and Jews will never end.”

Snout cleared his throat. “Excuse me, sir,” he said. “I'm famished.”

“So am I,” agreed Gatty. “We haven't had a mouthful all day.”

“True,” said Brother Gabriel, “and I'm sure Gregory will want to take you over to Holy Sepulchre before supper. What do you think, Gregory? Could Janet perhaps…”

“And she can tell us our messages,” said Gatty eagerly.

Janet was as warm and bustling as her husband was cool and removed. Not only that: She was half as large again.

“Yes,” she said, patting herself, “God was feeling generous on the day He created me.”

Sitting in the little parlor the guide and his wife had for themselves, Gatty and Snout devoured bread dripping with honey and, like dry sponges, they soaked up Janet's comfortable words.

“Emrys,” said Janet. “Was that his name?”

“The stableman,” Snout said.

“Yes,” Janet said. She fished into her apron pocket, and gave the cook a tiny horseshoe. “Emrys said that for all God's goodness, we need luck as well. This horseshoe is to bring you luck.”

“He said all that?” Gatty exclaimed.

“And he asked me to remind you the livery stable is at Treviso,” Janet went on.

“As if I'd forget!” Gatty said.

“Naked!” said Janet. “No, what was it?”

“Nakin,” Gatty corrected her.

“Yes, Nakin said he'll pay the feeding and stabling dues on your horse, Gatty.”

“Syndod!” Gatty told her.

“Yes, and pay the hiring fee for a horse for Snout.”

“God be praised!” said Snout.

“As for the stableman's wife,” said Janet, “to be honest, I couldn't get much sense out of her. She was always weeping.”

“Tilda?” said Gatty. “Weeping?”

“And then there was the clerk,” Janet went on. “A funny little man, with his pink, pixie ears. And his high-pitched laugh! He told me you know his message, Gatty. He says it's within you.”

“He wants me to think about my own voice and everything he's taught me,” Gatty said. “I will and all! What about Nest?”

By way of reply, the guide's wife dipped into her apron pocket again, and pulled out a little scroll.

“Nest didn't write to me!” Gatty exclaimed. She unrolled the letter and held it up. “It's so thin you can almost see through it.”

“All the brothers use it,” Janet told her. “Paper.”

“Paper,” Gatty repeated.

“Made from water reeds,” said Janet. “Papyrus reeds.”

“To my sister Gatty,” Gatty slowly spelled out.

I should have come with you to Umberto, I know I should. I
wanted to wait with Snout he was so brave but they wouldn't
agree. Oh, Gatty! My baby is growing I can feel it. They all say I
should stay with Sei in Venice what with nothing to go back to.
Gatty, what will happen to me? I will wait for you there. May
God guide you to Jerusalem. Without you is much worse.

By your loving Nest.

Gatty's eyes were brimming with tears. “No one's never wrote me a letter before,” she said, and she gave a single, loud sniff. Then there was a knock at the door, and Brother Gabriel came in.

The Hospitaller gave her the sweetest smile. “Yes,” he said. “A letter! Janet told me.”

“She's so close,” sniffed Gatty. “So far away.”

“Fill yourselves up,” Brother Gabriel told them. “Bread! Honey! Janet's tender mercies!”

So Snout helped himself to another slice and ladled honey onto it.

“Manna,” said Gatty. “And it was like coriander seed, white; and the taste of it was like wafers with honey.”

“Very good, Gatty,” Brother Gabriel declared. “Now then, I've something to tell you that should lift your spirits. Before we left Acre, Sir Faramond gave me a fistful of gold. He told me he will pay for your keep at this Hospital and pay all your admission fees, flasks of water from the
River Jordan, palm badges…He insists on paying for you both for as long as you're here in Jerusalem.”

“May God reward him!” Gatty said, shaking her head in wonder.

“And Lady Saffiya too,” added Snout.

After this, Gatty and Snout went to see their dormitories. They emptied their scrips, and washed away the worst of their dusty three-day journey, and put on their crumpled pilgrim clothing. So it was already midway between noon and sundown by the time they were ready to leave the Hospital with Gregory.

Cautiously, the two pilgrims peered through the gateway, but the stone-throwers had long since gone. There was simply a stream of shuffling people.

Right outside the gate, a man was singing. He was wearing a small black cap covering the crown of his head, and his eyeballs were white.

“Samuel's a regular,” Gregory told them, “and a rare beast. There aren't many Jews in Jerusalem.”

“But Jesus was a Jew,” Gatty said.

“And He was betrayed and crucified by Jews,” Gregory said sharply. “The crusaders drove them all out—and quite right too. But then Saladin invited them back. Not many have returned, though.”

“What's he singing about?” Gatty asked.

Gregory listened for a while. “Some old Hebrew song,” he said. He stared at Gatty, his beady dark eyes shining.

“Go on, then,” said Gatty.

“Your mouth is as round…as a golden ring,” the guide translated. “Your teeth are like white hailstones. Your neck's like…the neck of a gazelle when she's thirsty and raises her eyes to heaven. Your breasts…”

“I get the idea,” Gatty interrupted, brushing away the words with the back of her hand.

“Where are we going?” Snout asked.

“Where each pilgrim goes first and last,” Gregory replied. “The most holy place in holy Jerusalem.”

“Holy Sepulchre!” Gatty and Snout cried. “God be praised!”

“Your hips,” translated Gregory, “your hips are as narrow as the hips of a bee weaving through the orchard.”

Gatty clicked her tongue noisily. “They're not, anyhow.”

It wasn't at all far from the Hospital of Saint John to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, but the nearer they got, the more of a scrum there was.

“Same as usual!” Gregory called out. “A purgatory of pilgrims! They're all going home tomorrow, and can scarcely bear to leave.”

Gatty looked around her, amazed and then troubled. Some people were wailing; some waving their staffs; some tearing their clothing. She knew all these pilgrims had been journeying to Jerusalem for weeks or months, or even years maybe, but she was dismayed at the way in which they caught emotion from each other as if it were raging fever.

They're like a huge crowd of Tildas, she thought. I don't want to be swamped. I want to pray for Lady Gwyneth on my own.

Gregory shouldered his way through the mob, followed by Gatty and Snout, until they reached a space cordoned off around the entrance to the church. Two Saracens were sitting cross-legged on small carpets on either side of the door, and each had a metal box in front of him, with a slit in the lid.

Snout grasped Gatty's arm. He gave a huge gulp, and then began to sob.

“Snout!” said Gatty fondly, putting an arm around his shoulder. “Snout!”

“I c…c…can't help it.”

“Wash away your sins, man,” Gregory said coolly. “Now! Brother Gabriel's given me the money to pay for your admission.”

One of the cross-legged men took the coins and posted them into his metal box. Then he wagged both his forefingers and said something.

“Today's the first day of August,” Gregory translated. “The end of the pilgrim season.”

“How can it be?” exclaimed Gatty, waving at the sea of people around her.

“I told you: All these people are leaving tomorrow.”

Gatty frowned. “But if it's the end…” she said hesitantly.

“You can still enter Holy Sepulchre,” Gregory told them. “But from today on, the Church will close at sundown.”