My Guardian Angel (5 page)

IX

It's the Sabbath and Elvina is bored! Such a thing has never happened to her before. There's nothing unusual in the fact that the weather is cold and gray and that you can't tell night from day, because it's wintertime. It's understandable that the house is dark, with the only light coming from the window in the downstairs room. That's the way it always is until the Sabbath has ended and the lamps can be lit again. But what is very strange is that Elvina is all alone in this sad, silent house with no better company than the old servant who is dozing off in the corner.

This morning, the only people in the synagogue were locals or people who have taken refuge here. The Jews from villages and hamlets outside town stayed holed up at home. There is no way they would venture out so far when hundreds of Peter the Hermit's men are on the roads!

The women's section was practically deserted. Elvina sat next to Muriel who came with her cousin Bella, the twins, and the girls' mothers, who are also twins and look exactly alike. Toward the end of the service, Elvina whispered to Muriel, “Don't leave now. Listen to my grandfather. He's going to explain the
parashah
to everyone who stays.”

“You know I don't understand those things,” Muriel replied.

“Oh yes, you do,” Elvina insisted. “Today you'll understand. It's about how they made the
Mishkan,
the tabernacle in the desert. It's a passage that my grandfather especially likes, and when he explains it, he gives examples from everyday life. It's really interesting; you'll see.”

Muriel made a face. “You think that's interesting? Carpentry and masonry? I leave those things for the boys.”

“But you like jewelry, don't you? How many times have I found you in the shop next door, watching the jeweler make gold bracelets or carve patterns on silver cups? You should hear my grandfather describe the lampstand in the tabernacle and the golden cherubim with their wings spread over the ark. They kiss when Israel is faithful to God's wishes, but they turn away from each other and cry when Israel disobeys Him. And Grandfather is bound to tell the story of the daughters of Israel in Egypt and their mirrors.”

“Their mirrors?”

“Yes. They used mirrors to look attractive for their husbands. Then they became mothers and had lots of children, which explains how the Hebrews became so numerous.”

The word
husbands
shook Bella out of her daydream. Elvina suddenly had her undivided attention. “What do you mean? What did they do with their mirrors?”

“They looked into them cheek to cheek with their husbands and said, ‘See how pretty I am . . . much prettier than you. . . .'”

Bella burst out laughing and buried her head in Muriel's shoulder, while Muriel laughed into Bella's hair. Muriel raised her head to ask, “Did your grandfather really explain all that?”

“Oh yes, and not only to me. He told my cousin, too, and my brother. It was last night during dinner.”

But despite Elvina's pleas, Muriel, Bella, the young twins, and their identical twin mothers went home with the other women, and Elvina was left all alone.

When Elvina came out of the synagogue, the narrow street outside seemed huge and empty. A lone ray of pale sunshine paused on the stone walls, turning them yellow and highlighting every detail and crack of their uneven surface. A shiver of sadness went through Elvina. It felt as if the town were deserted. There were no happy voices to be heard shouting from one house to another, none of the rich smells of meat spiced with ginger and cinnamon stewing slowly on the embers since the night before. Even the dogs had disappeared. Usually on the Sabbath day, even in winter and even in the rain and snow, the street is alive and bustling. People meet up with friends, exchange gossip, and stamp their feet to keep warm. They laugh at the clouds of steam escaping from everyone's mouth. Girls gather in tight little groups, and those from Troyes invite their country cousins home to share the Sabbath meal.

Elvina returned home as quickly as the solemnity of the Sabbath would allow. Her heavy woolen cape was gathered around her shoulders with the hood pulled down over her face. As she was about to enter the courtyard, two Christian neighbors called out to her from where they were chatting, spinning, and taking the air on their doorsteps. They stopped Elvina to ask her for news of her mother. “We never see her anymore!”

Elvina explained that Miriam and Precious had gone to Ramerupt to look after her Aunt Yochebed, who was soon to give birth. This normal conversation reassured Elvina, somewhat, that everything was just like before. She bid the neighbors good day and went home.

Later Judah and Solomon came in, followed by Samuel, Yom Tov, and several other students who have no other home but Solomon's. All of them had rings under their eyes from lack of sleep and cheeks that were hollow from fasting. None of their faces showed the joy and serenity that are usually part of this day of rest, and there was no guest with them, no merchant from afar who might fascinate all of them with tales of the faraway places he had seen. Elvina waited on Solomon and Judah with the jug and basin for them to wash their hands. Then she served the Sabbath meal on the table that she had very carefully set. She had forgotten nothing. There were several pitchers of wine, the silver cup for the blessing, and two round loaves of bread. The meat and vegetable stew she had prepared and cooked herself was delicious, spiced just right. Everyone was delighted by the excellent food.

It was a meal Elvina would always remember, because Judah asked her to sit next to him, complimenting her. “My daughter is becoming an excellent housewife,” he said. “She is indeed a worthy daughter of Israel.”

Never before had he spoken to her with such a soft, gentle voice, as if he were addressing a young bride! Elvina was so dumbfounded, she didn't reply. She didn't even dare look him in the eyes. Later she regretted not having at least rewarded her father with a smile. For deep inside Elvina was very pleased and flattered. She promised herself that she would make up for her silence later on when, for the third Sabbath dish, she would serve her father and grandfather the walnuts she had fried in honey. It was Solomon's favorite sweet.

After the meal, it was time to rest. As usual, Samuel and Yom Tov lay down on the benches in the room. Elvina suddenly remembered what Precious had said to her before leaving, so she cried to the boys, “Take care, you two. Don't use your coats as pillows!”

“Oh, Elvina,” they complained, “now you sound just like Grandmother!” Still, they obeyed her.

As soon as Solomon and Judah had left to return to the synagogue, though, Samuel and Yom Tov jumped up and declared that they were going for a walk.

“But we aren't allowed to go out.” Elvina protested. “You heard what they said. I'm not even allowed to visit Tova.”

“That's only meant for girls,” retorted Yom Tov. “Anyway, we won't go far. And then we'll walk straight back to the synagogue.”

She watched Samuel, the redhead, and dark-haired Yom Tov run across the courtyard. With their red cheeks to the air and their gray capes billowing behind them, they looked as if they hadn't a care in the world.

Usually on the Sabbath, the courtyard would be ringing with the happy voices and laughter of Elvina's friends and those of her mother and grandmother. This is visiting time. The house would be full of girls and women chatting, rolling apples or nuts across the table aiming to hit one another's. It's a game that Elvina thinks is a little stupid, but she is good at it. She always wins the nuts, because she can flick them more skillfully than anyone else, but she can't very well play by herself! She knows that her friends will not be coming. They, too, are forbidden to go outside.

At least Muriel, Bella, the twins, and their identical mothers have one another for company. They can tell stories while they eat honey cakes. How Elvina envies them! She would have liked to spend the afternoon with them, even if it did mean talking about dresses. Even if they called her proud. She remembers one Sabbath when her friends made fun of her because she tried to teach them to play chess. “How typical of you, Elvina,” they had said. “You want to make us play boys' games. You are so pretentious!”

It would be better to talk about frivolous things with them than to be all alone in this dull, deserted room! What a wonderful occupation, sitting here by a window staring at a courtyard! In the courtyard, a solitary chicken is pecking around, and even
it
looks bored! The two ewes, after stuffing themselves with fresh hay, must have gone to sleep in the stable, because no sound is coming from them, either. Rachel's birds are twittering happily in their cage. Elvina looks out at two huge, heavy snow clouds that are wending their way slowly across the sky. What a comfortable, soft-looking sky! Elvina dozes off like old Zipporah!

Suddenly she is awakened by the panic-stricken clucking of the hen. Three men have just entered the courtyard. They are not Jews and Elvina has never seen them before. Two of them are carrying the third, a young boy whose leg is bleeding profusely. They are heading for Elvina's door. Her heart pounds so loudly that she hardly hears them knocking.

What she hears loudest of all is the servant shouting, “Don't open the door, mistress; they're sure to be Peter the Hermit's men!”

“Open the door!” Elvina orders. “One of them is wounded.”

X

Tonight even old Zipporah found it hard to settle down to sleep. For the last hour I've heard her tossing and turning, moaning and imploring the heavens. She has called me at least ten times to make sure that I am really here. Where else could I be? Now, at last, she has fallen asleep.

Mazal, dear Mazal, if I could write down everything that happened this Sabbath afternoon, which I thought would be so boring, there wouldn't be room for it all on the three pieces of parchment my grandfather gave me. Anyway, I'm not sure I know how to write all the words I'd need to describe it in our holy language. And in our everyday language I don't know the spelling. It isn't a recipe, or a letter where I just have to reply to the same simple questions I've answered over and over again. What happened to me today is something that has never happened before!

No sooner had I told Zipporah to open the door than I was seized with fear. I was so scared, I felt I might faint. But I didn't. Maybe it was you, dear Mazal, who at that precise instant came down from the sky and whispered in my ear.

“Pull yourself together, girl; you only have yourself to count on!”

I stood up and faced the three men. They certainly didn't wait to be invited before entering the house and coming toward me. They were unkempt, their tunics were dirty, and their shoes and cloaks were covered with mud. The eldest of the three was the one who spoke.

“We were told that there are Jews here who know how to heal the sick. We met one in the street, but he refused to listen to us. He just mumbled something and ran away, the godforsaken dog! And what about you, girl? Have you lost your tongue?”

The rough-looking man stared at me. His pale eyes shone under bushy eyebrows. No man had ever looked at me that way, but I kept my self-control.

“I have not lost my tongue. Sit your wounded friend there, on the bench. Stretch out his leg, and take off his sock and shoe.”

Among all the thoughts spinning around in my head there was one that stood out. I remembered hearing my grandfather say that if a non-Jew's house catches fire on the Sabbath, a Jew is permitted to help put out the fire, because not doing so could have terrible consequences. Also, I must admit, I felt sorry for this wounded boy who was scarcely older than me. He was crying in pain, and I feared his wound might be dangerous. It is permitted to save a life, even on the Sabbath.

Thinking of this, I felt perfectly sure of myself. “How did your friend get injured?” I asked.

“He was trying out a sword,” replied the man. “It seems he is more skillful with a pen than with weapons. Not that I can judge; I don't know how to read or write myself. All I can say is that in the Holy Land a pen is not going to be much help fighting the infidels!”

The wounded boy's two friends laughed meanly, and I tried to ignore them as I knelt down to examine the young man's wound. I sent Zipporah to fetch water, linen, herbs, an egg for the compress, and some wine for him to drink. Then, imitating my mother and grandmother, I said calmly, “Don't worry. I'm going to clean the cut and put on a dressing. It isn't very deep.”

I added the last part because it's the kind of thing my mother always says to reassure her patients. In fact, the flesh was cut so deep I could see all the way down to the bone. It was white and a little shiny. I had never dressed such a gash on my own before.

Zipporah came back pale and trembling. She brought everything I had asked for, not forgetting the wine that the poor boy was in dire need of. I tried my hardest to do what my mother and grandmother would have done, starting by gently rinsing the skin around the wound. Still, I was shaking a little, rattled by the thought that if their friend's leg did not heal, they could accuse me of harming him on purpose. And then, who knows, they might come back and kill my whole family and all our friends.

As I poured a little wine on the open cut to cleanse it more thoroughly, the boy cried out, and the two men jumped toward me. I thought they were going to hit me, but they only laughed — they were always laughing — then they sat down again.

“Peter will be pleased with us,” one of them said. “But believe me, we're going to have our work cut out with those two captive Jew boys. We're going to have to tame them.”

“They're young,” the other replied. “Once they've been baptized, they'll quiet down. I'll teach them how to use weapons; then we'll have two more Crusaders.” They began to laugh again.

I was wondering who those two boys could be when suddenly I felt as though I had been punched in the chest. Where were Samuel and Yom Tov? Those young idiots had gone off for a walk in the country. Could they have fallen into the hands of the Cru-saders? I leaned over the wound so the men couldn't see my face. As I was making up the compress with oil and herbs, I told myself to stay calm and, above all, not let them see that I was crazy with fear! I applied and secured the compress as slowly as I could, trying to play for time. How was I going to save my brother and cousin? Who could rescue them? What should I do?

I had absolutely no idea.

As I finished the dressing, the man with the bushy eyebrows watched me wind the clean bandages around the wounded leg.

“You wouldn't by any chance be related to the two Jew boys we captured this afternoon?” he asked slyly.

I stood up very calmly and with a steady voice I asked, “What are the two boys called?”

“One has an impossible name. The other refused to open his mouth at first, but later he told us his name was Samuel. The one with the impossible name spit at us, probably to show us how much he despised us . . . but that won't last long.”

“They can't be more than ten years old,” added the other man, “and they're already arrogant like all you Jews are.”

Samuel and Yom Tov's fate was in my hands.

Then I had an inspiration. With much effort, I managed to grin from ear to ear. “You have captured Yom Tov and Samuel, my little brother and my cousin. I have to tell you that Samuel is an idiot child, poor thing. He understands nothing and hardly knows how to talk. He is the family's hopeless case. As for Yom Tov, whose name in our language means ‘celebration,' he has a toothache so he dribbles and spits. It's not really his fault. He has too much saliva.”

At that, the two started laughing again, but I must admit that this time their laughter sounded rather good-natured.

“That's enough, girl.” The man with the bushy eyebrows grinned. “Your little lies don't fool us, but you have shown kindness toward our friend and we will do the same for you. We will bring back your brother and your cousin this evening. They'll get off lightly with having had the scare of their lives.”