A Journey to the End of the Millennium (27 page)

Again, as in the dark hall of the winery, Master Levitas served as master of ceremonies. First he invited the principal complainant, Ben Attar, to set forth the complaint that had traveled so stubbornly from the furthermost Maghreb. Since on this occasion the defendant could not serve as interpreter, since Abulafia’s business trips had never brought him this far and so he had never learned the local language, Master Levitas had no choice but to concede that Rabbi Elbaz should translate from the language of the Ishmaelites to that of the Israelites and back again, aware though he was that the quick-witted rabbi would exploit every opportunity to reinforce and adorn the words as they made their roundabout way from language to language.

But when Ben Attar opened his mouth and began to utter his first words, those present were astounded, and even the interpreter-rabbi was surprised. Instead of the jeremiad that they had already heard in the winery near Paris, about the pain of a Muslim partner, and the sadness of lost merchandise, and the treachery of a rejecting partner, who had sought the pretext of the sages in order to augment his own profit, the stubborn merchant suddenly stepped backward, as though the twelve days of additional overland journey from the Seine to the Rhine had never taken place. And as though the second hearing were
merely a direct continuation of the first one, he now sought to address the harsh and piercing argument put forward by Mistress
Esther-Minna,
his adversary’s real wife, in the dark hall of the winery at Villa Le Juif—that it was not the shame and disgrace of the bewitchment and curse issuing from her womb that had made Abulafia’s wretched first wife bind her hands and feet with colored ribbons to help the waves of the sea do their work, but only the veiled threat of taking a second wife, the selfsame threat that was now seeking the full approbation of a holy congregation.

Despite his lack of experience, Joseph son of Kalonymos managed to understand, by means of the circuitous and excitable yet detailed translation of Rabbi Elbaz, that this swarthy, sturdy complainant, the partner who had come from the end of the world, wished to reopen the whole case from the start. At the price of revealing an old secret, he would defend not only his own dual marriage but dual marriage in general, which had come under assault from the new wife, who,
arrogantly
and uninvited, had belatedly adopted the cause of a wife who had taken her own life, with the aim of avenging her. To general
surprise,
it suddenly became clear that Ben Attar’s decision to agree to the journey to confront a further tribunal in the Rhineland had been the result not of Abulafia’s desperation nor of the rabbi’s desire to repeat his wonderful speech, but first and foremost of a desire to refute, in the midst of her native town, the slander that the new wife had uttered before the gathering in the winery at Villa Le Juif.

For who better than Ben Attar could testify to the sinful woman’s true motive? On the same bitter day on which Abulafia’s poor first wife had come to Ben Attar’s shop to entrust her baby to Abulafia so that she might be free to search the stalls of the nomads for an amulet that would bring her blessing or comfort, she had not, as all believed, gone straight from the gate of the city to the seashore with the
elephant’s-tail
fishhook she had bought, but had first returned to Ben Attar’s shop to take her baby away. On discovering that even during such a short absence, Abulafia, the father, had been unable to remain close to his daughter and had left her alone among the bolts of cloth on the pretext that he was required at Ben Ghiyyat’s for afternoon prayers, she was assailed with such profound despair and melancholy that, unable to restrain herself, she had drawn her veil off her face to mop up her tears
before Ben Attar, the beloved uncle. Indeed, not only was that
beautiful
young woman not afraid that her husband might take a second wife, but on the contrary, in those last hours she had even offered herself as a second wife for Ben Attar, to make it easier for her husband to part from her for fear that she would give birth to another bewitched
demon.
But Ben Attar knew only too well that Abulafia’s love would never leave her, which was why he gently declined her strange
suggestion.
To set her mind at rest, he offered to keep an eye on her accursed daughter until her husband returned from prayers, while she returned to the market and tried to find a better amulet. How could he have imagined that instead of going to the market she would go straight to the city gate, to seek solace among the waves of the sea?

The North African’s last words fell to the floor of the synagogue and turned into little snakes. Not only the woman who had issued the repudiation but Master Levitas, her wise brother, now took a step back. Only Abulafia, who was now, in the depths of the marshy
Rhineland,
hearing for the first time in his life the terrible story of his
previous
wife, remained rooted to the spot as though paralyzed, and his lips turned very pale. The confused arbiter, not knowing if he had
understood
correctly what had been said, was only too aware of the new silence that the complainant had occasioned in the small law court. He rose helplessly from his seat and tried to approach the curtain, as though to ascertain the opinion of the public, but Rabbi Elbaz
frustrated
his intentions and gently yet respectfully hurried to restore the confidence of the bewildered man, whom he still considered the right man for the job.

At the little rabbi’s poetic touch, Joseph son of Kalonymos did indeed reconsider and resumed his seat, and his reddish eyes, which had previously been too timid to look at the woman who had been refused him, now watched her distress in the face of the silence that had overcome her husband. Rabbi Elbaz resolved to exploit this silence at once to move the judge’s mind in a different and original direction. Even though he felt a strong urge to repeat the wonderful speech he had made in the winery, in the presence of that thick-bearded courier from the Land of Israel, whose absence now pained him acutely, he knew that the prayer house of a devout congregation might not be the right place to argue in the name of an obdurate man who could sustain
the image of a second wife in such a way that no edict of the sages could eradicate it. Therefore he changed tack and set his sails for a distant destination, to reach which he now brought in the two
Ishmaelites
and the black pagan, who had been standing silently and
uncomprehendingly
before the shrine of the Jews’ god.

If there were Jews, the rabbi mused to himself, as firm in their faith as those who were silently standing behind the curtain, who were so strong-minded that they could banish from their imagination the very tips of a second wife’s toes, this was apparently so only because they were eager to give a more honored place to the image of the dear redeemer, the king messiah, who did not need a millennium to come to his Jews, but only greater respect for the commandments.
See
you,
the rabbi began excitedly, developing a new thought, apparently
addressed
to the startled judge who was sitting facing him but plainly, by the loudness of his voice, intended to be heard beyond the curtain, by a gathering that was holding its breath to catch every syllable,
my
lords
and
masters,
members
of
this
holy
congregation,
soon
we
shall
all
return
to
the
Beloved
Land,
to
the
land
flowing
with
milk
and
honey,
which
has
neither
bubbling
marshes
nor
croaking
frogs
but
pure
streams
of
water
and
the
song
of
nightingales.
There
in
the
last
days
which
are
nigh
shall
be
gathered
in
not
only
distant
Jews
like
yourselves
but
also,
as
is
written
and
promised,
all
the
inhabitants
of
the
world,
gentiles
thirsty
for
the
word
of
God.
And
first
of
all,
naturally,
the
nearest
neighbors,
Ishmaelites
and
Mohammedans,
who
to
find
favor
with
the
elect,
the
redeemed
Jews,
who
cherish
one
woman
above
all
others
as
though
she
were
God
himself,
are
likely
to
hurry
and
cast
forth
from
their
homes
their
redundant
second,
third,
and
fourth
wives.

At this point the rabbi turned to the three sturdy seafarers, whose appearance had not been improved by the black cloaks and pointed hats in which the local Jews had dressed them; their spirit had not been quelled, and they merely seemed wilder. In a voice that
contained
a hint of protest, he asked, and immediately answered his own question,
Is
it
fitting
that
we
should
tarnish
the
bliss
of
redemption
with
the
sorrow,
pain,
and
offense
of
so
many
Ishmaelite
women,
who
will
suddenly
be
inconsolably
alone?
How
can
we
persuade
good
neighbors
who
long
to
share
in
our
redemption
not
to
go
berserk
or
change
their
nature,
if
we
do
not
show
them
that
there
are
pure,
good
Jews
who
have
two
wives,
whose
orthodoxy
and
righteousness
do
not
defend
on
the
thoughts
of
others?

Then the reddish curtain stirred slightly, and the Elbaz child, who had heard his father’s loud voice from afar, cautiously drew back a flap and silently entered the space of the court and stood between his host, Joseph son of Kalonymos, and his sire, as though he had come to reconcile them with a compromise. Rabbi Elbaz stared in
astonishment
at his son, who had now tipped his little pointed hat at a new and rakish angle. And he looked back at the arbiter, who was smiling slightly at the sight of the boy. Well, Rabbi Elbaz said to himself
hopefully,
maybe this is just the moment to stop talking, so as to draw from the heart of this German judge’s smile a civilized, tolerant verdict that will allow the natural partnership to continue by virtue both of former brotherhood and of future redemption.

In truth, the slight smile that appeared on Joseph son of
Kalnymos’s
face at the sight of the rabbi’s son testified clearly that his nervousness and distress were being soothed and that the new role that had been placed upon him not only no longer frightened him but even pleased him. It was obvious that he understood that if Abulafia
persisted
in his silence and did not rise to defend himself, he himself would be compelled to pronounce, despite his own inclinations, a
simple,
rational decision that could not be different from the one reached in the winery near Paris. A new course was indicated. He instructed Master Levitas to fetch Ben Attar’s two wives, the first and the second, to be examined privily as witnesses.