A Journey to the End of the Millennium (38 page)

Before the camel could be offered for sale it must be taken ashore and fed, and it would be best to send it to graze in the fine fields and vegetable gardens of the Duke de la Teulerie, which adjoined a dense forest called by the locals Lupara on account of the packs of wolves that roamed it, attracted by its burrows. Therefore, toward the close of the festive week, on the eve of the Solemn Assembly, one of the sailors was sitting in a garden holding a long cord, at the other end of which a long-necked item of merchandise delicately cropped the tenderest greenery in Paris, pricking up its ears curiously from time to time at the
Jewish boy and the young idolater chatting in the language of the desert and at the disturbed girl, who was reminded by the sounds of Arabic of the nurse who had been taken away from her.

Now that the autumn blew an occasional cold breeze over the Île de France, the young people, knowing that in a few more days they would be summoned to board the ship and sail away and that for days and nights on end they would sway to the monotonous rhythm of the wind flapping the sail, sought to enjoy to the full the rustle of the russet leaves on the firm ground. Since the rabbi’s son had absolute faith in the son of the desert to take them safely home again, especially if it was somewhere as simple and straightforward as the right bank of the river, he offered to take his companions on a short excursion to the top of a low knoll that could be seen some way off, which he had no doubt was the same hill, topped with a ruined arch, from which he and Ben Attar, the first of all the passengers on board, had seen the
enchanted
city.

But he had unwittingly mistaken for the western hill another, northern one, which seemed low only because of a white smudge that spread in its center. Since the girl walked with a slight bias that
constantly
had to be corrected, the Andalusian child, who had become the leader of the small expedition, wondered whether they should keep climbing the slope, whose steepness was only too evident to their young legs, or whether they should turn around and go back to the ship before the drizzle that was accompanying them turned into a full-scale rainstorm. While he was still debating, the rainclouds burst, turning clothing and flesh to a single pulp, until they had no choice but to take shelter beside a large cottage that they had previously taken pains to avoid, since black smoke was spiraling up from its chimney. While they huddled unobtrusively under the overhanging thatch, the demon in the girl’s soul suddenly broke into its old howl, which outdid the tumult of the rain and brought two smiling women out of the silent house, dressed in colorful gowns stitched together, to the boy’s surprise, from the green silk that they had brought on their ship and bartered for eggs and cheese on their way to Worms.

When the women caught sight of the young visitors pressed against the outer wall of their cottage, they were as joyful as hunters who have caught a splendid prey. The boy and the black slave calculated the
chances of running for their lives, but the women caught the girl and invited her into their cottage, so that her two companions had no choice but to follow in the hope of rescuing her. They found
themselves
in a large room with a rush-covered floor, and in a corner a small fire burned, over which hung on a spit a delicious-smelling piglet, its eyes closed with a self-important air. The boy’s soul shuddered at the proximity of the forbidden, unclean beast, but the African turned
excitedly
toward a row of brightly painted wooden images, all representing the same young man, with impassive countenance and a short beard, spreading his arms out wide to save his soul or to embrace the world, it was impossible to tell which. While the two women laughed heartily, in fact somewhat indecently, at the young visitors’ confusion, the door of an inner chamber opened and a third woman appeared, carrying a skinny baby in her arms and followed by a lean yet agile older man carelessly dressed in paint-stained garments, whose name, Pigealle, the youngsters had difficulty catching.

Just as the pagan was astonished at the sight of the row of figurines, so the man seemed excited at the sight of the dark-skinned denizen of the desert who had happened into his house, and dragged him firmly over to the window the better to inspect his face. The women had already sensed the man’s urgent desire, and as though by tacit
agreement
they smiled at the visitors and set about busily making them welcome. First they removed their sodden robes and made signs that it would be better if the visitors took off their baggy trousers too, so as to dry them by the fire, and meanwhile they hurried to cut thin slices from the hindquarters of the piglet dozing over the fire.

The only son of the rabbi from Seville, unable to bear the disgrace that had come upon him, leaped to his feet to thrust away the slice of abominable meat being offered to him on the tip of a knife. But he was unable to prevent the girl, whose nakedness was covered by a sheepskin coat, from snatching the morsel and putting it to her mouth. Even the African, who might or might not have reverted from his temporary
Judaism
to his original paganism, was seized by a frenzy of eating and also drinking, since the lean old man, who had not taken his eyes off the young man since he had removed his trousers and revealed his black nakedness, plied him with ruby wine, possibly with the intention of
befuddling
his mind and diminishing his resistance. Indeed, the Frankish
wine achieved its purpose well, for the youth, after giving thanks in the form of a deep obeisance toward one of the figurines, submitted himself to the ministrations of the women, who led him into the inner chamber and laid him on a bed, then gracefully folded one of his legs and gently stroked his young manhood so that it roused itself until its narrow slit stared at the enthusiastic artisan, who was already screwing up his eyes and drawing a first bright scarlet line on a wooden panel.

And so the youngsters were held captive by these strange but
insistent
hosts, who barred the door of the cottage until the old artist had finished studying, with line and color, what could be learned from the naked body of a member of an unknown race lying before him. But in the midst of the silence of the slowly passing hours there rose the old wail of the accursed girl, which threatened to become a scream. The women hurriedly silenced her with fine fragrant slices from the haunches of the piglet, whose face still bore a pensive and melancholy air. The boy from Seville, who knew himself and was aware that the hunger raging inside him was liable to drive him out of his wits, closed his eyes and covered them with his hands, and tried his hardest to imagine how his father the rabbi would reason in his place. After a short while he came to a simple conclusion, in the spirit of the logic of his sire’s bold discourses. If heaven, which watched over all and
exacted
payment for every deed, had not hastened to take the soul of a Jewish girl who was gorging herself ceaselessly and with evident
pleasure
on the forbidden and abominable meat, it might be meant as a clear sign to him that instead of being a martyr to his hunger, which was bringing him close to fainting, it would be better to strengthen himself so he could be ready to escape and raise the alarm.

A plan took shape in his head, and slowly he removed his hands and opened his eyes. He found a great silence all around, for the sated girl had fallen asleep at the feet of one of the women, while from the adjoining chamber there came only the sound of chisel on wood.
Rising
to his feet, he started to walk across the large chamber in feigned aimlessness, blushing at the sight of the Frankish babe sucking at the pale round breast of the young woman, who eyed the boy calmly. Then, casually, he turned toward the remains of the piglet, still
hovering
above the dying fire. With an effort he stared into the eyes of the roasted creature as though trying to learn the secret of its stubborn
persistence in its unclean nature. Suddenly his face lit up, and he decided to punish it for its obstinacy, and reaching out, he grabbed a pinkish chunk, brought it warily to his mouth, and licked it with the tip of his tongue, wondering at the flavor, which resembled salted butter rather than meat. Before nausea could well up, he thrust the piece of meat into his mouth and chewed it rapidly, then, before its
uncleanness
had a chance to affect him, he tore off another chunk and thrust it into his mouth, and then another, and one last one to strengthen his spirit in the face of the terrible deed he had done. Only then did he approach the door, unbar it, and run for dear life, paying no heed to the voices of the women, who tried to stop him.

From the pink color of the sky, which had cleared, he realized that they had been detained for a long time and that evening was
approaching.
He made for the river, which to the best of his knowledge lay straight ahead. For the first time since he had joined the expedition he was utterly alone, among the empty fields that surrounded the small Parisian isle. Since he was careful to avoid isolated cottages along the way, particularly a large one with many windows from which loud sounds of singing were coming, the boy seemed to have caught the girl’s slantwise movement, and his little legs took him along paths that led westward rather than south, so that as twilight descended he found himself not, as he had hoped, on the bank of the river but on top of the little star-shaped hill crowned with a ruined Roman arch where he had stood with the leader of the expedition on that first evening. Then the boy’s body shook with a sob of gratitude that he had been shown the way. Because he could not spew forth what he had eaten, he fell to his knees, as he had learned to do from the black pagan, and swore to expiate the sin he had sinned by means of fasting and prayer. As the twilight extinguished the sun’s dazzling death throes, and on the island in the midst of the river the Parisians began to kindle the lights that would show the little wayfarer the right direction to take, he chose once more the avenue that led him to the open square beside the riverbank, in the hub of which he was surprised to discover the little pile of stones that he had made with his own hands on that distant evening, which still stood, indicating the way back.

When the boy reached the boat, he was not surprised to hear that the black slave and the girl had returned before him and had been
taken by Abulafia to his house on the opposite bank, but he was
surprised
that his father had not waited anxiously for his return but had accepted Abulafia’s invitation to say his evening prayers in the
tabernacle.
Had the dumb girl managed to recount the sin of the abominable meat, and had his father decided to disown him? Deep sorrow seized the boy, and he tried to drive out the impurity that clung to his guts with a cake of dried figs sprinkled with cinnamon. But the fragrant sweetness spreading in his mouth did not calm his soul, and he
decided
to seek consolation from Abu Lutfi and Abd el-Shafi, who, being gentiles and therefore living their uncleanness without blame or guilt, might be able to soothe away the sin that burned inside him. He was surprised to find them on the old bridge, sitting and conversing
conspiratorially
with a third man, a stranger clad in the local garb. Seeing the boy approaching, they fell suddenly silent, and he too halted, as it occurred to him that their impurity, even if it were as wide as the sea, did not extend to the eating of pork, and that if the smell of his abomination assailed their nostrils, their wrath might be doubled at his assault on two faiths at once. So he turned back to the stern and descended into the hold, which during the day had given up all its cargo, now scattered in the world, and stood dark and empty, with only the tawny camel stepping through the emptiness as through the desert.

In this dark space the boy was suddenly flooded with longing for the second wife, beside whose cabin only had he been able to
surrender
himself to long hours of sweet slumber. He groped his way to the bowels of the ship, to rediscover the scent of the abandoned cabin. There, by the light of a lamp, surrounded by the fragrance of herbs and nard burning on a little incense burner, he discovered the ship’s
grieving
owner in the company of the first wife. They were sitting together on a blanket spread on the ground, dining in silence. Deep in the bowels of the ship, attentive to the faint flow of the river beneath them, Ben Attar and his wife seemed cut off not only from the
existence
of the city of Paris but also from whatever was being hatched above their heads on the bridge.

When they caught sight of the young visitor coming to offer his condolences, they smiled at him affectionately and invited him to join their meal and help himself to some of the remaining stew. At first he wished to refuse, not only because he was not in the least hungry, but
also because he was afraid to dip his defiled fingers into a clean
cooking
pot. But he also feared that they might suspect him of refusing to touch the pot because tears of mourning might have fallen into it or because of the touch of the dead woman’s spirit that still inhabited the cabin. Therefore, so as not to offend the owner, in whose hand lay his own safe return to Seville, he dipped cautious fingertips into the pot and picked out a chunk of meat that still smelled of sheep droppings. When he put it into his mouth and closed his eyes, he could see a simultaneously nauseating and attractive image of the furtive faces of the green-clad women in the cottage, standing around the head of the piglet, about to cut off its ears. Finally the nausea that had been
restrained
thanks to the friendly looks of the gentile women burst forth, and the boy turned deathly pale and swayed fearfully. He tried to escape, but his strength deserted him, and leaning over among the soot-stained timbers, he vomited up clean and unclean meats together. When he saw what was happening in the beloved wife’s cabin he let out a wild shriek, as though the raucous little demon that inhabited the girl had entered him too.