Dazzle The Complete Unabridged Trilogy (5 page)

Adroitly Grandmother Goldie picked up the thread of con
versation. 'Solomon we bless for all the hours he spends at the
shul.
But being a scholar isn't exactly the way a fine young
man can take care of his family, is it?'

Rachel and Eva looked scandalized. It was blasphemous
that anyone should dare question a Talmudic scholar's calling.

Grandmother Goldie seized upon their silence. 'Perhaps
our Senda should marry someone more . . . more comfortably
well-off?' she suggested, tapping her folded arms with her
fingers.

'But why?' Eva asked, her feathers more than ruffled. Her voice grew shrill. 'All of us contribute to the care of Talmudic scholars, no one more than us Boralevis. So tell me, you think
once our Solomon is married we'll withdraw our support?'

Grandmother Goldie let her silence speak for itself.

'You forget,' Rachel Boralevi said importantly, 'a Talmudic
scholar makes an enviable addition to
any
family.'

Grandmother Goldie looked at Rachel shrewdly. 'The way
I see it,' she said with her usual practicality, 'Solomon needs
our Senda and her dowry much more than our Senda needs your brilliant scholar. And of course,' she goaded, laying her
trump card out on the table, 'we don't even know if Senda
wants to marry him, do we?' She turned her back on them, a
sly gloating smile lighting up her ancient face.

The Boralevis were shocked into silence. No self-respecting
family let the feelings of a mere child enter into such important
decisions. It was unheard-of. What did a girl of fifteen know,
anyway? When the negotiations had begun, the Boralevis had
been certain it was they who held all the cards. They hadn't
expected such a fierce onslaught from Senda's family. What Grandmother Goldie had voiced was true, but it wasn't the
kind of thing decent people said—not with a Talmudic scholar
at the centre of the argument.

'My mother is right,' Esther Valvrojenski boasted proudly. 'My daughter's dowry is one this village hasn't seen the like of
for years. No girl will bring more to a marriage.' She sniffed
and wiped her nose. 'Senda is all we have. Even our cottage
someday will be hers.'

'And ours will be Solomon's,' Rachel retorted, not to be
outdone. Her voice and attitude expressed miffed indignation.

'Mrs. Boralevi!' Aunt Sophie exclaimed. 'How can you say
such a thing? It's two sons you have. And Solomon is the
younger. Traditionally the older son inherits. Surely they both
can't?'

Rachel suddenly looked flustered. She had walked into a
trap of her own making. She cursed herself for her stupidity.
All evening long, she had adroitly avoided any mention of
Schmarya. She did not like the twist these negotiations were
taking, not at all. Somehow the tables had turned on her, and
the strong position she and her family had started out with had
suddenly been undermined. 'Schmarya is not one for life in a
small village,' she murmured weakly, her gaze suddenly occu
pied by studying her folded hands in her lap.

'Then you're disinheriting him?' Grandmother Goldie
asked slyly.

Outside the window, Senda had been listening to the nego
tiations with a mixture of quickening interest and revulsion.
She despised Solomon and couldn't for the life of her conceive
of sharing his life and bed; nor could she help her morbid fascination with the drama unfolding before her eyes. She
prayed fervently that Solomon would never be hers. At the
same time, she couldn't help but feel delight at the beating the
Boralevis now took. But the moment Schmarya was brought
up, the most intense hatred she had ever felt prickled hotly
behind her ears. How dare they? she felt like screaming. What
right did they have to discuss him? she asked herself savagely.
What did they know about Schmarya? Only
she
knew him . . .
knew how he spoke out against injustice . . . knew how he
tried to fight their serflike servitude and the anti-Semitic life
they were all locked into. He was the solitary outspoken critic
of Wolzak, the landowner who bled them all dry, and Czar
Nicholas II, whose unfair laws allowed him to do so. Solomon
hid behind his books, the entire village buried their heads in their work and only Schmarya had the courage to speak out.

Inside the kitchen, the mention of Schmarya quickly
brought preliminary negotiations to a close, and the bargain
ing began in earnest. Schmarya was the black sheep of the Boralevi family—indisputably, the black sheep of the entire village. Everyone in the room knew, although they had never
been proven, that the rumours that Schmarya was involved
with a band of anarchists were undeniably true. Which was
why Solomon was having such a difficult time of it finding an
appropriate wife. Even the rabbi would not permit his homely
daughter, Jael, to marry into a family tainted by such a volatile
son, although no one would dare speak of it. It was surely only
a matter of time before tragedy struck Schmarya. And when
it did, then perhaps the entire Boralevi family would suffer
the consequences along with him.

'Forty silver coins more,' Eva was saying firmly. Gone sud
denly was the careful, crafty game-playing, the verbal shifting
of musical chairs. She was seriously bargaining for Senda's dowry now, greed glinting in her sharp dark eyes. 'Plus the
hope chest, and the original twenty silver coins you have
offered already.'

'Four more silver coins and nothing more,' Senda's father
said gruffly.

'Fifteen silver coins more.' Rachel Boralevi eyed the Val
vrojenskis shrewdly. 'You should want your only daughter to
starve?'

'So maybe if she stays at home and doesn't marry Solomon,
she'll eat,
nu?'
Uncle Chaim interjected heatedly.

'Ten silver coins more,' the
shadchen
put in quickly, trying
to get back into the act of bargaining. So far, the matchmaker
had let the negotiations be taken out of her hands, and if she
let the others seal the bargain without her, then she was in
danger of losing her commission.

'Five coins more,' Senda's father said adamantly, 'as well
as the original dowry.'

Rachel Boralevi glanced at her husband. A silent signal
seemed to pass between them. Her husband sighed heavily
and shook his head sadly. He sat hunched over, as though in great pain. Finally he shrugged. 'Seven more silver coins and
we'll call it quits,' he said, 'but as God is my witness, my family
for this will suffer.'

'It's settled then,' Senda's mother said quickly.

'We'll drink a toast!' Rachel Boralevi sat up straighter, her
eyes shining eagerly. 'Not the
chazerei
we drink every day.
The good wine we've been saving for the holidays.'

Then everyone began talking excitedly all at once. Forgotten now were the tough, cruel accusations of only moments
ago.

Suddenly they were all the best of friends.

Outside, Senda clutched the windowsill unsteadily and shut
her eyes. She let out a silent moan of intense pain. She felt drained, numb. Her entire world had suddenly collapsed
about her. She wished she were dead.

Clapping a hand over her mouth, she stumbled home, tears
flooding from her eyes. When she reached her family's cottage
on the far side of the village, she fairly flew through the front
gate, rushed at the front door, and the moment she burst
into the tiny bedroom she shared with Grandmother Goldie,
slammed the door shut with such fierce force that the entire
cottage shook under the impact.

She flung herself on her narrow bed and sat huddled there,
her arms wrapped protectively around her as if she suffered from a mortal wound. Her head lolled forward against her chest, and her face was streaked with tears. She didn't move
from her pathetically childlike and vulnerable position. She didn't even lift her head when she heard her parents, Aunt
Sophie, Uncle Chaim, and Grandmother Goldie finally return
from the Boralevis'. Normally she would have jumped up and
run to embrace them, but tonight she didn't care if she never saw them again, with the exception of Grandmother Goldie.
Not for as long as she lived. Not after they had so cold-
bloodedly bargained for a marriage she found loathsome in
her heart and soul.

She heard chairs scrape and creak. In the kitchen, everyone
talked at once, and she could hear snatches of the conver
sation, then the clinking of a bottle as tiny glass cups of
precious celebratory wine were half-filled to toast the com
pletion of the marriage negotiations.

'I'm so
relieved!'
Senda's mother was exclaiming. 'For a moment there, I thought I should suffer a heart attack!' She
allowed herself a low laugh, now that the ordeal was over.

'You deported yourself very well, as usual,' her father said
loyally.

'Yes, I rather did, didn't I?' Her mother sounded pleased. 'Imagine
us,
the Valvrojenskis, related to the Boralevis! And Solomon a Talmudic scholar, yet! Such an honour!'

'Yes, a fine young man he is,' Aunt Sophie agreed heartily.
'A good catch. Nothing like that no-good brother of his.'

'For a moment,' Uncle Chaim interjected, 'I was afraid it
was all off.'

'And it would have been, too,' Aunt Sophie retorted
angrily, 'had I let you walk out like you threatened! Fine things
you get us into, Chaim! It's God I thank that I had the finesse and the fortitude to gloss over your outburst. If I hadn't, poor
Senda would still be husbandless!'

'I don't count,' Senda thought angrily as the voices rose and
fell, carrying clearly into her room. There they sit, congratulating themselves on what a fine match they've found for me. Well, the hell with
shadchens
and tradition, that's all I've got
to say! I won't stand for being haggled over like a piece of
meat! I will not be a sacrificial lamb for my mother's social
climbing!