“They don’t go back,” Milka quietly replies. “I return them.”
“It’s the same thing,” I begin to say, but Milka cuts in sharply.
“It’s not the same. The spirits don’t come of their own volition. I pull them here. And they can’t return until I release them.”
Threads of thought begin tangling up into a big knot in my head. Milka notices this and makes no effort to help me. I know she will answer whatever I ask, but nothing more. I have to work out what to ask her carefully.
“Do they not want to come?” I ask cautiously, unsure of my choice.
“No, It’s not their place.” She sends a brief, meaningful glance at Oved, then asks, “You did try to leave the house a few days ago, didn’t you?”
I understand what she is getting at. The return probably causes the spirits the same suffering, the same disconnection and loss of grip I felt in my failed attempt to get out of the house.
“It’s harder in the beginning, and one is more sensitive in the first year,” Milka says as if she is trying to console me, but the thought of having to wait a year to leave the house without being torn into ribbons is not at all comforting. I glance at Oved. He probably knew this detail but didn’t bother to tell me when he strongly advised me to find more interests. Even now, as I accuse him with my glance, he refuses to look guilty.
“So, why did both of you return?” I insist.
Oved folds his arms and lowers his gaze. For the first time, I see him looking insecure. Milka remains expressionless and doesn’t answer.
“If the souls that you return can come back again, that means that we can also move there,” I say. Now, Milka also doesn’t look directly at me anymore.
“You chose to remain here,” Milka says firmly.
“Not exactly,” I reply, “Rather, yes, I did choose. But I didn’t understand what I was choosing; I didn’t realize its significance. I thought I would just go back to my normal life.”
This sentence undoubtedly gets their attention because Oved seems rather confused. Milka looks at me intently, and I add, “Perhaps, the two of you chose to come back here. Benny, Leah, and Helen did, even though they understood they were dead, but I didn’t understand that then. It was an accident.”
They both continue staring at me in silence. It is rather embarrassing.
“That nun, who taught you Swedish,” I turned to Oved, “she didn’t move to a different convent, she moved there, right?”
“I don’t know,” Oved replies without looking at me, but he does know, and I can see on his face that he does, even if he prefers to lie to me or bluff himself that he doesn’t know. He and Milka exchange concerned glances. I do not doubt that they already thought of the matter themselves. How could they not? And, if so, how come they are still here, all these years, torn from place to place without end.
“I want to move there,” I say, almost begging. “I would like to come back to life, but if that isn’t possible, then I would prefer to go there rather than remain here.”
Milka does not reply.
“I need you to explain to me how to go there.” I stubbornly repeat. “You don’t need to do any of it yourself, just tell me how to do it.”
Milka shakes her head once and says, “I can’t help you with this,” and disappears through the wall.
“Leave it, child,” Oved says, and also leaves.
“But why won’t you help me?” I ask as I follow him. He tries to ignore me, but I am stubborn.
“Anyway, you don’t want me here,” I add.
“You’re right about that,” Oved says.
“So, why won’t you help me?”
“I have already told you that I also don’t know how to do that,” he says impatiently, but I don’t believe him. He is hiding something from me; I am sure of it.
“You do know,” I say.
“I’ll tell you what I know,” Oved retorts. “I know that you have only caused trouble since you got here. Everything was calm and peaceful until you decided to turn up.”
“I did not decide to turn up here. That’s what I am trying to explain to you. And, if you cooperate with me, I will leave and stop bothering you.”
Oved glances at me strangely, as if he is assessing or judging me.
“I already made this mistake once,” he says, “and I don’t plan to repeat it.”
“What mistake?” I ask.
“Taking young people under my wing and fostering them,” he replies, almost spitting out the words.
“Who asked for your protection? All I ask for are answers,” I retort. But Oved stands firm in his refusal.
“I don’t know who you are angry with,” I say, “but it’s got nothing to do with me.”
“He was your age, perhaps a little younger, though, in terms of that era, he was already considered an adult. At his age, I had already outgrown my father, and I could carry two goats at the same time, but that youngster looked as if the wind would blow him down at any moment.”
“Who are you talking about?” I ask, and it isn’t clear to me if the youngster Oved begins to describe is being remembered with affection or hostility.
“I met him on one of my nomadic wanderings in the desert. From time to time, I would leave my people and set out to seek new roads or alternative hiding places. People thought that my successes were the result of always enlisting the strongest warriors, but the secret to my success was the ability to move and change all the time, something my tribe forgot when they dwelled in cities. They grew weaker because they lost the ability to shift and change like the sands of the desert.
I always went on these travels on my own, without an entourage. It is impossible to think when you are surrounded by people all the time.”
“Or you simply wanted more hiding places that only you know about,” I say. I already know what Oved’s profession is.
Oved grinned with satisfaction,
“That’s also true. The leader of a band of robbers knows who he is dealing with very well,” he says without a glimmer of apology, and continues telling his story.
“It was the second morning of the journey. I left my men at our overnight camp to go out inspecting the area, where I believed there were hidden caves in the rock. When I awoke in the night, I already sensed someone else’s close presence. The smell of a recent bonfire stood in the air. Not a large fire, rather a small bonfire for one man, perhaps two, who were passing the night not far from me. Lone nomads are not rare, and although I guessed the owner of the small fire was completely unaware of my proximity to him, I preferred to be cautious. Perhaps he was a scout for another caravan, though I had not picked up the scent of any animal that would hint at the presence of a mounted scout. Throughout the morning, I knew someone was tracking me. Of course, I saw no sign of that. Anyone following me should think that I am unaware of his presence. The direction of the wind was in my favor. At nightfall, the smell of another fire wafted over to me. Whoever he was, he wasn’t especially smart. He had succeeded in following me for at least a night and a day without being seen, but revealed himself easily by kindling a fire.”
“Perhaps he didn’t care about being discovered,” I say.
“You’re right,” Oved replies, appreciating my understanding, “he didn’t care. That was his first mistake.”
“I thought this was a story about your mistake,” I say sarcastically. Oved chooses to ignore my comment.
“I prepared to go to sleep and waited for the full moon to reach its zenith, and only when I was certain that the fellow shadowing me had no intention of suddenly surprising me, I went and surprised him. He was a young boy, curled up in a heavy goat-wool blanket, sleeping like a baby near the embers of the fire. His leather bag lay beside his head. A quick check assured me it didn’t belong to a scout. There was a meager amount of food that could keep him going for only two more days,
a clay bowl he could use for cooking on a small bonfire and a little knife for whittling. It certainly wasn’t the weapon of a caravan trader.
As I surmised, he got around on foot. The waterskin that lay alongside his bag was almost empty. I had enough water for a whole day’s ride, but if he did not pass a fountain or a well, the boy would not be able to continue following me without getting dehydrated. That could be a good way of getting rid of him. If he were smart enough, he would give up and take a route that would lead him to water. And, if he were not clever enough, as I suspected, it would be his problem. The desert takes its toll on those who do not behave wisely. I guessed that he might be a slave who had run away from his master, was trying his luck on his own, and posed no serious threat to me. A runaway slave is likely to reveal information about meeting with a robber leader in exchange for food or shelter. I replaced his bag beside the boy’s head and turned to leave. What happened then, happened so quickly that it took a few seconds ’til I understood what was going on. I found myself lying on the ground with a dagger pointed at my throat. The boy holding the dagger stared at me from above, wide-eyed and awake.”
“So, he wasn’t that stupid, after all,” I say. I liked the kid already because he had succeeded in wiping the smug smile off Oved’s face. “I would love to have been there to see you begging for your life,” I add.
“Begging for my life?” Oved burst out laughing. “I have never begged for my life. Certainly not from a young boy with a dagger.”
“So, what did you do?”
“I congratulated him on having got the better of me. Not many could boast of such an achievement. I allowed him to apologize and, in return, I would have mercy on his life,” Oved replied.
“You have mercy on his life? You were the one lying on the ground with a dagger pointed at your throat.”
Oved waves his hand dismissively.
“We both knew his strength could not compare to mine, and any slight movement of his and the position of the blade would result in his losing the advantage that the surprise factor had given him.”
“By the same reasoning, a slight movement could have killed you,” I remark.
“The boy had not followed me for two days to kill me. He wanted something else from me.”
“What did he want?” I asked.
“To join me and become one of my men. I told him I did not need a sword-bearer or a servant. Insulted, he replied, ‘I’m not a sword-bearer, I’m a warrior.’ I laughed at him. A fighter with a dagger and a clay bowl.”
“That was all he needed to fool you,” I pointed out.
Oved laughs.
“That’s what he said, too. ‘That’s all I needed to defeat Oved son of Ravchiel, the most notorious robber on the Spice Route.’ He knew how to use flattery, even when he was boasting. I began thinking he was not so stupid, after all. I liked him, perhaps because he reminded me of myself as a boy. He would release me only after I promised to hire him. He had plenty of courage, though he did forget which of us was stronger. ‘If you don’t get off me at once, I will remove you myself, and since there is nothing I want from you, I won’t hesitate to use your dagger against you,’ I told him. He hesitated for a split second, which was one second too long. I threw him off me, and in a fast move, got a sturdy grip on his wrist that forced him to drop the dagger. Now, it was my dagger threatening the boy’s chest. That was his first test, and he passed it successfully.”
“I don’t understand what the test was,” I say.
“The fact that he didn’t get a fright,” Oved replied. “Cowards were not permitted to join me. I handed him my sword and said that if he proved to me that he could use it properly, I would give it to him and accept him as a warrior in my ranks.
“When I returned to my men with the youth, they all gathered around me and began hurling remarks like, ‘You have returned with plunder.’ You captured a new sword-bearer,’ or, ‘We always knew you had a son hidden away somewhere.’ They did not receive him well. Accepting additional robbers made the others suspicious and made them feel they had to struggle to hold their position and standing, even though it was clear to all that success depended on replacing those who died or grew weak. Aspirant enlistees had to stand tests of courage and endurance to ensure their acceptance as equals among the members of the gangs. They took turns to pass a baptism of fire. They were either tied up in chains or fell off their mounts because their saddle ties had been secretly untethered. Violent scuffles often broke out among the robbers following those or other incidents, or the sharing of the booty. I never judged people in such cases. I let them work things out between themselves. As long as no one questioned my leadership, I did not need to interfere in their affairs. But, with the boy, it was different. Indeed, he was courageous and smart and knew how to handle a sword, but he did not stand a chance against twenty warriors who were stronger and more experienced than him. My orders were clear—don’t touch the boy.
“Some tried to ignore my orders and knowingly attempted to trip the boy up. He never complained and never hesitated to fight back against those who wanted to hurt him. On the first opportunity given him, he proved that my choice to enlist him was justified, when the first hold-up he participated in, he managed to defeat three armed guards. When the loot was shared, he asked for nothing but a sword with a carved ivory handle and a short-bladed dagger. He took them both from the guards who surrendered to him. He proudly returned the sword I gave him at our first encounter.
I told him that if he behaved so modestly, he would not get rich. According to the rules of the robbers, he could demand more loot than the sword and the dagger for himself. ‘I do not need riches,’ he replied. The members of the robber band laughed at his stupidity, but I understood his intentions. He regarded the booty precisely as I did.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“In my view, the loot was only a means to an end, not the target itself. The boy understood that. I should have gotten rid of him right then, but I didn’t”
“What you’re saying doesn’t make sense,” I say. “Why should you have gotten rid of the boy? If you understood that he viewed reality just like you, that means you found him easier to understand.”
“When you look at your reflection in the water, you see everything upside down.” Oved summed it up.
Oved and Milka are frightened, and I understand that. They fear my questions, or maybe they are frightened of the answers. Oved openly says that he would be making a mistake if he helped me, but I can’t understand why or what is so threatening about my presence. The thought that Oved could see me as his reflection is unfounded. I cannot think of two people who differ more than Oved and me. Perhaps, that is the point. Did he see something of himself in me because I am the complete opposite of him? Is it something that frightens him? I don’t think anyone ever feared me, and the feeling is not at all pleasant. I think the threatening bullies everyone is scared of at school probably feel just as lonely and lost as the victims of their attacks. It is like the reflected mirror image.
If only I could get an answer to this riddle. I don’t know what I have to look for. Could it be a mysterious concealed door, or a kind of energy loophole, a black hole like in science fiction movies where the hero crosses from one world to another? Maybe it’s a kind of spell that one must whisper or a special wish to make. I will have to draw it out of someone or discover it for myself.
A quick search on the upper floor that yields no results made me realize that, but for Milka, everyone is down below. I discover Helen pressed up against the living room wall, in an eavesdropping position. As soon as she sees me, her face grows angry, and she goes off in a huff with her chin held high. I enter the living room. Oved, Benny and Leah are deeply immersed in a lively conversation and don’t even notice my entrance.
“I don’t mind waiting a few days; I just don’t know what good it will do you.” Oved stands with his hands folde
d in the middle of the room with his back to me. Even from the rear, his body language exudes bursting self-confidence.
“Perhaps, they won’t come in the end,” Leah ventures to say in a faint voice from her place on the sofa.
Benny gives his positive view from the corner of the room.
“They will come, and they will pull down the house.”
“As I see it, we can leave tonight. I’ve only stayed one to help you all,” Oved cut in.
“It’s not that we have much choice,” Benny adds in his gloomy voice.
“But what about Helen?” Leah almost begs.
“I told you, I am not taking her with me. Anyway, the house in the north is quite small,” Oved replies.
“But what will she do?” Leah asked.
“That’s not my problem.”
“She will follow us whatever happens, whether you take her or not,” Benny says, with his usual optimism.
“Just so you know, she is standing outside the room, listening to you all,” I mention. Leah springs up from the sofa. Oved doesn’t even bother to turn around; he only turns his head toward me and says indifferently, “that’s what I imagined.” And to Leah, who appears horrified, he adds, “She always eavesdrops.”
A heavy silence hangs over the room. No one fails to notice the fact no one mentions me in the discussion about leaving the house. Leah lowers her gaze, Benny concentrates on the view from the window, and even Oved scratches the back of his neck as an expression of discomfort that I prefer to ignore. The current situation has already provided me with more than enough unpleasantness to make it too challenging to address the distress of others.
In the end, it was Oved who broke the silence in a businesslike manner.
“You know; you should also begin thinking about where to go from here.”
“I already know where I’m going,” I reply. At once, Benny and Leah turn their heads to look at me. “I’m leaving this world. I’m moving on.”
The silence that greeted my entry into the room four minutes earlier, was nothing to compare with the hush that prevails now. This time, too, it is Oved who breaks it. Oved is not the kind of person who likes silences,
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