by Sylvie Weil
Yom Tov sits bolt upright, almost standing in his seat. He gesticulates madly, his hair wild and his cape slipping halfway off his shoulders. He yells out proudly, “The tabernacle arose by itself! My grandfather already told us about it at home!”
“Very good. Sit down,” says Obadiah with his eyes directed straight at Yom Tov. But for an instant his gaze shifts from the unbearable younger brother to the back of the class, where the elder sister is crouching out in the hallway. Only for an instant, but an instant too long! The boy in the back row is yawning and dozing, his head buried deep inside his hood. But from under his hood he sees his master’s gaze. This wakes him up, and he turns around. Spying Elvina, he points her out to his neighbor. The neighbor taps the shoulder of the boy in front of him. From nudge to nudge the word goes around. It doesn’t take long, for it doesn’t have far to travel. In less than one minute, the news is whispered into Yom Tov’s ear.
Elvina is still bending over her tablet as if nothing else exists in the world, but she does not need eyes to know that her brother and cousin are livid with anger. She can almost hear the complaints that they will repeat later that evening to anyone who cares to listen. “Elvina will make us die of shame,” they will say. “Everyone laughs at us. No one else’s sister studies like a boy, let alone comes to school for everyone to see!”
Elvina also knows that Solomon ben Isaac will silence them.
From the corner of her eye, Elvina sees Obadiah brandishing his stick high above the boys’ heads, which are once more bent earnestly over the parchments and tablets. Even the torches tremble at the sound of Obadiah’s voice, and they smoke even more than before. “Read. Read loudly and clearly, and read properly; concentrate. You shouldn’t think of anything else when you are reading the holy text.”
Elvina pulls her hood over her face and smiles. She thinks that when Moses spoke to the Hebrews in the desert, his deep voice must have made them bow their heads in exactly the same way.
XVI
Mazal, O Mazal, where are you hiding? Have you given up looking after me? Or were you the one who inspired me this after- noon? What I did was so unexpected and so strange that even I don’t recognize myself. Who can I confide in, if not you? That’s why I’ve been silently talking to you ever since I started preparing the table for the Sabbath.
Zipporah and I swept everything clean, so that not the slightest crumb was left. We put away all the dishes and pots, and I filled the lamp with oil. In my mother’s absence, I am the mistress of the house. When the time is right, I will light the Sabbath lamp, and I will bless the Lord, who commands us to light it. I have put out clean clothes for Samuel and Yom Tov. The sweet smell of meat gently stewing with spices and vegetables gradually fills the house. All is well, and the Sabbath will be welcomed in as it should be.
But despite all this, my dear Mazal, I have to admit that my heart and mind are not in it. I keep seeing myself in the street on the way home from school. I had just seen our neighbor Simonet’s cart go by. It was piled high with supplies for the Crusaders. Simonet was leading the horse, and as he passed, he cried out to me, “It’s my turn to do the dirty work today! How long is this going to go on?”
Just as I was turning onto the narrow street that leads home, the church bell pealed out midday. I told myself that I had no time to lose, because in winter the day is soon over. The bell stopped ringing, and there was a moment of silence as a sunbeam glinted against the street. Then I heard a bird’s cry, followed by a long whistle. At first I thought it was another bird, but the sound seemed to be coming from the ground. The street was deserted. I looked around for the beggar near the bottom of the walls and even in the gutter, but I didn’t see him. Then the whistling stopped.
Between two of the houses, there is a space, a kind of burrow, where abandoned dogs sometimes find shelter. I wondered if the beggar had gone in there, feeling too sick to crawl around the neighborhood as he had been doing for so long. Perhaps he had dragged himself into that hole to die. I felt so sorry for him that I drew closer. Mazal, what kind of trick were you playing on me? You know perfectly well who I found in the dog hole with his face and hair covered in mud! It was the young wounded Crusader, the one they call Gauthier! He really scared me! And it was even worse when he stretched out his arm, caught me by the sleeve, and pulled me toward him. I stumbled, slipped, and then there we were, face-to-face inside that horrible little space!
He was still holding on to my sleeve, and he smiled at me. “You don’t need to be frightened,” he said. “But if you stay out in the street they’ll see you, and they’ll wonder who you are talking to. Then they’ll find me.”
“Are you hiding? Are you sick?” I asked, trying not to let my fear show.
“I’m hiding, but I’m no longer sick,” he replied. “Thanks to you, my leg is nearly healed. That’s why, when I saw you pass by all by yourself, I whistled. You are the only one who can help me.”
“Me? Help you? You must be joking! Let me go on my way.”
“Please, just listen. You know I have to leave for the Crusade.”
I nodded.
“Well, I’d rather die right now than go there. I hate fighting. It’s not that I’m a coward; believe me, I’m not afraid of anything. But ever since I was a child, the only thing I have ever wanted to do was study. I can stay hidden in this hole for weeks. It’s big enough. Look, I can even stretch out and lie down. If I stay here until Peter the Hermit gives the signal to leave, they’ll give up looking for me. There’s a monastery I can go to where the monks will take me in and let me study.”
Mazal, O Mazal, there I was, in a hole, all alone, face-to-face with someone who is neither Tova nor Muriel nor even Jeanne or Marguerite, but a boy whose eyes made me think of clear, fresh water. And this boy had a kind voice. He expressed himself gently, and his hand rested on my arm.
“You are the only one who can help me,” he repeated. “All I ask is that you bring me food and drink.”
Although they are always saying I talk too much, for once I found myself speechless. Then the boy continued. “Think about it. I could help you, too.”
I stammered, “How could you help me?”
“If you or your family are in any danger, I will warn you. Then you will be able to defend yourselves. You can save your people — just like Queen Esther.”
Mazal, can you imagine how amazed I was to hear this? And then the boy began to laugh!
“Don’t sit there with your mouth open; you’ll get dirt in it! Did you think you were dealing with an ignorant peasant? An illiterate farm boy? Well, now you know! I’ve read the Bible, I know Latin, and that’s just the beginning. I told you I’d rather die than have to give up studying. I didn’t make this decision lightly, for it is a noble deed to go and recapture our Lord’s tomb.”
He was no longer laughing, and I found my tongue. “If you are holed up in here, how will you know what the Crusaders are doing?”
“My elder brother knows where I am. He loves weapons and acts of bravery and dreams of going to battle. He’d fight anyone. But he loves me and will not betray me.”
“Can’t your brother bring you food?” I asked.
“He would have to steal it, and if he came here every day my uncles would soon get suspicious. But you live right nearby, and no one would ever suspect you.” Gauthier squeezed my arm tightly. “Please say you agree. I promise you will be informed of every plan Peter the Hermit dreams up against the Jews.”
Mazal, where were you at that moment while I was telling myself that, thanks to me, my father would be warned in time? It’s true that the small familiar voice inside me instantly whispered, “Don’t get mixed up in men’s affairs, girl. Your father and grandfather don’t need you to tell them what to do.”
Was that by any chance your voice, Mazal? If it was, then you did everything you could, and I shouldn’t blame you! But I didn’t take heed of that little voice; I only retorted, “Think of Queen Esther —”
The little vo
ice rudely interrupted me, saying, “Have you gone crazy? Who do you think you are to compare yourself to Queen Esther! Anyway, she was only obeying the wishes of her Uncle Mordecai, whereas you, just for a change, are getting yourself involved in . . . goodness knows what!”
Gauthier had finally let go of my arm, but he was still feeling about my sleeve. “What do you have in there?” he asked when he came across the tablets. “You don’t know how to write, do you?” he asked in astonishment.
“I can read and write,” I replied coolly, bringing out my tablets to show him, pleased with the opportunity to gain a little time.
“Did you write this?” he asked.
I nodded.
“What kind of writing is it?” he asked again.
“It’s our holy language, which the Almighty gave to my people. He used it to dictate his Law to Moses, who is our teacher.”
“I have read the Bible in Latin,” Gauthier said.
“But Latin is just a translation. It’s not a holy language. It’s just an ordinary language like the one we are speaking right now.”
Now it was Gauthier’s turn to be speechless. He had probably never heard a girl talk this way. “And I can tell you something else,” I continued. “Your Jesus spoke our holy language. All Jews know that!”
“I know it, too. The monks taught me.” He frowned, then continued with his request. “Please say you’ll help me. Bring me food in your sleeves. No one will notice. Women are always hiding things in their sleeves; that’s what those wide sleeves are for. When I was little, I would hunt around in my mother’s sleeves, and I always found some treat she’d kept for me. She was a good and gentle woman. If she were still alive, I know she would have taken my side against my uncles, and she would have convinced them to let me study. Then I wouldn’t be holed up in here like a dog.” His voice had started to quiver. “Do you remember how dark it was last night? There was just a tiny crescent of a moon!”
At this, his eyes filled with tears that spilled down his cheeks, mingling with the dust. He wiped them with his hands, but his hands were dirty with earth and streaked mud all over his face. Amid all this filth, I saw only his clear eyes brimming with tears. In that hole, all I could see was a boy my age, a lonely boy who missed his mother. I thought of my mother in Ramerupt, and I started crying, too. Then I promised Gauthier that I would bring him something to eat. “You won’t tell on me, will you?” he whispered. He had stopped crying; his eyes were staring into mine, and I was staring back.
“What do you take me for?”
“You are a girl, and girls talk.”
“I’m not like the others,” I said. “I’ll show you that a girl can hold her tongue. But don’t you forget your promise.”
Mazal, that’s why I’m in such a hurry now. In a few minutes, I’m going to pretend that I have to feed my uncle’s ewe and that I have one last errand to run. I’ll rush off with my sleeves stuffed full of bread and cheese — and I’ll put in an onion, too, because onions keep your strength up. I’m also taking some vials of water; a jug would look too obvious.
Oh, Mazal, please make sure I don’t run into a soul!
XVII
Armimas, rmimas, mimas, imas, mas, as . . .”The girls and women dance in a circle and sing. Muriel and Bella, Naomi and Rachel, and their two identical mothers are all there, as well as the wife and daughters of Nathan ben Simon, the tanner, and the apothecary’s wife, and of course Elvina and other neighborhood women. The street echoes with their laughter. They are all chanting: “Armimas, rmi- mas . . .” and some of them even think they can see the wicked demon whose specialty is attacking students to make them forget everything they learn. Yes, there he goes; they can just see him, so ugly and clumsy and crestfallen, now. . . . That’s him, shrinking and shrinking as they shorten his name, because without a name he cannot exist. Then they laugh at his defeat, all the while holding hands and dancing around Judah ben Nathan who has just brought little Toby home from his first day at school. Judah is holding little Toby aloft. Toby is the only son of Nathan ben Simon, born after several girls.
Today is Toby’s fourth birthday. His father has decided to educate his son better than he himself was educated or, indeed, his father and grandfather before him, tanners one and all. Nathan ben Simon has begged Judah ben Nathan to do him the immense honor of taking Toby, his only son among all those girls, for his first day at the school.
And so this morning Judah ben Nathan came to pick up little Toby. He lifted him high in his arms, wrapped him in a prayer shawl, and then hid him under his coat. This was to keep him from being seen by any demon who might think of harming him on this day when he was to be introduced to the holy letters. The mazzikim have no shadows, but they do have bodies, eyes, and ears, and they are always on the lookout for young, vulnerable prey.
As he was wrapping the child in his prayer shawl, Judah proclaimed, “Toby, son of Nathan, today you represent the children of Israel who left Egypt in order to receive the tablets of the Law at the foot of Mount Sinai.”
Nathan the tanner and his wife were weeping with pride and joy. Elvina’s eyes welled up with tears as she watched. She was moved to see the parents’ respect and gratitude toward Judah.
“Hide his face well,” someone said. “The boy must not come within sight of any dogs, nor must he look at one, for that would be a bad omen.”
“Shhh!” said Nathan’s wife. “Do you think you have to tell Judah ben Nathan what to do?”
She glanced anxiously at Judah, but he was laughing. “Don’t worry,” he said. “He will see no dogs, and no dog will see him, for it is written: ‘Against the sons of Israel, no dog shall point his tongue.’”
It had been a long time since Elvina had seen her father in such a good mood. Muriel and Bella gave Nathan ben Simon three little honey cakes they had baked especially for the occasion, as well as an apple and an egg, for a child who is about to go to school must have something to eat. They also gave him a small pot of honey. Then Judah, still carrying Toby, set off toward the school, followed by Nathan ben Simon and his brother, Joseph ben Simon, Muriel’s father.
Then the girls and women sat down to wait for the men’s return. The winter was nearly over, and they dragged benches and stools out into the street, so as to sit comfortably, spinning and chatting in the warm sunshine.
Toby’s sisters were waiting for him at the corner of the street. No way were they going to miss the future schoolboy’s return from his initiation!
Rachel and Naomi sat on either side of Elvina. They seemed troubled and gloomy, and for once they were silent. Rachel was staring obstinately at her feet and swinging them to and fro. Naomi was frowning. Their spindles and staffs lay abandoned on a bench.
Naomi spoke first. “They’re making him lick the sacred letters, aren’t they, Elvina?”
“Yes,” Elvina began. “First they give him the honey cakes, then the apple and the egg —”
“Yes, yes,” they interrupted. “We know that already, but what happens next?”
“Then Obadiah gives him a wax tablet with the sacred letters on it. He spells them for Toby, one by one, pointing them out with his finger.”
“And then?”
“Then Obadiah spreads honey on all the letters, and Toby licks it off so that he will taste the sweetness of the Torah. Then they all gather around Toby and congratulate him and dance around him. Of course, Obadiah’s pupils love this extra break time, and they try to make it last as long as possible.”
Without doing it on purpose, at least not absolutely on purpose, Elvina had mentioned Obadiah’s name no fewer than three times. Surely the twins were going to jump at the chance to tease her mercilessly! Elvina prepared herself for the onslaught, but none came. There was silence. It was as if the twins had become not only mute, but deaf as well. Rachel continued rocking back and forth on the bench, swinging her feet as high as she could, and Naomi continued to frown and stare into space.
“And
what about us?” asked Rachel, finally. “Why don’t we get all that? Why don’t they let us lick the sacred letters? They don’t even show them to us. Why, Elvina? Why?” She was on the verge of tears.
Before Elvina had time to answer, Bella, who had been following the conversation from her footstool, answered for her. “What a stupid question! It’s because you’re girls, and what is normal for boys isn’t normal for girls. That’s all there is to it.”
Naomi glared at her elder sister as if she wanted to hit her. “We all know that the only thing that interests you is how to please your future husband.”
“And what’s wrong with that?”
There was another long silence between the girls as the spinning women gossiped away around them, explaining to everyone who passed why the shops of Nathan the tanner and Joseph the furrier were closed. The passersby congratulated Toby’s mother.
Then, at the very same moment, the twins whispered to Elvina, one in each ear so nobody else could hear. “Show us the letters! Teach us to read!” they begged. They moved closer, and once they had started, there was no stopping them. They threw their arms around Elvina, stroked her hair, and competed with each other to see who could hug her the hardest. “Please, Elvina!” they begged.
“Ouch, you’re suffocating me!” Their warm mouths remained glued to her ears.
“Say you will, Elvina; say you will teach us!” they whispered over and over.
Elvina closed her eyes, and a smile crept across her lips.
“Well?” asked the twins.
“Well, Solomon ben Isaac, my grandfather, says that there is nothing in our Law that forbids educating girls.”
“Are you saying yes?” they asked, looking at Elvina expectantly.
