My Guardian Angel

by Sylvie Weil

  Sometimes Dieulesault’s voice drowns out the girls’. “Who wants nails? Who needs hammers?” Then more quietly, “I have knives and daggers that I made this winter. Crusaders came looking for them and I swore that I didn’t have any!”

  But Elvina and her pupils don’t let themselves get distracted. “Read the second verse again, and repeat the translation. Show me word for word as you translate.”

  “‘. . . And the spirit of God moved upon the surface of the waters,’” they read.

  “Would you like to know how my grandfather interprets that?”

  “Yes, tell us.”

  “He explains that the throne of divine glory was standing in space, hovering over the face of the waters.”

  “The throne hovered in the air?” Naomi asks in wonder.

  “Like a dove that hovers over its nest,” says Elvina.

  “What dove? What are you talking about?” Another voice joins in their conversation.

  None of the three girls had noticed Matriona running toward them. Matriona is Dieulesault’s daughter. She is ten, like the twins. She is friendly with them and sometimes gives them pins that her father has given her. “What are you doing? What are you hiding?” she begins, but right away, without waiting for a reply, she continues. “Over there is a merchant with a monkey. I’ve never seen anything so funny in my life! He has tiny eyes and odd little hands, and when you give him an apple he eats it making the funniest faces! Why are you looking at me like that? Don’t you believe me? Come and see.”

  “Leave us alone with your monkey,” Rachel retorts. “Do you think we have never seen a monkey before? Anyway, he’s not worth seeing. We are busy reading!”

  “Hush!” Naomi claps her hand over her sister’s mouth and whispers furiously. “If they find out, they’ll stop us! Then we’ll never know how to read properly!”

  With her other hand Naomi pushes Matriona away. “Don’t worry about us; go back and admire your monkey.”

  “Whatever you like,” replies Matriona, “but I don’t understand you at all!”

  Rachel has turned red and is verging on tears. “I’m so sorry! I’ll never mention it again. I promise.”

  A drop of rain falls onto the wax tablet. Elvina thinks of Gauthier in his hole. He is waiting for her. She would like to go there and not find him. She would like to find the hole empty. She feels tired. She has prepared the ointment for his eyes, and before the first stars come out she will have to bring him enough food to last a whole day, because tomorrow during the festivities she will not be able to take him anything. And even today, how is she supposed to bring him food without being noticed? Today all the Jews are fasting. Yes, she really is tired of this particular secret!

  “It’s raining,” she says. “Soon the street will be empty, and they’ll come looking for us.”

  “Listen to us read just one more time,” insist the twins.

  They read again, and, when they get to the end of the three verses, they start over. They can’t stop reading, and they can’t help smiling as they read, chanting the sentences a little, as they have heard the men do in the synagogue. The raindrops fall harder and harder on the tablet. They wipe it dry with their fingertips, lightly, so as not to rub out the precious letters, the words of the sacred text.

  “We are reading; we are no longer ignorant; we are students, your students. . . .”

  Elvina hugs them. “You are excellent students. Tomorrow, in honor of Purim, not only will I give you sweets like Muriel and Bella, but I’m also going to give each of you a secret present: your very own brand-new wax tablet with a bone stylus. Soon you will know how to write! But remember, you must never write during the Sabbath, because that is the day of rest. Today I’ll leave this tablet with you. Learn the three verses by heart. Tomorrow you’ll learn three more.”

  It’s raining in earnest now. The girls put up their hoods and Naomi hides the tablet up her sleeve. Then she takes it out again.

  “Just write our names; write ‘Naomi’ and ‘Rachel.’ Please, Elvina.”

  Elvina takes her stylus and writes three Hebrew characters for Rachel, then four for Naomi.

  “It’s not fair; she has one more than me!” protests Rachel.

  Elvina laughs and taps Rachel’s head, which is hidden beneath her hood. “Haven’t you ever noticed that words are not all the same length?”

  When Elvina arrives home, she finds Solomon standing in front of his house. He welcomes his granddaughter with a smile. “Breathe in the smell of the rain and the wet earth. This is the soft first rain, which in the land of Israel is called yoreh. It prepares the earth for seeds to be sown. Breathe in deeply and listen, Elvina; listen to the sound of the rain on the roof. That pitter-patter is a sweeter and more peaceful sound than pure silence. It makes you forget that the countryside is full of wandering hordes who might, at any moment . . .” His voice trails off.

  “Who might what at any moment?” Elvina asks. She holds her breath, waiting for her grandfather to answer.

  “Nothing,” he sighs. “At least I hope not. But we Jews always have to be ready to face catastrophe.”

  Elvina’s heart leaps in her chest. Now it is thumping madly. Far from being useful to her family, might she not, by helping a young Crusader, be guilty of causing the dreaded catastrophe?

  “My granddaughter seems very worried.”

  Elvina swallows hard. Her hands are cold as ice. The words take shape in her head, and in spite of herself, they come tumbling out of her mouth. “There’s something. . . .”

  She is going to tell him. She is going to tell him that she took pity on the boy with blue eyes, that he promised to keep her informed of the Crusaders’ plans. She is going to confess to her grandfather that she was stupid enough to take herself for Queen Esther. Solomon will tell her that it was wrong of her to have acted without thinking, but he will know what to do. He may even be able to help Gauthier. Poor Gauthier, deep in his hole, he must be soaked to his very bones.

  In a low voice, now, she repeats, “There is something.” She can almost hear Gauthier saying, “Girls talk.” She shakes her head and asks, “Will we be able to have fun tomorrow?”

  Solomon strokes her cheek. “Yes, but discreetly. We won’t be singing and dancing in the courtyards and the streets. I think the men will not drink as much as usual, even though there is a tradition that says a man should be too drunk on Purim to know whether he should curse evil Haman or bless Mordecai!”

  Solomon smiles and runs his fingers through his beard, looking at his granddaughter. “But I am sure it is not the thought of having fun more quietly than usual that is making my granddaughter look so pensive and worried! Is it because you miss your mother? The day after tomorrow, God willing, she’ll be back. She’s coming with a convoy of merchants.”

  A young man runs up, all out of breath, a piece of heavy sacking over his head to keep off the rain. “Master Solomon ben Isaac!” he cries. “There is a terrible quarrel about a piece of land. There’s going to be trouble!”

  Solomon puts his hand on Elvina’s head. “You see, life goes on. People still buy and sell land and fight over it. Go join your grandmother; help her prepare for tomorrow. It’s not good for you to stay alone. In a few hours both of you will come to the synagogue for the first reading of The Book of Esther.”

  Elvina watches her grandfather walk off at his regular pace. But his gray cloak, which wraps him up completely, seems larger than before, and under the hood his shoulders look slightly stooped.

  Tonight it will be Purim.

  XX

  As soon as we finished reciting the evening prayer, the twins fell asleep. They were worn out and they snuggled up to each other and leaned against me. Their arms and legs — and even their hair — were intertwined. Next, Bella fell asleep and her regular breathing filled the room. Finally, Muriel bid me good night for the third time before drifting into slumber. She is still holding my hand in hers. How lucky they are to be sleeping
.

  Aunt Rachel, sweet Aunt Rachel, if only it were you in bed next to me! What a state your poor Gazelle is in! Trouble, fear, and remorse are spinning around in my head, while the terrible din, which blared out in the streets this evening, still fills my ears! How will I ever get to sleep?

  Already Purim seems far away. It was a beautiful day, perfect for a holiday. The sky was blue and the sun warm; a light breeze pushed the clouds along like woolly lambs, and you could almost see the trees springing into leaf before your eyes.

  Everyone was at the synagogue for the second reading of The Book of Esther. The women’s section was packed. After all, Purim is a holiday that especially interests women and girls, because the main character in today’s reading is a heroine! Rachel and Naomi made their way to where I was sitting, so that I could explain anything they didn’t understand. The hall of the synagogue resounded with laughter and booing every time Haman’s name was mentioned. That wicked Haman who had plotted to massacre the Jewish people.

  The poor and the beggars were also happy, knowing they would be able to eat and drink their fill and get enough small change to live on for the next few months.

  My grandfather invited his students to share the feast at his house. My grandmother and I worked hard along with the servants so that the table looked perfect for the occasion. We didn’t skimp on the number of candles. Their flames remind us that Queen Esther restored the spark of life to the Jews. We placed bundles of straw around the table so that everyone would be able to sit down. As usual, every two guests would share one wooden platter and one goblet between them, but my father and grandfather each had his own magnificent silver platter.

  As I was passing the plates around, I asked my father if he didn’t think that Obadiah, being a schoolmaster, should get a plate and goblet to himself. Judah laughed and told me to do as I saw fit. He put his arm round Obadiah’s shoulders and invited Obadiah to sit next to him. I noticed that Obadiah was blushing. When I served him some wine, he didn’t look at me but nodded his head respectfully, as if I were not just a little girl! Yom Tov and Samuel were sitting on his left and made sure that their master’s plate was never empty.

  Everyone was in a good mood, masters and students, old and young alike. They discussed the meaning of The Book of Esther and also told jokes. Even Obadiah drank and laughed. He told a story, but I didn’t get to hear it because just at that moment my grandmother, Precious, called me over. “All these boys are going to spend their time drinking and making a lot of noise,” she said. “Why don’t you go and spend the night at Muriel’s? Zipporah will take you there.”

  While I was wrapping myself in my cloak, I glanced at my father. He glanced back at me, and I couldn’t help also seeing Obadiah out of the corner of my eye. He was looking at me. His cheeks were a little red and his dark eyes were shining, but it was not because he had drunk too much, like some of the other boys.

  My grandmother doesn’t miss a thing. She pulled my hood up over my head and ushered me toward the door. “Go on then, child; have a good time with your girlfriends. Get going before the first stars come out.”

  Solomon ben Isaac gave me another of his nice grandfatherly smiles, and then we left. My grandfather had told Zipporah to invite Muriel’s father Joseph ben Simon, her uncle, Nathan ben Simon, and also the twins’ father to join in the festivities at the house.

  Zipporah and I walked quickly, because she was in a hurry to get back. Although the streets were empty, it didn’t feel gloomy, since all the doors and shutters were open, and we could hear the singing and laughter of the neighborhood Jews celebrating the victory of Esther and Mordecai.

  In a courtyard not far from ours, we caught sight of the old beggar who crawls around the streets. He was asleep, his head resting on a stone and his hand on his stomach, which for once must have been full. The courtyard echoed with his snoring.

  I found my four friends, their identical mothers, their fathers, their uncle and aunt, and their cousins sitting around the table having fun. Little Toby had drunk some wine and was dozing in his mother’s lap. When Zipporah announced my grandfather’s invitation, the three men didn’t wait to be asked twice. An invitation from Solomon ben Isaac! They left right away!

  As for Zipporah, she left with both her sleeves full of goodies and was looking very happy.

  Naomi and Rachel gave me some food, and Rachel whispered in my ear, “Be careful when you eat the lentils and beans. We sorted them so quickly that there is still quite a lot of sand in them!”

  I drank some wine and we sang and laughed in the mild evening air. A cool breeze came in through the window with the milky light of the full moon. Several candles and two lamps stood on the table, and it was because of these, with their dancing flames, that at first we didn’t notice anything. We didn’t see the sky getting darker and darker.

  We were too busy chatting and teasing Bella about her upcoming wedding. We were sure that by then the Crusaders would be gone and Bella’s parents would be able to make a sumptuous feast at their house in the country. I told her I was sure that my grandfather, Solomon ben Isaac, would dance to entertain the bride, because despite his gray beard, there is nothing he enjoys more than a dance! He arches his back and he twists and turns and follows the music better than some of the young people, waving his myrtle branch high in the air. But you should hear him complaining of his aches and pains the next day!

  Everyone at the table was laughing, and none of us noticed that the light outside had faded and the sky had become black as pitch. Muriel’s mother was the first to mention anxiously, “Didn’t it get dark suddenly? Only moments ago it was light and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.”

  She walked over to the window, repeating how strange it was, because the sky was still cloudless. At that moment, we heard a noise coming from a neighboring street. It grew louder and louder like an approaching storm. Suddenly the twins’ elder brother, Baruch, appeared out of the darkness, wrapped up from head to toe in his cloak and hood. Only his eyes were visible. He looked terrified.

  “It’s an eclipse of the moon!” he yelled. “There are at least a hundred men running through the streets brandishing weapons. They’re firing arrows into the air and throwing lighted torches toward the moon, shouting, ‘Vinceluna!’, the moon will conquer.” As he spoke, he rushed over to the window and closed the shutter. His mother barred the door. We froze in fear, glued to our seats around the table and staring at one another in silence. We held hands to give ourselves courage.

  I remembered an eclipse of the moon that had happened when I was little and my Aunt Rachel still lived with us. I remembered how she said to us then, “These people fire arrows into the sky because they think the moon is suffering, and they want to help her. The torches are meant to help light her up again. The men shout out to encourage her. It’s nothing special; don’t let it frighten you.”

  “They’re only trying to help the moon,” I said. “Let’s not get excited.”

  Baruch was getting his breath back, downing great gulps of wine. His voice was hoarse. “I saw a priest among them,” he said. “I’m sure of it. He was encouraging them, but I couldn’t hear what he was saying because of their cries.”

  His mother was wringing her hands just like my grandmother, Precious, then said exactly what my grandmother was probably saying at that very moment: “One of them just has to say that the moon’s misfortune is the Jews’ fault, and the others will follow him. . . .”

  “They’ll come and set fire to all the Jewish houses,” continued Muriel’s mother, who was even more upset.

  “They’re carrying torches!” added Baruch.

  Again thinking of my Aunt Rachel, I said, “These Christians are our neighbors. They know us. They do not wish us any harm.”

  “Maybe. But what if the Crusaders join them?” asked Bella’s mother. “The Crusaders don’t know us and they do wish us harm!”

  “And in our house there are only women and children!” cried Muriel’s mother.r />
  How I wished I were at home! I was sure that my father and grandfather would give a correct explanation for this frightening event and be able to make it less frightening. But returning home was out of the question. I might be brave, but I would never have dared set foot out in the streets. And in any case, they wouldn’t have allowed me to leave.

  We were all crying. Even little Toby was howling, though he didn’t understand what was going on. Then came the sound of someone pounding on the door.

  “Open up!” said a familiar voice.

  We opened it a crack and saw the bloodred moon in the sky above the nearby houses. As soon as the three men had come in, we closed the door quickly. The two identical mothers cried and wailed, hanging on to their husbands, who were out of breath from running. How I longed to be at home!

  Then I asked Nathan ben Simon, “What does my grandfather, Solomon ben Isaac, say?”

  “He reminded us of the words of the prophet Jeremiah,” Nathan ben Simon said. “‘Fear not the signs of the heavens,’ which, according to Solomon ben Isaac, means that those who carry out the will of the Holy One, blessed be He, should fear no punishment.”

  Joseph ben Simon leaned toward me and said kindly, “Solomon ben Isaac told me to reassure his granddaughter. And Judah ben Nathan told me to tell you that on no account should you try to go home. You must stay in the safety of our house until tomorrow. They both send you their blessing.”

  I burst into sobs. The more I thought of what my grandfather had said, the more desperate I felt. “Those who carry out the will of the Holy One!” I had hidden a Crusader! Muriel, Bella, Rachel, and Naomi were hugging me, trying to comfort me, but the more they tried, the harder I sobbed. They didn’t understand why I was now the one trembling and crying. How could they ever have guessed?

  Now that we are in bed, I dare not move, for fear of waking them. How could they help me? They have no answer to the question that is tormenting me. Everyone knows that an eclipse is a bad sign for the Jews, because it is the result of a sin. What nobody knows is that I, Elvina, have hidden, cared for, and comforted a Crusader. The Crusaders are the Jews’ enemies. Might there not be some link between my actions and this warning from heaven? I am just a young and insignificant girl, and Gauthier, who is the same age as me, has never hurt a fly. Since the Almighty knows everything, He must also know that!