by Shlomo Kalo
He restrained and suppressed his swelling rage, keeping his temper, and answered the old man quietly:
“One who trusts in God, and trusts absolutely!”
The old man’s wrath was seething, beyond any control. He turned on him and it seemed he was about to attack him with his fists, but then he tripped on an irregular paving-stone, stumbled and fell headlong in the roadway.
He leaned over him and tried to help him up. The old man pushed away his outstretched hands, but finally, seeing he could not possibly stand up unaided, he allowed himself to be helped, with an expression of revulsion and distaste, and once back on his feet he said:
“You are a sorcerer Sir, a sorcerer and a prig and…” – the word stuck in his throat and would not emerge from his dry mouth.
The old man’s glassy eyes were livid with disgust. He gave him a baleful look, and without another word spoken, he gripped the halter of his she-ass once more, leading her with surprising tenderness, and continued on his way.
He was left standing, waiting for the old man to move on and disappear from view, but he stopped the cart, turned back and said in a low voice:
“I very much hope that his honour will not disgrace me, but will come with me as was agreed between us, before I spoke out so foolishly. When all is said and done, a man of my age is apt to be foolish! Please show me a little tolerance, and forgive and have mercy, and do not add further grief to my grief!”
Without another word spoken, he joined him.
Towards evening, when the sun had disappeared but not yet withdrawn its light, they turned northwards from the internal gate of Marduk and stood before the tall outer wall, at its eastern end, and here he realised the old man had been right when he spoke of doing him a favour, since he would never have imagined that below the last of the reliefs there was an aperture almost invisible to the eye, low down but just wide enough to squeeze through, and from this point a short dust path led down to a dense cluster of low buildings made of rough stone, standing on the narrow patch of ground with an air of brooding defiance and proud alienation.
The old man led him to one of the narrow entrances to an extensive building and said to him:
“This is where my brother lives, the family of Joseph Hannagid, that you are seeking! And forgive me if I have offended or insulted you, but Judah my homeland and Jerusalem its capital are very dear to my heart!”
“They are dear to the heart of every Jew,” he responded calmly.
“No two hearts are alike!” declared old Raphael and he disappeared behind the cluster of silent houses.
He knocked on the door. An attractive girl opened it and asked what he wanted.
“I’m looking for my friend, Azariah!”
“Oh!” – and with a gentle, graceful movement the girl held the door wide open and said:
“He’s here, and I’m sure he’ll be glad to see you!” It was both question and statement. “Who are you Sir, and how shall I announce you?”
“Daniel,” he said.
She ushered him into a dingy hallway, asked him to wait for a moment, went inside the house and called: “Az-ar-iah!”
He heard his friend’s cheerful voice:
“Here I am!”
The girl called out again:
“A distinguished gentleman, looks like a scholar, his name is Daniel… I asked him to wait for you in the lobby.”
Before she had finished the sentence Azariah was there before him, holding out a warm and firm hand to shake his, then drawing him into a long, low room, lit by a broad window.
In the room sat a middle-aged man, his face lean and an intense look in his eyes, with an air of confidence about him, the confidence of one who is well aware of his own worth.
“This is Saul, my future father-in-law,” Azariah introduced him.
They bowed to one another in the Chaldean fashion.
“And this is Daniel, my friend from childhood. His Chaldean name is Belteshazzar,” Azariah concluded.
“That Belteshazzar?” asked the man, who was sitting on the end of a broad bench which also served as a bed, made of unplaned wood and still smelling faintly of pine, strewn with mats as a substitute for a mattress.
“That Belteshazzar!” Azariah confirmed with a sigh, and invited his friend into one of the several side-chambers opening off the main room.
He entered the little side-chamber with its narrow, curtained window and prevalent gentle gloom, and sat down on the one chair. Azariah sat on the bed, made of the same wood as the other but rather more comfortably upholstered, with straw mattress, blankets and thick embroidered quilts, warm and woolly.
At the end of the room he noticed a narrow table covered with a cloth, bright blue in colour with fringes embroidered in white.
“What brings you here?” asked Azariah.
“That delegation setting out for Judah – when is it due to leave?”
“The day after tomorrow.”
“I have a favour to ask of you!”
“I shall be happy to do it!” – Azariah gave him a clear answer, from the heart, and he was glad of this and felt more at ease.
“I want to ask Nejeen to come down to Babylon and marry me. I have written a few words…” He drew a tiny scroll from the pocket of his cloak, tightly coiled and carefully wrapped.
“I’m asking you to approach the leader of the delegation and talk to him – if, that is, you trust him. By the way, do I know him?” he asked.
“I rather think you do,” Azariah replied, wrinkling his brow into a frown of ironical concentration. “After all,” he continued smoothly, “at this very moment you are handing over a scroll to the leader of the delegation in person, as large as life! As to whether he can be trusted or not – that’s a tough question to answer!”
They fell into one another’s arms and broke into peals of limpid laughter that was all purity and irresistible youthful energy.
“So you are the one who is going?” he asked, detaching himself from his friend’s embrace, and gazing at him with deep affection.
“I am the one!” Azariah replied.
“So,” he sighed with relief, “you can tell her about the situation here, and pass on my greetings to my mother and my sisters and the baby, who hasn’t been a baby for some time now…”
“You can rely on the leader of the delegation to say what he has to say and pass on what he has to pass on! Incidentally – how did you find me here? To this very day I have difficulty myself finding that strange doorway leading to the space between the walls… You’ve met my fiancée – so what do you think of her?” he asked.
“I think she’s delightful!” he declared, adding: “As to your other question, about finding that strange doorway giving access to the Jewish quarter, and the quarter itself is just as strange – I doubt I’d have found it at all if I hadn’t been assisted by a benefactor, called Raphael…”
“Saul’s brother!” cried Azariah.
“That’s him. He was my guide.”
Azariah grew serious and seemed to withdraw into himself. Then he looked up and asked:
“And he didn’t recognise you, didn’t raise all kinds of rumours that have been going around here, in this strange community as you have described it?”
“He most certainly did, and at length!” he declared, laughing. “These Jews are zealots, but not zealous for their God, rather for their hatred!”
“They are strange, but not lacking in courage.”
“That which drives and spurs on the zealot is not courage but pride,” he declared and concluded – “and it is a dangerous thing, for him and for those who surround him.”
“They have strange ideas,” Azariah commented, with some hesitation.
“They mean to rebel against the King of Babylon?”
“To incite to rebellion.”
“Incite whom?”
“The King of Judah, of course!” Azariah replied, adding: “Except that, so it seems, he doesn’t need any encouragement. One way or
another – they are in close touch with the homeland and they know everything that is going on there, to the minutest detail.”
“What of the prophet Jeremiah?” he asked with some anxiety.
“King Zedekiah is scheming against him, but not in the same way that Jehoiakim used to do it. On the one hand, he draws him close and on the other – he incites his ministers to persecute him and put him in chains. Zedekiah is a man of troubled mind, and it seems he realises his revolt will not succeed and he will have to answer before his God and yet, he is forever making plans. He summons the prophet Jeremiah secretly, asks to hear the will of God, and the prophet tells him, and he disregards it. He lacks strength of character, and in the end he will bring down disaster upon his people, upon himself and upon his household!”
“And the family of Joseph Hannagid – whose side are they on?” he asked.
“They’re inclined to support the zealots.”
“And you?” he asked.
“Sometimes – I can’t help but admire their courage, even though there is no faith there and as you have said – arrogance and conceit are at the root of it. In the early days I tried to talk them round, and when I realised no one was listening, I took a vow of silence on all these matters. The others have done the same. Mishael’s future in-laws, on the other hand, are siding with Jeremiah, and for this reason they have been told to leave their house. They are outcasts here, and ostracised by the majority,” Azariah explained.
“And have you been asked to take messages to certain people in Jerusalem, and carry messages back?”
“I’ve been asked,” Azariah replied, giving him a measured look and adding: “I refused.”
“How was your refusal accepted?”
“They had no choice but to accept it. Anyway, the important thing is that Havatzelet is standing by me, and it seems she’s looking forward to leaving her parents’ house.”
“When will you be married?”
“On my return from Judah. Mishael and Hananiah too. Three weddings in one and perhaps” – he suddenly remembered and asked – “will there be four?”
“Perhaps,” he replied, and Azariah concluded:
“We have here among us the righteous scion of a priestly family, and he is the one who shall marry us.”
Havatzelet served milk in clay pitchers and dishes of honey. They said their blessings, drank the milk and tasted the honey. He rose to take his leave.
“We’ll go together,” said Azariah. “This isn’t an easy place to get out of!”
“If you’d rather stay here, I can find my own way.”
“No, it’s time to go. I shall say goodbye to my in-laws, prospective in-laws I should say, and then I’ll be with you.” True to his word, Azariah disappeared briefly and returned to him.
Havatzelet accompanied them to the door of the house, wishing them well and replying to their blessings. She watched Azariah go with eyes full of longing, and he turned back to bid her one more farewell, from faraway, with a raised hand. And then the two of them walked following the narrow dust track with its slight upward incline, suddenly finding themselves at the end of the outer wall, facing the gate of Marduk.
The Delegation Sets Out
The next day he reported to Nashdernach and asked to confer with him privately. Nashdernach gave him a keen look with his tiny eyes, as if trying to work out what was bothering him, and without further ado he ushered him into a side-office, telling the clerks that they were not to be disturbed.
Nashdernach took his seat at a broad and heavy and highly polished table, on one side of it a selection of styli and on the other – scrolls of parchment, some blank and others covered with the cuneiform letters of the Chaldean script.
“Won’t you sit down?” – Nashdernach pointed to a roughly hewn wooden chair, unpadded but comfortable enough.
He sat, and there was a moment of silence.
“I hope,” the King’s senior adviser began in his nasal, sometimes abrasive voice, “you haven’t found another far-flung province where the inhabitants are clamouring for a tax rebate – or have you heard a rumour that the blacksmiths are unhappy with their working conditions?” Nashdernach spoke with mock-seriousness, and while speaking he picked up one of the scrolls and glanced at the contents, before hurriedly rolling it up and putting it back in its place.
“Neither of those is the case,” he replied calmly, in all earnestness.
Nashdernach raised a short and bushy eyebrow, in token of surprise and bemusement, and he was indeed curious to know what Belteshazzar, his clerk, was about to say.
“It is my intention to marry.”
“Aha!” The expression on his superior’s fleshy face softened, as a smile broadened his lips and twinkled in his oily little eyes. “A most welcome statement! And what is more – a timely one!” he said emphatically, and proceeded to explain: “In an audience that I had with His Majesty the King, there was talk of you. When the King mentions your name, it is as if a smile lights up his stern face, and that is an exceedingly rare thing! ‘The victorious rider’ he calls you, and ‘that clever lad from Judah.’ And he has expressed his complete satisfaction over the episode of the rice levy, and the story of the tanners on the Euphrates gave him so much pleasure he actually clicked his tongue as a sign of approval, and all are agreed that such a thing has never happened before, at any rate not since he was crowned, and ascended the throne of the glorious kings of Babylon. And he, as I say, asked about you, and was particularly keen to know whether you are married or a bachelor, whether you have any commitment in the matter of marriage. And I had no choice but to admit to His Majesty that I had no precise knowledge of this and I would prefer not to speculate, however close to the truth such speculation might be, and I undertook to give him a full answer by the end of the week, or by the end of the day if the matter was considered urgent. And the King reassured me, saying the matter was not urgent, but all the same he wanted to know the position and would be pleased to receive my answer within three days. He went on to say that he considered this a most unsatisfactory state of affairs – a court official and his chief adviser not knowing the marital status of one of his senior clerks. I offered His Majesty fulsome apologies and begged for his indulgence, and he was kind enough to grant it.”
He bowed to Nashdernach, a gesture directed not so much towards him as towards the King; the chief adviser appreciated this, and nodded with an air of complete satisfaction.
“As I informed you just a moment ago,” the younger man responded, choosing his words carefully and speaking with absolute candour, “I am committed to marriage. There is a girl living in Judah who is destined to be my wife.”
“And you have waited until this moment to tell anyone about this commitment of yours, myself included?”
“I suppose so,” he admitted, adding: “I didn’t realise it was a matter of such importance. In any case, I have asked the man leading the delegation to Jerusalem to find my future bride and bring her back with him – assuming, of course, that she hasn’t had a change of heart. And not long ago she sent me a gift…”
With a dismissive gesture Nashdernach prevented him completing the sentence.
“If the girl has had a change of heart,” he retorted with some warmth, “you stand to gain more than you lose! The King of Babylon, in person, is said to be arranging the most illustrious of marriages for you! As for bringing this girl to Babylon,” he added in a changed tone of voice, “that is definitely the right thing to do! Incidentally, can you show me the gift that you mentioned, if indeed you have it with you?”
“It is with me wherever I go!” he replied, and drew out from under his robe the seven-branched candlestick, hanging on a slender silver chain.
Nashdernach rose, rounded the table, took the pendant in his little hand, probed it and turned it over, put it down finally, returned to his seat and exclaimed:
“That’s a national symbol! Admittedly, Babylon isn’t in the business of humiliating the Jews, and it hasn
’t forbidden them to cling to the national symbols that nourish their pride, although sometimes it seems that the Jews misinterpret the tolerance of His Majesty’s government! Our great King has dealt with them generously and with justice, and has demanded no tax that is beyond their means, nor put one of his sons on the throne of Judah, letting Zedekiah rule instead, that young and not very promising man who has been appointed by the laws of Judah to sit on that throne! And Nebuchadnezzar, His Majesty, King of Babylon, the valiant and the wise, required one thing only, that the young Jewish king swear allegiance to him. And Zedekiah swore him a threefold oath, by his God, by the sacred scriptures that are said to be your life-blood, and by holy Jerusalem. He swore willingly and now…”
“What now?” he asked, a crease of concern showing on his smooth, open forehead.
“As I said before, you have done well in seeking to bring your betrothed out of Judah at this time, in these days,” Nashdernach continued, ignoring the interjection. “Furthermore, I’m absolutely convinced that she has not had a change of heart!”
