by Paulo Coelho
He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself; there was no point in arguing further.
“How did you find your way here?”
“I never left.”
“Then you saw my shame. You saw that there is nothing left for me to do in Akbar.”
“You told me that all life’s battles teach us something, even those we lose.”
He remembered the walk to the well the morning before. But it seemed as if years had passed since then, and he felt the urge to tell him that those beautiful words meant nothing when one faces suffering; but he decided not to upset the boy.
“How did you escape the fire?”
The boy lowered his head. “I hadn’t gone to sleep. I decided to spend the night awake, to see if you and my mother were going to meet in her room. I saw the first soldiers come in.”
Elijah rose and began to walk. He was looking for the stone in front of the Fifth Mountain where one afternoon he had watched the sunset with the woman.
“I mustn’t go,” he thought. “I’ll become even more desperate.”
But some force drew him in that direction. When he arrived there, he wept bitterly; like the city of Akbar, the spot was marked by a stone, but he alone in that entire valley understood its significance; it would neither be praised by new inhabitants, nor polished by couples discovering the meaning of love.
He took the boy in his arms and once again slept.
“I’M HUNGRY AND THIRSTY,” THE BOY TOLD ELIJAH AS soon as he awoke.
“We can go to the home of one of the shepherds who live nearby. It’s likely nothing happened to them because they didn’t live in Akbar.”
“We need to repair the city. My mother said that she was Akbar.”
What city? No longer was there a palace, a market, or walls. The city’s good people had turned into robbers, and its young soldiers had been massacred. Nor would the angels return, though this was the least among his problems.
“Do you think that last night’s destruction, suffering, and deaths have a meaning? Do you think that it’s necessary to destroy thousands of lives to teach someone something?”
The boy looked at him in alarm.
“Put from your mind what I just said,” Elijah told him. “We’re going to look for the shepherd.”
“And we’re going to rebuild the city,” the boy insisted.
Elijah did not reply. He knew he would no longer be able to use his authority with the people, who accused him of having brought misfortune. The governor had taken flight, the commander was dead; soon Sidon and Tyre might fall under foreign domination. Perhaps the woman was right: the gods were always changing, and this time it was the Lord who had gone away.
“When will we go back there?” the boy asked again.
Elijah took him by the shoulders and began shaking him forcefully.
“Look behind you! You’re not some blind angel but a boy who intended to spy on his mother’s acts. What do you see? Have you noticed the columns of rising smoke? Do you know what that means?”
“You’re hurting me! I want to leave here, I want to go away!”
Elijah stopped, disconcerted at himself: he had never acted in such a way. The boy broke loose and began running toward the city. Elijah overtook him and kneeled at his feet.
“Forgive me. I don’t know what I’m doing.”
The boy sobbed, but not a single tear ran down his cheeks. Elijah sat beside him, waiting for him to regain his calm.
“Don’t leave,” he asked. “When your mother went away, I promised her I’d stay with you until you could follow your own path.”
“You also promised that the city was whole. And she said—”
“There’s no need to repeat it. I’m confused, lost in my own guilt. Give me time to find myself. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
The boy embraced him. But his eyes shed no tears.
THEY CAME TO THE HOUSE in the middle of the valley; a woman was at the door, and two children were playing in front. The flock was in the enclosure, which meant that the shepherd had not yet left for the mountains that morning.
Startled, the woman looked at the man and boy walking toward her. Her instinct was to send them away at once, but custom—and the gods—demanded that she honor the universal law of hospitality. If she did not receive them now, her own children might in the future suffer the same fate.
“I have no money,” she said. “But I can give you a little water and something to eat.”
They sat on a small porch with a straw roof, and she brought dried fruit and a jar of water. They ate in silence, experiencing, for the first time since the events of the night before, something of the normal routine that marked their every day. The children, frightened by the newcomers’ appearance, had taken refuge inside the house.
When they finished their meal, Elijah asked about the shepherd.
“He’ll be here soon,” she said. “We heard a lot of noise, and somebody came by this morning saying that Akbar had been destroyed. He went to see what happened.”
The children called her, and she went inside.
“It will avail me nothing to try to convince the boy,” Elijah thought. “He’ll not leave me in peace until I do what he asks. I must show him that it is impossible; only then will he be persuaded.”
The food and water achieved a miracle: he again felt himself a part of the world.
His thoughts flowed with incredible speed, seeking solutions rather than answers.
SOME TIME LATER, the aged shepherd arrived. He looked at the man and boy with fear, concerned for the safety of his family. But he quickly understood what was happening.
“You must be refugees from Akbar,” he said. “I’ve just returned from there.”
“And what’s happening?” asked the boy.
“The city was destroyed, and the governor ran away. The gods have disorganized the world.”
“We lost everything we had,” said Elijah. “We ask that you receive us.”
“I think my wife has already received you, and fed you. Now you must leave and face the unavoidable.”
“I don’t know what to do with the boy. I’m in need of help.”
“Of course you know. He’s young, he seems intelligent, and he has energy. And you have the experience of someone who’s known many victories and defeats in life. The combination is perfect, because it can help you to find wisdom.”
The man looked at the wound on Elijah’s arm. He said it was not serious; he entered the house and returned with some herbs and a piece of cloth. The boy helped him apply the poultice. When the shepherd said that he could do it alone, the boy told him that he had promised his mother to take care of this man.
The shepherd laughed.
“Your son is a man of his word.”
“I’m not his son. And he’s a man of his word too. He’ll rebuild the city because he has to bring my mother back, the way he did with me.”
Suddenly, Elijah understood the boy’s concern, but before he could do anything, the shepherd shouted to his wife, who was coming out of the house at that moment. “It’s better to start rebuilding life right away,” he said. “It will take a long time for everything to return to what it was.”
“It will never return.”
“You look like a wise young man, and you can understand many things that I cannot. But nature has taught me something that I shall never forget: a man who depends on the weather and the seasons, as only a shepherd does, manages to survive the unavoidable. He cares for his flock, treats each animal as if it were the only one, tries to help the mothers with their young, is never too far from a place where the animals can drink. Still, now and again one of the lambs to which he gave so much of himself dies in an accident. It might be a snake, some wild animal, or even a fall over a cliff. But the unavoidable always happens.”
Elijah looked in the direction of Akbar and recalled his conversation with the angel. The unavoidable always happens.
“You need discipline and patience to
overcome it,” the shepherd said.
“And hope. When that no longer exists, one can’t waste his energy fighting against the impossible.”
“It’s not a question of hope in the future. It’s a question of re-creating your own past.”
The shepherd was no longer in a hurry; his heart was filled with pity for the refugees who stood facing him. As he and his family had been spared the tragedy, it cost nothing to help them, and thus to thank the gods. Moreover, he had heard talk of the Israelite prophet who had climbed the Fifth Mountain without being slain by the fire from heaven; everything indicated that it was the man before him.
“You can stay another day if you wish.”
“I didn’t understand what you said before,” commented Elijah. “About re-creating your own past.”
“I have long seen people passing through here on their way to Sidon and Tyre. Some of them complained that they had not achieved anything in Akbar and were setting out for a new destiny.
“One day these people would return. They had not found what they were seeking, for they carried with them, along with their bags, the weight of their earlier failure. A few returned with a government position, or with the joy of having given their children a better life, but nothing more. Their past in Akbar had left them fearful, and they lacked the confidence in themselves to take risks.
“On the other hand, there also passed my door people full of ardor. They had profited from every moment of life in Akbar and through great effort had accumulated the money for their journey. To these people, life was a constant triumph and would go on being one.
“These people also returned, but with wonderful tales to tell. They had achieved everything they desired because they were not limited by the frustrations of the past.”
THE SHEPHERD’S WORDS touched Elijah’s heart.
“It is not difficult to rebuild a life, just as it is not impossible to raise Akbar from its ruins,” the shepherd continued. “It is enough to be aware that we go on with the same strength that we had before. And to use that in our favor.”
The man gazed into Elijah’s eyes.
“If you have a past that dissatisfies you, forget it now,” he went on. “Imagine a new story of your life, and believe in it. Concentrate only on those moments in which you achieved what you desired, and this strength will help you to accomplish what you want.”
“There was a moment when I desired to be a carpenter, and later I wanted to be a prophet sent to save Israel,” Elijah thought. “Angels descended from the heavens, the Lord spoke to me. Until I understood that He is not just and that His motives are always beyond my understanding.”
The shepherd called to his wife, saying that he was not leaving; he had already been to Akbar on foot, and he was too weary to walk farther.
“Thank you for receiving us,” Elijah said.
“It is no burden to shelter you for one night.”
The boy interrupted the conversation. “We want to go back to Akbar.”
“Wait till morning. The city is being sacked by its own inhabitants, and there is nowhere to sleep.”
The boy looked at the ground, bit his lip, and once again held back tears. The shepherd led them into the house, calmed his wife and children, and, to distract them, spent the rest of the day talking about the weather.
THE NEXT DAY THEY AWOKE EARLY, ATE THE MEAL PREPARED by the shepherd’s wife, and went to the door of the house.
“May your life be long and your flock grow ever larger,” said Elijah. “I have eaten what my body had need of, and my soul has learned what it did not know. May God never forget what you did for us, and may your sons not be strangers in a strange land.”
“I don’t know to which God you refer; there are many who dwell on the Fifth Mountain,” the shepherd said brusquely, then quickly changed his tone. “Remember the good things you have done. They will give you courage.”
“I have done very few such things, and none of them was because of my abilities.”
“Then it’s time to do more.”
“Perhaps I could have prevented the invasion.”
The shepherd laughed.
“Even if you were governor of Akbar, you would not be able to stop the unavoidable.”
“Perhaps the governor of Akbar should have attacked the Assyrians when they first arrived in the valley with few troops. Or negotiated peace, before war broke out.”
“Everything that could have happened but did not is carried away with the wind and leaves no trace,” said the shepherd. “Life is made of our attitudes. And there are certain things that the gods oblige us to live through. Their reason for this does not matter, and there is no action we can take to make them pass us by.”
“Why?”
“Ask a certain Israelite prophet who lived in Akbar. He seems to have the answer to everything.”
The man went to the fence. “I must take my flock to pasture,” he said. “Yesterday they didn’t go out, and they’re impatient.”
He took his leave with a wave of his hand, departing with his sheep.
THE BOY AND THE MAN WALKED THROUGH THE VALLEY.
“You’re walking slowly,” the boy said. “You’re afraid of what might happen to you.”
“I’m afraid only of myself,” Elijah replied. “They can do me no harm because my heart has ceased to be.”
“The God that brought me back from death is alive. He can bring back my mother, if you do the same thing to the city.”
“Forget that God. He’s far away and no longer does the miracles we hope for from Him.”
The old shepherd was right. From this moment on, it was necessary to reconstruct his own past, forget that he had once thought himself to be a prophet who would free Israel but had failed in his mission of saving even one city.
The thought gave him a strange sense of euphoria. For the first time in his life he felt free, ready to do whatever he desired whenever he wished. True, he would hear no more angels, but as compensation he was free to return to Israel, to go back to work as a carpenter, to travel to Greece to learn the thoughts of wise men, or to journey with Phoenician navigators to the lands across the sea.
First, however, he must avenge himself. He had dedicated the best years of his youth to an unheeding God who was constantly giving commands and always did things in His own fashion. Elijah had learned to accept His decisions and to respect His designs.
But his loyalty had been rewarded by abandonment, his dedication had been ignored, his efforts to comply with the Supreme Being’s will had led to the death of the only woman he had ever loved.
“Thou hast the strength of the world and the stars,” said Elijah in his native tongue, so that the boy beside him would not understand the words. “Thou canst destroy a city, a country, as we destroy insects. Send, then, Thy fire from heaven and end my life, for if Thou dost not, I shall go against Thy handiwork.”
Akbar loomed in the distance. He took the boy’s hand and grasped it tightly.
“From this moment until we go through the city gates, I am going to walk with my eyes closed, and you must guide me,” he told the boy. “If I die on the way, do what you have asked me to do: rebuild Akbar, even if to do so you must first grow to manhood and learn to cut wood or work stone.”
The boy did not reply. Elijah closed his eyes and allowed himself to be led. He heard the blowing of the wind and the sound of his own steps in the sand.
He remembered Moses, who, after liberating the Chosen People and leading them through the desert, surmounting enormous difficulties, had been forbidden by God to enter Canaan. At the time, Moses had said:
“I pray Thee, let me go over, and see the good land that is beyond Jordan.”
The Lord, however, had been offended by his entreaty. And He had answered, “Let it suffice thee; speak no more unto Me of this matter. Lift up thine eyes westward, and northward, and southward, and eastward, and behold it with thine eyes; for thou shalt not go over this Jordan.”
Thus had the L
ord rewarded the long and arduous task of Moses: He had not permitted him to set foot in the Promised Land. What would have happened if he had disobeyed?
Elijah again turned his thoughts to the heavens.
“O Lord, this battle was not between Assyrians and Phoenicians but between Thee and me. Thou didst not foretell to me our singular war, and as ever, Thou hast triumphed and seen Thy will made manifest. Thou hast destroyed the woman I loved and the city that took me in when I was far from my homeland.”
The sound of the wind was louder in his ears. Elijah was afraid, but he continued.
“I cannot bring the woman back, but I can change the fate of Thy work of destruction. Moses accepted Thy will and did not cross the river. But I shall go forward: slay me now, because if Thou allowest me to arrive at the gates of the city, I shall rebuild that which Thou wouldst sweep from the face of the earth. And I shall go against Thy judgment.”
He fell silent. He emptied his mind and waited for death. For a long time he concentrated on nothing beyond the sound of his footsteps in the sand; he did not want to hear the voices of angels or threats from heaven. His heart was free, and no longer did he fear what might befall him. Yet in the depths of his soul was the beginning of disquiet, as if he had forgotten a thing of importance.
After much time had passed, the boy stopped, then tugged on Elijah’s arm.
“We’ve arrived,” he said.
Elijah opened his eyes. The fire from heaven had not descended on him, and before him were the ruined walls of Akbar.
HE LOOKED AT THE BOY, WHO NOW CLUTCHED ELIJAH’S hand as if fearing that he might escape. Did he love him? He had no idea. But such reflections could wait till later; for now, he had a task to carry out—the first in many years not imposed upon him by God.
From where they stood, he could smell the odor of burning. Scavenger birds circled overhead, awaiting the right moment to devour the corpses of the sentinels that lay rotting in the sun. Elijah approached one of the fallen soldiers and took the sword from his belt. In the confusion of the previous night, the Assyrians had forgotten to gather up the weapons outside the city walls.
