Startaker

by Marian Goddard

  It was much bigger inside than it looked from without and this room was furnished with luxuriant palms, carved sideboards and soft ottomans, giving the whole an understated air of wealth and comfort. Christian seated himself and waited, trying not to fidget. He could not think of the future. It was as if, for him, the Holy Land could not be found except by the guidance of his precious astrolabe. A childish thought, he knew.

  Brother Phillipe sat on a gold embroidered divan, his short legs dangling in the air, reading a book he’d picked up from the table in front of him… Maimonides…’ Guide for the Perplexed,’ handling it as reverently as he would a work of his own faith.

  The girl entered again, carrying a tray of sweet cakes and fruit cordial in thin glass cups. She served Phillipe first and then Christian and he took the delicate glass nervously in his big hands. He was unused to handling such fine things. Her wide hazel eyes turned up at the corners like a cat as she smiled and she waited while he drained the cup and poured him another from a silvered pitcher.

  Then the inner door opened and a man walked quietly into the room, his face solemn and his eyes attentive. He placed a gentle hand on his daughters head “Thank you Rebecca. You may depart.” He moved a small stool to sit in front of them and smiled.

  “Now Brother Phillipe, I know you have not come to sell me the treasures of your chapel. So what is the purpose of this visit that gives me so much pleasure?”

  There was a deep, firm quality to his voice that demanded attention. Christian noted the plain blue robe and fingers bare of jewels or ornament. His beard and hair was long and neatly dressed and there were no Juden badges or mark sewn on his clothes.

  Phillipe took the offered hand “Greetings to you Simeon, my friend. We are here because this boy has been robbed and we believe the thief intended to come to you to sell the goods.”

  The Jew sat straight upon the stool, his dark eyes sharp and penetrating. Christian stood, bowing his respects “Good day to you, Sire. My name is Christian, of the family Germelshausen and I thank you for taking the time to see us.”

  In the space of that few seconds the measure of the boy was taken, the German accented Greek, well made but worn clothes, the upright stance and the steady, bright gaze. He held out his hand and took Christian’s in a firm grip “Guten Tag, mein junge. Ich bin Simeon Ben Abraham. Sie sind einenlangen Weg von zu hause aus?”

  “Yes, I am a long way from home. I am travelling to Jerusalem in the hope I may be allowed instruction from the wise men there.”

  Simeon held a fingertip to his lips, seeming to ruminate on what Christian had said. “That is a perilous journey for one so young. You are alone?”

  “Yes Sire, my guardian, a knight, resides now with the Lord, taken by the flux these five weeks past.”

  Simeon nodded, switching to Latin “Youi constitui te labor.”

  Christian responded immediately “I have set myself a heavy labour, sire? Perhaps, but it has been my dream since I was small.”

  “Vous avez de l’argent?’

  “Money? I am left with but one sovereign, but I hope to gain employment and earn my passage to the Holy land.”

  “Si puo leggere e scrivere? Avete knw tuoi numen?”

  Christian smiled “Yes, sire. The kind monks at the abbey where I grew up taught me my letters and my numbers.”

  Simeon’s face lit up with delight. “And how came you to be at the abbey?”

  Here Christian faltered, unsure how he would be seen once the truth was out “Both my mother and my father were consigned to the flames as heretics.”

  But Simeon spoke kindly and understanding softened his eyes “Ah, we Jews know all about heresy. It is a way of life with us.” And he and Phillipe laughed like old friends at the joke. “But come, you are here for a reason. You said you were robbed?”

  “Yes, Sire. I met a boy on the wharf and took him back to the infirmary to ah… set his broken arm.”

  The wise merchant tutted “And who is so foolish as to allow a stranger into his home and show him his treasures?”

  Christian hung his head in shame “To my regret.” And Simeon laughed. He clapped his hands and Rebecca entered once again, bending for him to whisper in her ear. She went to a chest at the other end of the room and returned a moment later with two packages, one square and thick, about the size of the book still resting in Phillipe’s hands and the other wrapped in plain muslin, round and familiar.

  He grinned “Is it this that you seek?” Rebecca placed it in Christian’s hands and he uncovered it carefully, revealing his astrolabe, gleaming in the lamplights. Then he became serious, a merchant at last. “Of course, the item was traded in good faith. The urchin said he’d been given the instrument in compensation for the loss of his livelihood. He said a German sailor attacked him on the pier, breaking his one good arm.

  I paid him a goodly sum.”

  Christian couldn’t hide his shock, or his embarrassment. “Sire, I had no wish to hurt him. He held a knife to my throat.”

  Simeon smiled again, enjoying the game “But he has told me in language a bordello slave wouldn’t repeat that you had the advantage of him and he was fearful of his innocence.” Both men laughed heartily and he blushed scarlet, trying not to look at Rebecca standing quietly beside her father.

  “It is untrue, Sire.”

  The merchant decided it was time to end the jest, he could see the light shining around this unusual young man. “I know. But like all cities, we are plagued by vagabonds and thieves. You are lucky to be alive. He was a very unsavoury fellow.

  Nevertheless, we have the difficulty of the money I will lose, should I return the item to you uncompensated.” Simeon examined him intently, at the earnestness and longing in the boy’s eyes, the astrolabe clutched to his breast “Perhaps we can come to some arrangement?”

  Christian’s heart missed a beat. He had nothing to give in return for his astrolabe.

  “I have need of a clerk, one who is conversant with the many languages spoken in the course of my business. What others do you have?”

  “Some Turkish, Sire and Brother Andre taught me a little Spanish on our way here.”

  “Do you have the Arabic?”

  “No. But with all my heart I wish to know it. It is beautiful, like poetry to my ears.”

  Simeon nodded “Well, a bright boy like you will learn quickly enough. This is my proposal.

  You will work for me as clerk for six months. The astrolabe will remain locked in that box until your tenure is ended. If you leave before your time is up, it will be forfeit to me.” Christian’s head bobbed about in agreement but Simeon held up is hand “Wait, there is more…You will continue in the evenings and when the brothers have need of you, to aid them in the hospitium, taking instruction from brother Phillipe here, in physic.” Christian wondered how he knew. Simeon picked up the package Rebecca had placed in front of him “This is the payment for your education. Mind you learn its uses well. In the right hands it is a gift from God, in the wrong; it can become a nightmare worthy of the terrible pen of Dante.” He passed it to Phillipe, who handled it as carefully as he had the book, his eyes wide.

  “If you do your work diligently and cause me no trouble, I will see you are given safe passage aboard a vessel to the Holy Land, with payment for every month of your service and your instrument returned. What say you?”

  Christian had to stop himself from jumping to his feet and wrapping his arms around him. “I am humbled, Sire. It is much more than I deserve. On my oath I will serve you well.” He turned to brother Phillipe “And you also Brother, who has shown me such kindness.”

  Simeon held up his hand once more “One more thing…you will reside in my home as part of my family and see what it means to be a Jew.”

  *

  The parcel contained a thick yellow block of opium. Phillipe told him it was worth more that the bricks and mortar of the hospitium itself. He promised to teach Christian how to husband the precious paste to make it last and
how to combine it with other ingredients to lessen its bad effects and enhance the good. It was a wonderful gift to the poor of Cyprus, one that Simeon had given before, secretly.

  Christian was provided with a room at the back of the warehouse, a straw pallet and blanket and an unexpected gift…a writing table and stool. He was also given a bowl to wash in, a tallow lamp and a sturdy lock and key to secure his door. It was the first time he’d had a space to himself and he arranged his few possessions several times before he was content. His writing quills and parchment sat proudly on his desk, his precious books beside it. The remedy box he used as a table by his bed, nails in the walls held his pouch and jute bag.

  There was no window in the small space and in the evenings the smoke from the tallow made his throat sore and his eyes water, so he took to sitting outside in the moonlight, when the noise and bustle of the market stilled.

  His duties were not onerous, his nimble mind grasping the intricacies and nuances of commerce quickly. For the most part he accompanied Simeon on his trips to the warehouses and ports of Limmasol or Famagusta, sometimes travelling in a plain open wagon, mostly on foot, inspecting, buying and cataloguing items that the merchant had already memorised with uncanny accuracy. It was no wonder to him now that Simeon knew of him before they met. He made it his business to know all the happenings of Cyprus. He was a buyer of gold and gemstones and well known as a fair and generous moneylender, so Christian had to keep account of moneys owing and moneys paid, writing it all in the heavy leather bound ledger he carried on his shoulders.

  Simeon told him that in these times, Jews were not allowed to own property and so usually the only way to survive was trading and money lending. It had made him a wealthy man but still he longed to feel the soil of his own land trickle through his fingers.

  When he went to pray in the synagogue, Christian sat in the marketplace, listening to the traders’ spruiking their wares, or begging a few moments instruction from elderly men sitting alone while their wives shopped and gossiped in the town. Always he was treated with courtesy and helpfulness, their polite greetings touching his heart with its sincerity and in this way slowly, he learned the language of the Holy Land.

  He sat with the family at mealtimes, observing their customs and strict observances. He ate unleavened bread and no meat at all lest he should offend his host by flouting any of the six hundred and thirteen commandments they kept.

  He saw Rebecca often. He learned that she had been betrothed to the son of a rabbi since she was three years old and was soon to be wed. Her mother eyed him with suspicion every time he spoke to her and flapped and fussed over the girl, who lapped up the attention like a spoilt kitten to milk.

  Her two brothers, merchants in their own right, were grown men with families of their own and visited often, bringing their wives and children to share in noisy, cheerful dinners that lasted well into the night. They were a virtuous, devout and loving people and Simeon treated him with much kindness. His only sadness was the empty place in his life where Andre should have been.

  His work day started before dawn and at sunset he walked up the steep hill to the hospitium, to continue his studies with Brother Phillipe, who taught him how to watch the phases of the moon, the tides and the orbit of the planets to determine the auspiciousness of a cure. Phillipe had been trained at the great school of medicine in Montpellier and sent to Cyprus on the order of the Holy Father when the Hospitallers abandoned the island, and although Christian had been instructed in bleeding and purging, he learned now how to perform these operations with finesse and little pain or discomfort to the patient.

  His rest came late in the evenings, in his hour of contemplation under the stars and then to sleep, to start again in the morning. The Sabbath was his own and he spent in exploring the island or sitting, with his bag filled with apples and books, on the cliffs near the burial ground of the Knights of St. John.

  Of the Jewish faith he learned much. And of the hatred of the gentile citizens of Cyprus toward it, he learned even more. Often Simeon ventured afar to attend to his business and these times were always fraught with worry for Christian. The townsfolk would jeer and hiss at him as he walked proudly along, greeting them politely. He carried a paper, signed by the city fathers, stating his right to wear his garment without the badge of shame attached and many times paupers and ragamuffins and surly traders demanded sight of it before allowing him to pass, for those who disobeyed this law must forfeit their garment to the one who accused. Sometimes, he would be pelted with rotten fruit, or spat upon, but always he conducted himself with dignity and patience, as if this intolerance had always existed for him and he was above it.

  And then one day it wasn’t a rotten piece of fruit or cabbage that sailed through the air to splatter against his turban or foul his robe but a rock, wielded by youths and thrown hard in bitterness and spite. It caught Simeon in the soft place beside his eye and he was dead before he fell into Christian’s arms.

  Christian had worked for this man for only four months but he was given a small bag of silver and two richly bound books on his departure. Simeon’s eldest son, Israel, a man as sensitive and as upright as his father, called him to the families’ private apartments and gave him a ticket of passage to Jaffa and a letter of recommendation to his cousin in Damascus.

  Rebecca stood quietly by as the family said their farewells, then thrust the astrolabe into his hands and ran from the room in tears.

  While the brothers offered up their prayers for Simeon’s soul, Christian’s dream came another step closer.

  *

  The journey across the sea was difficult. The weather fouled and kept up a steady, strong wind for most of the voyage and his stomach burned with retching. But he had chosen his vessel well, a flat bottomed sailing cog flying the flag of Denmark on its mast and with the wind at their back they reached Jaffa’s crowded harbour in less than a week.

  He sat in the prow as the ship pulled alongside and those on the wharf swarmed aboard, all chattering and shouting.

  He saw darkly veiled women sitting quietly under tattered awnings, platters of oranges, peppers and dates heaped around them, while others roasted food over smouldering braziers. And wonder of wonders…camels, richly caparisoned in brightly plaited tethers and tassels and jingling bells, standing with soft eyed patience or sitting with their bellies in the sand and their long legs folded under them, their strange humped backs impossibly laden with bales and boxes and rolled up carpets.

  Exotic aromas wafted across the prow, saffron, turmeric and unfamiliar meat sizzling on burning charcoal. He heard the cries of the beggars and the shouts of the shopkeepers and the bright sun overhead lent a sharpness to the light, so he saw it all in perfect clarity.

  He’d brought with him only his astrolabe, remedy box and medical tools, his money and letters, leaving the books Israel had given him with the good brothers in Cyprus.

  His skin burned and his clothes became clammy and damp and he realised now why everyone wore flowing garments and soft shoes. Excitement bubbled inside him. He gathered his things, bid a hasty farewell and bounded down the gangway to the wharf.

  The dusty streets rang with the raised voices of the shopkeepers, haggling and bargaining, wheedling and shouting. He waved to a sailor from the ship who sat drinking ale under a striped tent, his arm draped around a beautiful, dark skinned woman. He winked and beckoned and Christian smiled and shook his head.

  He allowed himself to be lured into a shop and purchased a plain shirt and mantle, a pair of cork soled sandals and a long length of fabric to wrap about the head or to keep the sun from his face. He stood in front of the merchant’s bronze mirror, admiring his tall frame swathed in the garments of the Holy Land. It felt right, in this place, in these clothes, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to him.

  Plums and sage and bunches of mint had been laid out for sale on the sides of the road and ragged children sat fanning the flies from piles of raw meat, calling out in pitiful
wails as he passed.

  For two pennies a woman offered him a pomegranate and flat bread filled with spiced lamb and he found a place under a date palm to eat. The tastes were pleasing and the cool, tangy taste of the fruit felt clean in his mouth. The warmth of the day spread over him and he dozed under the swaying palms in peaceful contentment.

  Then he felt a tug at his sleeve and looked around to see a small boy, his skin the colour of burned honey, his eyes dark liquid pools of innocence. Christian smiled, attempting a greeting in the Turkish manner “Assalamu Alaicum.” Peace be upon you.

  The boy bowed solemnly back “Wa Assalamu Alaicum, Lord” then stood, almost to attention, looking over his shoulder into the distance.

  He watched him for a while amused, wondering what was expected. “Have you come for food?” He broke off a piece of the pomegranate and offered it but the child stayed unmoving. He didn’t look like a beggar. His tunic and pantaloons were clean and neatly made. He face was scrubbed and his hair shiny and well oiled. A small, curved dagger rested in a tooled scabbard about his waist.

  Christian got to his feet and moved to walk away and the boy jumped forward quickly “Please Lord, I beg of you. You must remain. I am to guard you until my father has finished his noon- time prayers. I will look shameful in his eyes should I fail in my duty.”

  “Well then, if it is your duty, I am bound to obey” And he waited in the shade while the child stood to attention in front of him.

  Presently an elderly man leading a flea- bitten camel approached and the boy bowed low “Father, I have done my duty, as you ordered.”

  The old man grinned toothlessly and patted him on the head. “Well done Ahmed. Your years are few but your bravery is already apparent. You will make a fine warrior.” He bowed to Christian “Peace be upon you, Good Sir. I am Ahmed abu bin Rasa and I am at your service.”