by Katz, Yoram
15. The Lurias - Haifa, January 26th, 2010 (Tuesday)
The mobile phone rang for the first time when Luria was in the shower. He rinsed his head with hot water and ignored it. It had been a long day, and he was just longing for the moment he would lay his head on the clean sheet and wrap himself in the soft eiderdown. He turned off the tap and stretched his hand out for a towel.
The phone rang again.
He rubbed himself dry. His body was still burning from the hot water, but was rapidly cooling down. He brushed his teeth, put on his underwear and a T-Shirt, and stormed out of the bathroom, racing for the bedroom. The cold touch of the sheet jolted his body like an electric shock. He let out a short yell and did his best to wrap himself in the eiderdown from head to toe.
The phone rang again.
Somebody was really keen on talking to him. He thought it out for a while and then unwound himself from the eiderdown and stretched a fumbling hand towards the cabinet next to his bed, where the phone was charging. It was cold out there, so he pulled the phone in and quickly wrapped himself again. “Luria,” he said.
“Yossi?” Luria identified the caller immediately. “What's wrong with you? By the time you answer, one can die of old age!”
“I took a shower. What is it, Aryeh?”
“Are you in a cave or something? I can hardly hear you.”
Luria let out a desperate groan, untangled himself and exposed his head and hand to the cold world out there. “I was in the shower. What’s eating you?”
“Listen,” said Aryeh, excited. “I must see you.”
“What happened?”
“This probe you wanted me to do…”
“What about it?”
“I have found something.”
“What have you found, Aryeh?”
“I think I have succeeded in building our Rivka’s family tree.”
“That’s very good news.” Luria was now becoming excited as well. “Do you have any documentation?”
“I have everything that’s needed, but this is just the tip of the iceberg. There’s more.”
“What is it?”
“This is not for the phone,” said Aryeh. “I just wanted to make sure we can meet tomorrow. How about 10 o’clock at your office?”
“Sure,” replied Luria. “10 o’clock it is.”
* * *
When Luria arrived at the office next morning, Aryeh was already seated opposite Noga’s reception counter, waiting. Luria glimpsed at the clock on the wall. It was 09:50; Aryeh was early.
“Yossi!” Aryeh rose from his couch to hug him. Luria could feel his excitement.
“How are you doing, cousin?” he said in a cheerful voice. “You must have some interesting news.”
Aryeh raised a finger and touched his lips, signaling silence. His eyes moved around and rested on Noga. “Let’s go into your office,” he whispered and put his arm around Luria’s shoulders. “We have some family business to discuss.”
“I’ll be coming with coffee in a few minutes,” called Noga after them. Aryeh turned around and wanted to say something. “Muddy black with no sugar,” said Noga, smiling, before he could say a word. “I remember.”
Aryeh smiled, and the two cousins stepped into the office and headed towards the small round table. Luria dropped into a chair, and Aryeh seated himself opposite him. “Well, Aryeh, why are you acting like you have seen too many spy movies lately?”
“Spy movies?” Aryeh shrugged. “Let me remind you, dear cousin, that I am a Hassidic Jew. I am not into this crap. In fact, I have not seen a single movie since I left behind me the meaningless secular life you seem to relish so much.”
‘OK, OK.” Luria hated this. “Let us not go into that right now. What have you found?”
“Last week,” said Aryeh, “I mobilized a few resources. From the old man I have told you about, who is a walking Safedi encyclopedia with his own private archive, to some scholars I know. I also searched the Internet."
“Searched the Internet?" Luria raised an eyebrow. “I thought that in your … circles this abomination was banned.”
Aryeh grew serious. “Don’t be so condescending. It is true that I have returned to my roots, and that I am a man of faith now, but this does not make me a mindless fanatic like some of the fools out there. I am perfectly aware that some of the things rabbis say are aimed at preventing their adherents from knowing more than they should, and at fending off difficult questions. However, in my case, I am still the one making the decisions about what is good for me, and if someone thinks that the Internet can corrupt me – well… I have made my decisions about faith and resisted worse temptations. I am not a brainless bigot.”
Luria smiled. Aryeh was right, of course. He never fully kept his respect of old to Aryeh, ever since his cousin had chosen to undergo such a profound change in his life. Luria had little regard for any form of mysticism, religion included. He could explain to himself Aryeh’s metamorphosis only as an impairment in his cousin’s judgment and common sense. He was always glad to find out that a lot of the old Aryeh still survived the transformation. “I am happy to hear that,” he said. “Please forgive me and go on.”
Aryeh leaned back. “Some background first. In 1799, the Jewish community of Safed was undergoing a process of recovery after long years of suffering. In 1759, an earthquake hit the city, killing hundreds, among them about 120 Jews. The city was mostly destroyed, and the Jewish population was reduced to less than fifty families. Then, a war broke out between the central Turkish regime and a local Sheik named Daher El-Omar, who was too independent for the Turks’ taste. All this made life difficult for the small Jewish community, which had to pay high tributes and went into considerable debt. In 1775, power passed to Ahmed El-Jazzar of Acre, a Mamluk with a knack for cruelty. He actually stabilized the area and showed tolerance towards the Jews. The community started growing again and was reinforced with more than 200 Hassidic Jews from Eastern Europe. Besides, there was a small trickle of Jews arriving occasionally from North Africa.”
The door opened softly, and Noga stepped in, holding a small tray with two cups of coffee. She placed the cups on the table and left. Aryeh raised his cup and drank thankfully from the hot liquid before resuming.
“One of the North Africans was Yitzhak Bakri, who arrived in 1794, with his wife Sarah and his fourteen-year-old daughter Rivka. The Bakris were a well-known family in Algiers, where they had moved from Livorno, Italy. This was a high class, educated family, whose members were usually fluent in a few languages including Italian, French and Arabic. Before long, the family emerged as an important player in the Algiers’ trade with the Italian cities and Southern France. The head of the family was Yitzhak’s brother, the businessmen Yossef Bakri, who also assumed another sensitive role. A central branch of the Algerian economy of those days was piracy, and Yossef Bakri helped the American Consul in Algiers in releasing American prisoners for ransom. The released prisoners were transferred to Marseilles, France, by a family-owned ship.”
Aryeh took another sip of his bitter coffee. “Yitzhak Bakri was the black sheep of the family. He was an eccentric, who had left a well-to-do family behind and arrived in Safed for reasons of faith. He wanted to study Kabbalah and be near the places where the Rashbi and the Holy Ari had taught and died. However, fortune did not smile upon this small fragment of a family. Yitzhak and Sara perished as soon as 1796, in the Black Death plague that devastated Safed at the time, leaving young Rivka all by herself. She was adopted by the Elisar family, a local pillar of the Sephardi[xx] Jewish Community in Safed. Sixteen-year-old Rivka was now an orphan, but at least she ended up in a good family.”
“And Rivka Bakri is the girl our French officer fell for?”
“The very one,” said Aryeh. “And she was a real beauty, too. There are rumors that she had attracted the attention of a famous Hassidic celebrity, who visited Safed in 1798, and who considered arranging a match for her with his family.”
“Who was he?” Yossi was curious
.
“He happened to be my spiritual idol, Rabbi Nachman of Breslau, the founder of the Hassidic branch I am now proud to be part of. He was visiting the Holy Land at the time, but when he found out that Napoleon was on his way north, he hurried to Acre and left on a ship. The match, had there really been one, was not to be consummated.”
“So, our Rivka was beautiful, from a good family, and in high demand.”
“She was very beautiful, yes, and she was also of good ancestry and breeding. However, she had a reputation of being frivolous, which drastically damaged her value as a potential bride.”
“Frivolous?”
“There were rumors. Add these rumors to the knowledge we now possess, and it seems that her short affair with the French officer did not go unnoticed.”
“And whatever became of her?”
“I’ll be coming to that in a moment. After the withdrawal of Napoleon, El-Jazzar was furious at the sympathy the Christians and Jews had shown towards the French. He planned a bloody massacre of all non-Muslim infidels. This was prevented by Sir Sydney Smith, the British Admiral who had helped El-Jazzar defeat Napoleon during the siege of Acre. Smith warned El-Jazzar that if any atrocities took place, he would use his flotilla’s artillery to bomb Acre off the face of the earth. This calmed El-Jazzar a bit, but the local Muslims, with El-Jazzar’s silent support, started riots against Jews and Christians. This was a difficult time for the Jews of Safed, and at this timing, Rivka was hurriedly matched and married to a young Sephardi Jew of the local community.”
“Wonderful!” Luria clapped his hands in mock applause. “So we have a happy ending!”
“Not exactly,” said Aryeh. “There was something odd about this marriage.”
“Odd?”
“Yes. It was done in a great hurry, at a time which was not favorable for weddings and ceremonies in general. And the young groom… while belonging to a branch of a respected family, was not really such a hot commodity…”
Aryeh took another long sip from his cup, while Yossi could barely contain his curiosity. “Well?”
“Well… the young man was… how to phrase it in today’s terminology… he was mentally challenged.”
Luria was flabbergasted. “Why would the prom queen marry damaged goods?”
“This is an excellent question,” said Aryeh. “Perhaps our Rivka was damaged goods herself.”
“But…”
“I told you there were rumors.”
“What rumors?”
“Well, Rivka was married in late June 1799. She bore her only son in January 1800, barely seven months into her marriage…”
“Only son?”
“Yes. As far as my sources go, there were no more births in this family after that - quite uncommon in this community.”
Luria raised his hand. “Just a moment; you are bombarding me with details of Safedi 18th century gossip. What is this? Where did you get all this information? Do you have any evidence to back up these stories? Like documents, maybe?”
Aryeh groaned. “I forgot I was dealing with my skeptic, faithless cousin. Well, the answer to all your questions is yes. My source is a descendant of the Modai family, with roots in Safed as early as the beginning of the 18th century. Rabbi Haim Modai, one of his ancestors, had left written documents of Safed of the time, and described the 1759 earthquake. His descriptions are quoted today as reliable historical sources. It seems that the tradition of documentation stayed in the family, and my man has in his possession a number of notebooks describing the day-to-day life in Safed in the late 18th century and even later. As far as I know, no historian has ever laid eyes on this material. I am now in his confidence, and he allowed me to photocopy some pages. Later, I hope to be able to convince him to share this rare material with the public. I personally know some Israeli historians who would trade their right arm for a glimpse at these documents.”
Luria stood up. “OK. But if we believe your sources…”
“… Then Rivka’s husband never fathered a child,” said Aryeh. “If you ask me, he was not capable of such a feat, or perhaps our princess never let him touch her. I am willing to bet that this only child, whose name was Eliyahu, was the son of Pascal de Charney.”
Yossi Luria dropped into his chair, incredulity written all over his face. He let out a whistle. “What a story!” he exclaimed. “I find it hard to imagine Jeanne’s face when she hears that her family has a Jewish branch. She will have an instant heart attack.”
“Just a moment,” said Aryeh. “The story does not end here.”
“There’s more of this stuff? What can you possibly add to this? Did our Rivka elope with Peter Pan and end up a pirate?”
“Yossi, please stop this nonsense. There is more, but I want to start with a historical anecdote.”
“Why not? I forgot that you are a historian too. I seem to be surrounded by them.” Luria’s mind was still reeling from the news.
“Funny,” said Aryeh pleasantly. “Now, for some gossip about the Bakris of Algiers. In 1798, Yossef Bakri supplied grain under contract to Napoleon’s expeditionary force in Egypt. The French never bothered to pay for the grain, and the debt had swollen over the years. Bakri, left with an unpaid debt, sold it to the Dai – the local ruler. Meanwhile, France became a monarchy again, and the kings, back in power, declined to pay a debt incurred by the revolutionaries. This caused relationships between France and Algiers to sour until, in an incident in 1827, the incensed Dai hit the French Consul to Algiers with the butt of his hand-held fan. To repay the insult, King Charles X’s government ordered the invasion of Algiers. This ended up with more than a hundred years of French occupation, with ramifications still prevailing to this day.”
Yossi Luria let out another whistle. “What a story. And this is our Rivka’s family…”
Aryeh nodded. “Our Rivka’s family indeed…”
Something in his voice told Luria that Aryeh was keeping another ace up his sleeve. “You said this was an anecdote. What else do you have to tell me?”
“Aha,” exclaimed Aryeh, “of course, there is this other thing.”
“I am listening.”
“Rivka’s husband…”
“Her mentally challenged husband?”
“The very one,” said Aryeh trying to downplay his excitement. “The name of this mentally challenged young man, who came from a respectable family, was David…” he choked in mid-sentence.
Suddenly, Yossi Luria’s mind was racing. Is it… he shot up to his feet. “What are you saying?”
“Luria…” said Aryeh hoarsely.
“I beg your pardon?”
“His name was David Luria,” Aryeh’s voice was down almost to a whisper.
“Luria?”
“Yes. David Luria.”
“Any relationship to the Holy Ari?”
“May well be,” replied Aryeh. “Probably a side branch of that family. I am still investigating this. But you are missing the point. With the documents I was shown, I managed to construct a family tree starting with David Luria and his only son, Eliyahu, all through to our generation.”
Luria thought he was beginning to understand.
“And…”
Aryeh opened his mouth to answer, but no words came out.
“And where did you end up?” Luria was becoming impatient.
Aryeh’s voice trembled. “With you and me…”
16. The Next Phase - Haifa, January 28th, 2010 (Thursday)
“Well,” said Jeanne with a smile. “What was it that you could not tell me over the phone? I was so intrigued I hardly slept tonight. What have you discovered?”
The day before, Luria asked Noga to call Jeanne and set up a meeting for the two of them in the office. He intentionally avoided calling her personally; he wanted to send Jeanne a message that things between them were not as usual. From Jeanne’s behavior he could not tell whether the message got through. She was her same charming self, who could still disarm him with a smile.
�
�Who said I have discovered anything?” Luria tried to summon all the harshness he could muster. This was not going to be easy.
Jeanne laughed. “You would not have invited me to a friendly chat in the office. We do our friendly chats in less formal locations.”
Luria tried to present a chilly exterior. “OK, Ella; actually, there has been a development.”
“My name is Jeanne if you don’t mind.”
Luria blushed. “Oops… sorry. Anyway, Jeanne, I do have news for you, but that will have to wait for now.”
“That will have to wait for what?” Jeanne did not understand.
“For you to tell me the whole story. I know for a fact that you are withholding information from me.” He was finding it hard to play the offended party but was determined to keep it on.
“Why do you say that?” Jeanne was visibly annoyed.
“I can go with you through the version of Pascal de Charney’s letter you gave me, and show you that it has been censored.”
“Censored?” She was not smiling anymore.
“Yes indeed. You did not give me the full version.”
“Is this a fact?” she asked defiantly. “And what do you suppose I was hiding?”
“Pascal was performing a mission for his father. It had something to do with Safed. I think you are interested in this task of his, rather than in his little affair.”
“You think so?”
“No,” replied Luria, “I am sure of it.”
Jeanne grew silent. Luria saw the fury in her eyes, but it gradually mellowed and was replaced by a mischievous twinkle.
“OK,” she said, “I will neither admit nor deny this for now. But any way you look at it, I am your client, and I gave you a task. Let’s assume, for argument’s sake, that I did have additional information, but that I considered this information irrelevant to this task. In this hypothetical case, why should I have shared such information with you? What if I was waiting to see whether you were capable of reaching your initial goal, before presenting you with the next?” she looked at his solemn face and smiled teasingly. “And what if this is not a hypothesis, and I do have additional information and an additional task?”
