All at once Rabbi Elbaz, seized by a troubling thought, hastily thrust away the bread and cheese, which he placed on the plate of the ever-hungry child, and arose in agitation and went to the stream to refresh his face and hands. Then he addressed Master Levitas, who was still feeling the two prayerbooks with his thin fingers, with a question about the character and identity of the tribunal awaiting them on the horizon. Levitas seemed to hesitate slightly, as though he were afraid to enumerate the special merits of the judges, and contented himself with general praise of the good qualities of the Jews in Villa Le Juif, which was the large estate of an extensive family, containing various workmen, servants, and retainers and even a large winery, which made wine untouched by gentile hands for the benefit of those Jews who strictly observed the law concerning the wine of idolatry. A real law court was not needed in such a family estate, where any problems sorted themselves out. But for the sake of the visitors coming from so far, with their southern plaint, he had decided to assemble a special rustic law court.
Indeed, an impression of fertile fields and vineyards welcomed the party before they entered a gate in the moss-clad stone wall that surrounded Villa Le Juif, which consisted of no more than eight or nine single-story buildings arranged around a central courtyard. To judge by the long-haired children who came running up excitedly, the local Jews already seemed to know about the debate that was about to take place in their courtyard. There was no doubt that the knowledge that a rabbi had been specially brought from Andalus to assist in the contest particularly inflamed the locals’ curiosity, which was already very excited, not only because of the pleasure of an argument but also because of the inherent attraction of the subject matter.
This attraction had even drawn in one or two Christians, like wasps to a honeycomb, from the neighboring estates; they pronounced their urgent desire to be present at a dispute between Jews and, who knew, maybe even to assist, thanks to their religious superiority, in the formulation of the verdict. Since word had got around that the two women who were at the center of the case would be present, it was clear to all and sundry that the little synagogue of Villa Le Juif would not suffice for such a gathering, and a more spacious and less sacred place that could contain such a large crowd would be required. Consequently, Meshullam the Priest, the proprietor of the winery and a close friend of Master Levitas, had given orders for the open main hall of the winery, which stood on a lower level, to be cleared, and already the large wooden vats and the jars had been removed, the small casks had been stacked one on top of another, and the piles of wood that had been prepared against the approaching cold weather had been dismantled in order to form a sort of small raised dais on which the judges would sit, so that they could survey not only the parties to the suit but also the feelings of the public standing behind them.
But who will be the judges? Rabbi Elbaz asked Ben Attar this time, but the merchant, who knew nothing, merely descended excitedly but in silence along the rough stone steps leading to the hall, whose dusty floor was stained pink by grape juice oozing from a large wooden press into a deep round basin, from which the foamy liquid exuded a perfumed sweetness. The audience was already waiting there, most of them presumably people who worked in the winery, bearded, bareheaded Jews dressed in faded, shabby clothes, and nearby a group of bare-faced women, their unkempt hair covered by small headscarves, their feet unshod and stained from stomping grapes. Unruly children were running to and fro between the men and women on little errands, their guttural babble mingled with occasional words of Hebrew, whose sounds were completely distorted. But who will choose the judges? the rabbi asked again, still delaying his descent to the lower level, refusing to believe that they were liable so hastily, without real preparation, to miss a fateful, longed-for moment for which they had bobbed on the ocean waves for nearly sixty days.
Have the judges already been appointed? Relentlessly he seized hold of the corner of Abulafia’s black coat as the man shrugged his ignorance and gently guided his two aunts, who raised the hems of their colorful robes so that they should not sweep the dusty steps. He presented them to the proprietor of the winery, who in his turn proudly introduced them to a guest of his own, an oriental courier who had passed through the Land of Israel. A genuine Radhanite, this plump, alert man wearing a green turban was a dealer in precious stones who had arrived a few days previously from the east, bringing with him two large pearls, about whose value and price Master Levitas had not stopped speculating since the previous day. Both sides were now intermingled, and the Moroccan ladies were seated on wine barrels covered in soft tapestries next to the proprietor’s wife, a tall woman with a delicate, sickly face. It was simply impossible to proceed in such haste, thought Rabbi Elbaz, his heart tormented by doubts and stirred by compassion for the second wife, who sat silently, erect, her veil fluttered by a slight breeze that might herald the advent of autumn.
But on what basis were the judges chosen? he repeated, demanding an immediate reply from Master Levitas, who now opened a side door and produced three gaunt men dressed in dusty black caftans, bearing a large parchment roll and a small sheet of green glass. They were scribes specializing in writing scrolls of the Law, phylacteries and amulets for doorposts, brought in from towns in the region to constitute the court. Scribes? the rabbi muttered disappointedly. Men who try to discern what is written merely to copy it over and over again? But Master Levitas thought highly of them. They would be able to judge on the basis of what was written in books. But what books? And what was the point of books? Rabbi Elbaz protested vehemently. If the answer was written explicitly in a book, would it have occurred to him to leave his city and entrust himself to the ocean to demand justice for his employer? Would he have allowed Ben Attar to put his wives at risk for something that was written in a book? But the words of the foreign rabbi made no impression on Master Levitas, and dismissing him with a polite smile, he continued to steer his three judges down to the lower level. The indignant Andalusian had no alternative but to hurry to anticipate them, and leaping onto the small dais, he demanded, in a wild shout that seemed unlikely to issue from such a pleasant, dreamy personality, that the judges should be changed forthwith.
A silence fell. Everyone had heard the shout, but because of his strange accent only a few understood what he was asking, and one of them was Master Levitas, who hastened to silence him. But Abulafia, shaken to the core by the rabbi’s outcry, seized his brother-in-law’s shoulder to restrain him. Even though in a short while he would be called upon to defend himself against the charges brought by the southerners, a strange hope was stirring in his heart that the case for the defense would not succeed, and that the honesty of his good, wronged uncle, combined with the rabbi’s wisdom, would tip the scales against him, for then he would be able to renew his travels to the azure summer meeting in the Spanish March. Since he understood well the rabbi’s shouted demand for the replacement of these judges, who had certainly prejudged the case, he turned to his wife, the blue of whose eyes had been so sharpened by fear since morning that now in the afternoon they looked like gray steel, and gently he pleaded with her to ask her brother to display magnanimity toward the plaintiffs, who had risked their lives to come from so far, and agree to exchange the judges for more suitable people.