But not a word would he say to either of them before making the two partners and his son stand and face the Cité of Paris to the east, to say the afternoon and evening prayers in the old familiar mode and manner. Abulafia, who always loved to sing these tunes, could not find the strength in his soul even to mumble them. There was something attractive about these southern Jews, in their white robes and blue turbans, standing on board the Arab ship scarred by the hardships of its valiant journey, surrounded by the strong seamen, whose eyes were fixed on the crowds of Frankish folk thronging the riverbank and forgoing their dinner in order to enjoy the sight of the variegated mass of humanity on board. Suddenly it seemed to Rabbi Elbaz that in the evening twilight of this city, there was not just a vague menace from the approaching millennium but also the veiled promise of a great and unique beauty to be born of the future marriage between the two banks.
The convent of Sainte Geneviève on the northern bank was screened by the smoke of dinners being cooked on the island as the Jews concluded the prayer “True and faithful,” but still Rabbi Elbaz refused to disclose the new idea he had had, since he feared that Ben Attar would stifle it newborn, and preferred to unveil it only after the great feast that the two North African women had prepared. Since the rabbi had followed the preparations during the day and taken part in the tasting and testing, he pinned great hopes on the power of this meal to assist the idea that had captured his heart.
It may have been precisely because of the panic that had seized Ben Attar as Abulafia had pleaded to be released that he too felt very excited about the meal his two wives had made. Since he had set out on his journey he had missed the dishes that each of his wives had always prepared for him, and these wives would now be joined together at a single table. Even Abulafia forgot his woes for a moment, and a tear of pleasure welled up in his eye as he smelled the North African food, not because of his fast, which he had quite forgotten about in the commotion of his fainting fit, but because his memory conjured up the cooking of his first wife, who had died. Master Levitas too was so tired and hungry that he accepted without remonstrance the new smells and flavors, especially since he was careful not to give offense to his two enthusiastic veiled guests, who, usurping the role of hostess, piled his plate with more and more food. Only Mistress Esther-Minna sat grimly at the banquet that had taken over her dining table, consoling herself with the thought that this would be her last dinner before she returned to the place where she had come into the world.
Then Rabbi Elbaz began to question her, in slow, easy Hebrew, about her native town and the merits and achievements of its Jewish scholars. His purpose was to find out whether she would be finally satisfied if these great and meticulous sages gave their approval to the renewal of the partnership between Ben Attar and her husband. But Esther-Minna found the rabbi’s question redundant, since she had no doubt in her heart that the sages of the land of Ashkenaz would not only find in favor of the repudiation but would almost certainly convert it into a formal ban. The rabbi from Seville, however, was not dismayed by the menace contained in her words. Perhaps, he answered with a strange smile, because they had not yet heard the arguments thought up in Seville and simmered upon the ocean waves for many days and nights. He had not said his fill at the winery of Villa Le Juif. He still had a few choice arguments left, which were stirring in his heart, and he laid his hand on his chest as though to still their motion. Therefore, the rabbi added softly, with a casual smile, why should they not all join her rebellion and follow her to the river of her birth, so as to face the judgment of those whom she accepted as wise and just? If the judgment went against them, they would accept their discomfiture and return as they had come, but if not, the repudiation and the rebellion would be utterly annulled, and all of them would be reunited, she with her husband who loved her so, and he in turn with his uncle who had refused to abandon him.
So surprised was Mistress Esther-Minna by the Andalusian rabbi’s willingness to face another court in her native town that she feared the Hebrew her father had taught her had misled her understanding. So she excitedly asked her brother, whose command of the holy tongue was better than her own, to find out clearly from the rabbi whether he had truly said what she had understood. Master Levitas questioned Rabbi Elbaz, who, without looking straight at his master the merchant, repeated his suggestion so clearly that Master Levitas had no doubt or difficulty in translating it rapidly and fluently into the local language. The rabbi’s words caused the pale, exhausted Abulafia to rise excitedly and bow a deep bow to the startled Ben Attar, in the mistaken belief that it was his uncle who was the true source of this wonderful new suggestion.
5.
While Abulafia was bowing excitedly to his uncle, the same unseen hand that was gently wiping away the painful rift in his soul was transferring it slowly to that of Ben Attar. Although he knew well that the rabbi’s astounding suggestion was connected to an irresistible temptation to repeat the wonderful speech he had made to the court of the wine casks before the sages in the blue-eyed woman’s native town, Ben Attar also understood well that the rabbi was trying to open up a new avenue, so as to avoid a renewed breach between him and Abulafia that was liable to frustrate the whole purpose of their epic voyage. But he shot an anxious glance at his two wives, who were sitting at the other end of the table, their faces beaming with joy at the sight of all the empty dishes, still not suspecting what the little rabbi was cooking up for them. Again, as when a storm whips up the sea, his heart was anxious for his two wives, who would have to journey even farther. Even if he did not fear, like his nephew, that a rebellion might break out in his household, he did fear that the sorrow of homesickness might age them all.
Thus he turned cautiously to Master Levitas and questioned him about the road to the Rhine, the river where he and his sister had been born and bred. And Master Levitas, who had been sitting contentedly stroking his little beard and sniffing the smell of the Moroccan meal clinging to his fingers while trying to discern what was taking place in his guts, was very careful not to let slip a single ill-considered word of discouragement, for although he saw the suggestion of a contest with the sages of Ashkenaz as a dangerous gamble, he also knew that this was the only way of ridding himself of these swarthy visitors, whose presence in his home was becoming more rooted by the hour, and of giving himself a lull, however temporary, from the feverish complications of his sister’s marriage, which he realized now he had been only too right to warn her against.
Thus Master Levitas attempted to depict the route from Francia to Lotharingia, from Paris to Worms, in clear, gentle colors, according to his memories from long ago. Although Ben Attar was disappointed at first to discover that the Creator had not managed in the six days of the creation to link the Seine to the Rhine, so that Abd el-Shafi could be asked to hoist the triangular sail and simply sail the ship to Mistress Esther-Minna’s childhood home, Master Levitas’s reassuring descriptions of villages and small towns on the way led him to hope and believe that this additional journey by land would not put to shame the voyage that had preceded it. Excitedly he heard about the small town of Meaux, which led to the town of Chalons, and about the River Marne, and the Meuse, where Verdun could be found, a pleasant town of customs men and slave traders that straddled the frontier between the county of Champagne and the duchy of Lotharingia. From there easy roads ran through an expansive country past towns called Metz and Saarbrücken, and the rivers Moselle and Saar, until they reached their destination, Worms, which stood beside the River Rhine, to whose marshy banks a few families of Jews had clung lovingly for the past hundred years. And so Ben Attar turned to his two wives, who were trying, each in her own way, to understand what was being said, so that he could soothe the panic that he could sense only too well from the slight motion of their veils.