In truth, throughout the many days that had elapsed since he had set out, not a day had passed without his two wives’ being within reach or at least within eyeshot. Surely the whole strength and purpose of dual love was that it forced each of the parties to be separated occasionally from their partner, so that they could digest thoroughly what they had been given before asking for more. But in the darkness of the swaying wagon driven by Abd el-Shafi’s tattooed arms, on the long road from the Seine to the Rhine, when he saw his two wives lying wearily side by side or occasionally, when the going was particularly hard, in each other’s arms, he had begun to fear that in the fantasy of his desire he would be liable henceforth to fuse them into a single woman, and so it was fitting now that he did not see them and did not even know where they were. Were they on the other side of the wall, in the little women’s synagogue? Or caged among curtains in the wooden houses raised on stilts, listening through the window to the chorus of frogs croaking across the wide marshes of the Rhineland?
It was a rich and insistent croaking that the leader of the prayers tried to drown out with his loud yet steady voice, steering the prayers confidently, without yielding to the whims of worshippers who tried to slow or speed the pace, to skip or repeat some passages. Rabbi Elbaz was confirmed in his belief that one who was accustomed to leading the prayers of such a pious and learned congregation every day with such confidence would also make a single and final arbite in the appeal that was ahead of them, even if he was not considered the greatest and best of scholars. The rabbi from Seville already felt as close to his chosen one, with his yellow beard and his bloodshot eyes, as though he had discovered a twin soul. But at the conclusion of the prayers, when Master Levitas hurried over to the rabbi and Ben Attar with an expectant smile on his face, hoping to hear from the two southern litigants some words of praise and admiration for the spiritual excellence of his native town, the rabbi cautiously refrained from revealing to his adversary even by a hint his intention of demanding a single judge instead of a panel of several judges. For the moment he contented himself with a cautious question about the character of the prayer leader, who was folding his prayer shawl slowly and reluctantly, as though he were sorry the prayers were over.
It transpired that Master Levitas, who knew and remembered everybody, could tell him all about this man, Joseph by name, who although he was also called son of Kalonymos, like the majority of the folk of Worms who had come from Italy at the bidding of Emperor Otto, was only partly a Kalonymid, on his father’s side; on his mother’s he was descended from an ancient local family that had belonged, according to legend, to the legions of Julius Caesar, who had fought here more than a thousand years ago. He was a widower, but unlike Rabbi Elbaz he had not remained single but had speedily married a widowed kinswoman, so that they could raise their orphaned children together. Perhaps it was because there were so many children in his home that Master Levitas had chosen to house the youngest traveler with him.
Now the rabbi understood why his son had not taken his eyes off the man, and why he had tipped his little black hat at the precise angle favored by his host. He suspected that the invisible hand of a good angel was touching him kindly, and his mind hastened to confirm the choice it had made. It would be good to plead his cause before a judge who, like Ben Attar, had had experience of two wives, even if not simultaneously. For a moment Elbaz wanted to join his boy as a guest in the house of his chosen one, in order to make a close study of the weak points of his mind and his character, but he gave up the idea, fearing that excessive propinquity might arouse suspicion. He decided, though, to offer this Joseph his little black horn during the service next morning, so that he might try to make the softer and darker southern sound on it.
Before the North Africans went their separate ways to eat the festive meal with their respective hosts, the rabbi hurried to share his new thought with Ben Attar and seek his permission to place the case in the hands of a single carefully selected judge. The merchant, who had so far been obliged to bestow retrospective approval on the decisions the rabbi had imposed on him, was surprised at the suggestion, but after some thought he gave his consent, because he too had realized that the unruly simplicity of the makeshift court near Paris would be replaced here by the stern, united knowledge of a community that was sure of itself. Thus it would be better to be judged here by a single, humane person who was accustomed to stand and pray with the congregation behind him rather than in front of him.
Then Rabbi Elbaz approached Master Levitas, whose eyes were searching the women coming out of their synagogue, looking for his sister, and gave him a first indication, not in his own name but in that of Ben Attar, the party to the suit, of their wish for the case to be heard in Worms by a rather restricted panel of judges, in fact by a single arbiter. At this the other, who had learned from his bitter experience in Villa Le Juif the same lesson as the rabbi—namely, that whoever selects the judges controls the verdict—pricked up his ears shrewdly, and apprehensively he asked the Andalusian rabbi, who looked just like a local Jew now with his black cloak and pointed hat, A single arbiter? Why? Surely we could benefit from the combined wisdom of several judges?
But Rabbi Elbaz held his ground. On the contrary, it was precisely because this community contained such an abundance of scholars, who learned from each other but also scrutinized and threatened each other, that they should prefer the option of a single judge, who would take full responsibility for the final separation between uncle and nephew, south and north. But who would the single judge be? Master Levitas’s fears increased, though he was heartened by the gentle presence of his sister, who now, after the evening service, appeared charming and radiant among the townsfolk. Surely the boy was not to be charged with selecting him, as at Villa Le Juif? It turned out that the rabbi was demanding not any kind of ballot but merely the straightforward right to choose, which by any standards of justice and ethics should belong to the complainants, who, confident of the rightness of their cause, had risked life and limb upon the stormy ocean to come and make their protest. Even when they had won their case, they had generously agreed to submit to a further hearing, in the depths of the forests and swamps of Ashkenaz, in a wretched and benighted town full of sharp-witted, learned kinsfolk of the other side. Honesty and propriety decreed that they should be granted the right to choose the individual who would pronounce the final verdict.
In the face of such powerful arguments Master Levitas had nothing to reply, although he wondered whether his elder sister, whose bright eyes held a fleeting smile, could fathom the purpose of the Andalusian rabbi, who had set forth his case so enthusiastically in the holy tongue. Over the festive dinner in the home of his host, the elderly rabbi of Worms, the rabbi from Seville saw that the right of choice that he had arrogated was already granted, and all that remained was to investigate the chosen candidate. Consequently, between discussions of a scriptural character, he attempted to extract some further information about Joseph son of Kalonymos. When he heard, by the by, that many years previously Joseph’s parents had wished to betroth him to Esther-Minna Levitas, but that her parents, being very particular, had preferred a whole Kalonymos to half a Kalonymos, his spirit trembled, as though it were being not merely touched but caressed by the good angel. It was possible that two different qualifications might converge, and that justice might be reinforced by a wish to be avenged for the affront of past rejection.