If there were Jews, the rabbi mused to himself, as firm in their faith as those who were silently standing behind the curtain, who were so strong-minded that they could banish from their imagination the very tips of a second wife’s toes, this was apparently so only because they were eager to give a more honored place to the image of the dear redeemer, the king messiah, who did not need a millennium to come to his Jews, but only greater respect for the commandments. See you, the rabbi began excitedly, developing a new thought, apparently addressed to the startled judge who was sitting facing him but plainly, by the loudness of his voice, intended to be heard beyond the curtain, by a gathering that was holding its breath to catch every syllable, my lords and masters, members of this holy congregation, soon we shall all return to the Beloved Land, to the land flowing with milk and honey, which has neither bubbling marshes nor croaking frogs but pure streams of water and the song of nightingales. There in the last days which are nigh shall be gathered in not only distant Jews like yourselves but also, as is written and promised, all the inhabitants of the world, gentiles thirsty for the word of God. And first of all, naturally, the nearest neighbors, Ishmaelites and Mohammedans, who to find favor with the elect, the redeemed Jews, who cherish one woman above all others as though she were God himself, are likely to hurry and cast forth from their homes their redundant second, third, and fourth wives.
At this point the rabbi turned to the three sturdy seafarers, whose appearance had not been improved by the black cloaks and pointed hats in which the local Jews had dressed them; their spirit had not been quelled, and they merely seemed wilder. In a voice that contained a hint of protest, he asked, and immediately answered his own question, Is it fitting that we should tarnish the bliss of redemption with the sorrow, pain, and offense of so many Ishmaelite women, who will suddenly be inconsolably alone? How can we persuade good neighbors who long to share in our redemption not to go berserk or change their nature, if we do not show them that there are pure, good Jews who have two wives, whose orthodoxy and righteousness do not defend on the thoughts of others?
Then the reddish curtain stirred slightly, and the Elbaz child, who had heard his father’s loud voice from afar, cautiously drew back a flap and silently entered the space of the court and stood between his host, Joseph son of Kalonymos, and his sire, as though he had come to reconcile them with a compromise. Rabbi Elbaz stared in astonishment at his son, who had now tipped his little pointed hat at a new and rakish angle. And he looked back at the arbiter, who was smiling slightly at the sight of the boy. Well, Rabbi Elbaz said to himself hopefully, maybe this is just the moment to stop talking, so as to draw from the heart of this German judge’s smile a civilized, tolerant verdict that will allow the natural partnership to continue by virtue both of former brotherhood and of future redemption.
In truth, the slight smile that appeared on Joseph son of Kalnymos’s face at the sight of the rabbi’s son testified clearly that his nervousness and distress were being soothed and that the new role that had been placed upon him not only no longer frightened him but even pleased him. It was obvious that he understood that if Abulafia persisted in his silence and did not rise to defend himself, he himself would be compelled to pronounce, despite his own inclinations, a simple, rational decision that could not be different from the one reached in the winery near Paris. A new course was indicated. He instructed Master Levitas to fetch Ben Attar’s two wives, the first and the second, to be examined privily as witnesses.
PART THREE The Journey Back, or the Only Wife
1.
In the beginning of the winter of that year, in the middle of the month of Shevat, a few days after the year of the millennium embraced Christian Europe in its reality, Joseph son of Kalonymos fell ill, and a short while later he departed this life. His wife, who was now left a widow for the second time, repeated to all those who came to comfort her, with a persistence that was almost disrespectful to the deceased, that evil had entered her home at the moment of weak-mindedness when her husband allowed himself to be persuaded by that strange foreign rabbi to serve as arbiter in the accursed case of dual matrimony that came up from the south. From that day he had definitely lost his peace of mind and his spirit was disturbed, and even long weeks after the parties to the dispute had left Worms and the land of Ashkenaz he still walked around looking as though he had been struck by a wondrous nightmare, until heaven took pity on his soul.
Did he regret his decision? Or did he consider that he had gone too far to please the woman he had been denied, whose appearance before him as a suitor at the mercy of his kindness had aroused such conflicting emotions in his breast that he had been unable to control them? His despairing widow was unable to answer such questions, for he had never told her, or indeed others, what had really happened during his private examination of the two North African women, and in fact he himself may not have been certain until the day of his death that he had understood rightly what he believed they had said.
Indeed, after Rabbi Elbaz, supported on either side by burly Ishmaelites and a black slave, had tried to discourage Joseph son of Kalonymos with a gloomy vision of a messianic age packed with abandoned, dejected Ishmaelite women, the alarmed judge had tried once more to communicate with the assembly on the other side of the curtain, so as to gauge its reaction and know what to do and say. But when the rabbi’s son entered in his new cloak and hat, looking, despite his dark complexion, like a long-established child of Worms, Joseph son of Kalonymos suddenly understood that he had no need to seek beyond the curtain but that he could draw strength from deep inside himself. From that moment his self-confidence increased, to the point that his curiosity to see the two wives with his own eyes became a real, urgent duty.
A duty first and foremost toward Mistress Esther-Minna, who stood before him radiating the beauty of her anxiety. Although he did not know whether it was her parents alone or she too who had rejected the match with him, he recognized that he did not have the right to brush aside her distress, which had been considerably aggravated by the continued silence of her young husband, who may have tried to circumvent the legal ruling by an elusive deception. Therefore, as an impartial judge, he felt it was his duty to offer an opportunity to the repudiating wife who had returned to seek justice in her native town. He did not mean to favor the love of his youth, but neither did he wish to be a stranger to the beautiful, delicate face, whose transparent pallor crushed his heart. At last he asked Master Levitas to take her outside with all the others and bring the merchant’s two wives into the little courtroom, heated by the warmth of the large candles, to be questioned as witnesses.
It appeared that this was the moment the women of the community of Worms had been waiting for, for in an instant the two wives, who had been held in strange seclusion ever since they had emerged from the wagon in a state of near-collapse, had finally been fetched from two different streets and brought to the synagogue. Ben Attar’s heart was embittered at the sight of his wives, wrapped in coarse black cloaks, their faces uncovered and bare of kohl, jewelry, or any adornment, as though the local women had deliberately decided to remove the enchanting decoration that distinguished one wife from the other and to expose them as far as possible in their stark femininity, so as to mock their duality. But as the distraught Ben Attar hastened toward his wives, the women of Worms boldly blocked his way and did not let him approach, as though his purpose were to subvert their testimony rather than simply to comfort them.