formal act of acquisition to a chorus of congratulatory Mazal toys from
the witnesses.
The bridegroom's party trooped out into the crowded garden now to await
the arrival of the bride, and she came accompanied by the chief surgeon
standing in for her dead father, and a party of festively dressed women,
including Debra and her mother. They all carried lighted candles.
To David, Hannah had never been particularly attractive, she was too
tall and severe in body and expression; however, in her white bridal
dress and veil she was transformed.
She seemed to float cloudlike upon the billowing white skirts, and her
face was softened by the veil and by the inner happiness that seemed to
glow through her green eyes. Red-gold hair framed her cheeks, and the
freckles were disguised under make-up applied by Debra's cunning hand.
She had used it to mute the rather harsh lines of Hannah's bony nose,
and the result was that Hannah was as near to beautiful as she would
ever come.
Joe, looking big and handsome in his airforce tans, went forward eagerly
to meet her at the gate to the garden and to lower the veil over her
face in the ceremony of bedeken dikafle.
Joe moved to the chuppah canopy where the Rabbi waited with a taffit
over his shoulders. After Joe the women led Hannah, each of them still
carrying a burning candle, and the Rabbi chanted a blessing as the women
and the bride circled Joe seven times in a magical circle which in olden
times would serve to ward off evil spirits. At last bride and groom
stood side by side, facing towards the site of the Temple with the
guests and witnesses pressed closely about them and the ceremony proper
began.
The Rabbi spoke the benediction over a goblet of wine from which bride
and groom both drank. Then Joe turned to Hannah, her face still veiled,
and he placed the plain gold ring upon her right forefinger.
Behold you are consecrated unto me by this ring, according to the law of
Moses and Israel. Then Joe broke the glass under his heel and the sharp
crunch was a signal for an outburst of music and song and gaiety. David
left Joe's side and worked his way through the joyous crowd of guests to
where Debra waited for him.
She wore a gown of yellow and she had fresh flowers in the dark sheen of
her hair. David smelled their perfume as he hugged her surreptitiously
about the waist and whispered in her ear, You next, my beauty! and she
whispered back, Yes, please! Joe took Hannah on his arm, and then went
to the improvised dance floor. The band began with a light bouncy tune
and all the younger ones flocked to join them, while the elders spread
out at the tables beneath the palm-decked trellis.
Yet amongst all the laughter and the gaiety, the uniforms added a sombre
touch; almost every second man was adorned with the trappings of war,
and at the garden gate and the entrance to the kitchens were uniformed
paratrooper guards each with an Uzzi submachine-gun slung at his
shoulder. It was easy to pick out the secret service men. They were
the ones in civilian clothes who moved without smiling, alert and
vigilant, amongst the guests.
David and Debra danced together, and she was so light and warm and
strong in his arms that when the band paused for breath he resented it.
He led her to a quiet corner, and they stood together, discussing the
other guests in the most disrespectful terms until Debra giggled at some
particularly outrageous remark and struck his arm lightly.
You are terrible. She leaned against him. I'm dying of thirst, won't
you get me something to drink?
A glass of cold white wine? he suggested.
Lovely, she said, smiling up into his face. For a moment they studied
each other, and suddenly David felt something dark welling up from
within him, a terrible despair, a premonition of impending loss. It was
a physical thing and he could feel the chill of it enclose his chest and
squeeze out all the happiness and the joy.
What is it, David? Her own expression altered in sympathy with his, and
she tightened her grip on his arm.
Nothing. Abruptly he pulled away from her, trying to fight off the
feeling. It's nothing, he repeated, but it was still strong in his
belly and he felt a wave of nausea from it. I'll get you the wine, he
said and turned away.
He made his way towards the bar, pushing gently through the throng. The
Brig caught his eye and smiled bleakly across the garden at him. Joe
was with his father and he called to David, laughing, with one arm
around his bride. Hannah had her veil pushed up and her freckles were
beginning to emerge from under the makeup, glowing vividly against the
snow-white lace. David waved at them but went on towards the open-air
bar at the end of the garden, the mood of sadness was still on him and
he didn't want to talk to Joe now.
So he was cut off from Debra at the moment when, with a flourish, a
procession of white-jacketed waiters came in through the iron gate of
the garden. Each of them carried a huge copper salver from which, even
in the warm sun, rose tendrils of steam, and the odour of meat and fish
and spices filled the garden. There were gasps and cries of
appreciation from the guests.
A way opened for them towards the high table on the raised terrace which
led to the kitchen doors and the house.
The procession of waiters passed close to David, and suddenly his
attention was drawn from the display of fine food to the face of the
second waiter in line. He was a man of medium height and ark
complexion, a mahogany face with a thickly drooping mustache.
He was sweating. That was what had drawn David's attention, his face
was shiny with sweat. Droplets clung in his mustache and slid down his
cheeks. The white jacket was sodden at the armpits as he lifted the
gigantic platter on high.
At the moment that he drew level with David their eyes met for an
instant. David realized that the man was in the grip of some deep
emotion, fear, perhaps, or exhilaration. Then the waiter seemed to
become aware of David's scrutiny and his eyes slid nervously away.
David felt suspicion begin to chill his arms as the three figures
climbed the stone stairs, and filed behind the table.
The waiter glanced again at David, saw that his gaze was still locked
upon his face, and then he said something out of the corner of his mouth
to one of his companions. He also glanced at David, and caught his
stare, and his expression was sufficient to send alarm flaring urgently
through David's chest and brain. Something was happening, something
dangerous and ugly, he was certain of it. . Wildly he looked about for
the guards. There were two of them on the terrace behind the line of
waiters, and one near David beside the gate.
David shoved his way desperately towards him, mindless of the outraged
comments of those in his way. He was watching the three waiters and so
he saw it begin to happen.
It had obviously been carefully rehearsed, for as the three waiters
placed the salvers upon the table to the laughter and applause of the
guests crowded in the garden below them, so they drew back the sheet's
of plastic on which a tin display of food had been arranged to cover the
deadly load that each copper salver carried.
The brown-faced waiter lifted a machine pistol from under the plastic
sheet, and turned swiftly to fire a traversing burst into the two