Lilah (4 page)

‘Wait,' Sogdiam whispered, as Lilah moved towards the study. ‘I have to warn them!'

Lilah did not have time to retort that she had no intention of waiting: a clear voice spoke her name. ‘Lilah!'

Sogdiam might have been right, Lilah thought. Now that it had been pointed out to her, she could see how well groomed Ezra was: the short glossy beard, the gleaming white teeth in a welcoming smile, the hair carefully parted and tied at the back
of his neck with an ivory ring from the East that Lilah had given him. But his brightly coloured tunic, held in at the waist with a brown linen belt, did not conceal how thin he had become.

‘Lilah, my sister . . .' He came forward, his arms open, then stopped dead. ‘May I clasp you to me?' he asked.

Lilah gave a mocking laugh. Faithful to every line of Moses' laws, Ezra wanted to know if she was burdened by what he called ‘the blood of womanhood'.

She went up to him and placed her fingers on his lips. He hesitated, torn between wanting to retreat and wanting to kiss her. Lilah laughed again, drew him to her and kissed his earlobe. ‘Have no fear,' she whispered. ‘I'm pure. Would I have come if I weren't? Don't you trust your sister?'

Ezra gave a small grunt of satisfaction. Lilah closed her eyes. She was happy to be with her beloved brother, and forgot for the moment the anxiety that had been tormenting her since the previous night. They held each other as if they had been apart, not for a few weeks, but for all eternity.

The same emotion overcame them each time they met. Brother and sister, born of the same flesh, sometimes so alike that they seemed to be of one body – but never of one mind.

Her lips pressed to Ezra's neck, Lilah opened her
eyes. Sogdiam was watching them. Then he turned away and hurried into the house with the basket.

Ezra took a step back, but kept Lilah's hand in his.

‘Sogdiam tells me you make yourself handsome whenever I come to visit,' she remarked in a serious tone, although there was still a touch of mockery in her eyes, ‘but to me you seem thinner than ever. How is it possible? Axatria's baskets are full to bursting. Don't you eat?'

Ezra dismissed her questions with a wave of his hand. ‘I'm perfectly well. It's Master Baruch you should worry about. We had some bad news, and since then he hasn't slept. This morning we haven't studied because he felt too weak.'

Lilah threw a worried glance at the room from which Ezra had emerged.

‘Go in,' Ezra said, with a nod. ‘He's waiting for you.'

Simply furnished though it was, the room gave an impression of warmth. The daylight came in through a wide opening in the west wall, and on either side of this window, which had a shutter of woven reed, were niches piled high with wax tablets. The north wall was covered with a rug, a gift from Aunt Sarah. It had taken a great deal of effort on Lilah's part to persuade Ezra to hang it, but in winter it had proved effective in protecting the
room from the wind and cold that filtered through the poorly laid bricks.

In the middle of the room, a cedar chest, blackened by the oil lamps that had burned on it, served as a writing desk. Around it were a number of wide-necked jars filled with papyrus scrolls, and two stools. A leather bag hung from one of the ceiling beams, containing styli and sticks of dry ink.

A low bed stood against the wall opposite the window, consisting of a woollen mattress wrapped in linen, placed on leather trestles. An old man's head jutted out from the brown and green striped blanket, but his frail body barely showed beneath it.

Lilah knelt.

‘Lilah is here, Master!' Ezra said loudly, behind her.

The blanket was pushed back more briskly than Lilah had expected. Two pale, deep-set eyes peered at her, bright eyes that contrasted sharply with the haggard face, the thousand lines on the brow and cheeks. Despite his great age, Master Baruch's hair was still dark. His curly beard, though, was as white as a lamb's fleece, and covered his chest. His withered lips were barely visible, but drew back to reveal a few stumps of teeth when he smiled. ‘Lilah, my dove, may the Everlasting bless you.' The voice was weak and hoarse, but cheerful.

Master Baruch pushed back the blanket a little
more. His hands seemed to be no more than bones held together by the shiny, pockmarked skin that still covered them. He squeezed Lilah's hands with the strength and gentleness that amazed her every time. She leaned down and kissed the old man's brow tenderly. ‘Master Baruch, Ezra tells me you're ill.'

There was a strange creak and Master Baruch opened his mouth wide. Then he closed his eyes and his throat quivered. He was laughing. ‘Ezra is young and very indulgent,' he murmured, once he had regained his breath. ‘He's so certain the Everlasting is going to make me a “patriarch” he thinks I'm ill! The truth, my dove, is that I'm not ill at all.' He squeezed Lilah's hands. His eyes opened again to reveal his piercing, ironic gaze. ‘It's simply my time to die, my dove. The Everlasting doesn't share Ezra's opinion! He doesn't want to make me a new Noah or Abraham. I shan't live three hundred years. Baruch ben Neriah I am, and Baruch ben Neriah I shall die. And soon!'

‘The truth, Master,' Ezra said impatiently, ‘is that you had a stomach ache all last night.'

‘The stomach ache is nothing,' Master Baruch retorted, his voice firmer now. ‘A stomach ache you're born with and you die with. I've had a stomach ache for almost a hundred years. The sad thing, the thing that's turning my blood to water
and shortening my life, is knowing that I shall never see Jerusalem rise again from her shame. I shall die while the city chosen by Yahweh is still defenceless before her enemies. To know that the Ammonites and Ashdodites are dancing on the ruins of the Temple, that's my illness, my dove. That's the punishment inflicted on me by the Everlasting.'

Lilah frowned. ‘Why do you say that, Master Baruch? Those misfortunes are over. Nehemiah has long since rebuilt the Temple and Jerusalem is living according to the Law of Yahweh. That's what you told Ezra and me when you first came here.'

The old man raised his palms in protest, as if overcome by a wave of pain. ‘Forget those innocent words, my child! Don't make my sin any worse than it is before the Everlasting.'

Lilah turned to Ezra, uncomprehending.

‘Clearly you haven't heard the news,' Ezra said sombrely, ‘and I'm not surprised. Nobody's likely to care about such things in Mordechai's house.'

With a shudder, Lilah remembered Antinoes' tablet. ‘What news?' she asked.

‘Nehemiah, son of Hakalya, died at least five years ago. And he failed.'

‘Oh!' Her relief did not escape Ezra. She felt her cheeks turn red.

Master Baruch's voice rose, loud and clear. ‘“You will come back to me,” Yahweh said to Moses.
“You will obey my orders, and act according to them. And even if you are banished to the furthest borders under heaven, from there I will gather you and I will lead you to the place I have chosen for my Name to live.” It was with these words in mind that Nehemiah, son of Hakalya, left Susa. That is what we must carry in our hearts.' He pointed at Lilah, his pale eyes neither smiling nor ironic now, but hard with anger. ‘It is now fifty-four years since Nehemiah left for Jerusalem to re-establish the will of Yahweh. And all he has re-established is piles of bricks.'

‘For four years Cyrus the Younger ruled over Judaea,' Ezra interrupted. ‘We heard only rumours about Jerusalem and Nehemiah. The news that reached us was neither good nor bad. Merchants who came to Susa assured us that Cyrus had as much affection for the Jews as his father and grandfather. The Temple and the walls of the city were as splendid as they would be in a dream, they asserted. It was the gossip of caravan drivers drunk on palm wine. Music to the ears of an exiled Jew whose conscience might have been pricked otherwise.' He stretched out his arm, pointing to an invisible visitor in the courtyard. ‘Some came here to bow down to Master Baruch, claiming to be pious. “Do you have news of Jerusalem?” we would ask. “Is Nehemiah still fighting the Philistines, and the people of
Manasseh, Ammon and Gad?” “Oh, no!” they'd reply, confident as could be. “Nehemiah made the Law of Moses respected on the hills of Judaea and the banks of the Jordan. Jerusalem shines as it did in Solomon's day.” How did they know? They'd had a letter, or heard it from a relative who was visiting. It was all hearsay.'

Ezra slapped his thigh, gave a harsh laugh, and fell silent. But his eyes blazed with fury, his face suddenly magnificent.

A thrill went through Lilah. At such moments no one, not even Antinoes, was as splendid as her brother.

Lilah had long been familiar with Ezra's anger. And when it came, she admired it as much as she dreaded it. His throat was as delicate as a woman's, but when he was angry his voice would grow sombre and curiously resonant. It made the air tremble and everyone's heart beat faster. His whole body appeared to grow heavier, and he would move about, shaking his limbs, as if they could not contain the strength of his muscles. Lilah was not surprised now to see him turn abruptly, walk to the window, then to the door, and come back at last to the bed. He clapped his hands, as if to frighten off a pack of stray dogs.

‘Now we know the truth. In the month of
Nissan, Artaxerxes waged battle on his brother Cyrus beneath the walls of Babylon. Cyrus was killed, and the lies and rumours died with him. Today the truth has crossed the desert. And the truth is that the Temple of the children of Israel has no doors, no roof – and if it has, no one guards them. No one knows the Law. Apparently trading goes on there, and money-changing. The walls of Jerusalem may have been rebuilt, but they're still wide open. The Philistines, the Ammonites, the Moabites, all the enemies of the children of Israel, come and go as they please. The Law given to Moses by Yahweh no longer holds sway, any more than it did on the day Nebuchadnezzar conquered Judaea, any more than it did during the sixty years when our fathers trampled the dust of exile, or during the hundred and fifty years that have passed since the decree of Cyrus the Great that returned Jerusalem to the children of Israel. The truth is that we might almost be back in the time when the Hebrews who had left Egypt danced before the Golden Calf at the foot of Mount Sinai. That is the news, Sister. Nehemiah was ambitious and headstrong, but he failed.'

Ezra sat down on a stool and slapped his thigh again.

‘How can you be certain?' Lilah could not help asking.

Her brother stared at her in surprise. Lilah smiled
at him gently. She had not tried to oppose him, but had simply said what she was thinking. She was so accustomed to the fire of Ezra's speeches that she no longer fell under their spell, as she had when they were younger. But now Ezra's anger had turned against her, as the desert wind abruptly changes direction. That, too, was something to which she was accustomed. She placed a hand on her brother's knee. ‘You may be worrying needlessly,' she said tenderly. ‘If the rumours from Jerusalem after the battle of Kounaya were false, why should these new ones be true?'

Ezra pushed away her hand, but before he could say a word, Master Baruch spoke: ‘That's a good question, my daughter. If a bird flies in one direction, why shouldn't it fly in another?'

Rigid with anger, lips quivering, Ezra looked the two of them up and down.

Master Baruch pointed to one of the jars with a bony finger. ‘Show her the letter.'

Ezra pulled a papyrus from among the twenty or so in the jar and threw it to Lilah. ‘It's from Yaqquv, the guardian of the gates of the Temple. He was appointed to the post by Nehemiah himself before he died. The letter was written in Jerusalem two springs ago. It did not reach the Levites of Babylon until after the death of Cyrus the Younger. One of them brought it to Master Baruch, because it was
addressed to him. Everything I told you is there, written by Yaqquv, who saw it with his own eyes.'

Even though it was rolled round a cedarwood stalk, the papyrus strip was worn, yellowed and torn: it looked as if it had been handled by hundreds of people. The ink was ochre in colour, different from that used in Susa. The writing was not Persian or Chaldean. Lilah recognized the tall, joined-up signs of the Hebrews, which Master Baruch was teaching Ezra. She could barely decipher them.

As if guessing her thoughts, Ezra took another papyrus from the jar. This one was shorter and newly written. ‘I translated the important points into the language of Babylon, made more than forty copies and distributed them to the exiled families in the upper town. I was hoping to open their eyes to the wounds of Jerusalem. You might have had one in your hands. But perhaps it was madness to hope I could touch our uncle's heart, or even cross his threshold.'

Lilah lowered her eyes. He was right: this bad news had not entered Uncle Mordechai's house. She turned to the old man. ‘I'm ashamed, Master Baruch. Ezra's right. As you know, our uncle's house is closed to anything that comes from his nephew. But our uncle will come to regret it, I'm sure.'

Master Baruch glanced at Ezra and sighed. ‘We're
all ashamed, you, Ezra and I. All of us. Nehemiah was so confident when he set off. “I confess the sins of the children of Israel. We have sinned against you, Yahweh. I am in sin, my father's house is in sin.” That's what he said as he left the Citadel. And we can say the same thing now. Time has passed, but nothing good has come of it.'

He grimaced and fell silent. His fingers again sought Lilah's hand. Ezra respected his silence, and the three were quiet for a moment. There was nothing to add. The words already spoken were enough of a burden.

Then Lilah heard noises from the adjoining room, which was used as a kitchen. Sogdiam must be putting away the provisions.

As rapidly as he had flown into a rage, Ezra regained his composure. Calmly, he replaced the papyri in the jar, then sat down again beside Lilah. She did not need to turn to know that he was looking at her, and did not doubt his affection for her, but she kept her head down and her eyes on Master Baruch's hand squeezing hers.