I
turned, and resumed my former journey.
I
crossed the bridge, and then, beyond the Ghetto wall, found myself lost amidst narrow, filthy alleyways, crooked with old houses and teetering galleries. As though it were a whirlpool,
I
allowed the Ghetto to sweep me along, bearing me always into its heart, until
I
found myself in the shadow of a blackened, triangular wall; and
I
knew
I
had arrived at the synagogue. The windows seemed dark; but having passed into the hall,
I
could make out the glimmer of a single light falling in a wan beam from the room beyond. Noiselessly,
I
glided through the doorway.' He paused, and Robert saw the scene before him. There was a room of stone and wood, very like a chapel. It was empty, save for a single figure at the far end of the room, seated in a tall chair marked by a star above which the oil lamp was flickering dully. The man wore a long black beard and the robes of a Rabbi; and he held a book, clasped tigh
tly, open on his lap. His eyes,
though, were hooded, as though he were scanning the depths of distant thoughts.
'He did not look up,' the Pasha said, 'until my shadow was upon him. His face, as he raised it, seemed bled of all emotion. "This soon?" he whispered.
' "Why?"
I
answered. "You have been expecting me?"
'The Rabbi studied me more closely.
"
I
have been warned to expect Samael, the venomous beast . . .
Havya besha
..." His voice trailed away. "But you are not he." He reached up to touch my cheek; he stared into my eyes. "So you are a blood-sucker, then, like Father Tadeus." He sighed. "Are you come like he did, to pilfer my dreams?"
"He failed."
"And would you do any better?" The Rabbi rose to his feet. "For be warned, demon - you are standing in the presence of the mysteries of God."
'
I
smiled.
I
widened my eyes. Then suddenly, as though stabbing him,
I
seized him in my mind. He fought hard, very hard; but he could not resist me, for my strength was too great, and
I
felt him start to weaken until his thoughts lay naked before my gaze.
I
knew, then, that Tadeus had been lying to me, that Rabbi Loew had bartered nothing to the Spirit of Darkness but was a brave, and learned, and fearless man. Like a huntsman freeing a bird from a trap,
I
released him from my hold. He stared at me wordlessly, and did not move, save to tighten his grip upon the sides of his book.
' "Who was it,"
I
murmured, "who warned you to expect the Angel of Darkness?"
'The Rabbi frowned. "Why bother to request what you can take from me by force?"
"Because
I
met in my dreams, and just now upon the bridge, a man with a face as ageless as time."
'The Rabbi continued to stand motionless, his eyes closed as though in prayer. "And why should this man," he asked at length, "have served to stay your hand?"
' "Because
I
am a great and mighty spirit,"
I
answered, "and yet the man on the bridge was one mightier than myself - and
I
have known such a being only once before. That was in the deserts of Egypt, when
I
met with Lilith, the harlot-princess - and ceased to be a mortal. So be warned, Rabbi. If
I
spare you" -
I
smiled distantly - "it is because you remind me of the man
I
used to be."
'The Rabbi met my stare. "The spirit you met with ... you need have no fear of him on my account, for he will do me no harm. He is known as the guardian of the chosen of God."
"And is that why he has come to you? In answer to some danger?"
"Can you not answer that yourself?" The Rabbi smiled faintly. "For he came to you as well."
I
took a step forward and leaned very close to the Rabbi's cheek, so that his beard brushed my own. "Who was he?"
I
whispered.
'The Rabbi paused, then hugged his book to his chest. "If
I
tell you his business with me," he said, "
I
would betray his trust, and my own chances of success."
"Success, Rabbi? Success in what?"
'He shook his head, and sat down once more.
'
I
gazed at him a long while; and then at his book.
I
turned at last and walked from him, into the blackness at the far end of the room. By the doorway, though,
I
paused and turned again. The Rabbi still sat frozen; and his skin, lit by the lantern's wash, seemed to gleam like pale gold. "My name is Vakhel Pasha,"
I
cried. "Should you need me, send for me at Constantinople. You will discover me there."
I
bowed my head, then turned.
"Shalom,
Rabbi Loew."
'He did not answer me; but
I
trusted - and dreaded - that in due time, he would.'
'There, in a quarry of clay, Rabbi Loew measured out the figure of a man, and drew his face in the dirt, and his arms and legs, in the way that a man might lie on his back. and then he circled the Golem round six times
...'
Traditional Jewish Folktale
T
he Pasha paused, and stirred uneasily.
'And what then?' Robert asked. 'Did he come for you?'
I
heard nothing from anyone,' the Pasha replied, 'save only Tadeus. As he had done to the Marquise, he sent news of dark rumours and celestial signs, portents of some looming apocalypse.'
'Signs?' Robert frowned.
in one letter,' the Pasha answered, 'he wrote of reports of the Wandering Jew, who had mocked Christ on His way to Golgotha, and been sentenced for the crime to eternal restlessness.
I
remembered the figure
I
had seen upon the bridge, the sense
I
had felt of his incalculable age, barely veiled behind his unwrinkled flesh; and
I
wished that Tadeus had written his letter in more detail. But
I
did not reply to him and demand a full account, for
I
knew that he was greedy for my knowledge, just as he had been greedy for Rabbi Loew's. Of the Rabbi himself, Tadeus wrote very little. One rumour, though, he did mention: that the Rabbi had created a monster made from clay, to serve him as a slave in his infernal practices. The monster lived, it was said, in the synagogue attic; and bore upon its forehead the Devil's mark.
'But Tadeus did not mention the monster again, nor Rabbi Loew; and his letters grew gradually briefer, and then stopped altogether.
I
received little other news, although once or twice
I
met with spies returned from Prague, reporting to the Sultan on the state of his enemy. One of these remembered Rabbi Loew: it was said he had been granted an audience with Emperor Rudolf - unheard-of honour for a Jew! - and that the two men had spoken alone for an hour. It was rumoured, the spy added, that the Rabbi had told the Emperor of a terrible secret; although what the secret was, no two sources could agree.
'The years passed;
I
heard no more of Rabbi Loew; and
I
supposed, in the end, that he must have died. But then one day, as
I
sat in my palace above the Golden Horn,
I
was delivered a book hand-written in Hebrew; and when
I
opened the pages,
I
discovered a flower. It was very delicate and dry; and around its stem a shred of silk had been tied, with the promise inscribed, that "the grass withereth, the flower fadeth: but the word of God shall stand forever."
I
laid the flower gently aside, and began to read the book. It had clearly been inscribed by Rabbi Loew himself; for it told of great and terrible secrets such as only the most elect of the learned might have known. Once before, the Rabbi wrote, there had been a killing time, foretold by infallible signs; and these signs had been read by the
Tannaim,
the teachers of tradition, who had understood the language of the book of the universe. They had seen written in this script of things the coming destruction, when all of the world was to be drowned beneath blood, and the Spirit of Evil would raise its temple amidst the carnage. Yet they had also read, even as Jerusalem was being destroyed and the temple of the Lord was crumbling into ash, that the world itself might still be preserved; that the Spirit of Evil might be drawn out with a hook. But they did not know how this was to be done; for only the Lord may bind Leviathan, and the secret of His wisdom was hidden from them. And it was then that a Wanderer had appeared, as ancient as the first of the sons of Adam; and he bore the secret with him, of how the Beast might be bound . ..
'At this point the account broke off - and it was on the blank facing page that the flower had been pressed.
I
left Constantinople that same night, and rode like the breath of wind towards Prague. The city, when
I
arrived there, seemed filled with signs of discord and coming war, for there were soldiers everywhere, and mobs seething with hatred, milling through the streets or gathered on the squares. Only in the Ghetto did all seem quiet; yet the stillness was that of melancholy, and the calm appeared imbued with mourning and dread.
I
prayed that
I
was not too late, and quickened my pace towards the Synagogue. When
I
arrived,
I
asked for Rabbi Loew. He was not there,
I
was told; for he was very sick.
I
would find him in his house, past the Synagogue itself.
'He was lying in his bed, his children and grandchildren gathered all about him. As
I
entered the room, they shrank from me, as though
I
were an emissary of Death; but the Rabbi whispered to them all to leave us alone, and they obeyed him, though with silent reluctance in their eyes.
I
crossed to the Rabbi. His beard was now the purest silver, and he seemed so weak that he could barely stir; but his voice, when he spoke, was as clear as
I
remembered it. He asked me to sit by his side.
I
did so, and placed the flower he had sent me back in his hand; then laid the book upon his lap.
I
opened it at the blank page. "It is the lesson of your Scriptures,"
I
told him, "that those whose curiosities are tempted will always succumb."
'The Rabbi smiled faintly. "
I
trust you will forgive me. But
I
had to be certain you would come to me at once.
I
am very near death."
' "Tell me, then, why you delayed your summons for so long?"
'A look of the profoundest melancholy crossed the Rabbi's face. "Because it was only recently," he whispered, "that my failure became clear."
' "Your failure?"
I
stared at him coldly. "So you have summoned me here to be - what? - your heir in some mission
I
do not understand?"
'The Rabbi waved his hand to and fro in a faint gesture of reconciliation. "
I
will reveal all
I
can, so you will then understand."
' "Yet
I
am a demon,"
I
whispered. "You have said so yourself."
' "A demon?" The Rabbi waved his hand again. "It is said in the secret writings that not even the demons are absolutely cursed. And so
I
believe, Vakhel Pasha. For why else would he have come to you as well as to me?"
' "He? The Wanderer?"
I
narrowed my eyes. "Tell me, then, Rabbi - tell me who he was."
'The Rabbi smiled faintly, and seemed to gaze far away. "In the most secret writings of Judah the Pious," he murmured at length, "
I
have found the assertion that the Wanderer is Cain, still a fugitive and vagabond, eternally seeking to expiate his sin. But
I
have seen him,
I
have stared into his eyes ..." He looked up to meet my own gaze. "
I
do not believe he had ever been a man."