Judah the Pious (24 page)

“I am afraid,” said the Rabbi Eliezer, “that I now find myself faced with the necessity of making a rather rude and brash intrusion into my hero’s privacy. For I must tell you that, during his night with the Baroness Sophia, the young man began to remember the difference between true pleasure and the tired battles he had fought in the other noblewomen’s beds. Indeed, he was so overwhelmed by passion that quite some time passed before he noticed that the princess’s cat had resumed its raucous yowling. It was this unexpected distraction which momentarily cooled his ardor and allowed him to perceive a most disturbing sensation.

“In the instant before the force of his desire returned and obliterated his detachment, Judah ben Simon felt the familiar touch of a hand with six fingers, pressing against his back.”

“T
HE NEXT MORNING,” SAID
the Rabbi Eliezer hastily, before his listener could interrupt, “Judah ben Simon awoke in a drowsy, pleasant mood. But this sense of well-being gradually disappeared as he became aware that the walls of the baroness’s bedroom were covered with illusionist murals, depicting the elm grove in which he had first met Rachel Anna. He recognized the arrangement of the trees, the shrubs, the flowers; even the shelf-mushrooms were in their accustomed places on the trunks. Yet, before the young man could even attempt to comprehend this unsettling discovery, his uneasiness and confusion were multiplied by the realization that the Baroness Sophia Majeski had already gone from the room.

“So I have been tricked again,” muttered the mountebank disconsolately. Numb with disappointment, he lay beneath the blankets, trying to understand how he could have let himself be so completely deceived, wondering why the three women had gone to such great lengths just to torture him. He searched through his memory for some clue which might help him understand the meaning of the bedroom murals, and taxed his imagination to explain the strange reminders of the past which had disturbed him on the previous night. Again and again, the Baroness Sophia’s image appeared before his eyes. He re-examined every word of their conversation, and, each time he recalled the dreams and confidences with which he had so foolishly entrusted her, he heard himself utter an involuntary groan of shame.

Eventually, however, as Judah tossed back and forth, he began to hear a dry, rustling sound beneath his head, and reached beneath his pillow to find a sheet of plain, gray paper, inscribed with a precise and delicate script.

My dearest mountebank,
read Judah ben Simon,

If you are the man of intelligence and sensitivity which I believe you to be, you must know by now that my love for you is more profound than the deepest valleys of the Carpathians. Therefore, I have decided to escape from this prison of Kuzman and go away with you. Do not be afraid: the money I have saved from my parents’ remittances will support us for many years. After that, I will gladly learn your business, and assist you in the mountebank’s trade.

Indeed, the only obstacles to our perfect happiness are the princess and the countess. Over the course of those long winter evenings, they have grown fond of my company, and would certainly oppose the idea of my departure. They are powerful, unpredictable women; I have seen them be quite mean to the unlucky men who have tried to cross them.

For this reason, I suggest that we tell no one of our plans. Do not try to find me now, at this bright and public hour of day. But, if you have any love for me, come back at midnight, when I will be waiting, and prepared to go.

Until then,

I am,

Your devoted mistress,

THE BARONESS SOPHIA MAJESKI

The mountebank read this note four times; then he put on his clothes, tucked the letter safely inside his robe, and left the house at once, without seeking to consult his hostess. Thoroughly preoccupied, oblivious to his surroundings, he passed blindly through the streets of Kuzman and returned to the inn. There, he sat down on his mattress, and scarcely moved all day as he considered the obvious advantages of accepting the baroness’s proposal.

“My worries would be over,” thought the young man hopefully. “I will no longer need to scrape for pennies, sleep on the hard ground, and wander for days on end without a decent meal. With such a beautiful, adoring woman by my side, my loneliness would vanish. No one could accuse me of abandoning one woman for the sake of another just like her, for the baroness has told me with her own lips that
she
would never believe in anything so stupid as a child conceived in a dream. Should our union prove discordant, I can always redirect my path towards Kuzman and return the lady to her home. And, within a few short hours, I will be able to see if my mistress really has six fingers on her left hand, and to learn the name of that countryman of mine who painted those disturbing murals on her walls.”

By the time the village clock showed half past eleven, Judah ben Simon had not yet been able to find one drawback in the lady’s plan. Who could have blamed him for the perfect confidence with which he gathered his belongings and headed towards the north edge of town? Indeed, as he turned up the road which led into the mountains, he could hardly keep himself from beaming with happiness.

It was a lovely spring evening, bright with the glow of the full moon and the stars. The sky was clear, the air cool, the leaves full and fragrant on the trees.

“On a night like this,” thought Judah excitedly, “it is almost shameful to keep to this barren and well-trodden path. It must surely be possible for me to cut through the forest, and reach the baroness’s home by a more pleasant route.”

But, a few moments after he had turned from the highway, Judah ben Simon knew that he had made a mistake, for the heart of the forest reeked with the fetid smell of decomposing flesh. “I can hardly arrive at my mistress’s house stinking of the grave,” he murmured, and decided to return to the main road. As he attempted to retrace his steps, he found that the cobbled path was nowhere in sight.

Having spent half the nights of his life in the woods, Judah was not particularly alarmed by this temporary disorientation. Certain that the highway must lie somewhere to his west, he resolved to take his bearings from the stars. Yet soon, he realized with anxiety that the heavens seemed to have changed their shape, and that, in place of the constellations he had known as a child, the bizarre, twisted forms of starry lizards, dragons, and horned toads filled the sky.

It was then that Judah ben Simon first began to perceive how different this wilderness was from the comfortable forest in which he had passed his youth. The foliage was thicker and blacker than any he had ever seen; gnarled branches, overhanging ferns, and moss-covered vines were knit into a canopy which screened out all but the faintest rays of moonlight. The loud, incessant chirping of the crickets had a forced, discordant sound, like an orchestra obliged to play the death march of a tyrant; tense, frantic animals scurried through the underbrush with sharp noises, and high-pitched shrieks.

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, the mountebank noticed the shadow of a monstrous, black shape, passing across a clump of dead-white birches. “These fancies of mine are absurd,” he said to himself, experiencing a faint, fluttering sensation at the pit of his stomach. But, no sooner did he utter these words than he realized that he had somehow wandered into a section of the forest so overgrown and dense that he could no longer see.

Tripping over a fallen tree, the traveler lost his balance and fell to the ground; moving on all fours, he began to grope his way through the blackness. The stench of decay grew steadily more powerful; roots and sharp stalks scratched at Judah’s arms; a bank of dank, sticky moss gave way beneath his knees. As he attempted to keep himself from slipping further into the mud, his right hand clawed through the damp, spongy layers of leaves, and came to rest on the wet, putrefied fur of a dead rodent.

Judah ben Simon jumped to his feet and stumbled forward, walking more and more quickly as the unending darkness intensified his fear. He did not stop when the thick brush caused him to lose his footing in the dark, nor even when he crashed against the trunks of half-grown pines. Some branches scraped the side of his face; the mountebank reached up to feel the warm blood trickling down his neck.

In a blind panic, he started to run, and did not pause for breath until he had reached a patch of sandy ground, where the sparse foliage permitted a few rays of light to filter down. There, in a grove of tall, spindly firs, was an abandoned wooden shelter, not unlike the one which Judah had shared with Rachel Anna.

Panting with exhaustion, the young man crept stealthily towards the hut. He peered in through the chinks between the logs and saw one small room, filled with cobwebs and a greenish, phosphorescent mist. Although several beams had fallen from the ceiling, the frame of the structure seemed sufficiently reliable and sturdy. Therefore, despite the shelter’s unprepossessing appearance, the mountebank decided to take refuge there until dawn.

But, when he reached the opposite side of the house, Judah ben Simon was presented with a sight which made his knees grow weak with terror.

The door of the hut fronted on a large, barren clearing. On the floor of this meadow was a thick carpet of bones—sharp-toothed, hollow-eyed rat skulls, gleaming stark white in the moonlight.

Once again, Judah started to run, trembling with nausea as the bones snapped and crunched beneath his feet. Just beyond the far edge of the clearing, stabbing pains in his chest obliged him to slacken his pace. He stood doubled over, struggling to regain his strength. Then, when the blood had stopped pounding in his ears, he began to notice that the forest had fallen perfectly silent.

The crickets had ceased their chirping; the animals nestled close to the ground and remained motionless. Even the cool spring wind had stopped rustling the leaves. The young man took a few tentative steps forward, watching for the slightest movement, listening warily to the silence.

At that moment, Judah ben Simon realized that he was being stalked.

He had distinctly heard the footsteps, moving in rhythm with his own, pacing behind him, stopping when he stopped. “My imagination,” he whispered tensely, and started to walk faster. The footsteps sped up. Judah broke into a run, and heard the animal running after him.

For almost an hour, the mountebank eluded his unseen pursuer. He knelt in dense thickets, ducked behind trees, crouched in the icy hollows of damp boulders. At times, he attempted to quiet his terror by scheming to discover his hunter’s identity, for he could not imagine what sort of creature could combine such an earthshaking tread with such agility and poise. But, despite all Judah’s efforts, the animal held back in the shadows, lurked behind in hidden corners of the woods, teasing its prey, awaiting its chance. As he tried to lure his enemy into showing itself, the young man grew calm and clearheaded, distracted from his fear by the notion that he was involved in a clever game of wit and instinct. Yet gradually, as he came to understand that he would soon be overtaken, sweat began to wash down his forehead, and spasms of panic ripped through his chest.

Finally, Judah reached the middle of a wide meadow, and knew that he would never reach the other side. He could no longer outrun his pursuer; there was nowhere for him to hide. He turned around, took out his knife, and prepared himself for battle.

At that moment, Judah ben Simon saw an enormous, coal-black cat emerging from the edge of the forest. Its huge, gleaming eyes shone like blue-green lamps; its pointed yellow teeth dripped with spittle. Its back arched and rubbed against the lower branches of the pines, and, as more and more of its body appeared from out of the trees, Judah realized with horror that the creature was more than ten feet long.

“I am dreaming this,” thought the terrified young man. “Such monsters do not exist in nature.” But, as the cat shook its hindquarters and leaped towards him across the plain, he knew that it was no dream.

With a shrill, piercing scream, the animal pounced on its prey. Locked together, Judah and the wildcat rolled over and over through the high grass. The cat spat, and clawed at the young man’s neck; the mountebank slashed at the thick, glossy fur. There was screaming, snarling; Judah felt the beast’s teeth bite into his hand, and the sharp nails tear at his breast. The struggle grew fiercer, more intense and vicious.

At last, too exhausted to continue fighting, Judah ben Simon relinquished his hold on the creature, lay quietly on his back, and felt the cat begin to bat his helpless body from side to side. “So this is what death is like,” he thought in the instant before he spent his last strength in a desperate stab at the wildcat’s throat, and slipped into unconsciousness.

K
ING CASIMIR OF POLAND
stared at the Rabbi Eliezer with round, mystified eyes. “What is happening?” he cried, running his chubby fingers through his pale blond hair.

“I assure you,” nodded the old man, “that is exactly what Judah ben Simon wondered when he awoke the next day to find himself covered with cuts and bruises, flat on his back in the midst of an open meadow. His flesh felt raw and tender, as if it had been scraped with bristles; twinges of pain shot through every nerve and muscle. Slowly, with great difficulty, he turned his head, and saw the carcass of the gigantic black cat, lying dead in a pool of blood which had apparently flowed from the jagged wound in its thick, furry neck.

Only then did Judah remember the events of the previous evening. “So I have met the Princess Maria Zarembka’s kitten,” he thought, with a shudder of revulsion. A few moments later, he began to recall the mission which had led him from his comfortable room at the inn to this cold and dewy meadow.

“The baroness has been awaiting me all night,” he whispered excitedly, scanning the sky and realizing that it was almost noon. “By now, she must be half-dead with fear.” And so powerful was Judah’s concern for his mistress that it enabled him to gather all his strength and stagger to his feet.