The Beauty Queen of Jerusalem (32 page)

“Then we moved on to Monte Cassino. The Italian fascists were dug in on the mountain and we were down below. Every day we tried to move up the mountainside and the Italian fascists pushed us back until the American bombers came and reduced Monte Cassino to rubble. The fascists surrendered right away. They didn't have the will to fight, those lazy Italians. They always put their hands up.

“The army advanced on Rome and our battalion stopped in Siena. While we were in Siena, Gad came to see us again, this time with a new assignment: to steal equipment from the British and take it to the cargo ships carrying refugees to Palestine. We hid refugee children in the camp and from there sneaked them to the ships, and that's how we helped the Haganah.”

“And all that just for the adventure?” Luna asked.

“Well, in the war it wasn't just an adventure. Praise God, Lunika, what we went through in the war. But don't think, heaven forbid, that I'm making myself into a bigger hero than I was.”

“But you're my hero,” she said, melting into him.

“And you're my princess,” he replied, pressing his lips to hers until it seemed she was being swallowed into him. She could kiss him again and again, never sated with the taste of him. She loved the tickly feeling of his mustache, the fragrance of his Yardley aftershave, the way he always wore elegant suits with a matching tie. David Siton was charming, sophisticated, handsome, and most important, interesting. She could never have enough of his war stories, and he was always happy to tell them. But when he came to the story of the time he spent in Venice, she felt he was holding back. Again and again she urged him to tell her about the city where instead of streets there were canals, and instead of cars, gondolas, but he swiftly changed the subject.

“Tell me, my lovely,” he said. “How is it that so far nobody's snatched you up?”

“From the day I turned sixteen,” she told him, “my mother wanted to see me married. One day they brought a wealthy prospective husband from Argentina. As soon as I saw him I ran out of the house. Not a day goes by when she doesn't tell me, ‘Get married already. Let somebody else take care of you.'”

“Your mother's right. It's time somebody took care of you.”

“When my mother loses her temper with me,” she went on, “she tells me, ‘I hope that your children do to you what you do to me.' The first time she said that I wanted to run to my Nona Mercada in Tel Aviv so she would do a livianos for me and cure me of my mother's evil eye. I began screaming like a lunatic, and then my mother said, ‘We'll find you a husband whether you like it or not. It's time you were a bride!'

“Then some old guy came along, he was maybe twenty-seven, God knows where she found him.”

“And who was the old guy?”

“My father said that his father owns a big bakery, that they're very wealthy.”

“So why didn't you marry him?”

“A man of twenty-seven who isn't married yet? There's got to be something wrong with him!”

“So what did you do?”

“What do you think? I ran like the wind out of the house and to this bench in Gan Ha'ir until I saw the old guy and his father leave our building. When I got back, my father wasn't home. My mother said he was so ashamed he'd gone for a drive to calm down. She shouted that nothing would help me. I could run out of the house as many times as I wanted, but in the end they'd find me a husband, if not the easy way, then the hard way. She wanted me to marry a man I don't love the same way my father married a woman he didn't love.”

“Luna, what are you saying?”

“I'm speaking the truth! My father's become ill because he doesn't love my mother.”

“Luna,” David was shocked, “she's your mother. An angel like you shouldn't be saying things like that.”

“My mother brings out all the demons in me. On the other hand, my father, may he be healthy, loves me even more than he loves my sisters.”

“And I love you more than I love your sisters.” He laughed and hugged her.

Luna pulled away, pretending to want to be released from his embrace, and in a conciliatory tone said, “Enough of my mother, tell me about Venice, the city that has canals instead of streets!”

“Ach … Venice.” He sighed and looked skyward dreamily. “There's no place like it. It's the most divine city in the world. We lived near the Lido, in villas abandoned by the rich people who fled and left their houses as though they'd be coming back shortly: food in the pantry, rows of bottles of red wine. Did you know that the Italians drink wine with every meal? It makes them happy, and we, who before Venice had drunk wine only for Kiddush and on Seder night, learned from the Italians and began drinking wine until we were completely drunk. We danced on the tables, sang in the streets. We were as happy as kings. After the damned war, after so much death, we were finally living!”

“What else happened there?”

He looked at her as if seeing her for the first time. “Didn't you listen to anything I told you? What more did we need? Life, that's what happened there, life.”

“And girls?”

“Endless girls! They'd go with us for a pair of stockings. For food they were prepared to do anything! Not only them, their whole family. The father not only pimped for his daughter but for his wife too. He'd sell his womenfolk for bread and cheese.”

“So you had a lot of women?”

“A thousand, like King Solomon.” He laughed.

“Didn't you have a special one? A one and only?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“I want to know everything about you!”

“Luna, my love, if there's one thing I've learned in life, it's never to tell the whole story. Not you to me and not me to you. We should tell each other only things that we want to hear.”

 

6

E
VEN BEFORE THE MARRIAGE TERMS
were agreed on and the wedding date set, Luna decided that if her firstborn was a son, she would name him after her father. “Nobody,” she told Rachelika, “will take from me the honor of giving Papo's name to my son.”

Shocked, Rachelika said, “Surely David will want to name his son after his father, may he rest in peace.”

“So he'll have to want!”

“Luna!” Rachelika said, holding herself back from screaming at her sister. “It's the custom! The firstborn son is named after the husband's father.”

“Since when have you been interested in custom? These days people give their children modern names. It's not up for discussion! My son will be named Gabriel!”

“Fine, let's see you go head-to-head with David.”

“If we have a daughter, he can name her after his mother. I don't care. I'd never name a daughter of mine after our mother.”

“God help us, Luna. Now that you're almost married you have to be careful of words that kill, so stop it already. What's become of you?”

“What's become of me? Compared to you, I'm an angel. Was it me who put up Etzel posters in the street while my father thought I was studying?”

“Talk quietly, Luna. If Papo hears I was putting up Etzel posters behind his back, it'll be the end of me.”

“So what's your issue with me when all I want is to name my firstborn son after Papo and give him the respect he deserves?”

I hope Luna has a girl, Rachelika prayed. Otherwise there will be a third world war.

*   *   *

Each day brought fresh news of Arab ambushes, of snipers killing Jews. The British police favored the Arabs. They would not allow the establishment of new Jewish settlements or the landing of illegal immigrants from the ships bringing refugees from the DP camps in Europe. The threat of danger hung in the air. Every other day there was a curfew; entire areas were cordoned off with concertina wire and no one was allowed in or out. And Rachelika, God help her, almost got caught hanging posters near the public restrooms in Zion Square. Luckily she'd had her wits about her and hid in a stinky stall in the men's bathroom. For twenty minutes she stood in there, one foot on either side of the bowl, holding on to the filthy tiled walls, waiting for the English bastards to go away.

Only when she was sure that the English had gone had she dared to emerge from the stall. It was pitch-black outside, and due to the curfew, Jaffa Road and Zion Square were deserted. Fear gripped her chest and she struggled to fill her lungs. Her partner had vanished into thin air. They always went out in pairs and were supposed to stay together, except when they encountered British police. In that case, they'd been instructed to look out for themselves, and that's what she'd done when she'd hidden in the bathroom.

British police vehicles were patrolling Jaffa Road and Ben-Yehuda Street. The last time she was out after curfew, she'd miraculously reached Tio Shmuel's house, but what could she do now? She feared the moment she'd be arrested. All she needed was for her father to find out she was a member of the Etzel. At least she hadn't joined the Lehi, despite her friend Temima urging her to do so. Most of her friends at evening classes supported Lehi, but there were also a few Haganah supporters and a large group of Etzel supporters too. At every opportunity there were passionate debates in the school yard over the right way to drive the British out of Palestine. In the end it was her classmate Moshe Alalouf, to whom she was secretly attracted, who convinced her.

“Menachem Begin says it's a fight to the end!” he had said to a group of students.

“The Etzel are robbers and thieves!” someone yelled.

The discussion became heated. “The Etzel doesn't take the money for itself. It robs banks that hold British money and uses it for the struggle!” Alalouf said.

“The Etzel murders and kills without mercy!” shouted one of the Haganah supporters. “When they threw a bomb at the high commissioner's car, his wife was in it too. What's she guilty of?”

“She's there with her husband, so she's guilty,” Alalouf retorted.

When classes were finished that day, he came over and handed Rachelika a rolled-up newspaper. “If this is of interest to you, talk to me,” he said and went on his way.

At the top of the front page was the Etzel emblem: a rifle against a map of the Land of Israel on both sides of the River Jordan, rendering it a big country whose border reached Iraq. At the bottom were two words: “Only Thus!” The lead article attacked the Labor Movement leadership, calling them “liars, cowards, and traitors.” A particular target was Moshe Shertok, who had suggested to the high commissioner that a special unit be formed to combat Jewish terrorist organizations.

When she'd taken part in Haganah youth activities, Rachelika's instructors had heightened her opposition to both Lehi and Etzel, but she never opposed them as fiercely. She'd noticed the posters stuck on trees and buildings by the organization known as Mishmar Ha'uma, the nation's guardian, which warned that Jews donating money to the terrorist organizations were undermining the community's security and hopes of Zionism. The posters were printed in big bold letters and called upon people to report any such case to a public institution or reliable public figure.

“Do not give in to blackmail and threats!” the black letters warned. Now she saw Etzel's response in the paper that Alalouf had given her: “No more restraint! We shall not be intimidated by persecution or death! We are prepared for any suffering and sacrifice! We shall strike the Nazo-British enemy!”

Rachelika was deeply affected by what she read. She met Moshe Alalouf the following day and told him she wanted to join. When he shook her hand, a shiver ran down her spine. She was excited. She had never experienced such a thrill, the feeling of exhilaration mixed with danger. Luna would probably know what she meant.

As he walked her home after school, a distance that for her seemed far too short, Rachelika felt light on her feet. Being with Moshe Alalouf invigorated her. She was quiet for most of the time, and when she did speak, she had trouble finding the words. He, on the other hand, talked and talked, enthusiastically lecturing her on Menachem Begin's doctrine—to establish a Jewish state through struggle, not passivity.

“My father thinks that isn't the right way,” she said, trying to get a word in. “My father thinks that the Haganah's moderate approach is the right one.”

He barely let her finish the sentence before his face flushed and he waved his fists. He said defiantly, “They've spilled our blood! They've tortured our comrades! They've handed our people over to the Nazo-British enemy! They kidnapped and beat them half to death, and we held back. And why did we hold back? Because Begin said we should for the sake of national unity, but no longer! From now on it's an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth!” Rachelika knew he was quoting from the article in the paper, speaking a language and using words that weren't his own.

When they had almost reached her house and before they said good-bye, he asked, “So what do you say? Are you willing to swear allegiance and join the struggle?”

Rachelika was a tall girl, but Moshe Alalouf was a head taller. She raised her face to him and her eyes met his, which were half closed as if he was praying. She so much wanted him to bend his head and kiss her, but he made no move to. Disappointed, she came back to earth and said, “I need time to think about it.”

All at once he seemed to wake up. “What do you have to think about when the Land of Israel needs you?”

“I'm still not sure I'm ready to die for anything, not even the Land of Israel!”

“First of all,” he replied with infinite seriousness, “people don't die so quickly. And they're not accepted so quickly either. You have to prove yourself first.” He raised a clenched fist and proclaimed, “Only thus!” and went on his way.

That night Rachelika was so excited she couldn't sleep. Moshe Alalouf, the Etzel, all whirled in her mind. She tossed and turned until Luna, who had shared her bed since they'd been forced to move from the big apartment on King George Street back to Ohel Moshe, gave her a kick and said, “What's the matter with you? You're keeping me up.”