Servant of the Bones

The old man looked suspicious suddenly, but it was not of me. He looked at the telephone on his desk. Then he glanced at me.

The very old one said, in Hebrew, "So he was a demon who would be an angel? Is such a thing possible?" The Rebbe didn't answer.

Then suddenly the Rebbe picked up the phone and punched in a long series of numbers, too long for me to follow or remember, and then he began to talk in Yiddish.

He asked if Nathan was there. Had Nathan arrived safely? He assumed that someone would have called, had Nathan not arrived, but he wanted to speak to his grandson.

Then shock came over his face. The room was silent. All the men looked at him and seemed to know what he was thinking. The Rebbe spoke into the phone in Yiddish:

"He didn't tell you that he was coming? You have not heard from him, one single word?"

The old men were distressed. So was I. "He's not there," I said. "He's not there!"

The old man went over all the details with those at the other end of the line. They knew nothing about Nathan coming to Israel. Last they heard, Nathan would come at his regular time later in the year. All was in readiness for Nathan's regular visit. They had received no calls from Nathan about an early visit.

The Rebbe put down the phone. "Don't tell Sarah!" he said with his hand raised. All the others nodded. He then told the youngest of the men to go for Sarah. "I'll speak with Sarah."

Sarah came into the room, a modest and humble woman, very beautiful, her natural hair covered by an ugly brown wig. She had narrow almond-shaped eyes, and a lovely soft mouth. She emanated kindness and when she glanced at me shyly she made no judgment. She looked at the Rebbe.

"Your husband has called you since he left?"

She said no.

"You went with him and Jacob and Joseph to the plane?"

She said no.

Silence.

She looked at me and then looked down.

"Please, forgive me," I said, "but did Nathan tell you he was going to Israel?"

She said yes, and that a car had come for him, from a rich friend in the city to take him, and he had said he would be back very soon.

"Did he tell you who this friend was?" I asked. "Please tell me, Sarah, please."

She seemed utterly reassured and something inside her was suddenly unlocked. I saw in her eyes the same gentleness that I had seen in the girl on the street in the southern city, and in Esther herself, and in Rachel. The pure gentleness of women, which is wholly different from the pure gentleness of men.

Maybe this is what happens when you love, really love, I thought. People love you in return! I felt so free of hatred and anger suddenly that I shivered, but I implored her with my eyes to speak.

She looked shaken and then she glanced at the Rebbe, and bowed her head and blushed. She was about to cry.

"He had with him her diamond necklace," she said, "the necklace of his brother's daughter, Esther Belkin. He was taking it to his brother."

She began to cry.

"When he had heard of the necklace being stolen," she said, "when he heard this tale, he knew it wasn't true. He had the necklace. Esther Belkin had given it to him for mending." She swallowed her tears and continued. "Rebbe, he didn't want anyone to be angry. He called his brother to tell him. He said his brother was crying. The car came to take him to his brother so that he might restore the necklace to him which had been Esther's, and then his brother wanted Nathan to come with him to Israel that they stand together at the Wailing Wall. Nathan promised me that when he had comforted his brother, he would return. Perhaps, he said, he could bring his brother back home."

"Ah, of course," I said.

"Quiet," said the Rebbe. "Sarah, don't be sorry or sad. Don't worry. I'm not angry that he went with his brother. He went in love, with good intentions."

"He did, Rebbe," she said. "He did."

"Leave this to us."

"I'm so sorry, Rebbe. But he loved his brother and was so stricken with grief for the girl. He said the girl would one day have come to us and would have wanted to be one of us. He was sure of it. He had seen it in her eyes."

"I see, Sarah. Don't think any more about it. Go out now."

She turned her head, still crying, glanced back at me once, and then left the room.

I felt so sorry for her, so very sorry! She knew something was wrong, but she had no idea what was wrong, how bad it was. She was loving by nature. Maybe Nathan was too. Very likely so, as Rachel and Esther had said he was.

"It's just as I thought," I said.

The old man waited on me in silence.

"Gregory used the necklace to lure Nathan to him. Gregory published that stupid story of the stolen necklace so that Nathan would call him, and he could persuade Nathan to meet with him and stay with him. Nathan prepared you for his prolonged absence. Gregory put him up to this. I will do everything in my power to see that Nathan is returned unharmed. I can't stay with you now. Will you give me your blessing, all of you? I won't linger begging for it, but if you want to give it, I will receive it with love in the name of the Lord. My name is Azriel."

They cried out, throwing up their hands and backing away. It was the fear of knowing the name of a spirit, though I hadn't expected such alarm at this point. I put my hands to my temples and thought again, "Yield to me the words! Yield to me the words. I know my name is not evil."

Then I declared. "I was named Azriel by my father when I was circumcised in our own house of prayer at Babylon. We were the last tribes taken hostage out of Jerusalem by Nebuchadnezzar. The name was good enough for God and for the Tribe and for my father!

Nabonidus was King and we practiced our faith in peace under his rule. We sang the Lord's Song in that strange land every day."

A great flush of energy passed through me, but again the memory lacked substance, color. I knew only that what I said was true, and that if I could solve this blasted mystery, this horror, then perhaps in time I could recall other things, just as I had recalled this, and all my past would come to me. Not in hatred, but in love. I was now fascinated by love. No doubt of it.

They fell to murmuring, it is his Hebrew name, it is his human name, it is his own name blessed by God, and some arguing that to know my name only gave them power over me and others whispered that I was an angel.

Then with a nod from the Rebbe, they all gave me their blessings. I felt nothing, but at least I didn't dislike them anymore; I loved them and saw them for what they were and feared all the more for Nathan.

"But what is Gregory doing?" the Rebbe whispered, more to himself than to me.