The Fifth Mountain Read online

  This had greatly facilitated commercial contact among differing peoples. The Egyptian system had required much space and a great deal of ability to draw the ideas, as well as profound understanding to interpret them; it had been imposed on conquered nations but had not survived the decline of the empire. The system of Byblos, however, was spreading rapidly through the world, and it no longer depended on the economic might of Phoenicia for its adoption.

  The method of Byblos, with the Greek adaptation, had pleased the traders of the various nations; as had been the case since ancient times, it was they who decided what should remain in history and what would disappear with the death of a given king or a given person. Everything indicated that the Phoenician invention was destined to become the common language of business, surviving its navigators, its kings, its seductive princesses, its wine makers, its master glassmakers.

  “Will God disappear from words?” the woman asked.

  “He will continue in them,” Elijah replied. “But each person will be responsible before Him for whatever he writes.”

  She took from the sleeve of her garment a clay tablet with something written on it.

  “What does that mean?” Elijah asked.

  “It’s the word love.”

  Elijah took the tablet in his hands, not daring to ask why she had given it to him. On that piece of clay, a few scratches summed up why the stars continued in the heavens and why men walked the earth.

  He tried to return it to her, but she refused.

  “I wrote it for you. I know your responsibility, I know that one day you will have to leave, and that you will become an enemy of my country because you wish to do away with Jezebel. On that day, it may come to pass that I shall be at your side, supporting you in your task. Or it may come to pass that I fight against you, for Jezebel’s blood is the blood of my country; this word that you hold in your hands is filled with mystery. No one can know what it awakens in a woman’s heart, not even prophets who speak with God.”

  “I know the word that you have written,” said Elijah, storing the tablet in a fold of his cape. “I have struggled day and night against it, for, although I do not know what it awakens in a woman’s heart, I know what it can do to a man. I have the courage to face the king of Israel, the princess of Sidon, the Council of Akbar, but that one word—love—inspires deep terror in me. Before you drew it on the tablet, your eyes had already seen it written in my heart.”

  They fell silent. Despite the Assyrian’s death, the climate of tension in the city, the call from the Lord that could occur at any moment—none of this was as powerful as the word she had written.

  Elijah held out his hand, and she took it. They remained thus until the sun hid itself behind the Fifth Mountain.

  “Thank you,” she said as they returned. “For a long time I had desired to spend the hours of sunset with you.”

  When they arrived home, an emissary from the governor was waiting for him. He asked Elijah to come with him immediately for a meeting.

  “YOU REPAID MY SUPPORT with cowardice,” said the governor. “What should I do with your life?”

  “I shall not live a second longer than the Lord desires,” replied Elijah. “It is He who decides, not you.”

  The governor was surprised at Elijah’s courage.

  “I can have you decapitated at once. Or have you dragged through the streets of the city, saying that you brought a curse upon our people,” he said. “And that would not be a decision of your One God.”

  “Whatever my fate, that is what will happen. But I want you to know I did not flee; the commander’s soldiers kept me away. He wants war and will do everything to achieve it.”

  The governor decided to waste no more time on that pointless discussion. He had to explain his plan to the Israelite prophet.

  “It’s not the commander who wishes war; like a good military man he is aware that his army is smaller and inexperienced and that it will be decimated by the enemy. As a man of honor, he knows he risks causing shame to his descendants. But his heart has been turned into stone by pride and vanity.

  “He thinks the enemy is afraid. He doesn’t know that the Assyrian warriors are well trained: when they enter the army, they plant a tree, and every day they leap over the spot where the seed is buried. The seed becomes a shoot, and they leap over it. The shoot becomes a plant, and they go on jumping. They neither become annoyed nor find it a waste of time. Little by little, the tree grows, and the warriors leap higher. Patiently and with dedication, they’re preparing to overcome obstacles.

  “They’re accustomed to recognizing a challenge when they see it. They’ve been observing us for months.”

  Elijah interrupted the governor.

  “Then, in whose interest is war?”

  “The high priest’s. I saw that during the Assyrian prisoner’s trial.”

  “For what reason?”

  “I don’t know. But he was shrewd enough to convince the commander and the people. Now the entire city is on his side, and I see only one way out of the difficult situation in which we find ourselves.”

  He paused for a long moment, then looked directly into the Israelite’s eyes. “You.”

  The governor began pacing the chamber, his rapid speech betraying his nervousness.

  “The merchants also desire peace, but they can do nothing. In any case, they are rich enough to install themselves in some other city or to wait until the conquerors begin buying their products. The rest of the populace have lost their senses and want us to attack an infinitely superior enemy. The only thing that can change their minds is a miracle.”

  Elijah became tense.

  “A miracle?”

  “You brought back a boy that death had already claimed. You’ve helped the people find their way, and though you are a foreigner you are loved by almost everyone.”

  “That was the situation until this morning,” Elijah said. “But now it’s changed; in the atmosphere you’ve just described, anyone who advocates peace will be considered a traitor.”

  “I don’t want you to advocate anything. I want you to perform a miracle as great as the resurrection of that boy. Then you’ll tell the people that peace is the only solution, and they’ll listen to you. The high priest will lose completely whatever power he possesses.”

  There was a moment of silence. The governor continued.

  “I am willing to make a pact: if you do what I’m asking, the religion of the One God will become obligatory in Akbar. You will please Him whom you serve, and I shall be able to negotiate terms of peace.”

  ELIJAH CLIMBED THE STAIRS to his room in the upper story of the widow’s house. At that moment he had in his hands an opportunity that no prophet had ever had before: to convert a Phoenician city. It would be the most painful way to show Jezebel that there was a price to pay for what she had done to his country.

  He was excited by the governor’s offer. He even thought of waking the woman who was sleeping downstairs but changed his mind; she must be dreaming about the beautiful afternoon they had spent together.

  He called on his guardian angel. He appeared.

  “You heard the governor’s proposal,” Elijah said. “This is a unique chance.”

  “Nothing is a unique chance,” the angel replied. “The Lord giveth men many opportunities. And do not forget what was said: no further miracle will be permitted thee until thou returnest to the bosom of thy country.”

  Elijah lowered his head. At that moment the angel of the Lord appeared and hushed his guardian angel. And he said:

  “Behold the next of thy miracles:

  “Thou wilt gather the people together before the mountain. On one side, thou shalt order built an altar to Baal, and that a bullock be placed on it. On the other side, thou shalt raise an altar to the Lord thy God, and on it also place a bullock.

  “And thou shalt say to the worshipers of Baal: invoke the name of your god, and I shall invoke the name of the Lord. Let them be first, and let them spend from mor
ning until noon praying and calling on Baal to come forth and receive what is offered him.

  “They will cry out aloud, and cut themselves with knives, asking that the bullock be received by their god, but nothing will happen.

  “When they weary, thou shalt fill four barrels with water and pour it over thy bullock. Thou shalt do this a second time. And thou shalt do this still a third time. Then call upon the Lord of Abraham, Isaac, and Israel, asking Him to show His power to all.

  “At that moment, the Lord will send the fire from heaven and consume thy sacrifice.”

  Elijah knelt and gave thanks.

  “However,” continued the angel, “this miracle can be wrought but once in thy lifetime. Choose whether thou desirest to do it here, to avoid a battle, or in thy homeland, to free thy people from Jezebel.”

  And the angel of the Lord departed.

  THE WOMAN AWOKE EARLY and saw Elijah sitting in the doorway of the house. His eyes were deep in their sockets, like those of one who has not slept.

  She would have liked to ask what had happened the night before, but she feared his response. It was possible that the sleepless night had been provoked by his talk with the governor and by the threat of war; but there might be another reason—the clay tablet she had given him. If so, and she raised the subject, she risked hearing that the love of a woman was not in accord with God’s design.

  She said only the words, “Come and eat something.”

  Her son awakened also. The three sat down at the table and ate.

  “I should have liked to stay with you yesterday,” Elijah said, “but the governor needed me.”

  “Do not concern yourself with him,” she said, a calm feeling reentering her heart. “His family has ruled Akbar for generations, and he will know what to do in the face of the threat.”

  “I also spoke with an angel. And he demanded of me a very difficult decision.”

  “Nor should you be disturbed because of angels; perhaps it’s better to believe that the gods change with the times. My ancestors worshiped the Egyptian gods, who had the forms of animals. Those gods went away, and until you arrived, I was brought up to make sacrifices to Asherat, El, Baal, and all the dwellers on the Fifth Mountain. Now I have known the Lord, but He too may leave us one day, and the next gods may be less demanding.”

  The boy asked for water. There was none.

  “I’ll go and fetch it,” said Elijah.

  “I want to go with you,” the boy said.

  They walked toward the well. On the way they passed the spot where the commander had since the early hours been training his soldiers.

  “Let’s watch for a while,” said the boy. “I’ll be a soldier when I grow up.”

  Elijah did as he asked.

  “Which of us is best at using a sword?” asked one warrior.

  “Go to the place where the spy was stoned yesterday,” said the commander. “Pick up a stone and insult it.”

  “Why should I do that? The stone would not answer me back.”

  “Then attack it with your sword.”

  “My sword will break,” said the soldier. “And that wasn’t what I asked; I want to know who’s the best at using a sword.”

  “The best is the one who’s most like a rock,” answered the commander. “Without drawing its blade, it proves that no one can defeat it.”

  “The governor is right: the commander is a wise man,” thought Elijah. “But the greatest wisdom is blinded by the glare of vanity.”

  THEY CONTINUED on their way. The boy asked why the soldiers were training so much.

  “It’s not just the soldiers, but your mother too, and I, and those who follow their heart. Everything in life demands training.”

  “Even being a prophet?”

  “Even to understand angels. We so want to talk with them that we don’t listen to what they’re saying. It’s not easy to listen: in our prayers we always try to say where we have erred, and what we should like to happen to us. But the Lord already knows all of this, and sometimes asks us only to hear what the Universe is telling us. And to be patient.”

  The boy looked at him in surprise. He probably understood nothing, but even so Elijah felt the need to continue the conversation. Perhaps when he came to manhood one of these words might assist him in a difficult situation.

  “All life’s battles teach us something, even those we lose. When you grow up, you’ll discover that you have defended lies, deceived yourself, or suffered for foolishness. If you’re a good warrior, you will not blame yourself for this, but neither will you allow your mistakes to repeat themselves.”

  He decided to speak no further; a boy of that age could not understand what he was saying. They walked slowly, and Elijah looked at the streets of the city that had sheltered him and was about to disappear. Everything depended on the decision he must make.

  Akbar was more silent than usual. In the central square, people talked in hushed tones, as if fearful that the wind might carry their words to the Assyrian camp. The more elderly among them swore that nothing would happen, while the young were excited at the prospect of battle, and the merchants and artisans made plans to go to Sidon and Tyre until calm was restored.

  “It is easy for them to leave,” he thought. Merchants can transport their goods anywhere in the world. Artisans too can work, even in places where a strange language is spoken. “But I must have the Lord’s permission.”

  THEY CAME to the well, where they filled two vessels with water. Usually the place was crowded with people; women meeting to wash clothes, dye fabrics, and comment on everything that happened in the city. Nothing could be kept secret close to the well; news about business, family betrayals, problems between neighbors, the intimate lives of the rulers—every matter, serious or superficial, was discussed, commented upon, criticized, or applauded there. Even during the months in which the enemy forces had grown unceasingly, Jezebel, the princess who had conquered the king of Israel, remained the favorite topic. People praised her boldness, her courage, and were certain that, should anything happen to the city, she would come back to her country to avenge it.

  That morning, however, almost no one was there. The few women present said that it was necessary to go to the fields and harvest the largest possible amount of grain, for the Assyrians would soon close off the entrance and exit to the city. Two of them were making plans to go to the Fifth Mountain and offer sacrifices to the gods; they had no wish to see their sons die in combat.

  “The high priest said that we can resist for many months,” one woman commented to Elijah. “We need only to have the necessary courage to defend Akbar’s honor and the gods will come to our aid.”

  The boy was frightened.

  “Is the enemy going to attack?” he asked.

  Elijah did not reply; it depended on the choice that the angel had offered him the night before.

  “I’m afraid,” the boy said insistently.

  “That proves that you find joy in living. It’s normal to feel fear at certain moments.”

  ELIJAH AND THE BOY returned home before the morning was over. They found the woman ringed by small vessels with inks of various colors.

  “I have to work,” she said, looking at the unfinished letters and phrases. “Because of the drought, the city is full of dust. The brushes are always dirty, the ink mixes with dust, and everything becomes more difficult.”

  Elijah remained silent; he did not want to share his concerns with anyone. He sat in a corner of the downstairs room, absorbed in his thoughts. The boy went out to play with his friends.

  “He needs silence,” the woman said to herself and tried to concentrate on her work.

  She took the rest of the morning to complete a few words that could have been written in half the time, and she felt guilt for not doing what was expected of her; after all, for the first time in her life she had the chance to support her family.

  She returned to her work. She was using papyrus, a material that a trader on his way from Egypt h
ad recently brought, asking her to write some commercial letters that he had to send to Damascus. The sheet was not of the best quality, and the ink blurred frequently. “Even with all these difficulties, it’s better than drawing on clay.”

  Neighboring countries had the custom of sending their messages on clay tablets or on animal skins. Although their country was in decadence, with an obsolete script, the Egyptians had discovered a light, practical way of recording their commerce and their history; they cut into strips a plant that grew on the banks of the Nile and through a simple process glued the strips side by side, forming a yellowish sheet. Akbar had to import papyrus because it could not be grown in the valley. Though it was expensive, merchants preferred using it, for they could carry the written sheets in their pockets, which was impossible to do with clay tablets and animal skins.

  “Everything is becoming simpler,” she thought. A pity that the government’s authorization was needed to use the Byblos alphabet on papyrus. Some outmoded law still obliged written texts to pass inspection by the Council of Akbar.

  As soon as her work was done, she showed it to Elijah, who had been watching her the entire time without comment.

  “Do you like the result?” she asked.

  He seemed to come out of a trance.

  “Yes, it’s pretty,” he replied, giving no mind to what he was saying.

  He must be talking with the Lord. And she did not want to interrupt him. She left, to call the high priest.

  When she returned with the high priest, Elijah was still in the same spot. The two men stared at each other. For a long time, neither spoke.

  The high priest was the first to break the silence.

  “You are a prophet, and speak with angels. I merely interpret the ancient laws, carry out rituals, and seek to defend my people from the errors they commit. Therefore I know this is not a struggle between men; it is a battle of gods—and I must not absent myself from it.”