Page 2 of The Golem of Mala Lubovnya
“The congregation? Will I be allowed to meet them?”
“Not yet. If I’m lucky, never.”
“Oh.” The golem’s excitement dimmed and his shoulders slumped.
If the rabbi noticed, he didn’t comment. Instead he pointed to a jumble of empty sacks in one corner of the room. “You can clean those up today. Stack them neatly and place them on a shelf. And tidy the rest of the attic, so long as you can be quiet about it.”
“Is that why you made me, Master? To clean?” The golem liked the idea of having a purpose. If he was meant to clean, he would do a very good job of it. He would make his master proud.
“No.” The rabbi walked across the room to look out the window. He nearly had to stand on tiptoe to see outside. “There are… petty men out there. They’re not even truly evil. Just selfish and greedy and a little drunk with power. Some of those men would harm my people. As if we were not citizens too, hardworking and loyal and as good as anyone else. I am hoping their threats are empty. Perhaps clearer, fairer minds will prevail. But so often it seems as if people are eager to hear the worst words, the most dangerous ideas.”
Rabbi Eleazer fell silent and remained at the window for a long time, lost in thought, his brow furrowed. Eventually he turned to the golem, who’d been waiting patiently. “I fear my people are in danger, and that is why I made you. Tonight I will test you. If you are as strong as I hope, you will serve to protect us should the need arise.”
At these words, the golem stood very tall and straight. “I will do my best, Master.”
“Of course you will.” The rabbi patted the golem’s arm. It was the first time they’d touched since the rabbi had made him. The hand was warm, and now that they stood close together, the golem realized his master smelled of wool and fresh bread.
“Clean,” said the rabbi, not unkindly. “And be quiet.” Without another word, he left the attic. The latch seemed very loud when it settled into place.
There were a lot of bags. When the golem picked one up, bits of dried clay pattered at his feet, and he realized where the sacks had come from. They must have held the substance from which he was made. He imagined the rabbi digging at a riverbank, filling the bags, loading them into a cart and bringing them home, carrying them one by one up the stairs. Nothing but sacks full of damp earth that the rabbi had shaped and formed into the semblance of a man. Had he thought about the specifics of how his golem would look, or had he simply squished and smoothed until he decided it was good enough? The golem ran his fingers over his face, feeling his thick, dry lips, his wide nose, his hairless brow, his bald scalp. He must be very ugly.
He sighed loudly and began to fold the sacks into neat squares. He piled them on a shelf alongside a few dented tin boxes and a couple of chipped pottery bowls. When he found a broom tucked in a corner, he swept the clay dust into a little pile. But he wasn’t sure what to do with it, so he ended up gathering the dust into one of the bowls.
After that, he looked for more things to clean. In the rafters there were cobwebs, which he vanquished. A thin layer of dust lay over everything, and he used one of the bags to wipe it away, with some success. He wandered to the window and dusted the glass, then realized he would need to wash away the grime. He had no water. Perhaps he could ask his master for some later.
He was still at the window when some motion outside caught his attention. Several men were working near the half-built house. Two of them chiseled large blocks of stone, while two others carried the blocks and set them into mortar that a fifth man had spread. All five resembled each other, although one was a generation older. A father and sons, perhaps. The golem wrapped his arms around himself, wondering what it would be like to have a family.
The golem soon forgot his cleaning as he fixed his attention on the masons. He was particularly interested in the one who set the mortar. He looked to be the youngest of the group. He had a short beard, and his dark hair was very curly. He was a little less burly than his brothers, all of whom were big men, but not as big as the golem. The youngest mason moved confidently, deftly, almost like a dancer, and unlike his brothers, he rarely seemed distracted by passersby. When a stout woman in a gray sweater and gray head scarf appeared with a basket of food, the youngest mason sat a little apart from the others, staring up at the clouds as he ate.
The golem watched the masons all day. When the sun angled low, the men packed up their tools and walked out of sight; the golem felt oddly lonely. He turned back to his own work, setting some broken chairs into a neat pile and folding wads of worm-eaten woolen fabric. When he couldn’t find anything else to do, he hurried to the window again and was rewarded by the sight of the masons approaching his building. They were dressed in nicer clothes, and he could hear them laughing as they walked up the pavement. All except the youngest one, who trailed the rest and looked somber.
Not long afterward, the praying began. The golem loved it as much as he had the first time. He again sat very close to the door, not quite daring to open it a crack. But even through the heavy wood, he could hear the voices chanting together and the one voice that rose above the rest, soaring like a bird. The golem smiled.
Rabbi Eleazar came up the steps not long after the men had left. He carried a candle in a metal lantern. “Did you clean?” he asked, holding the lantern high. The light didn’t creep very far into the room.
“Yes, Master. Except for the window.”
“The window can stay as it is. Follow me.”
If the golem had a heart, it would have raced as he trailed the rabbi. They went out the door—the golem had to stoop to fit through—onto a small landing and to a steep stairway. The stairs were so narrow that the golem’s shoulders nearly brushed both sides. He had to concentrate on his steps as he descended; he didn’t want to tumble all the way down. He might shatter, and he didn’t know if the rabbi could repair him.
There were a lot of stairs. The golem didn’t know how to count well, but the stairway twisted and turned several times until finally the rabbi opened a door and led him out onto the ground floor. They were in a large vestibule. It was too dark for the golem to see the details. But he could easily see a pair of double doors that stood open to a very spacious room filled with padded chairs. More chairs were arranged on a mezzanine. And in the center of the room was a raised dais with a large candelabra, a carved podium, and a painted and gilded cabinet with richly embroidered fabric covering the front.
“What is this place?” asked the golem in a whisper, because he wasn’t sure whether he had permission to make sounds.
“The shul,” Rabbi Eleazar answered.
“Do you live here?”
“Of course not. This is a house of worship. Nobody lives here.”
Nobody except the golem. But he didn’t count.
The golem was disappointed when they didn’t enter the sanctuary. He would have liked to examine its details more carefully. Instead, the rabbi took him down a short corridor and out a door so small even the rabbi had to duck slightly. They were in a fully enclosed courtyard formed by the synagogue on two sides and two-story wooden buildings on the others. A cistern sat in the center of the cobblestone paving, and some small trees and shrubs grew near the walls. It was very quiet, although the golem could hear snatches of voices from somewhere else. Maybe inside the houses. The golem stood in the center and looked up at the deep black sky, wondering if it were possible to fall upward. He liked the way the breeze tickled the bare bits of his skin, bringing tantalizing whiffs of food and animals and growing things. He liked the feeling of the pebbly pavement under his bare feet. He wanted to touch the leaves of the trees, to taste the little puddle of water at the edge of the cistern, but he didn’t dare.
The rabbi crossed the courtyard to a large wagon. “Can you pull this?” he asked.
The golem placed himself between the shafts and tugged. The cart came easily behind him, its wheels clattering on the pavement.
