Fifth Mountain: A Novel

  "She's dying!" the old woman cried. "Do something! Take that wall off her!"

  And she began screaming hysterically. Elijah took her by the arms and shoved her aside, for the noise she was making prevented his hearing the widow's moans. Everything around him was total destruction--the roof and walls had collapsed, and it was difficult to recognize where he had last seen her. The flames had died down but the heat was still unbearable; he stepped over the rubble covering the floor and went toward the place where the woman's bedroom had been.

  Despite the confusion outside, he was able to make out a moan. It was her voice.

  He instinctively shook the dust from his garments, as if trying to improve his appearance. He remained silent, trying to concentrate. He heard the crackling of the fire, the cries for help from people buried in the neighboring houses, and felt the urge to tell them to be silent because he must discover where the woman and her son were. After a long time, he heard the sound again; someone was scratching on the wood beneath his feet.

  He fell to his knees and began digging like one possessed. He removed the dirt, stones, and wood. Finally, his hand touched something warm: it was blood.

  "Please, don't die," he said.

  "Leave the rubble over me," he heard her voice say. "I don't want you to see my face. Go and help my son."

  He continued to dig, and she repeated, "Go and find the body of my son. Please, do as I ask."

  Elijah's head fell against his chest, and he began weeping softly.

  "I don't know where he's buried," he said. "Please, don't go; how I long to have you remain with me. I need you to teach me how to love; my heart is ready now."

  "Before you arrived, for so many years I called out to death. It must have heard and come looking for me."

  She moaned. Elijah bit his lips but said nothing. Someone touched his shoulder.

  Startled, he turned and saw the boy. He was covered with dust and soot but appeared unhurt.

  "Where is my mother?" he asked.

  "I'm here, my son," answered the voice from beneath the ruins. "Are you injured?"

  The boy began to cry. Elijah took him in his arms.

  "You're crying, my son," said the voice, ever weaker. "Don't do that. Your mother took a long time to learn that life has meaning; I hope I have been able to teach it to you. In what condition is the city where you were born?"

  Elijah and the boy remained silent, each clinging to the other.

  "It's fine," Elijah lied. "A few warriors died, but the Assyrians have withdrawn. They were after the governor, to avenge the death of one of their generals."

  Again, silence. And again her voice, still weaker than before.

  "Tell me that my city is safe."

  He knew that she would be gone at any moment.

  "The city is whole. And your son is well."

  "What about you?"

  "I have survived."

  He knew that with these words he was liberating her soul and allowing her to die in peace.

  "Ask my son to kneel," the woman said after a time. "And I want you to swear to me, in the name of the Lord thy God."

  "Whatever you want. Anything that you want."

  "You once told me that the Lord is everywhere, and I believed you. You said that souls don't go to the top of the Fifth Mountain, and I also believed what you said. But you didn't explain where they go.

  "This is the oath: you two will not weep for me, and each will take care of the other until the Lord allows each of you to follow his path. From this moment on, my soul will become one with all I have known on this earth: I am the valley, the mountains that surround it, the city, the people walking in its streets. I am its wounded and its beggars, its soldiers, its priests, its merchants, its nobles. I am the ground that they tread, and the well that slakes each one's thirst.

  "Don't weep for me, for there is no reason to be sad. From this moment on, I am Akbar, and the city is beautiful."

  The silence of death descended, and the wind ceased to blow. Elijah no longer heard the cries outside or the flames crackling in neighboring houses; he heard only the silence and could almost touch it in its intensity.

  Then Elijah led the boy away, rent his own garments, turned to the heavens, and bellowed with all the strength of his lungs, "O Lord my God! For Thy cause have I felt Israel and cannot offer Thee my blood as did the prophets who remained there. I have been called a coward by my friends and a traitor by my enemies.

  "For Thy cause have I eaten only what crows brought me and have crossed the desert to Zarephath, which its inhabitants call Akbar. Guided by Thy hand, I met a woman; guided by Thee, my heart learned to love her. But at no time did I forget my true mission; during all the days I spent here I was always ready to depart.

  "Beautiful Akbar is in ruins, and the woman who trusted me lies beneath them. Where have I sinned, O Lord? At what moment have I strayed from what Thou desirest of me? If Thou art discontent with me, why hast Thou not taken me from this world? Instead, Thou hast afflicted yet again those who succored me and loved me.

  "I do not understand Thy designs. I see no justice in Thy acts. In bearing the suffering Thou hast imposed on me, I am sorely wanting. Remove Thyself from my life, for I too am reduced to ruins, fire, and dust."

  Amidst the fire and desolation, the light appeared to Elijah. And the angel of the Lord was before him.

  "Why are you here?" asked Elijah. "Don't you see that it is too late?"

  "I have come to say that once again the Lord hath heard thy prayer and thy petition will be granted thee. No more shalt thou hear thy angel, nor shall I meet again with thee till thou hast undergone thy days of trial."

  Elijah took the boy by the hand and they began to walk aimlessly. The smoke, till then dispersed by the winds, was now concentrated in the streets, making the air impossible to breathe. "Perhaps it's a dream," he thought. "Perhaps it's a nightmare."

  "You lied to my mother," the boy said. "The city is destroyed."

  "What does that matter? If she did not see what was happening around her, why not allow her to die in peace?"

  "Because she trusted you, and said that she was Akbar."

  Elijah cut his foot on one of the broken pieces of glass and pottery strewn on the ground. The pain proved to him that he was not dreaming; everything around him was terribly real. They arrived at the square where--how long ago?--he had met with the people and helped them to resolve their disputes; the sky was gilded by flames from the fires.

  "I don't want my mother to be this that I'm looking at," the boy insisted. "You lied to her."

  The boy was managing to keep his oath; Elijah had not seen a single tear on his face. "What can I do?" he thought. His foot was bleeding, and he decided to concentrate on the pain, to ward off despair.

  He looked at the sword cut the Assyrian had made in his body; it was not as deep as he had imagined. He sat down with the boy at the same spot where he had been bound by his enemies, and saved by a traitor. He noticed that people were no longer running; they were walking slowly from place to place, amidst the smoky, dusty ruins, as if they were the living dead. They seemed like souls abandoned by the heavens and condemned to walk the earth eternally. Nothing made sense.

  Some of the people reacted; they still heeded the women's voices and the confused orders from the soldiers who had survived the massacre. But they were few and were not achieving any result.

  The high priest had once said that the world was the collective dream of the gods. What if, fundamentally, he was right? Could he now help the gods to awaken from this nightmare and then make them sleep again to dream a gentler dream? When Elijah had nocturnal visions, he always awoke and then slept anew; why should the same not occur with the creators of the Universe?

  He stumbled over the dead. None of them was now concerned with having to pay taxes, Assyrian encampments in the valley, religious rituals, or the existence of a wandering prophet who perhaps one day had spoken to them.

  "I can't remain here permanentl
y. The legacy that she left me is this boy, and I shall be worthy of it, even if it be the last thing I do on the face of the earth."

  With a great effort, he rose, took the boy by the hand, and they began to walk. Some of the people were sacking the shops and tents that had been smashed. For the first time, he attempted to react to what had happened, by asking them not to do that.

  But the people pushed him aside, saying, "We're eating the remains of what the governor devoured by himself. Get out of the way."

  Elijah did not have the strength to argue; he led the boy out of the city, where they began to walk through the valley. The angels, with their swords of fire, would come no more.

  "A full moon."

  Far from the dust and smoke, he could see the night illuminated by moonlight. Hours before, when he was attempting to leave the city for Jerusalem, he had been able to find his way without difficulty; the Assyrians had had the same advantage.

  The boy stumbled over a body and screamed. It was the high priest; his arms and legs had been cut off, but he was still alive. His eyes were fixed on the heights of the Fifth Mountain.

  "As you see," he said in a labored but calm voice, "the Phoenician gods have won the celestial battle." Blood was spurting from his mouth.

  "Let me end your suffering," Elijah replied.

  "Pain means nothing, compared to the joy of having done my duty."

  "Your duty was to destroy a city of righteous men?"

  "A city does not die, only its inhabitants and the ideas they bore within themselves. One day, others will come to Akbar, drink its water, and the stone that its founder left behind will be polished and cared for by new priests. Leave me now; my pain will soon be over, while your despair will endure for the rest of your life."

  The mutilated body was breathing with difficulty, and Elijah left him. At that moment, a group of people--men, women, and children--came running toward him and encircled him.

  "It was you!" they shouted. "You dishonored your homeland and brought a curse upon our city!"

  "May the gods bear witness to this! May they know who is to blame!"

  The men pushed him and shook him by the shoulders. The boy pulled loose from his hands and disappeared. The others struck him in the face, the chest, the back, but his only thoughts were for the boy; he had not even been able to keep him at his side.

  The beating did not last long; perhaps his assailants were themselves weary of so much violence. Elijah fell to the ground.

  "Leave this place!" someone said. "You have repaid our love with your hatred!"

  The group withdrew. Elijah did not have the strength to rise to his feet. When he recovered from the shame, he had ceased to be the same man. He desired neither to die nor to go on living. He desired nothing: he possessed no love, no hate, no faith.

  HE AWOKE to someone touching his face. It was still night, but the moon was no longer in the sky.

  "I promised my mother that I'd take care of you," the boy said. "But I don't know what to do."

  "Go back to the city. The people there are good, and someone will take you in."

  "You're hurt. I need to attend to your arm. Maybe an angel will come and tell me what to do."

  "You're ignorant, you know nothing about what's happening!" Elijah shouted. "The angels will come no more because we're common folk, and everyone is weak when faced with suffering. When tragedy occurs, let people fend for themselves!"

  He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself; there was no point in arguing further.

  "How did you find your way here?"

  "I never left."

  "Then you saw my shame. You saw that there is nothing left for me to do in Akbar."

  "You told me that all life's battles teach us something, even those we lose."

  He remembered the walk to the well the morning before. But it seemed as if years had passed since then, and he felt the urge to tell him that those beautiful words meant nothing when one faces suffering; but he decided not to upset the boy.

  "How did you escape the fire?"

  The boy lowered his head. "I hadn't gone to sleep. I decided to spend the night awake, to see if you and my mother were going to meet in her room. I saw the first soldiers come in."

  Elijah rose and began to walk. He was looking for the stone in front of the Fifth Mountain where one afternoon he had watched the sunset with the woman.

  "I mustn't go," he thought. "I'll become even more desperate."

  But some force drew him in that direction. When he arrived there, he wept bitterly; like the city of Akbar, the spot was marked by a stone, but he alone in that entire valley understood its significance; it would neither be praised by new inhabitants, nor polished by couples discovering the meaning of love.

  He took the boy in his arms and once again slept.

  "I'M HUNGRY AND THIRSTY," THE BOY TOLD ELIJAH AS soon as he awoke.

  "We can go to the home of one of the shepherds who live nearby. It's likely nothing happened to them because they didn't live in Akbar."

  "We need to repair the city. My mother said that she was Akbar."

  What city? No longer was there a palace, a market, or walls. The city's good people had turned into robbers, and its young soldiers had been massacred. Nor would the angels return, though this was the least among his problems.

  "Do you think that last night's destruction, suffering, and deaths have a meaning? Do you think that it's necessary to destroy thousands of lives to teach someone something?"

  The boy looked at him in alarm.

  "Put from your mind what I just said," Elijah told him. "We're going to look for the shepherd."

  "And we're going to rebuild the city," the boy insisted.

  Elijah did not reply. He knew he would no longer be able to use his authority with the people, who accused him of having brought misfortune. The governor had taken flight, the commander was dead; soon Sidon and Tyre might fall under foreign domination. Perhaps the woman was right: the gods were always changing, and this time it was the Lord who had gone away.

  "When will we go back there?" the boy asked again.

  Elijah took him by the shoulders and began shaking him forcefully.

  "Look behind you! You're not some blind angel but a boy who intended to spy on his mother's acts. What do you see? Have you noticed the columns of rising smoke? Do you know what that means?"

  "You're hurting me! I want to leave here, I want to go away!"

  Elijah stopped, disconcerted at himself: he had never acted in such a way. The boy broke loose and began running toward the city. Elijah overtook him and kneeled at his feet.

  "Forgive me. I don't know what I'm doing."

  The boy sobbed, but not a single tear ran down his cheeks. Elijah sat beside him, waiting for him to regain his calm.

  "Don't leave," he asked. "When your mother went away, I promised her I'd stay with you until you could follow your own path."

  "You also promised that the city was whole. And she said--"

  "There's no need to repeat it. I'm confused, lost in my own guilt. Give me time to find myself. I didn't mean to hurt you."

  The boy embraced him. But his eyes shed no tears.

  THEY CAME TO THE HOUSE in the middle of the valley; a woman was at the door, and two children were playing in front. The flock was in the enclosure, which meant that the shepherd had not yet left for the mountains that morning.

  Startled, the woman looked at the man and boy walking toward her. Her instinct was to send them away at once, but custom--and the gods--demanded that she honor the universal law of hospitality. If she did not receive them now, her own children might in the future suffer the same fate.

  "I have no money," she said. "But I can give you a little water and something to eat."

  They sat on a small porch with a straw roof, and she brought dried fruit and a jar of water. They ate in silence, experiencing, for the first time since the events of the night before, something of the normal routine that marked their every day. The childre
n, frightened by the newcomers' appearance, had taken refuge inside the house.

  When they finished their meal, Elijah asked about the shepherd.

  "He'll be here soon," she said. "We heard a lot of noise, and somebody came by this morning saying that Akbar had been destroyed. He went to see what happened."

  The children called her, and she went inside.

  "It will avail me nothing to try to convince the boy," Elijah thought. "He'll not leave me in peace until I do what he asks. I must show him that it is impossible; only then will he be persuaded."

  The food and water achieved a miracle: he again felt himself a part of the world.

  His thoughts flowed with incredible speed, seeking solutions rather than answers.

  SOME TIME LATER, the aged shepherd arrived. He looked at the man and boy with fear, concerned for the safety of his family. But he quickly understood what was happening.

  "You must be refugees from Akbar," he said. "I've just returned from there."

  "And what's happening?" asked the boy.

  "The city was destroyed, and the governor ran away. The gods have disorganized the world."

  "We lost everything we had," said Elijah. "We ask that you receive us."

  "I think my wife has already received you, and fed you. Now you must leave and face the unavoidable."

  "I don't know what to do with the boy. I'm in need of help."

  "Of course you know. He's young, he seems intelligent, and he has energy. And you have the experience of someone who's known many victories and defeats in life. The combination is perfect, because it can help you to find wisdom."

  The man looked at the wound on Elijah's arm. He said it was not serious; he entered the house and returned with some herbs and a piece of cloth. The boy helped him apply the poultice. When the shepherd said that he could do it alone, the boy told him that he had promised his mother to take care of this man.

  The shepherd laughed.

  "Your son is a man of his word."

  "I'm not his son. And he's a man of his word too. He'll rebuild the city because he has to bring my mother back, the way he did with me."

  Suddenly, Elijah understood the boy's concern, but before he could do anything, the shepherd shouted to his wife, who was coming out of the house at that moment. "It's better to start rebuilding life right away," he said. "It will take a long time for everything to return to what it was."