The Eternal Jew’s Tale, #163, Abarbanel 3

In this episode, flight, and a lost mystical treatise.

The Eternal Jew’s Tale
Twentieth Era, Part 4, ~1483 C.E., Iberia
The Abarbanel Cycle, 3

And just as our work started to take shape, King Alphonso gone and died, and John the Second assumed the throne, who, everyone knows has no love for the powerful princes that divide the land, especially Fernando II, who Don Isaac calls a ‘close friend.’ John calls him a treasonous snake. From that moment on, we live in fear. All extraneous work ceases as we triy to prove our worth to John. To no avail. The man’s heart is crusted like a burnt coal. (Hell, he were the model for Machiavelli.) Spring came late in ‘83. Rumors fly like starling flocks. Pesach. That’s when the Hebrews fled the land of Egypt. We flee Portugal to that pharaohess who rules Castile.

One step ahead of the daggers of John, and two steps ahead of his rovin’ thugs, we load a two-mule wagon one night with all Don Isaac’s treasure; his books: Talmud, siddurim, Zohar, Tanach, the commentaries and sifrut Chazal; Torah scrolls, tefillin, mizrachim; menorahs and other holy artifacts; a bureau containin’ all his notes; a strongbox with ingots of silver and gold; some clothes, some food that wouldn’t go bad. Not much else.

Dawn comes on. Now we can see how rocky our road. But what awaits ten minutes ahead? His family, his servants, Batkol and me begin our long circuitous march along the Rio Tejo banks, avoidin’ outposts, checkpoints, towns, to Toledo, capital of Castile where friends await. The three boys, and men and women who were strong and fit go on ahead. Isaac remains with the elders and wagon, calm as an owl in spite of expectin’ armed knights to overtake us at any turn. We cross the border after eighteen days, and breath deep for the first time.

In Toledo he rents a drear estate on the river outside the city walls. Damaged by war, one wing is burnt. He locks himself in an upper room most of the day. Evenings he prays and goes for a sullen walk into town. Sometimes he asks me to come along, to hear his musings on corrupt kings, citin’ Ahab, Herod, Isabella, John. Much we worry about his health. Melancholy has brought him low.

But just before Purim he bursts from his room, proposin’ a feast to celebrate. He has just completed a commentary on the first books of Nevi’im*, Joshua, Judges, and Samuel. Not only that. His longtime friend, Rabbi Aberham Senior has helped arrange a partnership: revenue farming for Her Majesty, with options for other services.
* Prophets

We should have known he weren’t burnt out. Beneath the surface his energy, like river currents, imperceptibly carvin’ its banks and bendin’ its course. It seems the great ever rise to the top.

Now, I weren’t privy to all the intrigue — pose and feint, move, countermove — that Isaac endured and instigated. Magicians rarely reveal their arts. And I weren’t one to insert myself into that high-stress daring-do. It’s too close to power’s noose and the steep and icy edge of deceit. But Isaac never lost his feet, tho he lost fortunes to volatile fate.

But this he did confess to me:
“I don’t believe that fate is blind; nor is suffering ever unjust. I lost my fortune and nearly my sons because I abandoned the ways of God. In Portugal I committed two sins. First, I prayed to that idol, gold. Such a grave sin has grave ends, and I beg forgiveness every day. That I still am alive is the mercy of God. My second sin was less obvious — turning my eyes to mystical things, instead of pursuing righteous acts and lifting my keva* with kavanah**. I refer to our research into ascents. I’m abandoning it with much regret. Valuable as such mastery may be, our world is too benighted. Before we ascend to the Throne on High, we must repair our mortal thrones — our wicked kings, our abusive homes. My retreat these last six months, like Shimon bar Yohai’s into his cave, was my teshuvah*** turning myself to the prism of Torah to judge this world, to hack out the poisonous root of kings — inheritance and divine right — like Samuel boldly hacked down Agag**** and berated the people for wanting a king. Yea, Israel does not need a king, and we, who will yet become the head, will lead the nations to the end of kings.”
* fixed or ritualized prayer, engaged in as duty
** devout, spontaneous, inspired prayer
*** repentance; to turn or return; **** 1 Samuel 15:32-33

Tho much moved by his piousness, still I were sorely let down by this. Sure, foundations come before observatories on upper decks, but also sure, when the human soul be clarified and enabled to see beyond these opaque elements and without unseen and distorting feelings, then perhaps these notes we compiled on heightened senses and spirit ascents may be of use to the architects of new nations and enlightened souls, to angelfolk knockin’ at our door, angelfolk waitin’ for us to arise. So I put aside my makin’ of maps of the sensible worlds, water and earth, to draw some maps of fire and air and the stormy scapes demarkin’ the soul.
These notes then, may they serve the Lor:

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In coming episodes I will recount some of the histories, tales, and mystical visions that Saadia, Batkol, and Don Isaac recorded in their Book of Ascents. However, most of that book will remain unrevealed to human eyes until a more auspicious moment.