Read Online Jerusalem Maiden by Talia Carner - Free Book Online Page A

who’s making the music of the angels.”
    His mother followed. Esther checked the position of the sun. The days were short, the unusually mild temperature would drop soon, and she must get the hues right so she could continue working on this painting back at Mlle Thibaux’s. Yet, too timid to object, she trailed behind, memorizing the swishing flounce of her teacher’s skirt. She would use rusty red for the folds, maybe yellow.
    When they reached the other side of the monastery, Esther stopped short.
    The shepherd boy they had encountered earlier crouched on his haunches, his finger in his nose. Several feet away, playing the flute, a scrawny yeshiva boocher sat propped against a rock, his long sidelocks twisted and tucked behind his ears and his black skullcap pushed back. Asher! The only son of Ima’s sister—who claimed he was a biblical genius, an eeluy —he had cut classes to sin in full daylight. Well, not sin really, but music was an affront to the klal —
    Unable to turn around and flee, Esther made herself small behind Mlle Thibaux, hiding from Asher’s view. Resentment rose in her. Her fifteen-year-old cousin’s presence shattered her illusion of freedom. If he saw her, her secret would be revealed. And Asher was so attached to his mother’s apron that he would surely tell Aunt Tova, who would be delighted to stick a dagger into Ima’s pride in her children.
    â€œHe’s fantastic,” Mlle Thibaux whispered over her shoulder to Esther. Pierre stepped forward, his head cocked as if bewitched.
    Because of the mourning over the destruction of the Second Temple nineteen hundred years before, music was banned. But even in the occasional exception the rabbis had made for the mitzvah of rejoicing with a bride and a groom at their wedding, Asher never played. Yet here he was, the notes of some strange, beautifully haunting melody cascading around him like precious gems.
    The song ended, and Asher sent Pierre a shy look. His eyes blinked. Once, twice, three times. Without the music, he seemed deflated, as frail as a girl in pants. It was hard to believe he was the same age as Pierre.
    â€œ Bravo! ” Mlle Thibaux clapped her hands. “ Bravo! ” She shifted her weight, moving from in front of Esther.
    Asher jumped to his feet. “Esther—” A blush flared all over his neck and face.
    She felt herself redden, too. “What are you doing here?” she asked him in Yiddish. “You’ll be in big trouble for skipping yeshiva.”
    â€œI’ll be in bigger trouble for playing goyishe music,” he replied, his tone humble, and Esther was astonished to see his eyes glistening. Even though his voice hadn’t yet changed, he was old enough to be a groom. Men never cried, except, of course, when praying over the destruction of the Temple. “I give him my lunch,” Asher said, nodding his head toward the Arab boy, “and he lets me play his flute.”
    â€œHow come he can speak with her and I can’t?” Esther heard Pierre ask his mother.
    â€œ Il est mon cousin. ” Esther directed her response to Mlle Thibaux.
    â€œ Un cousin, ah. ” Pierre broke off the head of a sunflower that grew in a pile of manure, and a grin lit his face. “Can’t I be a cousin, too?” Without waiting for a response, he vaulted onto the boulders at the side of the wall until he reached the top, then started walking with his arms stretched out sideways for balance. He tucked the sunflower behind his ear, where it shone like the blazing sun.
    Asher went on in Yiddish. “It would kill my mother if she knew I’m not the Talmudic genius she believes.”
    â€œA genius is born only when Hashem gives him the gift. You can’t become one,” Esther corrected him with more sternness than was appropriate in addressing an older male cousin. Asher’s fragility erased his status.
    â€œI want to study music.