trick... How do you express it? ... A con...'
'A conjuring trick,' I said.
'No, a word I know. Con ...'
'Confidence trick, then.'
'That is true. My English grows every day don't you think?'
'It's excellent.'
'Yes, the same confidence trick that Moses did here in the Negev to impress the Children of Israel. You read in the Bible that he struck the rock and out came the fresh water. All he did was push his staff down through the bad water to the good spring underneath.'
'And so saved Israel from being a nation of bald heads,' I suggested.
Dov laughed but Shoshana did not react. She could never take a joke about Israel. Dov brought the jeep around, a dusty tail curling behind us, and stopped in the middle of a flat red area of desert where columns of sandstone heaved themselves vertically into the hard and brilliant sky. They were chiselled and carved by winds and age, fat fingers of rock spread wide, and then another, a hand clenched and fisted, the knuckles bulging out over the hot bare flat area below.
Shoshana had jumped from the jeep and was walking about, looking up, arms spread, with a sort of staged holy excitement, like someone walking in a beloved cathedral. She walked fifty yards away from the jeep, her tied hair touching the back of her khaki shirt, her trousers baggy where they were pushed into her boots and tight around the backside. It was like watching a film where the star wanders into some wondrous place, spreads her hands and begins to sing. Shoshana shouted: 'The mines of King Solomon. Is it not great!'
Dov and I remained at the jeep. He was going to drive five miles farther into the desert to the kibbutz where his brother lived. At one moment we both found ourselves staring at this girl in the uncompromising male clothes, standing gracefully on high toes, tiptoeing about like a dancer.
'King Solomon!' She turned and called the words to us. 'This is his place. Do you like it, Mr Hollings ?'
Dov said to me: 'You had better say you like it, Mr Hollings. This girl is a patriot.'
‘I like it!' I shouted back to her. I like it very much.' The strength of my voice rustled rocks and segments on the crumbling sandstone ledges, dry from years without rain, and brought them chuting down to the foundations. Dov returned to his driver's seat and revved the engine bringing wider avalanches tipping from the crevices.
The jeep turned like a circus animal going around a ring and made for the narrow exit that led out to the desert and the road to Beersheba. Shoshana was still standing theatrically, her face bright in the sun and raised towards the tops of the cliffs. I walked to her.
'You like this place?' she repeated as though we were buying a house. 'You do with no doubt ?'
'With no doubt,' I smiled. I did a complete slow circle, eyes straining up, running along the frayed hem of the rocks and the sky. Red and orange, brown, sliced and spliced, layered and latticed rock.
'We have further places,' she enthused with all the gush of a bad salesman. 'So many. Even outside the famous towns. Israel is full of history. It has been here such a long time.'
I almost said: 'Most countries have,' but I restrained it because of her obvious happiness. She caught my hand. Her palm was unexpectedly soft. I wondered why I thought it would be hard. 'In this area - over here -' she said leading the way, 'this is where the fires would burn. Here the slaves would ... how is it? ... boil the metals for the making of the bronze. See the ground is still black. It was not a good job for employment.'
'He was a hard man that Solomon,' I said. We had begun walking up the crumbling path that projected like a dry tongue from the straight column formations. 'Cutting children in half...'
'Nonsense,' she interrupted seriously. 'It was only a suggestion.' We walked farther and higher. It was difficult under the sun and my shirt was sticky on my back. The heat was going through the material of the little Jewish cap I still had over the
'A conjuring trick,' I said.
'No, a word I know. Con ...'
'Confidence trick, then.'
'That is true. My English grows every day don't you think?'
'It's excellent.'
'Yes, the same confidence trick that Moses did here in the Negev to impress the Children of Israel. You read in the Bible that he struck the rock and out came the fresh water. All he did was push his staff down through the bad water to the good spring underneath.'
'And so saved Israel from being a nation of bald heads,' I suggested.
Dov laughed but Shoshana did not react. She could never take a joke about Israel. Dov brought the jeep around, a dusty tail curling behind us, and stopped in the middle of a flat red area of desert where columns of sandstone heaved themselves vertically into the hard and brilliant sky. They were chiselled and carved by winds and age, fat fingers of rock spread wide, and then another, a hand clenched and fisted, the knuckles bulging out over the hot bare flat area below.
Shoshana had jumped from the jeep and was walking about, looking up, arms spread, with a sort of staged holy excitement, like someone walking in a beloved cathedral. She walked fifty yards away from the jeep, her tied hair touching the back of her khaki shirt, her trousers baggy where they were pushed into her boots and tight around the backside. It was like watching a film where the star wanders into some wondrous place, spreads her hands and begins to sing. Shoshana shouted: 'The mines of King Solomon. Is it not great!'
Dov and I remained at the jeep. He was going to drive five miles farther into the desert to the kibbutz where his brother lived. At one moment we both found ourselves staring at this girl in the uncompromising male clothes, standing gracefully on high toes, tiptoeing about like a dancer.
'King Solomon!' She turned and called the words to us. 'This is his place. Do you like it, Mr Hollings ?'
Dov said to me: 'You had better say you like it, Mr Hollings. This girl is a patriot.'
‘I like it!' I shouted back to her. I like it very much.' The strength of my voice rustled rocks and segments on the crumbling sandstone ledges, dry from years without rain, and brought them chuting down to the foundations. Dov returned to his driver's seat and revved the engine bringing wider avalanches tipping from the crevices.
The jeep turned like a circus animal going around a ring and made for the narrow exit that led out to the desert and the road to Beersheba. Shoshana was still standing theatrically, her face bright in the sun and raised towards the tops of the cliffs. I walked to her.
'You like this place?' she repeated as though we were buying a house. 'You do with no doubt ?'
'With no doubt,' I smiled. I did a complete slow circle, eyes straining up, running along the frayed hem of the rocks and the sky. Red and orange, brown, sliced and spliced, layered and latticed rock.
'We have further places,' she enthused with all the gush of a bad salesman. 'So many. Even outside the famous towns. Israel is full of history. It has been here such a long time.'
I almost said: 'Most countries have,' but I restrained it because of her obvious happiness. She caught my hand. Her palm was unexpectedly soft. I wondered why I thought it would be hard. 'In this area - over here -' she said leading the way, 'this is where the fires would burn. Here the slaves would ... how is it? ... boil the metals for the making of the bronze. See the ground is still black. It was not a good job for employment.'
'He was a hard man that Solomon,' I said. We had begun walking up the crumbling path that projected like a dry tongue from the straight column formations. 'Cutting children in half...'
'Nonsense,' she interrupted seriously. 'It was only a suggestion.' We walked farther and higher. It was difficult under the sun and my shirt was sticky on my back. The heat was going through the material of the little Jewish cap I still had over the
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