Lilah by Marek Halter Page A

they came into the lower town.
    Suddenly, at the end of the street, men and women stood aside. Some climbed onto the walls, others jumped into the gardens. Two black horses appeared, their coats as shiny as silk, their maneswoven with tassels of red wool, drawing a light chariot with iron-clad wheels, its body strengthened by a strip of brass. The handrail at the side was lined with leather sheaths and pouches – room enough for spears, arrows and a long-bladed sword.
    The kind of chariot Sogdiam had never seen before. A war chariot!
    Too stunned to move aside, Sogdiam stared open-mouthed as the chariot and horses came straight towards him. The officer who held the reins was wearing a pointed felt helmet decorated with woven ribbons and a long cape of blue wool flecked with yellow. Behind the chariot was an escort of about ten soldiers carrying spears. Children yelled with excitement.
    Nimbly, Sogdiam leaped to the gate to allow the chariot to pass into the courtyard. But as the horses, nostrils quivering, passed – so close to him that he could feel their breath on his cheek – the warrior brought the chariot to a halt with a mere flick of his wrist on the reins.
    The soldiers ran to take their places against the wall of the house on either side of the gate. The children stopped yelling. The warrior got down from the chariot. A plain sheath containing a broad knife with a steel hilt lay against his thigh. The gold brooches holding his cape were decorated with the heads of bulls and lions. He was smiling through hisbeard – and the smile was for Sogdiam: the officer was staring straight at him.
    Brave and proud though he was, Sogdiam retreated into the courtyard. The officer followed him through the gate and held out his hand. Then everyone in the street, neighbours and children, heard these incredible words: ‘Don’t be afraid, Sogdiam. I’m your friend.’
    Sogdiam blushed and threw an anxious glance towards the study. Master Baruch and Ezra had noticed nothing.
    Leaving the soldiers, the chariot and the crowd of onlookers in the street, the warrior closed the gate behind him. He took off his helmet, and his oiled hair fell to his shoulders. Sogdiam turned hot, then cold. He knew who the officer was.
    The man Ezra hated. The man Lilah loved.
    He swayed slightly as anger, envy, vexation and pleasure danced a sarabande in his heart. The warrior frowned, but there was nothing threatening in his expression, quite the contrary. He uttered the words Sogdiam had been waiting for: ‘I’m Antinoes and I’ve come to see Ezra.’
    â€˜Ezra is studying,’ Sogdiam replied, sounding, he thought, weak and foolish. ‘He’s with Master Baruch. He can’t be disturbed.’
    Antinoes looked at him in surprise, then turnedtowards the study and saw that Sogdiam was telling the truth. He nodded, pulled the end of his cape onto his shoulder, and made as if to walk towards the house. Sogdiam, unafraid, considered barring his way, but his legs refused to move. Antinoes also came to a halt.
    By now Ezra had stopped studying, and was staring out at the warrior with his dark eyes. Beside him, Master Baruch was silent. Antinoes raised a hand in greeting. In response, Ezra turned his back. He unrolled a scroll on the table and said something to Master Baruch. The old man nodded, and the two of them resumed their murmuring.
    â€˜You see?’ Sogdiam said, with all the confidence he could muster. ‘They haven’t finished. You’ll have to leave.’
    As if he had not heard, Antinoes continued to gaze into the study. Then, to Sogdiam’s surprise, he burst out laughing: a good-humoured laugh, without a trace of irony. ‘That’s all right. I’ll wait. Bring me a cup of water, will you?’
    Relieved, Sogdiam hurried to the kitchen. When he came out again, Antinoes was standing in the middle of the courtyard, as if keeping guard on the wall of a citadel. His