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 , ,2026



ISBN978-5-0068-9683-3

     Ridero







The wedding had just ended.

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The rabbi sank into achair, then stepped out and saw the tables stretching the full length ofthe courtyard.

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There were so many that their end poked out through the gates onto Hospital Street.

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Covered invelvet, the tables twisted like snakes with patches ofall colors on their bellies, singing indeep voices the patches oforange and red velvet.

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The apartments had turned into kitchens.

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Through the sooty doors, afat flame burst out, drunk and swollen.

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Inits smoky rays, old womens faces baked, womens shaky chins, greasy chests.

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Sweat, pink like blood, pink like the foam ofamad dog, flowed around these piles ofovergrown, sweet-smelling human flesh.

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Three cooks, not counting the dishwashers, prepared the wedding supper, ruled byeighty-year-old Reizl, traditional as aTorah scroll, tiny and hunched.

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Before supper, ayoung man slipped into the yard, unknown tothe guests.

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He asked for Benya Krik.

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He pulled Benya Krik aside.

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Listen, King, the young man said, Ihave acouple ofwords for you. Aunt Khana from Kostetskaya sentme

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Well, fine, answered Benya Krik, nicknamed the King, what are those words?

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Anew police chief came tothe station yesterday, Aunt Khana wanted you toknow

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Iknew about it the day before yesterday, Benya Krik replied. Goon.

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The chief gathered the station and gave aspeech

    



Anew broom sweeps clean, Benya Krik said. He wants araid. Goon

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But when will the raid be, do you know, King?

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It will be tomorrow.

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King, its today.

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Who told you that, boy?

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Aunt Khana told me. You know Aunt Khana?

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Iknow Aunt Khana. Goon.

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The chief gathered the station and gave them aspeech. We must choke Benya Krik, he said, because where theres an emperor, theres no king. Today, when Krik is marrying off his sister and theyre all there, today we do the raid

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Goon.

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Then the cops started tofear. They said, if we do the raid today when its his holiday, Benya will get angry, and alot ofblood will flow. So the chief said, my pride is more important

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Well, go, the King answered.

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What totell Aunt Khana about the raid?

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Tell her Benya knows about the raid.

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And the young man left.

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Three ofBenyas friends followedhim.

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They said theyd be back inhalf an hour.

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And they returned inhalf an hour.

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Thatsall.

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People sat at the tables not byage.

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Silly old age is no less pitiful than cowardly youth.

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And not bywealth.

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The lining ofaheavy purse is sewn from tears.

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At the head ofthe table sat the groom and bride.

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It was theirday.

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Insecond place sat Sender Eichbaum, the Kings father-in-law.

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It was his right.

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Sender Eichbaums story is worth knowing, because its not asimpleone.

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How did Benya Krik, the raider and king ofraiders, become Eichbaums son-in-law?

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How did he become son-in-law toaman with sixty milk cows minusone?

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It was all about araid.

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Just ayear ago, Benya wrote Eichbaum aletter.

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Monsieur Eichbaum, he wrote, please put twenty thousand rubles under the gate at Sofiyevskaya 17tomorrow morning. If you dont, something unheard ofwill happen toyou, and all Odessa will talk about you. Respectfully, Benya the King.

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Three letters, each clearer than the last, got no reply.

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So Benya took action.

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They came at night nine men with long sticks inhand.

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The sticks were wrapped intarredtow.

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Nine burning stars lit up inEichbaums cattle yard.

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Benya broke the locks on the barn and led out the cows one byone.

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Aguy with aknife waited.

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He toppled acow with one blow and plunged the knife into its heart.

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On the blood-soaked ground, torches bloomed like fiery roses, and shots rangout.

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With shots, Benya drove away the milkmaids running tothe barn.

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And the other raiders fired into the air too, because if you dont shoot inthe air, you might kill someone.

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And when the sixth cow fell at the Kings feet with adeath moo, Eichbaum ran out into the yard inhis underpants and asked:

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What will come ofthis, Benya?

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If Ihave no money, you have no cows, Monsieur Eichbaum. Thats two times two.

Ӡ  㠖   ,  . .



Come inside, Benya.

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And inside, they agreed.

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The slaughtered cows were split half and half.

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Eichbaum was guaranteed safety and given acertificate with astamp.

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But the miracle came later.

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During the raid, on that terrible night when stabbed cows mooed, and calves slipped inmothers blood, when torches danced like black maidens, and milkmaids shied and squealed under friendly Browning muzzles on that terrible night, old Eichbaums daughter Tsilya ran out into the yard inalow-cut shirt.

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And the Kings victory became his defeat.

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Two days later, Benya returned all the taken money toEichbaum without warning and then came for avisit inthe evening.

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He wore an orange suit, adiamond bracelet shone under his cuff; he entered the room, greeted, and asked Eichbaum for his daughter Tsilyas hand.

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The old man had alight stroke, but he recovered.

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The old man had twenty years oflife left.

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Listen, Eichbaum, the King said tohim, when you die, Ill bury you inthe first Jewish cemetery, right at the gates. Ill put up apink marble monument for you, Eichbaum. Ill make you elder ofthe Brodsky Synagogue. Ill quit my trade, Eichbaum, and join your business as partner. Well have two hundred cows, Eichbaum. Ill kill all milkmen except you. No thief will walk the street you live on. Ill build you adacha at the sixteenth station And remember, Eichbaum, you werent arabbi inyour youth either. Who forged the will, lets not talk loud about it?.. And your son-in-law will be the King, not asnot-nose, but the King, Eichbaum

, ,   ,   ,      ,  .      , .      .    , ,   . Ӡ   , .    ,  . ,   ,     .       Ƞ, ,     .   ,    ?.. Ƞ   , , , 



And he got his way, Benya Krik, because he was passionate, and passion rules the worlds.

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The newlyweds spent three months infertile Bessarabia, among grapes, plentiful food, and love sweat.

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Then Benya returned toOdessa tomarry off his forty-year-old sister Dvoyra, suffering from goiter.

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And now, having told Sender Eichbaums story, we can return toDvoyra Kriks wedding, the Kings sister.

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At this wedding, for supper they served turkeys, roasted chickens, geese, stuffed fish, and fish soup where lemon lakes shimmered like mother-of-pearl.

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Over the dead goose heads, flowers swayed like lush plumes.

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But does the foamy surf ofthe Odessa sea wash roasted chickens ashore?

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All the noblest ofour contraband, all that the earth is famous for from end toend, did its destructive, seductive work that starry, that blue night.

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Foreign wine warmed stomachs, sweetly broke legs, dazed brains, and caused belches loud as battle trumpets.

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The black cook from the Plutarch, arrived three days ago from Port Said, carried past customs fat bottles ofJamaican rum, oily Madeira, cigars from Pierpont Morgans plantations, and oranges from Jerusalems outskirts.

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Thats what the foamy surf ofthe Odessa sea washes ashore, thats what Odessa beggars sometimes get at Jewish weddings.

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They got Jamaican rum at Dvoyra Kriks wedding, so, drunk as unclean pigs, the Jewish beggars banged their crutches deafeningly.

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Eichbaum, vest unbuttoned, squinted at the raging assembly and hiccupped lovingly.

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The orchestra played aflourish.

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It was like adivisional review.

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Flourish nothing but flourish.

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The raiders, sitting inclosed ranks, were shy at first with outsiders, but then they let loose.

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Lyova Katsap smashed avodka bottle on his beloveds head.

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Monya Artilleryman fired intheair.

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But the ecstasy reached its limit when, byold custom, guests began gifting the newlyweds.

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Synagogue beadles, jumping on tables, chanted the amount ofgifted rubles and silver spoons under the bubbling flourish.

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And here the Kings friends showed what blue blood is worth and the still unextinguished Moldavian knighthood.

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With careless hand movements, they threw gold coins, rings, coral strands onto silver trays.

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The Moldavanka aristocrats were laced incrimson vests, rusty jackets hugged their shoulders, and on fleshy legs burst skin the color ofheavenly azure.

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Standing tall and sticking out bellies, the bandits clapped tothe music, shouted bitter, and threw flowers at the bride, and she, forty-year-old Dvoyra, Benya Kriks sister, the Kings sister, disfigured byillness, with swollen goiter and bulging eyes, sat on apile ofpillows next toaskinny boy, bought with Eichbaums money and mute from anguish.

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The gifting rite neared its end, the beadles grew hoarse, and the contrabass quarreled with the violin.

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Afaint smell ofburning suddenly spread over the yard.

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Benya, said Papa Krik, the old cart driver, known among cart drivers as arude man, Benya, you know what Ithink? Ithink our soot is burning

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Papa, the King answered his drunk father, please drink and eat, dont worry about such nonsense

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And Papa Krik followed his sons advice.

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He ate and drank.

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But the smoke cloud grew more poisonous.

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The skys edges pinked somewhere.

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And anarrow tongue offlame shot up like asword.

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Guests rose, sniffing the air, and their women squealed.




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