Chapter 14 #3
“You and your conquering of urges,” I laughed.
“So—there’s a machine that washes the dishes.
I just put the dirty dishes and soap in and press a button, and it washes the dishes by itself.
I have a machine that sucks the dust up from the carpets.
I have a machine that washes the dirty clothes.
I indeed do my own cooking, but there’s no need for me to sew because I buy clothes from shops, already made. ”
“I do not understand what in the devil you are talking about,” said Jean and turned to me again. “I pray that one day I will once again dare to cross the magic passage, and you will show me all these miraculous things.”
“Say,” I said lazily and reached out to stroke his hair. “Do you think the place is called ‘Le Destroit’ because of our magic passage? That would mean someone else has crossed it.”
“That is an interesting question,” Jean said thoughtfully.
“To the best of my knowledge, our small fortress here received this name as it guards the narrow passage between the Carmel mountains and the sea and the innocent Christians who pass through it from the murderous attacks of the Saracens. But it could be that there is more to it than that …” He turned onto his belly, chewing on the stalk of a plant.
“Tell me more about your life,” he said, rolling the stalk between his teeth. “And about your … those things you have instead of servants.” He stroked my hair and pulled me closer to him. “Ma-sheen? Is it Greek?”
“Machines,” I laughed with my eyes closed. He moved away from me again and leaned against the tree, attentive in his whole being.
“Listen, it’s not so simple,” I admitted.
“The truth is that I do kind of have help. There is someone who comes every two weeks to dust and clean the house; there is a place where women look after my daughter and keep her entertained together with dozens of other children, every morning until the afternoon. There’s no need to take care of horses, because we have chariots that go by themselves; you just have to drive them and fill them with a liquid that makes them move—”
“Like water mills?” Jean sat up again. There was an eagerness in his eyes. “I am just now building one of those by the Jaffa River.”
“Not a water mill, no,” I said, helplessly. “Maybe a little? I have no idea.” I tried to remember car mechanics. “I apologize,” I said, ashamed. “I will try to check how it works and tell you the next time.”
Jean reached into one of his pouches. He took out my lighter and began to play with it again.
“You are aware that you simply took that from me, yes?” I snapped.
“You are right, my lady,” he said, smiling sheepishly. “I was smitten.” He handed me the lighter.
“Keep it,” I said magnanimously. “I have ten more at home.”
Jean whistled in admiration. “I cannot imagine your modus vivendi, my lady,” he said.
He gathered several weeds and lit them with the lighter.
He blew on them, reviving the fire, then added the small, dry branches that he had gathered earlier.
Soon, a small fire was burning cheerfully, and he went to his saddle and took a small copper kettle from one of the saddlebags.
He filled it with water from the spring and put in herbs that he took out of one of his countless pouches.
He resumed playing with the lighter. “Just wonderful,” he said to himself.
“Is it true that you have many of these? This is an inexpensive item?” He asked.
“Very inexpensive,” I said. “And it stops working after a while,” I added, in the spirit of full disclosure.
“In that case, would you mind if I were to dissemble the thing?” He asked eagerly. I nodded and even showed him how to pull out the metal wheel. From there, he proceeded on his own.
“So, who pumps the water?” He asked as he took apart the lighter and looked at every component closely. “Someone brings you fresh water every day, lights the fire, and heats the water?”
“We have a system of pipes in the ground,” I said. “The water comes from the tap to the kitchen and bathroom, and you can even adjust their temperature from the tap—cold or hot.”
“Holy mother of God.” He was struggling a little with his undertaking but did not lose patience. “I do not know whether to badger you with questions or leave it at that. I feel as though my head might explode.”
“Me too,” I mumbled. If all we were going to talk about were the technological innovations since the Middle Ages, it would be an exhausting evening for me. He cast me a glance and ran his hand over my hair.
“It will be dark soon,” he said and looked at me woefully. “You should get back to your time before it is too late, and likewise I must return to the Pilgrim Castle before sunset. But if you will permit me, before that, to kiss you again …” I rolled onto my back and opened my arms to him.
I replayed my conversation with Jean and everything that came after it again and again in my head while putting away groceries with Halimi.
Then, I peeled potatoes for lunch and put them on the grill, sliced vegetables, and roasted a chicken.
Halimi lay down to take a nap before picking up Lily from preschool.
Out on the balcony, I lit a cigarette and opened my laptop. Fingers trembling, I typed “Jean d’Ibelin” into Google. I did not expect any results.
As I clicked Google’s magnifying glass search icon, spots swam before my eyes.
The first link for “Jean d’Ibelin” referred me to French Wikipedia.
“Jean d’Ibelin, Lord of Beirut.” The second link also led to Wikipedia.
As my eyes skipped between the lines of the first entry, I felt like my insides were swirling.