Page 9 of The Golem of Mala Lubovnya
Although he carried a great many stones, the golem never tired. He was so happy to be outdoors, to be working, to be helping Jakob—he thought that maybe the flexing of his muscles and the strength of his bones were his body’s way of expressing joy, his own way of praying.
Jakob spoke very little. Most of his attention was on inspecting the stones, turning them this way and that—sometimes with the golem’s help—reading them as if they were books. Sometimes he chiseled them, the sounds echoing brightly. The golem stole glances as he unloaded each new pair of rocks. Although the stones were large and rough and the tools heavy, Jakob handled them carefully. Almost reverently.
The golem had just brought up another pair of rocks and was about to get more when Jakob held up a hand to stop him. “Lunchtime,” Jakob said. “I brought bread and cheese.”
“I don’t eat.”
Jakob blinked. “Never?”
“No.”
“Then how do you survive?”
“I… I don’t know.”
After a moment’s pause, Jakob shrugged. “Well, rest anyway. It exhausts me just to watch you work.” He took a small fabric-wrapped bundle from his wooden box and sat on the ground with his back against one of the larger stones.
The golem hesitated a bit before sitting next to him. He hadn’t noticed while he was working, but from this height, he could see the entire town laid out below. It looked neat and orderly. On the other side of the town, the road led to a larger city—also encircled by a stone wall and with a few pointed spires rising high. Beyond that, a green-gray river twisted like a lazy serpent. Perhaps the golem’s clay came from that river’s banks.
“What is that place?” the golem asked, pointing at the larger city.
Jakob had unwrapped his lunch and now tore a chunk from a small loaf of bread. He mumbled a quick prayer under his breath before answering. “That’s where the gentiles live.”
“You have separate towns?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. I suppose… people feel more comfortable living with others who are like them.”
The golem nodded, although he didn’t really understand. “Do they have golems too?”
Jakob gave a short laugh. “I very much doubt it. Nobody here has ever seen anything like you. We’ve heard stories, but… but we thought they were only tales told by old people to pass the long winter nights.”
Those words saddened the golem, who’d held a small hope that there were others like him somewhere. “Maybe in other cities? Far away.”
“Maybe. I’ve never been farther from here than two days’ walk.”
“And the world is very big, isn’t it?”
“So I’ve heard. My corner of it is very small.”
The golem looked out at the fields and towns spread beneath him and thought how much more there was here than in his dusty attic. He didn’t say so, though. Instead, he watched as Jakob chewed a bite of cheese. He couldn’t say why, but he was fascinated with watching those lips move, that throat swallow.
“I’m sorry,” Jakob said after a while. “I didn’t think to ask your name.”
“I don’t have one.”
Jakob frowned. “If I’m going to work with you, I want to call you something besides justgolem.”
“Call me whatever you wish,” said the golem, who was pleased to be called anything at all.
“Hmm.” Jakob ate a few more bites. Then he turned to look directly at the golem, and his gaze settled on the golem’s chest. “Move your vest, please. Let me read.”
The vest only partially obscured the letters the rabbi had inscribed. The golem moved the fabric out of the way.
“Emet,” pronounced Jakob. “I suppose that could be your name.”
