Satan in Goray

to flaunt their presence.
    Before the Christian holidays, when large numbers of gentiles passed through Goray on the way to a shrine, young boys were everywhere industriously selling the pilgrims barrelsful of sweetened water. The Goray fairs were famous throughout the countryside. Peasants from all the nearby villages would come riding for the fair. Horses neighed, cows mooed, goats bleated. Horse traders--powerful Jews dressed in heavy jackets and sheepskin hats summer and winter--leaped to grab kicking stallions. They shouted as coarsely as any of the peasants. Bloody-handed butchers, with sharp knives thrust in their belts, would drag by the horn bound oxen who were no longer fit for the plow. In those days the grain merchants' bins were always full, and fat, white-bellied mice dined there; country whiskey at the taverns was mixed with whole buckets of water. All during the fair the children of Ham rejoiced in their own way. They danced with their women, pounding the floor with their feet, whistling and singing coarse songs. The women screamed and shook their hips, the men fought, swinging mighty fists. And what merchandise did Jews not sell! They sold women's flower-patterned shawls and headkerchiefs; egg rolls and long, twisted white breads; children's shoes and wading- boots; spices and nuts; iron yokes and nails; gilded bridal gifts and ready-made dresses; noisemakers for night watchmen, and Christmas Eve masks. True, often enough Rabbi Benish had inderdicted Jews' dealing in Christian images. Nevertheless, secretly sales continued of missals with gilded covers and pages, wax candles and even holy pictures of saints with halos round their heads. In some out-of-the- way corner of the fair stood the few Goray gentiles, selling beet-brown salamis and white hog fat. Once a fastidious young man passed by them and conspicuously held his nose, as though something smelled; afterward, he remarked peevishly, "The goy certainly eats well... you can smell it for a mile!"
    In the evening the sober peasants would ride off. Drunks would be thrown out of the taverns into the mud, and their angry women would pull them home by the ears. The dark circle of the fair-grounds would be covered with dung, and from it would rise the rustic smell of manure. In Jewish homes oil lamps, candles, and pieces of kindling would be lit. Women wearing enormous deep-pocketed aprons would spit on their palms to ward off the evil eye, and feverishly count the copper money they transferred to pots; in houses where there was no counting of money, it was deemed that the blessing of good fortune would be more apt to enter. Goray Jews had great needs. They needed board and lodging for sons-in-law and gifts for bridegrooms; satin dresses and velvet coats for brides and fur hats and silk coats for the men. For the holidays they needed: citrus fruit for the Feast of Tabernacles, the white unleavened bread for Passover, and olive oil for the Feast of Lights. Jews needed money to lend to wicked lords and to silence possible slanderers. More than once it was necessary to send an intercessor to Lublin. And then there were community needs: The town of Goray maintained a rabbi and his assistant, beadles and school teachers, one ritual slaughterer and ten charity scholars, as well as attendants for the bathhouse, one for the men and one for the women, besides the poor and the sick in the infirmary. And how many times did not Goray, this town at the end of the world, have to send money to other communities that had been despoiled or burned down!
    In those days Rabbi Benish reigned in Goray like a king. The people went to the rabbi's assistant with their simple questions, and to Rabbi Benish only when they were difficult, or involved suits of law. Rabbi Benish would roll up the sleeves of his coat, and rule according to the strict letter of the law, reckoning with no one. More than one Sabbath eve Grunam the Beadle had to go rapping from shutter to shutter with the news that the bathhouse was unclean, and the men were to stay away from the women who had been there that day. Often Rabbi Benish discovered too late that he had ruled an animal kosher when it was not. Half of the housewives of the town then had to smash their earthen vessels, scald the iron ones, and pour the soup and meat into the swill heap. Living was easy, and Jewishness in high repute those days.
    But now Goray had fallen upon evil days. Its best citizens had been slaughtered. Most of the men who