The Lion of Boaz-Jachin and Jachin-Boaz

9

The city was quiet, the birds were singing, and the sky was losing its darkness. The clock said half-past four. Jachin-Boaz could sleep no longer. He got out of bed, dressed, made himself a cup of coffee, and went out.

The street was wet, and on the pavement lay wet blossoms from the trees that overhung the railings. The street gleamed under the blueish light of the street lamps and the blue before-dawn light of the sky. A crow cawed, flapping slowly overhead to settle on a chimney-pot. A taxi hissed softly down the street, passing once, twice, over manhole covers, double-clanging each time. A telephone kiosk, like a large red lantern, lit the drooping blossoms of a chestnut tree.

Jachin-Boaz’s footsteps had an early-morning sound. His footsteps, thought Jachin-Boaz, were abroad at all hours. Sometimes he joined them, sometimes not.

Ahead of him were the river and the dark bulk of the bridge under its lamps against the paling sky. Jachin-Boaz heard a manhole cover clang, and found himself waiting for the second clang that would be the sound of the lifted edge dropping back. He had heard no cars passing. There was no second clang.

He looked back over his shoulder and saw, less than a hundred feet away in the blue dawn, a lion. He was large, massive, with a heavy, black mane. He had lifted his head as Jachin-Boaz turned, and now he stood motionless with one paw on the manhole cover. His eyes, catching the light of the street lamps, burned like steady pale green fires under the shadow of his brows.

A church clock struck five, and Jachin-Boaz realized that he had heard the lion before he saw him. The hairs on the back of his neck lifted, he felt deathly cold. He had heard the lion first. There was no hope that this was like the newspaper headlines, the mind playing a trick on the eyes.

A taxi entered the street, approaching the lion from behind. The lion grunted and turned, the taxi made a U-turn, went back the way it had come. Jachin-Boaz did not move.

The lion turned towards him again, his head thrust forward, his eyes fixed on Jachin-Boaz. He seemed not to move, but only shifted his weight slightly and was closer than before. Again, and closer.

Jachin-Boaz took one step back. The lion stopped, one paw slightly lifted, his eyes always on Jachin-Boaz. The thing is not to run, thought Jachin-Boaz. The lion seemed to be gathering himself. Surely he’s too far away to spring, thought Jachin-Boaz. He took another step backwards, trying to move as subtly as the lion had done. This time he saw the rise and fall of the lion’s shoulders, the sliding of his heavy paws.

Jachin-Boaz, backing towards the bridge, had reached the corner, his eyes still fixed on the lion. To the right and left behind him lay the road along the embankment. He heard a taxi coming over the bridge, turned his head just enough to see that the FOR HIRE sign was lit. He raised his arm to signal, pointing along the embankment.

The taxi turned right as it came off the bridge and pulled up beside Jachin-Boaz. He was still facing the lion, with his back to the taxi.

The driver slid the window down. ‘Do you want to go backwards or forwards?’ he said.

Jachin-Boaz felt for the door handle behind him, opened the door, got in. He gave the driver the address of the bookshop where he worked.

The taxi pulled away. Through the rear window Jachin-Boaz saw the lion standing motionless, head lifted.

The taxi hummed along smoothly. There was full daylight now, and there were other cars ahead, behind, on both sides. Jachin-Boaz leaned back. Then he leaned forward, lowered the panel in the glass partition between him and the driver.

‘Did you see anything back there where you picked me up?’ he said.

The driver looked up at Jachin-Boaz’s face in the rearview mirror and nodded his head. ‘Proper big one, weren’t it?’

Jachin-Boaz felt giddy. ‘Then why didn’t you … Why didn’t you …’ He didn’t know what he wanted the driver to have done.

The driver looked straight ahead as the taxi hummed through the traffic. ‘It’s nothing to me,’ he said. ‘I thought it was yours.’