Every title is a promise. That of Esalfa is not immediately transparent, and for that very reason, it warrants investigation. In the novel, the word designates a geometric figure—two opposing triangles—embodying the single most vital idea of the entire work: good and evil, light and shadow, are not irreconcilable enemies, but halves of a whole that only God holds in balance.

An Ancient Symbol

The symbol first appears on a parchment that the old Ramon shows to Antonio in his underground refuge: two small triangles, one pointing upward and the other downward. Ramon calls it the Seal of Solomon and explains it thus: the upper triangle represents the benevolent principle, the lower one the malevolent principle, and their union is “the harmony of opposites.”

The name Esalfa evokes the idea of the hexagram, the six-pointed star, in which the two triangles overlap. In Jewish tradition and Western esoteric thought, this figure has taken on manifold meanings, and the novel embraces a specific one: that of cosmic balance.

The Tree of Life and the Kabbalah

The second major symbolic core is the tree of life, described in the novel by Rodrigo in simple terms: a central trunk and two large lateral branches. On either side lie the faculties of man with their inherent dualities (sensibility and reason, justice and mercy); at the center stands the force that reconciles them.

Here we enter the domain of the Kabbalah, the Jewish mystical tradition that, in medieval Spain, brought forth one of its seminal texts, the Zohar. The Christian Renaissance rediscovered it: Pico della Mirandola, quoted in the novel's epigraph, was among the first to interpret the Kabbalah as a viable bridge to Christian truth.

The Principle Underlying the Story

What Ramon and Rodrigo reveal to Antonio at two distinct moments becomes the interpretive lens through which to read the entire narrative. The novel stages pairs of opposites that challenge, repel, and complete one another:

The two epigraphs: dignity and illusion

The novel opens with two quotes that seem in contrast. Freud reminds us that at bottom, no one truly believes in their own death, and that in the unconscious, everyone feels immortal. Pico has God say to man that, as the "free and proud shaper of your own being," he may degenerate into the lower forms of life or be reborn into the higher, divine orders.

Brought together, they capture the dual nature of human freedom: on one hand, the dignity of choosing who to become; on the other, the illusion of escaping mortal limits. The six-pointed star serves as the visual synthesis of this tension.

When harmony breaks

The symbol is far from a mere decorative motif. It resurfaces in the final pages of the novel, in a scene where someone turns it into a language of justification. Here lies the most unsettling insight of Esalfa: even the highest doctrine of harmony can be betrayed if severed from temperance, humility, and compassion.

The balance promised by the Seal is not a license to do as one pleases, but a discipline. Those who forget this, who believe they can embody one of the two triangles on their own, lose the very truth the symbol seeks to impart.

Conclusion

In the next post, we will move from symbols to history: Mühlberg, Villalar, and Cuenca, exploring what in the novel draws from the archives and what belongs to imagination.

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