The sensation of Kadesh’s fingers gripping my hand lingered as I stared down at my own. As if his skin had imprinted onto me forever—his lips searing my palms, his eyes reading my soul—as though we would forever remain in the narrow crevasse, living that moment over and over again.
My mind reeled with desire I’d never felt before, accompanied by the despair that I was betrothed to someone else. I shouldn’t be daydreaming about any other boy this way, but I only wanted him to touch me again, even as a shadow of guilt crossed my conscience.
I held on to the memory of Kadesh’s lips against my palms, the burning in his eyes that told me he was thinking about me just as much as I was thinking about him.
11
Several days later, we entered the summer lands near the city of Tadmur, a week’s journey from Damascus.
When I saw it coming over the last ridge of sand dunes early that morning, I was sure we’d found paradise. The large oasis pond reflected the sun while groves of palm trees, heavy with dates next to wild grapes, circled the ring of water. Grass and shrubs and flowers spread like an intricate carpet before formidable mountains in the hazy distance.
Familiar black tents dotted the oasis valley, the most welcome sight of all.
We quickly rode into camp and when we got to the tent of Abimelech, Horeb’s father, Aunt Judith ran out, her face streaming with tears of relief to see us at last. She wiped at her eyes, laughing at herself, and then clucked her tongue. “Every day I thought we would see you behind us, but never were my prayers answered.”
“We had some delays along the way,” I said wearily. “But we’re here now and that’s all that matters.”
“You girls are skin and bones,” Judith went on. “We’ll have to feast every night to put you back together again.”
Uncle Abimelech eyed my father’s shrinking herd. “Three camels lost. You’ve suffered on your journey,” he said simply.
My father nodded without speaking. There was nothing much to say, but eight camels was a pathetic herd, even for a poor man, when the rest of the clans had many dozens, even hundreds of camels for food and trade. As tribal chief, Abimelech owned close to a thousand camels, and yet he wouldn’t shame my father by giving him any. He could only help my father get his lost herd back by organizing a raid to retrieve them from the Maachathites, who had stolen from us over and over again.
With Kadesh’s help, my youngest cousin, Chezib, ran around the camels, untying them and giving them lush flowers to eat straight from his cupped hands. I could hear the pair of them chattering and laughing together. I wanted to sit and watch as Kadesh patiently listened while Chezib instructed him on camels and travels and the next hunting expedition.
But as I looked over at the fire hearth in front of Abimelech’s tent my stomach dropped, the relief on my face quickly erased. Horeb lay on a mound of pillows, sipping coffee and eating from a basket of ripe fruit.
I walked over, but my betrothed didn’t get up. “You’re dirty, Cousin,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Most people are travel worn after more than two weeks on the desert,” I replied, not trying to keep the tone of annoyance out of my voice.
He laughed, inching back into the shade. “Your sister’s grown,” he added, staring at Leila.
I jerked my head, seeing Leila through his eyes. Grown? Not in height. Only in womanly attributes. I gave a snort as Horeb rose up on one elbow, examining Kadesh. “Who’s the stranger?”
“A man named Kadesh from the South,” I said shortly.
“Where did you find him?”
“He found us, actually,” I said curtly, trying to cut off the conversation.
“Where? After you left our last camping site or on the road?”
“Before we left. We were—my mother—” I couldn’t get the words past my lips.
“That’s right. Your mother was about to give birth. Did she finally manage a son for your father?”
I closed my eyes and wished Horeb would disappear from my sight. He was so unfeeling, so insensitive. “There was a son, Isaac. He died. And a twin sister. My mother—” I still couldn’t say it, and I couldn’t move until our conversation was deemed over.
Horeb sat up from his rug and swished a stick through the hearth fire’s embers, where water was boiling for coffee later that evening. He studied my face without any emotion of his own, but surprisingly read the pain in my eyes. “You had to bury her before you left. That’s why you never caught up with us.”
I nodded and bit at my lips.
“And your father trusted this boy, this stranger? You’re lucky you’re all still alive.”
“He was wounded by enemies,” I answered, making sure my voice was devoid of any sentiment. “My father and Shem tended him. He’d lost his caravan and had to come with us until he can buy more camels in the market at Tadmur and get back home.”
“I see,” Horeb said, appraising Kadesh from a distance as he and Chezib led our tired and hungry camels out to a field of flowers and shrubs.
Silently, I watched my father move the bundles of tent and stakes to an empty camping spot several hundred paces away from Abimelech’s camp. “I need to put up the tent,” I said. “My father is weary. It’s been a terrible two weeks since my mother’s loss.”
Horeb pursed his lips, nodding. “You’d better hurry before the sun sinks.”
I stared at him; he wasn’t even moving to help me. A moment later Hakak was at my side. “We’ll help with the unpacking,” she said, kicking a foot at her older brother. “Just because you stayed in the city all night with your friends at the drinking houses doesn’t mean you can be lazy all day.”
“Yes, it does, little sister,” Horeb said, leaning back again. “I’ve been cleaning and sharpening my tools and weapons, as well as preparing for this evening. We’re having a tribal council meeting after all you girls go to bed.”
“It’s nothing but boring talk. But you’re good at that, dear brother.”
“Is that a compliment or a critique of my negotiating skills?”
“The former, I suppose,” Hakak teased in return. She paused and added soberly, “I know you will make a fine king one day for the tribe of Nephish. Already you are forming alliances, making us stronger. Not everybody can do that.”
Then Hakak slipped her arm through mine. “And when you and Jayden marry and settle into the finest tent, I picture you holding court and solving problems and using your wisdom to keep us strong and safe.”
Horeb inclined his head, gazing at me again. I wished I’d had a bath and combed my hair. I looked every bit the poor and dirty peasant. “Thank you for your confidence, dear sister. I just hope that Jayden will understand the good life she will have with me,” he added meaningfully.
Hakak gave a snort. “Of course she does. We all know how fortunate and blessed your union will be.”
Horeb picked up a bowl of sliced melon and popped one into his mouth. He offered me a piece, and as hungry as I was, I shook my head in refusal. I didn’t want to get so close that he could grab my arm. “She can be assured on that account. I’ll be gone a lot or have visiting dignitaries from other tribes, so Jayden will need to run the camp alone, but I know she’s capable. And she will live like a queen once we’re anointed. A chest full of jewels will be hers. A herd of camels she won’t be able to count. And so many servants, she’ll never put up a tent or draw water again.”
It was strange to hear them talking about me like this, even complimenting my household skills, but I couldn’t say a word.
Hakak tugged at my arm, stooping down to get our woefully empty food baskets that had been left on the ground after unpacking the camels. “No more talking, Horeb! Jayden’s exhausted and we need to bathe and dress her and help her get settled. We will see you at dinner.”
Hakak led me away, looking healthy and beautiful even though the tribe had to have arrived at the oasis only a few days earlier. Her marriage to Laham was getting close; perhaps that accounted for Hakak�
��s radiance.
As we walked, I knew I had to tell her about my mother. The words were on my tongue, but I couldn’t bring myself to say them. My throat closed up as Hakak embraced me.
A moment later, Falail and Leila came up the road, carrying fresh water in a large clay jug from the oasis well between them. “I’ll help you girls with a bath,” Falail said. “Now that we have water. You can borrow some of our clothes until yours can be washed.”
“Now tell me,” Hakak said, squeezing my arm. “Where is your mother? I haven’t seen her yet. Did she slip by us all, and she and my mother are catching up on all the gossip?”
At that moment Aunt Judith hurried around the camel carriage that was now sitting empty on the ground. “Jayden! Leila!” she shrieked. “Where is your mother—the litter is empty!”
I held myself tightly, forcing myself not to fall apart in front of everyone.
Aunt Judith read my face and clasped me in her arms, then pulled Leila close as she herded us into her tent for privacy. She began to weep. “It’s true, isn’t it? She’s gone. Oh, dear God, it isn’t possible! Rebekah, dear Rebekah. When did this happen?”
“The day the valley emptied. She went into labor that morning.”
Judith pulled back in surprise. “But the baby wasn’t supposed to come until we got here. Where is the child, the infant? Let me see him!”
Tears slipped from my eyes and I tried to brush them away, but there were too many. “There were twins, Aunt Judith. My brother, Isaac, is buried with my mother. Sahmril survived, but she’s with Shem’s family, who left us at the crossroads to go to Mari.” I stopped, not wanting to recount that terrible day of the journey. It was too painful, still too fresh. “Dinah agreed to nurse her.”
Aunt Judith groaned and wiped at her face.
“Nalla did all she could, but there was no way to stop—” I broke off, weeping as that terrible morning swept over me all over again.
“I pray Rebekah didn’t suffer too terribly.” Aunt Judith shook her head, disbelief etched in her eyes. “Then, her last night alive was your betrothal celebration—only—weeks ago. It doesn’t seem possible that she’s gone. She was my dearest friend in all the world.”
I buried my face into my aunt’s neck, wanting to give her all the grief and anxiety I’d been holding in for so long.
“Where is the grave?” Judith whispered.
“Under the bluff,” I said. “Father dug it deep and we covered it with rocks. I—I danced for her. To say good-bye.”
“What a good daughter you are, Jayden.” Aunt Judith traced a finger against my empty collarbone as she raised her red, streaming eyes to mine. “Where’s your jewelry? The necklace, the earrings—they’re missing.”
“Payment to Dinah for saving Sahmril,” I choked out.
Shock filled my aunt’s eyes. “That wicked woman!” She hugged me tightly, and I leaned against her, unloading all my grief of so many weeks.
Leila was weeping again, too, and Falail and Hakak sat her down, embracing her and murmuring condolences. Then Hakak and Aunt Judith bustled about, getting us bread and camel’s milk to eat and drink. My sister was so thin I worried about her. But it was a relief to sink into the rugs of someone else’s tent and let myself be cared for.
A few moments later, the tapestry partition was pulled aside and I saw my grandmother Seraiah standing in the doorway; the folds of her wrinkled face were almost as dear as my own mother’s.
“My girls,” she said, holding out her hands.
I jumped up to run to her, fresh tears bitter on my cheeks. “Oh, Grandmother!” I cried, burying my face into her neck. Seraiah was tiny and frail, but her soul was like a rock, firm and immovable, and she loved me unconditionally. She was the one person I’d wanted to see more than anyone else.
“Ssh, ssh,” she hushed me, kissing my cheeks and stroking my hair. “No need to speak. Your father has told me all that has happened.” She embraced me again and I wept into her for everything I had lost.
A few hours later, after my father and I erected the tent, laid out our rugs, and unpacked the pots and jugs, we fell into our beds. More tired than hungry. But Judith and Abimelech wouldn’t let us keep to ourselves for long. Two nights later we sat with them for dinner, enjoying a feast we hadn’t had in almost a month.
Surely the terrible time was over, I prayed as we feasted on a huge platter of roasted meat and mounds of rice and dripping fat to celebrate our safe arrival.
There were stories of the desert crossing and laughter and relief. And all the while, from across the fire, I felt Kadesh’s eyes on me. After those secret, intimate moments between us in the flooding chasm, I tried not to let my own eyes linger, but it was impossible, and it wasn’t long before Horeb noticed the attention Kadesh was giving me. I blushed, always aware of the heightened excitement Kadesh caused in my belly, but I worried over Horeb, who was watching me too, observing everything Kadesh said and did—as well as my reaction. It was worse than if he’d smirked and laughed. As if he’d caught me cheating, and was enjoying it. And yet, I could say and do nothing.
At the end of the meal, Kadesh rose to his feet, holding out his cup. “You have all been endlessly kind to me. I honor the House of Pharez for rescuing me, healing me, and giving me a home on my solitary journey. Thank you, Abimelech, for this feast. If I may give a small token of my gratitude.” He untied one of the leather bags at his side and pulled out a rectangle of fluttering lavender silk, then bowed to Judith and laid the beautiful silk at her feet. “Thank you for your hearth and home.”
Hakak leaned close to Leila and me, her eyes dancing. “He’s very generous and courtly, isn’t he?”
Stepping across the rugs, Kadesh kneeled to kiss my father on both cheeks. “You saved my life and no gift can equal that, but when I return to my uncle and finish my business there, I intend to bring back fifty camels to help heal your herd.”
My father bowed his head and murmured his thanks. Camels were a fine gift, and expensive, but it could take months for camels to arrive and my father needed them now—especially when the oasis became overgrazed and it was time to leave for the winter rains, when we wandered from valley to valley following the rain clouds that brought food for our camels.
“Before I leave I will inspect the swordmaker shops in Tadmur,” Kadesh added. “And bring back a sword as a token of my devotion.”
My father looked pleased. The only weapon he owned was the short sword given to him by his father when he turned twelve and went on his first raid. But it had always been more like a long dagger rather than a true sword. Nothing like Kadesh’s weapons.
“You may not have an extra sword for gift giving, stranger,” Horeb said, standing up to circle the fire like a restless lion. “But you have at least one.”
“That’s true,” Kadesh said, nodding.
“An expensive sword, is it not? From the city of Damascus?”
Kadesh’s only response was another brief nod.
Abimelech clapped his hands on his knees. “Let’s see this great weapon, young stranger.”
“Girls,” Aunt Judith said smoothly. “Time to clean up and let the men talk of weapons and alliances and raids.”
Leila gave me a nudge. “Will they be comparing the size of their weapons or each other?”
I rolled my eyes. Scooping leftover rice into a pot, I watched the men huddle around Kadesh’s sword, discussing its intricate pattern, the strength of the brass, the well-crafted hilt.
Horeb gazed at Kadesh. “Where did you say you purchased it?”
Kadesh held the blade flat against his palm. “Actually, I didn’t. The sword was a gift. Purchased in the city of Babylon, but originally crafted in Damascus, where swordmakers are experimenting with various metals and styles.”
“A fine gift, indeed,” Horeb said, hinting that he’d like to know who the gift giver was, but Kadesh didn’t take the bait. “These etchings are interesting. What do they represent?”
I watched Kadesh
stiffen and then force himself to relax. “Merely family markings of ownership.”
Horeb was clearly annoyed at the nonanswers. Then he glanced at me, catching me gazing at Kadesh. I averted my eyes and began to sweep crumbs from the rug. How many other secrets was Kadesh hiding? Then it came to me. Kadesh’s closed mouth had everything to do with frankincense. His uncle had probably given him the blade to defend himself on this journey because he carried frankincense. I wondered if the etchings were the personal markings of frankincense grove owners. A secret that must be kept at all costs.
Sudden clarity washed over me. Kadesh had trusted my father and me, to tell us of his family business and the attack that wounded him. As far as I was aware, he’d said nothing to Leila, even if he did give her a peculiar look every now and then, which I still had not figured out. Tonight he was being purposely evasive, and after the way he’d brought his lips to my palms back in the canyon, I knew I would keep his secret until I died.
Before I could remove another empty dish, Horeb pulled his sword from his belt and whipped it through the air, letting the evening sunset glint off its bronze surface. “Let’s see how sturdy your sword really is, stranger.”
“You may call me Kadesh.”
Horeb shrugged, as if calling Kadesh by his actual name was too much bother.
Before Kadesh could answer the call to raise his own sword, Horeb ran forward, swinging his sword straight at him. I gasped as Kadesh fell to the ground to avoid a direct hit. Scrambling to his feet, he grasped the hilt of his weapon with both hands, returning the thrust with one of his own. There was a ringing sound as the two weapons made contact.
Abimelech clapped his hands. “Excellent. You’ve got a quick adversary, son.”
My father didn’t speak, his face disapproving as he crossed his arms over his chest. I was sure he didn’t like that Kadesh and Horeb were fighting, even if was supposedly just for sport.
Before I could leave the area and disappear into the tent with Judith and Hakak, Horeb turned on his heel and came at Kadesh again. Their swords clashed a second time, slamming so hard I thought their arms would snap. I let out a cry, wanting to look away, but I couldn’t. A strange force compelled me to watch, even as I swayed on my feet, my sense of dread growing.
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