Written in the Ashes

by K. Hollan Van Zandt

  Hannah breathed a sigh of relief, and sat cautiously in the chair beside Alizar, who waited for her to speak. “My father is a king,” said Hannah finally, filled with longing for her Abba at the thought of his name. “A king of shepherds. I never knew my mother. She died giving birth to me just after I was named.”

  “Your father’s name?”

  “He is called Kaleb of Sinai.”

  Alizar narrowed his eyes to slits like a falcon in the wind. “And you are certain your mother was also a Jew?”

  “Yes. She was fifteen when she died giving birth to me.”

  “Hannah, there is not a Mizrahi Jew alive with blue eyes such as yours. Your dark hair, perhaps, but that is all. Was your mother Berber perhaps? Or Greek?”

  Hannah’s blood rose. “Are you saying my father lied to me about my heritage? You think because you own me you can insult my family? I was not born into slavery; I was taken from a life of freedom. My father will come for me, you know. He is searching for me even now.”

  Alizar leaned back on the cushions. He pitied her, so adamant to believe her father was alive. “No, no. I am sorry. But you yourself have looked in the mirror. When you next go into the market to purchase supplies for Jemir, take a look at the Jews there. You truly do not resemble any of them. Still, you are yourself, regardless of where you came from or how you came to be here. It is not important.” Alizar poured another cup of coffee and offered it to Hannah. “I want to talk to you about something else.”

  Hannah accepted, and blew the steam from the surface of the cup. “I apologize if I insult your kindness, Alizar. I do not forget that you saved my life.”

  “Acknowledged. Now I have a request. I want you to sing for me.”

  Hannah nearly dropped her cup. “Sing for you?”

  “Neh,” said Alizar. “I have listened to you from far off when you are hanging sheets out in the courtyard or sitting beside my wife and I want to hear you for myself. You have a beautiful voice. Did you ever play an instrument?”

  “A what?” asked Hannah, unsure of the Greek word.

  “An instrument. A drum, a lute, a harp.”

  “Ah, yes, an instrument,” said Hannah, understanding the word now. “I had a little lap harp I would play to sing to our herd. It was very worn and often the strings would break, so I had to play the ones that remained.”

  “How many songs do you know, and in how many languages?”

  “I do not know, but it is many.” And it was true, she did not know. She made up new songs every day, and so there were always songs upon songs. “I had a gypsy teacher. She knew songs in Arabic, Hebrew, Aramaic and Egyptian.”

  “Sing to me.”

  Just then the hounds sat up and growled at a grey cat that landed on the balcony. The cat realized its mistake at once and leapt for a high branch of the fig tree. As soon as it was out of sight the dogs settled.

  Hannah set down her cup and looked at Alizar.

  Alizar smiled. “Pretend I am not here if you like.” He turned sideways in his chair and covered his eyes with his sleeve. “Does that help?”

  Hannah laughed.

  Alizar just smiled.

  Realizing she had no choice, Hannah cleared her throat and began timorously. She sang an Arabic song of the evenings when the long grass whispers on the mountain, and the goats know they are coming home. As she moved into the second verse, the song overcame her shyness, and she sang more fully.

  Alizar was deeply moved. He had never heard such talent. It was far better sitting beside her as she sang than being far off in the house. He imagined how his wife Naomi must love her voice. He longed for her to go on.

  Down in the market, several merchants stopped and turned their eyes up to the balcony. Hannah’s voice was from another world, from the same world perhaps, as the pain in her eyes.

  When she finished, Alizar clapped his hands and nodded approvingly. “I have a proposal, if you will accept,” he said.

  Hannah sat back down on the chair, blushing. She wanted to please him. A song seemed a small gift to give the man who saved her life.

  “I propose that through your singing I will help you buy your freedom. It is a great deal of money, I know, but gradually over time it can be achieved.”

  “You would do this for me?”

  “Neh.”

  It was a generous offer most masters never put forward, yet Hannah knew she needed to find her father at once. Every lost day ached in her heart. Alizar’s offer would take years.

  “Well, that is enough to say for now. My wife has been ill a long time,” Alizar said. “Out of curiosity, does she wake when you sing to her?”

  “She stirs sometimes, but she does not wake. Alizar,” Hannah ventured, “What is her illness?”

  “I do not know.” Alizar closed his eyes. When their son died, Naomi’s spirit collapsed into her body like a dying star. No doctor had been able to diagnose her illness, much less cure her. Over the year, she lost the ability to speak and rarely, if ever, did her eyes open even a thread. Somehow, miraculously, she lived on portions of food and water that would scarcely nourish a field mouse. “Perhaps she subsists only on love.” Alizar bowed his head reverently and sighed.

  “How long have you been married?”

  “Twenty-seven years. We met in Constantinople when I was traveling with my affairs. Leitah was only six years old then, her cosmetic slave.” Alizar spoke with his eyes fixed in some far off direction where the memory lay for him. “If it had not been for a childhood friend insisting Naomi join her on a stroll down to the docks, we might never have met. It was a beautiful day in May, with enormous clouds rolling through the sky and the morning chill of spring fading by noonday. I can still see her standing beside the ship, her smile of light, her laugh that made all the sailors want to humor her so that she would laugh again. Oh, how I loved her. Wanted to be near her. I knew she would be my wife. I knew it instantly.” Alizar’s eyes, heavy with sadness, slowly drew him back onto the balcony, blinking back the light as though the memory had not seized him so completely.

  Hannah touched his knee with her hand and smiled. “I will clean the teapot,” she said, finding her feet.

  “Wait,” said Alizar. “Sit down. There is one more thing I want to talk to you about.”

  Hannah sat.

  “I want to give you something. A gift.” Alizar saw the look of concern in Hannah’s eyes. “No, I am not in need of a lover if that is what you are thinking. Nor is this some kind of ridiculous gem you can wear about your neck. No, what I am going to give you is far, far more valuable than that.”

  Hannah tipped her head. “What is it?”

  Alizar smiled. “I am going to give you the world.”

  “I do not understand.”

  “No, not yet, but you will. Tomorrow I will have Tarek take you, and you will begin.”

  “Begin?”

  “Yes, but you must promise me something.”

  “What?”

  “That if I give you this gift you do not attempt to escape again. It is a foolish thing to try. You would be killed on the road, or just sold again to someone with far less patience than I.”

  Hannah nodded. “I understand.”

  “And you swear it?”

  Hannah shifted uncomfortably. “I swear it,” she said.

  “Good.” Alizar stood up, stretched his arms, and then leaned against the railing of the balcony. “Ah, I only regret I cannot take you myself.”

  “Where?”

  “You will see. I have word that my ship, the Vesta, has just been loaded. Her captain, Gideon, and I will sail for Cyprus at dawn. One day I will tell you of my work, Hannah, but that time has not come.” He winked. “You cannot learn all of my secrets today.”

  At dinner that evening, Hannah found herself seated on the floor in the kitchen at a small table between
Jemir and Tarek, both of whom took it upon themselves to entertain the beautiful new girl with stories. Leitah sat with them also, peeling a pomegranate. Tarek did his best to translate.

  Hannah learned from Jemir that when Alizar was in Alexandria, he rarely came down from the tower unless there were guests, and she learned from Tarek that he preferred it that way so he could be alone with his work. Before she could surmise anything about what a vintner’s work might be, the back door to the kitchen was flung open and in sauntered a charismatic man, clearly at home. The stranger hugged Jemir and kissed him like family, and did the same for Leitah. For Tarek, however, the man merely saluted from across the room as he plucked an apple from a bowl in the center of the table, tossed it into the air and then bit into it. The stranger was tall and lean, though his muscles rippled beneath his tunica like a stallion’s. He was immensely striking: his playful dark eyes flashed with intelligence and cunning; his cropped black hair threaded with silver lent him a distinguished air that proved to be a bit misleading, as he enjoyed the sport of jest above all else. But when he turned his face to the side, and Hannah saw the angry scar that snaked like a purple vine from the edge of his eye down to his jaw, she cringed. Something about him seemed untrustworthy to her suddenly, and she went back to her supper, keen to avoid him.

  “Where is Alizar?” asked the man, his voice clearly accustomed to barking commands.

  Jemir finished chewing and then said, “Leitah, please go and tell Master Alizar that Gideon has arrived.”

  Leitah nodded and stood up, but Gideon placed his hand on her shoulder flirtatiously. “No need to disturb him. I only need him to meet me later tonight in the harbor to secure the hold.” Then he winked at her and took another bite of the apple, intent on making sure that every woman he encountered would be enamored of him even if she belonged to another man.

  “Still, go and inform him of Gideon’s visit in case there is something Alizar needs of him now,” said Jemir to the mute servant girl. The pleasant sound of her gold bangles clinking together followed her down the hall once she had left the kitchen.

  Then the stranger’s gaze fell on Hannah seated in the corner of the kitchen. “What is this?” he said, turning to Jemir. “Is everyone so rude that I should not be introduced to a new lady about the house?”

  “Our apologies, captain,” said Jemir. “This is Hannah, the new washing girl. Hannah, this is Gideon, Alizar’s ship captain.”

  Hannah nodded and smiled at him, which proved to be an instant invitation.

  Gideon swept down beside her. “You are lucky to have landed here, lady,” he said in a whisper, leaning forward so his lips were at her ear. “You will have the finest sea captain in the world at your service.” His pressed the back of her hand to his lips and let his eyes fall on her breasts. Hannah modestly adjusted her khiton and drew back her hand. “Thank you, Captain,” she said without any feeling.

  He smiled and patted her bent knee. “Do not worry, beauty,” he whispered. “You and I have all the time in the world.”

  Hannah dropped her eyes. Beside her, Tarek seethed, eyeing Gideon hatefully.

  “But for a slave you have no manners,” said Gideon. “For one kiss I will be happy to teach you all about them, for I am a great teacher of women.” He turned his head and tapped his cheek for Hannah to kiss. Realizing she had no choice, Hannah resentfully leaned forward and kissed his terrible scar, inhaling the scent of the sea that lingered on his skin.

  Gideon chuckled and smiled and gently patted her cheek. “Forgive me, beauty. Jest is my nature.”

  “Though I am merely a slave, I find your nature both insulting and boastful,” retorted Hannah, spearing Gideon with a glare.

  Gideon clucked his tongue at her. “Be careful, girl. I suggest you remember your manners in this house,” he warned. “Or I shall have to teach you a lesson.”

  “Leave her alone, Gideon, she is mine,” said Tarek. He his arm around Hannah, who glowered at both men.

  Gideon laughed at him and stepped to the door, addressing Jemir. “Please tell Alizar to meet me at the docks in an hour. Oh, and tell him to bring her with him, while he is at it.” Gideon smiled at Hannah. “I find her fury most endearing, and I should like to give her a good jostle on the open sea.” As he spoke he made a lewd gesture with his hips and laughed.

  Hannah plucked an apple from the bowl and flung it at him. But Gideon ducked out the door and the apple glanced off the wall instead. His laughter lingered in the courtyard and he began to whistle and sing a sailor tune that trailed off into the night.

  Jemir turned to Hannah. “Gideon means well,” he said. “Do not insult him. You must remember your place here.”

  Hannah clenched her jaw. “I hate him.”

  Tarek smiled in approval as Leitah returned to the room and sat down on a cushion beside the table.

  Jemir clucked his tongue. “Save your hate for someone who deserves it, Hannah. Gideon plays like a giant child. Do not take him seriously and you might even find him entertaining. Alizar trusts him with his life, and we need no other proof of his honor than that.” Jemir retrieved the apple Hannah had thrown onto the floor and set it on the table, then bent to retrieve more flat bread from the oven.

  Hannah flushed in shame. She turned to Tarek. “Why does Alizar travel? Is it his work?”

  “He ships wine all over the Mediterranean,” said Tarek.

  Jemir savored the warm flat bread and reached forward to pour more water into his wine. “That is only partial truth, Tarek,” he said.

  Tarek, who hated to be corrected as it was, hated it much worse in front of Hannah. He began to scowl as Jemir began his own interpretation.

  “Hannah, Alizar is also an alchemist.”

  “Sounds like a gypsy tale.” Hannah set her bowl down, leaned back on a thick square cushion, and began to finger the tassels sewn to the corners.

  Jemir chuckled. “Do not say that to Alizar.”

  “An alchemist knows how to make gold. I saw someone in the market do it once.” Tarek smiled his crooked, corn kernel grin, then rested his hand on Hannah’s shoulder.

  Hannah’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, and she shifted on the cushion so that he would move his arm.

  “You will hear that rumor and many others about alchemists on the streets,” said Jemir. “Only the initiated know truth from tale. You see, Hannah, the techniques of alchemy are taught to the monks in the Temple of Poseidon on Pharos, where Alizar spent his boyhood. The seven secrets of alchemy are etched upon a legendary stone called The Emerald Tablet, which was discovered by Alexander the Great when he traveled to the Siwa Oasis.”

  “Truly?” asked Hannah. “I would love to see such a tablet.”

  “No one knows where it is. The Nuapar monks on the isle of Pharos guard the knowledge of its location.”

  “Does Alizar practice these seven secrets of alchemy, then?”

  “Indeed. Alizar is attempting to find a remedy for Naomi. He always returns with more herbs from his journeys to boil down into remedies,” said Jemir.

  “Do you think she will live?” asked Hannah.

  Jemir sighed. Leitah nodded. Tarek just stared at his wine.

  There was a moment of complete silence in the kitchen until Leitah dished herself a bowl of steaming fuul, the bangle bracelets on her wrists clinking as she dipped flatbread in the thick broth.

  Hannah looked to Jemir, her eyes full of questions about the mute maidservant.

  Jemir understood. “Leitah was studying to be a priestess at the Temple of Serapis under Antoninus, but the temple was burned to the ground by the last bishop. After that she took a vow of silence.”

  “How did the temple burn?”

  Tarek puffed his chest like a pigeon, delighted to tell the story. “Emperor Theodosius the First made an edict forbidding pagan practices in 391, and Bishop Theophilus of Alexandria decide
d to enforce it without so much as a warning. He attacked the Serapeum temple, killed everyone defending it, and one of his soldiers chopped the statue of Serapis to bits. All the texts were burned, and the Christians erected a church in place of the temple.”

  “The Christian bishop burned the temple?” Hannah shuddered, thinking of her introduction to the city, how the men in black robes had tortured and burned the man before the great wooden doors.

  “Yes, but he is not the bishop any longer.” Tarek lowered his eyes. “His nephew holds the title now.” Cyril. The name was perched on Tarek’s tongue but he refused to speak it in Alizar’s house. Instead he spat on the stone floor.

  Just then, the bell at the door sounded and Leitah rose to answer it. She reappeared a moment later and nodded to Tarek who went to see about it.

  Hannah excused herself a moment later to relieve herself, but could not resist her curiosity when she saw the open window near the front door and heard the sound of a young girl crying.

  She peaked through and saw Tarek, standing over the girl with his fist raised, and the girl kneeling in the street at his feet.

  “I told you never to come here,” he said.

  “But the child is yours,” she cried.

  Tarek let his fist fall heavily on her cheek, bruising her other eye as she cried out. “You are nothing but a whore,” he said. “You service a hundred men and come to me because we have money. I am not so gullible as that. Go back and tell your bawd that if I see you here again the beating will be worse. Now go.” He kicked her to her feet, and she clutched her shawl around her body and fled.

  Hannah heard the front door open and shut, and she pressed herself flat against the wall in the shadow, holding her breath as Tarek passed so he would not see her. The light illuminated her feet, and quickly she drew them back beneath her robe.

  “Stupid woman,” he said, shaking the hand he had used to hit the girl. He passed by Hannah without seeing her. When he had gone, Hannah exhaled and looked back out the window to the empty street where the poor girl had been a moment before. She knew then that of all these strangers, it was only Alizar and Jemir she would trust.