by Ted Dekker
Arim lifted his head, face covered in sand. “It is not enough! I am liable for your blood!”
And it was true. It was the way of all Bedu that blood must be paid for with blood; eye for eye; life for life. The gods themselves demanded it.
Judah studied the boy for a long moment, then bent and scooped up the knife he’d dropped. Before objection could be made, Judah cut his left palm and held up his bloody hand.
“Then I take your blood upon myself,” he said, invoking any Bedu’s right to extend mercy. “This blood is now yours and your debt is repaid in full. This is the Light of Blood.”
Arim stared, overwhelmed. The Light of Blood, so offered, set the boy free of his obligation. Judah’s heart could not be questioned, though I suspected he wasn’t interested in being bound to any Thamud. Best put the incident behind. His wound would heal.
Arim scrambled to his feet, quickly stepped up to Judah, grabbed his bloody hand, and wiped Judah’s blood on his own forehead.
“The Light of Blood,” he said. Arim clasped both of Judah’s arms. “Before the eyes of Shams I beg you be a brother to me and my family.”
Judah hesitated. “I am a Jew who does not pray to Shams. How can I be your brother?”
“Ah? It is my debt to offer, not yours to refuse! I accept your mercy and now offer my life. I beg you not leave me in the depths of despair without honor. Do not discard me into the valley of misery, I implore you!”
“I have set you free!”
“And now I offer myself to you as your protector. Am I not worthy?”
When Judah didn’t return his agreement, Arim continued, speaking quickly.
“I care not if you are a Jew. My sheikh, the great Fahak bin Haggag, teaches that we are all from the same earth no matter the gods in the heavens, only some are wiser than others. Fear not that my people are wiser, for you will be my brother!”
While Arim made his plea for this blood bond, my eyes were on their water. We were but dust without it, and only Arim could offer it to us, for we could not otherwise honorably take it, even if it meant our death.
If Judah refused Arim’s blood bond, the boy would be deeply dishonored. At any rate, how could Judah refuse this plea for kinship while we were in such desperate straits?
I saw a faint smile on Judah’s face as he dipped his head. “Then I am honored,” he said.
A great relief washed over Arim’s face and he smiled like the dawning of a new sun. It was as if he, not we, had been offered life.
With half of my mind still on their water, I was deeply grateful when Arim, having been saved by Judah, immediately retrieved two smaller skins from the tent and proudly offered them to us.
“Now drink life, as you have given it to me,” he said.
There are no adequate words to describe the relief I felt as the sweet water slipped past my lips and wetted my parched throat. Water was indeed the lifeblood of the sands. I could feel my dried bones awakening as that water cooled my body.
Arim smiled at me as I drank. “You should slow, woman,” he said. “You will not find life by drowning.”
His words struck me in that moment. I had been drowning since the day of my birth.
I thought these things with the skin at my lips and then drank again. All the trouble that I had left behind did not exist in those few moments as life flooded my bones.
But once my thirst had been quenched, I remembered who I was, and whispers of dread mocked me once again, for I knew that I had been saved only to face death. If not tomorrow, then the next day, or the next.
CHAPTER NINE
ARIM, THE THAMUD boy of sixteen, proved himself to be a man in all manners, including his interest in finding a woman. After having established his blood bond with Judah, he set his eyes on me.
“She is your wife?” he asked.
“She has no husband,” Judah said. Then, seeing the curiosity in Arim’s eyes, he added, “Neither is she for you.”
This discouraged Arim only for a few minutes. I do believe that most everything he did thereafter was at least in part to impress me.
When I handed the skin to Saba, Arim encouraged me to drink even more, saying that water made a woman shine like the moon.
When he prepared the herb tea, he served Saba and Judah first but looked at me when he spoke of how it had come from Persia and was without doubt the finest tea in all of the Nafud. It was to be taken by only the greatest warriors born to vanquish all who would defy the noble Thamud.
When I was sent to collect our camels, he insisted on accompanying me so that I would know no harm, for he was highly skilled with the sword.
Judah immediately refused. I think he was jealous of Arim’s ambition, and I cannot say that I wasn’t intrigued by the small rivalry.
After we revived her with fresh water, Wabitu came to herself with only running stool to show for the foul water she’d taken at the well. By the high sun, we were mounted and headed toward their main camp.
It took us less than half the day to reach the Thamud, as Arim had said it would. Arim rode with his sister on one of their camels, having offered me their second. We carried their goat in one of our saddlebags, which I insisted be my own, as I was riding his camel. It rode behind me with only its head showing, for it was a small goat. I found it impossible to discourage the beast from nibbling at my cloak until Judah tied its mouth with a leather twine.
All the way, Arim angled to ride close to me. He regarded me with bright eyes as he spoke of exploits far too accomplished for any Bedu so young, and of the mighty sheikh Fahak bin Haggag, whom we were soon to meet.
I hoped this mighty sheikh would be more eager to take our money than our heads. Hearing Arim speak of their leader’s great might and wisdom, I traveled with some apprehension. But neither Saba nor Judah seemed particularly concerned.
For his part, Judah seemed more bothered by Arim’s advances on me. He frequently edged his own camel between the boy and myself, as if to keep me safe, though we both knew Arim himself was no threat. I found the boy’s interest endearing.
Judah told Arim that my name was Nada and that I was his sister, because my true name might be known among even these Thamud.
“Just there, over the rise,” Arim said, pointing ahead. He slapped his camel’s neck with his riding stick as we rode over a wide dune. “I will present my new brother to the mighty sheikh Fahak bin Haggag, the most feared of all Thamud. But do not worry… you are safe with me!”
I crested that dune and stared into the shallow valley with some trepidation.
The camp below consisted of seven black tents, all small save one that had three posts at its center. For all Arim’s talk, I had prepared myself for a valley filled with a hundred tents surrounded by many more camels. But here I counted only fifteen camels and no goats.
Arim took his beast to a run, and Masihna beamed her gratitude to be home.
“Hurry,” Arim cried, waving us on. “We will feast tonight!”
Saba had ridden in a guarded silence, but now he grunted and made his thoughts clear. “They present no threat.”
Judah was more expressive. “They too are the hand of my God to the weary.”
And yet Judah’s god had not informed this pitiable band of Thamud that they were weak. Indeed, their mighty sheikh, the honored Fahak bin Haggag of whom we had heard so much, was an old man desperately in need of more meat on his bones, though he held himself with pride when Arim presented us to him before his tent. Behind Fahak two wives peered over the tent cloth, whispering.
“They are Kalb from the east, and friend of Thamud,” Arim said proudly.
Bin Haggag regarded us with the cold eyes of a hawk, focusing on Judah and Saba. He gave me only a cursory glance. Five other men had gathered, two young and three older. All carried daggers, as did Judah and Saba, who’d left their swords with the camels.
“No Kalb is friend of the Thamud,” the old man said in a voice as thin and coarse as his beard.
Arim spoke
without missing a step, dipping his head in respect.
“None but these two, whom I have captured and delivered. And now I have made them my friend and my brother.”
Arim’s feat did not impress the mighty Haggag, whose frown appeared fixed. I felt a pang of anxiety, and yet surely the sheikh knew that such powerful warriors as Saba, who carried twice the meat on his bones as any other man in the camp, and Judah, who stood unworried and unflinching, could slaughter every man in the valley with daggers alone. They were at our mercy, not we at theirs.
“There are whispers of war in the east,” the sheikh said, eyes fiery. “In our grace we may let you pass with your lives, but all Kalb are now enemy.”
“Then I too am your enemy,” Arim said. “For I am now bonded by the Light of Blood to my brother.”
“What madness do you speak of?” the sheikh demanded. “Have you exchanged your mind with that of the goat we sent you to fetch?”
“I offer you no offense, most honored sheikh of the mightiest among all Thamud,” Arim said, words flowing like honey. “In my taking of these men into my tent as guests to bring to you for your wisest consideration, my knife cut Judah’s arm, and we are now bonded by the Light of Blood as is most noble. Now he is under my protection.”
The sheikh appeared stumped.
“Your knife has a mind of its own?”
“No, honored sheikh. It is surely an extension of my own arm.”
The elder grunted.
“And who is this Judah?”
Arim stepped over to Judah and placed his hand on his arm. “Judah, the Jew who is Kalb. My brother.”
“A Jew, no less?”
“The most noble of all Jews, who are filled with nobility,” Arim said.
“Quiet down, boy.”
Arim dipped his head.
The gathered Thamud waited for a verdict, for a sheikh is measured by his wisdom and shrewdness in impossible situations.
The old man studied Judah with new interest.
“I have heard that the Jews believe that any who refuse to worship their god will be consumed in fire,” he said. “Is it true?”
Judah dipped his head. “You have heard a lie.”
“This is not true? How can I trust a man who would demand I leave my gods for his to escape death?”
“This is not believed by so many,” Judah said.
“The Jews have only one kingdom, ruled by one god,” the old man persisted. “Any who do not convert are to be counted evil and consumed in fire.”
“No, no, this is a lie,” Judah reassured him.
“It is not true that your god is for only your king?”
“Yes, this is true. And yet we have no king now.”
“A Bedu serves no king. None. How then can you serve a god who curses those who are not of his kingdom? Perhaps you are not Bedu after all.”
“The Jew is no better than any who is not Jew. Even now I am your humble servant.”
The sheikh regarded him with suspicion, and Judah pressed on.
“Most honored sheikh, I would speak.”
The sheikh offered a shallow nod.
“It was when Saman bin Shariqat, sheikh of all Thamud, overtook Dumah for all of its plunder not ten days ago that we rose with him. Indeed, he now commands those Kalb who do not wish to perish. We were to bring the news to the farthest clans in the Nafud, but we lost two camels in a storm and the well at Sidin is putrid. If it please you, it is our honor to be welcomed into your tent to exchange the news and be on our way to fulfill the wishes of Saman bin Shariqat.”
The sheikh did not respond.
“Also, Judah is now my brother,” the boy Arim said.
The sheikh gave him a harsh glance. So Arim upgraded his claim.
“My brother, Judah, will pay ten times the price for each camel we offer him. It was for this I took him captive.”
“You have taken your brother captive? Which is it, boy?”
“It is both.”
The old man looked at Arim as if he were daft, but then regarded Judah.
“You would attempt to have our camels for ten times their value, Arim says. Is this true?”
No such promise had been made, but neither Judah nor Saba objected. I didn’t know how much coin they carried, only that Judah kept it on a belt around his waist. Surely Rami had anticipated great need.
“We had not discussed a price.”
“And yet I heard one,” the old man said. I saw then that Bin Haggag was far more shrewd than he was strong.
Judah glanced at the boy, who gave a quick nod as if to encourage him.
“Yes,” Judah said. “Ten times.”
“Ten times,” the sheikh said, lifting his hands and spreading his fingers.
Judah nodded. “Yes. The price of thirty camels.”
“For three camels.”
“For three.”
After a moment Fahak bin Haggag, mighty sheikh of the Nafud, used a walking stick to slowly push himself to his feet. He stared at me, frowning, then at Judah.
“She is your wife?”
“No. My sister.” He cast me a side glance.
“She is Nada,” Arim offered. “She is not claimed.”
“Nada.” The old man nodded. Then his face softened and a sparkle came to his eyes. He found no displeasure in looking at me.
Employing great drama, Bin Haggag spread his arm toward his tent behind and offered a thin smile. “You, Judah, brother of Arim, are indeed a friend of all Thamud. Drink my tea with…” He paused. “And what is your name, black warrior?”
“Saba.” My father’s servant dipped his head.
“With Saba, the great bald-headed warrior, and allow us to share our great fortune as the gods have willed.”
There was a murmur of approval at such wisdom.
To his clan the sheikh lifted a bony fist in triumph. “We will slaughter the goat and a camel to honor our guests! Though they come from the Kalb, who know less than the Thamud, we will make them wise. This is the will of your sheikh, who is myself, and the will of the gods!”
A great cheer arose in that valley and I knew then that we, for the moment, were saved.
SABA WAS NOT eager to spend more time in the Thamud camp, but Judah insisted that we rest at least until the late night so as not to offend our host. We were only a week from Sepphoris and we needed the rest. So we remained, I with the women, watching and aiding in preparing a feast that made quick use of the goat and an old camel slaughtered for the occasion.
As with any Bedu feast, great pride was taken in the preparations. Foods that surely had been carefully saved were brought to the pot, for the measure of any Bedu is found in what they can serve a guest.
The Thamud cooked in cauldrons in which every part of the goat was put to use—its liver, its heart, its ears, feet, eyes, even its tail, for the tail may be chewed to clean the teeth. These all mixed with spices and the marrow boiled from bones to make a broth to be poured over meal.
The meat of both goat and camel were cooked over a fire on spits, then cut off the bone in thick slabs and served with dates. I could not recall such a delicious feast, though I must confess that after ten days in the Nafud, I might have eaten raw meat and found it satisfying. We then feasted on buttered wheat cakes with honey and drank tea. Many cups of tea.
More than the Kalb, the Thamud women mixed with the men, who expressed their appreciation unabashedly. I was reminded of Egypt, where in my experience women were regarded more highly than in Arabia.
We ate until we could eat no longer, laughing at the antics of Arim, who had not given up his quest to impress me, and those of the rest of the tribe, who seemed as enthusiastic as he. Indeed, they only followed the lead of their sheikh, who was at once perfectly grave and as mischievous as a child.
After much banter the sheikh regarded Judah seriously.
“So… a Jew.” He waved his old hand in the direction of a servant, one of three attending the sheikh. “Hashem has come to us from Syri
a not so long ago. He too knew many Jews there. Is that not right, Hashem?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“You are a Jew?” Judah asked.
The servant looked at his master, who waved him on, permitting him to speak freely.
“I served in a household of Jews before I was traded.”
“Hashem has been with me one month,” the sheikh said. “He is well versed in the news of the world. It is good that you are from the desert rather than Palestine. There Rome has made all Jews slaves. Is this not so, Hashem?”
I saw Judah’s attention fixed on the servant, who nodded.
“I have only heard,” Hashem said.
“What have you heard?” Judah asked.
“That the kings now, Herod and Philip, are no better than their father, who butchered his people to win the favor of Rome. It is said that all Jews are stripped of their land and wares to pay Rome its taxes.”
“You see?” the sheikh said, spitting to one side. “No Bedu would stand for it.”
“Nor any Jew,” Judah said.
“Rome came once into the desert with all of its might, and the Bedu sent them home like dogs.”
“As my people in Palestine will one day send Rome home.”
“And yet they have allowed these foreigners to rule them for many years. Have they no stomach to overthrow tyranny?”
The sheikh could not know how deeply his speech offended Judah. I took it that most Jews of Arabia were not as invested in Palestine as he. Judah had come from a tribe of stargazers who longed to see their new king rise to power and set his people free.
Careful not to betray his own passions, Judah looked at the servant for an answer. “If you served in a Jewish house, then you know there are many Zealots who stand against Rome.”
“Many, yes. And all are crucified.”
“The Romans are indeed dogs,” the sheikh said.
“And have you heard any news as of late that might give my people hope?” Judah pressed.
“I am only a servant,” Hashem said, “who hears the talk among a few noblemen who eat and drink too much. There are rumors of the Zealot who speaks of the kingdom of the gods.”
