by Summer Lee
Before Kenana could reply, he snatched up his cane, grabbed her hand, and led the way outside. Along the way, guests bowed and prostrated themselves before him, mumbling their thanks. He ignored them all. A wide path opened, and soon they were in the fresh air. The old man moved surprisingly fast, his cane beating a rapid staccato along the stone path.
He opened a door to a long, low building at the far north end of the courtyard. Inside, early afternoon poured through the upper windows, gleaming off dozens of shiny windpipes that lined the far wall. The instruments were crafted into various sizes and shapes, some quite delicate, others large and cumbersome. All were made with a master’s touch.
She understood that Jubal was an instrument maker, but never had she realized the extent of his talent. “You made these, sire?”
He beamed, his face still ruddy from the alcohol. He swayed slightly, but his cane held him upright. “Every one.”
“They are so beautiful!” She moved adoringly around the room and admired the fine craftsmanship of each piece. There were boat-shaped lyres adorned with stags, pipes made entirely of gold. There was one cow-headed lyre made of hammered silver that took her breath away.
“Play that one for me, please?” she asked.
He did so, strumming it expertly, playing a popular folk song. Kenana watched his fingers dance hypnotically along the tightly wound strings. His face was smooth, serene, and he looked happy.
Could I love this man? she asked herself. He did have a passion for music, which she also loved. Perhaps that would be the place where they could find common ground.
When finished, he bowed and Kenana clapped delightedly. “Someday, I would like to learn to play,” she said.
“Then you may have this one for a wedding gift,” he said, bowing slightly and offering the beautiful instrument.
She took it and held it to her bosom. Never had she owned anything so beautiful. “How wonderful! Thank you, sire!”
He nodded, pleased. “I still have many preparations to make before the marriage ceremony, and you need plenty of time to get dressed for the wedding. So, run along to your room.”
“What about our guests?”
He laughed. “They are too drunk to miss us.”
Chapter Seven
Kenana’s stomach hurt unmercifully with nerves, and as servants bustled in and out of her chamber, fussing over her, she was quite sure she might vomit.
Some of the servants were dressmakers. They measured her relentlessly. Another pinned up her hair, put berry juice on her cheeks and lips, and shaped her nails. But when the jewels, a tray full of diamonds and gold, were placed before her, Kenana laughed with joy.
“They are fit for a queen!”
“They are for a princess, my dear Madam,” Sarah reminded her.
Lunate earrings were placed on her ears. Delicate golden wires were twisted into the locks of her hair. Sarah fastened a brilliant lazuli bead necklace around her neck, as yet another servant slipped several golden rings on her fingers. A beaded cape was wrapped around her shoulders, and a golden girdle was fixed firmly about her waist with an attached silver pouring vessel.
Kenana held the vessel. “What am I to do with this?”
“You’ll offer wine to your guests at the reception,” Sarah replied. “It’s a local tradition.”
In the mirror before her, made of polished copper, her elongated reflection was fuzzy but impressive. The ensemble was well chosen and exquisitely designed. Kenana could hardly recognize herself. It made her smile to think how jealous her sisters would be.
When the other servants had all departed, their work done, Sarah peered over Kenana’s shoulder. “You are beautiful, madam.”
“Thank you. It’s all so wonderful.”
There was a rap on the door. Asher appeared. “The guests are seated and ready for the ceremony to begin.”
“What about my father?” Kenana asked.
“He’s here, and so are your sisters and mother.” He bowed and departed, and Kenana was sure he had given her a lingering glance. She smiled inwardly.
When he was gone, the reality of her situation threatened to overwhelm her. Kenana took hold of her servant’s hands. “I’m scared, Sarah. I need you by my side. Will you come with me?”
“No, madam. I cannot participate in a royal wedding. I am but a servant girl, just barely above a slave.” Sarah patted Kenana’s hand. “You will be fine.”
“But I don’t love this man. I don’t even know him. How am I to spend tonight next to his wrinkled body?”
“Shush! You could be executed for a statement like that,” said Sarah. “You are in an envied position; your plight is better than most. So take courage.”
“I’m not sure I can.”
“No more tears. You will find the strength to do this.”
“How can I, Sarah?”
“If you resist marrying Prince Jubal, it could cause a war or at the very least, destroy your father’s friendship with him.”
***
Sarah led Kenana through the palace. Kenana discovered that her feet seemed reluctant to move. At the top of the central stairway, her father, Eber, was waiting for her. Kenana gasped.
He grinned broadly. “You look beautiful.”
Sarah bowed and departed. Kenana watched her go, regretting that her new friend would not be present. Her father was a powerfully built man. Kenana had always felt protected in his presence. Now, his pleasant face was slightly flushed, perhaps from the exertion of mounting the long flight of stairs.
As he reached out to stroke her face, she turned away. He frowned, and she glared at him.
“Don’t touch me,” she said.
Hurt, his mouth dropped. “What have I done?”
Kenana’s fury threatened to overcome her and wash away the carefully applied make-up. “As if you didn’t know!”
He chuckled and leaned a shoulder against a doorway. “Actually, I don’t know. Enlighten me.”
She swept her hands over her elegant gown. “This!”
“You don’t like your dress? I think it’s quite beautiful.”
She stomped a foot, her anger reaching new heights. Her father’s playfulness, which she generally enjoyed, was infuriating now. “Do not make light of what you have done, Father. I am angry with you for selling me into this marriage. In the least, you could have discussed it with me.”
Eber shoved off the wall and took her hand. The playfulness was gone from his face. “Your mother told me that you begged her to let you marry Jubal. That you insisted on leaving before I could get back from my trip.”
“She lied, Father.”
He studied her face, lifting her chin gently. “This is not what you want, my child?”
“No, Father.”
He sighed deeply. “It is too late to turn back now. Too much is at stake. Do you understand?”
She said nothing, looking away.
“I will not deny this union has benefited our family, and the Sethites as a people. I will speak to your mother. Afterward.”
She started crying.
“There are worse things than marrying a prince,” said Eber gently.
“But I don’t want to marry him, Father.”
He hugged her tightly, and she cried against his shoulder. Damn the cosmetics. She didn’t care anymore. She was relieved, mostly, to hear that her father had not betrayed her. She was here due to her mother’s lies and manipulations.
“Can you do this for us?” he asked her again. She said nothing, but controlled her sobs. He pulled her away and looked into her wet eyes. When he spoke again, he lowered his voice. “Jubal is an old man. Do not forget this fact.”
And his meaning was not lost on her: Kenana would not be locked into this marriage for long.
He whispered, “When he passes away from age, you will not be poor or without position. You will emerge greater than you could ever be as a farmer’s wife, which might have been your fate. Marry him today and your future will be assured
.”
When she finally spoke, her voice shook with rage and fear and uncertainty. “Yes, Father. I will do this to honor your wishes. And I will show Mother what I am made of. I’ll be happy no matter what, which is more than I can say for her.”
Her father chuckled and led the way down the stairs.
Chapter Eight
Bridesmaids formed two lines across the courtyard as Kenana, led by her father, walked between them. Young girls tossed flower petals on the path before her. Despite her reservations, Kenana laughed. Already, she felt like a princess.
Entering the reception hall, she spotted her groom. Old Jubal looked positively resplendent in a royal, embroidered robe. Standing beside him was a man who looked much like Jubal, only he was broader and dressed in simple burlap, similar to what cattlemen wore. This was the prince’s twin brother, Jabal. Jubal and Jabal.
Not confusing at all, thought Kenana, sighing.
And standing behind their father were Jubal’s sons, all dressed in colorful linen mantles. It suddenly occurred to her that if she bore a boy child, he would have to get in line for any inheritance.
Many guests were scattered about the room, some standing, others on cushions positioned along the walls. Kenana spotted her family on the right side of the room, including her mother, Lana. Her mother, still quite beautiful, avoided her gaze.
As rightly she should, thought Kenana hotly.
Prince Jubal stepped forward, and Eber handed him a clay tablet with the inscribed marriage contract. Jubal nodded, and said loudly to all present: “Elders of the land, come sit at my feet.” A group of men moved forward and sat on cushions. Jubal continued, “My good friend, Eber, kindly offers me his youngest daughter in marriage today. You, the elders of Adah, are witnesses here today of my marriage to Kenana.”
“Amen,” chanted the elders in unison.
The prince continued, “On this day, we shall cross the age old barrier to unite two rival tribes. May we all be as one.”
Politics, Kenana thought. That’s what this is all about.
“Amen,” chanted the elders.
Jubal turned to Eber. “In order to bind this contract of holy matrimony before these elders of the land, I give my sandal to you.” He removed his right sandal and presented it to Eber. Turning to Kenana, Jubal said, “Today I take you to be my wife.” He reached out and gripped Kenana’s shoulders, then pressed his cheeks against hers, first the right, then the left. Looking up, he said to his guests, “Do all you witness this marriage today?”
All those present said, “We do so.”
Eber held up the proffered sandal and proclaimed loudly: “May the great El, creator of heaven and earth, make your second wife equally as fruitful as your first. May our daughter be blessed by El just as our ancient mother, Eve, was blessed. May her offspring become as mighty as the house of our ancient father, Adam.”
Eber then removed his right sandal, replaced it with Prince Jubal’s, and presented his own. The old prince received Eber’s sandal and put it on.
Jubal turned to the crowd and raised his hands high. “The shoe covenant seals this marriage!”
Resounding applause followed.
Prince Jubal laughed. “Enjoy the festivities. There should be enough wine to last until dawn. When the food is gone, more will be prepared.”
Garlands of flowers were placed around the bride and bridegroom’s necks as girls and women began to dance. The band struck up a merry tune.
Asher next appeared, separated Kenana from her new husband, and ushered her out into the middle of the dance floor.
“Stand here,” he said, pausing to exchange glances with her, “and don’t make a fool of yourself.” He winked.
The bridesmaids, dressed in frilly frocks, formed a circle around Kenana. Joining hands, they danced joyfully with elaborate steps, leaping and skipping around Kenana. Isolated inside the circle, Kenana began dancing alone, moving her feet slowly from side to side.
With cane in hand, Jubal led the men, both young and old, to form a ring around the girls. The men danced and clapped, and drank from mugs of ale, some of which splashed on the dance floor, causing others to slip.
Later, Jubal, along with many of the men, had become quite drunk. Sitting at his seat of honor before the dance floor, he raised his voice and said for all to hear: “Eber, my friend, tell all present about your father’s sacred secret.”
Eber paused in his dancing, dropping the hand of a young girl. “There is no secret.”
“Bah!” said Jubal, swearing viciously. “There is a dark secret. One that will touch all of us here,” he said, staggering from one side to the other in his drunken attempt to keep step to the music. “I have heard rumors of it for much of my life. A secret about the end of the world.”
Some of those on the dance floor gasped.
Eber’s face purpled. “Quiet, Jubal. You’re drunk.”
The prince stopped dancing and spun around, facing Kenana’s father. “You dare speak to a prince with such contempt?”
Eber smiled and spread his arms. “A prince, true enough. But you are family now. Family can speak freely. It is a custom.”
“Do not be so certain, old man,” said Jubal. “Do not forget who makes the law of the land. And do not forget who can change the customs as well.”
“I will not forget,” said Eber. “Because you do not allow me to.”
Both men continued to glare at one another, and Kenana saw that most of the dancers had given them a wide berth. Jubal, seemingly aware for the first time that he had stopped the celebration, turned to the others and swept his arms wide, grinning. “Dance. Drink. Eat. What are all of you staring at?”
The crowd shifted restlessly, and then the chatter began again as the music and the ring of dancing resumed.
Jubal turned his gaze once more to Eber and said simply, “I will know the secret, my friend. One way or another.”
Kenana was sickened to see her father threatened so, and so she moved swiftly to her new husband. “Come, join me in our wedding dance, and ignore my father. This is our night to celebrate. Then take me to your bed like you’ve always wanted to do.”
For the first time that night, the prince seemed to focus on Kenana; a serpentine grin spread across his sweating face. “Then let us dance first.”
As they did so, Jubal, who balanced himself on his cane, put his arm about his new bride’s waist. As the couple swayed awkwardly back and forth in one spot, he whispered drunkenly, “I love you very much. Do you love me?”
“You’re drunk,” she whispered.
“Just say you love me.”
“When you’re sober, I will.”
“But I want everyone here to know how much you love me. So just say, ‘I love you.’”
“I love you,” Kenana muttered between her teeth.
“Louder.”
She inhaled, biting her lip, then loudly proclaimed: “I love you, Prince Jubal.”
The guests laughed, clapped and cheered.
Now, under the influence of the wine, the men became quite disorderly as they approached maidens who might possibly be future brides and twirled them around.
“There should be a girl here for every man who wants one,” Jubal blurted out.
Asher appeared suddenly and pulled his master away from Kenana. “Come with me, sire. I am putting you to bed,” he said firmly but quietly. “You have done enough drinking and dancing for one night. You are exhausted.”
For an answer, the prince collapsed into Asher’s arms. The crowd gasped, but Asher advised everyone the prince had merely had too much to drink. The head servant picked up the old man easily in his arms and carried him from the celebration hall.
Kenana was alone on the dance floor. The music in the background increased in tempo, as one of Jubal’s sons sang about the thrill of being in his lover’s arms. The men on the dance floor shied away from her. She wasn’t sure why, and never suspected that perhaps it was because of her radiant beauty, which w
as on full display on this night.
Perhaps they are fearful of touching the new princess?
She didn’t know and had just given up hope to dance with anyone, when she felt a tap on her shoulder.
“May I have this dance?”
She recognized the voice. Grinning, she spun around—and found herself looking at the broad chest of her angel. He was dressed resplendently, threatening to outshine even her, the bride.
Malluch grinned and offered her his hand, and she took it. And while all eyes were on them, they danced the night away.
Chapter Nine
The next morning, the morning after her extravagant wedding, with Sarah’s help, Kenana dressed in yet another new frock, and went outside. As she breathed the fresh air, she was aware of many servants busily performing their tasks. Olives were being crushed in the olive press, and grain was being threshed.
The sun, warm and inviting, seemed to apologize for Kenana’s pounding headache and her parents’ errors. She wished all her unpleasant childhood experiences would float away on the white fluffy clouds above.
She went back inside and gave herself a tour of the palace. The place was massive beyond comprehension. But she had been here before, and often, as a child. Still, there was something eerie about the empty halls and dark corridors. Occasionally, she came upon servants who bowed respectfully.
The respect she got was a far cry from when she roamed these same passageways as a youth and was shooed away. She peeked in the music room. Prince Jubal was in there, pounding out a new pipe from shiny metal. He looked horrible. Eyes puffy and nose bright red, hair wildly disheveled.
Probably can’t distinguish the pounding of his tool from the pounding of his head, thought Kenana with a grin. The old fool drank enough last night.
She quietly closed the door and resumed her lonely tour of the palace.
In her mind, she could still hear the beautiful music from the night before and feel Malluch’s strong arms about her. She sighed and hugged herself.
And what had happened to her new husband? No doubt he had snored the night away without waking to call her to his chambers. Her heart felt empty.
