Forbidden

  “Nalla,” I whispered hoarsely. “I want to see Kadesh.”

  Nalla wouldn’t look me in the face. Instead, she knelt beside me and held me in her arms. “He went down quickly after Horeb stabbed him. Horeb’s men took the body into the desert to get rid of it. Everything happened so fast. Let it comfort you, Jayden, that Kadesh died quickly. I’m sure he didn’t suffer very long.”

  “But I want to see him!” I cried into her neck. “I should have been allowed to see him!”

  “Horeb will never allow you to mourn him,” Dinah snapped. “To make a spectacle of yourself like this. In the eyes of the world, your betrothed avenged your good name. You can go home now with your head held high.”

  I lifted my head to stare daggers at her. “I’ve done nothing to hide my head in shame. Nothing!”

  “Girls, stop!” Nalla ordered, anguish in her voice, but I didn’t care any longer.

  My hand darted out, my fingers like talons as I grasped my mother’s jewelry from around Dinah’s neck and pulled it off. “You sold my sister, and now you sent the man I love to his death. You could have warned us that Horeb was here, but you did nothing! You’re an accomplice to murder.”

  Dinah screamed, clutching at her bare neck. “Give them back! They’re rightfully mine!”

  Instantly, Nalla towered over us. “Jayden, you will take your mother’s necklace, and Dinah, you will keep the earrings you’re luckily still wearing. And I never want to hear either of you speak of this again.”

  Clutching the silver symbol of the evening star hugging its full moon, I saw blood trickling from my fingers, just like the blood that had dripped from Kadesh’s hands. I would never forget that image for as long as I lived: Horeb’s men standing on his arms and legs, Horeb’s sword held high in the air as he laughed right before plunging it into Kadesh’s heart.

  I curled up into a ball and put my hands over my ears, trying to keep out the sound of shouts and taunting from Horeb’s men, the memory of their clanging swords. Sobs heaved at my chest and I was sure I must be dying, my soul slipping away into oblivion.

  I spent the night wrapped in Kadesh’s cloak, not sleeping. I’d lived on hope these past weeks. In the time it took my heart to beat, all that was gone.

  When I finally slept, exhausted, I dreamed that my grandmother was stroking my hair, whispering her words of wisdom.

  “Evil won’t win forever,” she told me. “There is so much more than the world we see with our mortal eyes, Jayden. Don’t give up your faith, my daughter. Never give up. . . .” The strange dream faded and I pressed Kadesh’s cloak against my face, desperate to feel him one last time.

  I relived my moment seeing Sahmril in the palace courtyard and cried bitter tears.

  My mission now was to destroy Horeb. To take my revenge and make sure the tribe knew who he really was. It was the only way to make things right again. I had to stow away my grief. I would never submit to him or to defeat. He’d declared war on me by killing Kadesh. And that meant Horeb’s defeat. His death. Somehow I would find a way.

  I touched my necklace and the silver bracelet around my ankle that Kadesh had given me, taking courage and hope from them.

  I refused to be Horeb’s wife. Not even if they dragged me to the marriage tent and pinned me to a pole. I had to escape to the hills before he returned in the morning to take me.

  The fire was cold when I rolled over to get up in the still dark void of morning.

  Nalla lay beside me as my guard. But when I tried to rise, I realized that someone had tied my leg to the table so that I couldn’t escape.

  The rope was thick and rough and the knots complicated. Even though I helped my father set up our tent stakes each time we moved and I was familiar with these knots, I couldn’t manage to get them undone. I worked quietly so as not to wake Nalla, but within minutes my fingers were badly scraped.

  I let out a ragged breath as my arm brushed my thigh. Nalla hadn’t thought to check me for weapons. My knife was strapped to my leg, where I’d found it in the corner and replaced it before the house fell asleep.

  The good fortune seemed like an omen of hope.

  I carefully unsheathed my knife and began sawing at the thick rope. Several times I stopped to listen to Nalla’s breathing, but she was sleeping. I knew if I woke her she would do everything to keep me from leaving.

  Anxiety made my hands sweat. The light in the room changed. Dawn was coming. I had to hurry.

  Finally, I got through the rope and untwisted the last knot, pushing the hateful bundle away from me.

  Promptly I rose and crept through the tiny house. I stole a loaf of bread and some fruit and dried meat from Nalla’s stores, stuffing the inner pockets of Kadesh’s cloak.

  After tying the cloak strings around my neck, I carefully opened the door, praying it wouldn’t creak. I had to get away from the city before the night sky lightened too much.

  The hour before dawn was quiet and hushed. The sounds of fighting between the armies of Zimrilim and Hammurabi had come to a stop for the moment. My nose and throat still burned from the acrid smell of the palace flames.

  My plan was a drumbeat inside my head. A camel. The Euphrates. And then west. Kadesh’s camels were tied up outside. And our water bags were still tied to the animals, too. That’s all I needed to get back to Tadmur—and the safety of the Temple of Ashtoreth. It was my only refuge now. I would live in the basements, never dance again, and be a mother to the orphan children of Tadmur while I made my plans to kill Horeb.

  I slipped through the front door, closed it without a whisper of sound, and darted around the side of the building, passing by the alleys and side streets of Mari until I came to the enclosed pen of camels used by travelers. The pen was more than half-empty. People had been fleeing since yesterday morning and taking their animals with them.

  I scurried around the remaining camels, but it didn’t take me long to realize that Kadesh’s camels were gone. Stolen by Horeb and his men. Tears of frustration filled my eyes. Quickly, I untied one of the empty water pouches from another camel. Breathing a sigh of relief, I could escape now that I could get water.

  Leaving the camel pen behind, I fled for the western gate, skirting Nalla’s neighborhood—to head for the safety of the hills. There, I could form a new plan. Wait for Horeb to leave. Fend off hyenas and wolves. Perhaps I wouldn’t survive. But at least now I had a chance.

  26

  For the next three weeks, I navigated the hills above Mari, watching its citizens flee the city, endless smoke plumes rising from the king’s palace compound as it smoldered. Winter was coming on fast, and the wind gnawed at my fingers and toes. Each night I moved locations, sleeping in hollows under trees and bushes, or in small caves, never far from water in the Euphrates or gathering greens or nuts from along the river to survive. I was used to being hungry, tightening my belt. I couldn’t leave the vicinity. I needed a camel to travel back to the Temple of Ashtoreth, and I hadn’t figured out how to do that yet, not while the city was still in chaos.

  One night well into my fourth week, the smell of pungent woodsmoke drifted across my face, and the memory of Hakak’s wedding sprang before my eyes. Strange what a mere smell could do to my mind. That was the night I’d longed to dance for Kadesh. The night he’d kissed me for the first time, and declared his love.

  I fell to my knees under the stars, the sharp edges of my broken heart tearing me to pieces. As I stared at the path on top of the hill, I was positive I saw a candle flickering before a couple standing there.

  Tears rolled down my face. The wind whispered, like an echo of a future that was never to be. To Jayden and Kadesh, may you live long and joyfully all your lives. Those would have been my grandmother’s words to me on my wedding day.

  There were no cheers from the members of the phantom wedding, of course, and no Kadesh to carry me into the marriage tent. Only a blustery wind that chapped my face, and sharp stones that cut my bare feet. I pressed the rich folds of the cloak to my face
, a wave of grief crushing me.

  “I can’t do it,” I whispered. “I can’t bear this any longer. Kadesh, is your ghost out there? Can you feel me from beyond the veil of spirits? Please come rescue me and take me with you!”

  A moment later, shrubs crackled above me and then a stone skittered past me down the hill.

  A child’s voice said, “Why is that girl crying?”

  Pushing back the hood of Kadesh’s cloak, I gaped into the darkness.

  Two children, shadows under the moonlight, stood at the top of the trail, watching me. I caught a glimpse of wispy, flyaway hair and dirty knees on a boy. The girl wore a scarf around her braided hair, and her skinny ankles under her shift reminded me of myself when I was eight or nine.

  “She must be very sad,” the girl said to her younger brother.

  I swallowed down my tears, wondering if I was truly seeing a phantom—or still dreaming. “Who are you?”

  “He’s Benjamin and I’m Anah. I’m older. Of course.”

  I whipped my head around to examine the hills. As far as I could see, they were empty, silent. Were these children from Mari, perhaps the orphanage at Inanna’s temple? Was the city still under siege? I’d had no news at all, no sense of what was really happening in the valley below me.

  “He still sucks his thumb,” Anah added, twisting a finger around the bead in her ear. “And he hurt his arm.”

  The boy had a linen bandage wrapped around his left forearm, but it looked clean and didn’t appear to pain him.

  “How did Benjamin get hurt?” I asked.

  “He fell from a big rock. It happened during the new moon, when it was too dark to see. Mama told us not to play there, but Benjamin did anyway.”

  I found myself smiling at the girl’s tattling. “Are you from Mari or are you lost?”

  “What’s Mari?” she asked me.

  “Those tiny pinpricks of lights far, far out on the plain. By the river. But where are your parents?”

  “Over there,” Anah answered, turning her head.

  I walked to the crest of the hill and looked down. In a hollow of earth, a campfire flickered, barely three hundred paces away. My phantom woodsmoke was actually real.

  “You’re not from Mari at all, are you?” I said, realizing that they were desert people.

  “Anah! Benjamin!” a woman’s voice called.

  “Your mother is worried,” I told them. “Run back to her.”

  Before they could go, I saw a woman standing on the hillside, opening up her arms for her children. Her smile dropped when she saw me. “Who are you?” she said, gathering her children protectively.

  “My name is Jayden. I’m a daughter of Pharez of the tribe of Nephish. Please don’t be afraid. I’m alone.”

  The woman peered at me through the gloom, pulling her black shawl tighter. Benjamin continued to slurp at his thumb, and his sister, Anah, jerked his hand out of his mouth, rolling her eyes. The expression on her face reminded me of Leila when she used to roll her eyes at me.

  “Aren’t you from the city?” the woman countered, as though suspicious of my story.

  “I was at Mari during the burning of the palace, but I’m a desert girl, truly,” I said quickly. “My family is gone and my home has been taken from me—I’m alone—” I choked on the words, realizing how desperate I was to talk to someone. “Please.”

  The dried dung on the campfire was pungent, crackling in the evening chill. A burly man speared roasted lamb and placed it on a dish. Fresh-baked bread was pulled from the coals and my eyes brimmed with tears as I felt transported to my old life.

  The woman paused, clearly wary of me. But after a moment, she said, “Come. Have some food.”

  Gratefully, I followed her, sitting down to take in the warmth of the fire. She offered me a bowl of camel’s milk, which I drank greedily. As I wiped my mouth, I realized this was the most food I’d eaten in one sitting since Kadesh’s death.

  “Don’t they feed you in the city?” the man asked, filling my bowl again.

  I didn’t admit that I’d been living in the hills for weeks. “There is no other meal like this one. I’m so grateful. Thank you. Let me help you clean up.”

  As we scrubbed the bowls with sand, the woman’s eyes were filled with questions. “How long have you been hiding out in these hills?”

  “I—” I was startled that she’d already come to that conclusion. I looked down at myself, seeing myself in their eyes, dirty and unkempt. “I don’t know exactly. Weeks. I’ve lost track of time.” I paused. “It’s—it’s dangerous for me to return.” I looked at the woman helplessly, but she didn’t prod me. “My betrothal went badly. I would tell more, but it’s . . . complicated. I need to get back to Tadmur, to my sister there, but my camels were stolen and my kinsmen are gone.”

  “Mari has been dangerously occupied for months now,” she agreed. “But you’re going to starve out in these hills before long—if you haven’t already. You do not look well.”

  The unspoken question of me traveling with her family was left dangling in the air. I wouldn’t ask, and the woman wouldn’t offer until she knew me better and discussed it with her husband.

  She bent over her work, but I could sense her studying me. “I can’t help noticing that you only have one simple necklace. Your family, I mean—” She stopped, a flush rising up her cheeks.

  I touched my throat and pulled the collar of my dress higher. “My jewelry was given to save the life of my baby sister.”

  The woman shook her head in sympathy. “Sometimes life is hard on the desert, isn’t it?”

  “Where is your husband’s clan?” I asked.

  “We plan to meet my husband’s family at the next well on the way to Tadmur. For the winter we continue heading west, past Damascus and then south until we get to the land of Isaac’s twelve tribes.”

  “Then we are distant cousins.”

  She bit at her lips. “I can’t help noticing that the rich cloak is such a disparity with the rest of your appearance. Plus it’s a man’s cloak.”

  “It belonged to a dear friend who is now dead.” I turned away so that I wouldn’t weep in front of them.

  “What’s this?” Anah asked, her small hands tugging on the leather pouch tied to the back of the cape.

  “Please don’t touch that!” I sounded more alarmed than I should have, and tried to cover it up. “It’s only a few mementos from home.”

  Too late, the bag’s ties had loosened and the leather pouch tumbled to the ground. Two frankincense nuggets fell out, exposed in the fire’s flames.

  The woman stared down at the fallen items as I snatched up the pouch, sweeping my hand over the spice-fragrant teardrops to hide them.

  She took a hesitant step toward me. “Where did a poor girl get such riches?”

  “I—it’s—” I was at a loss to explain. “You know what these are, then.”

  She nodded, staring at me with astonishment. “That’s frankincense. From the secret southern lands.”

  Disquiet rose in my gut. “How do you know about the secret lands of the South?”

  A brisk wind cut over the hill, and I tugged the cloak over my arms, pulling up the hood.

  Her eyes swept over me. “That cloak wasn’t even remade for you. It’s much too large.”

  I nodded, longing to confide in someone who wouldn’t judge me or misunderstand. “It belonged to the love I lost. My cousin—the boy I was betrothed to—gave me this cloak stained with his blood—as proof of his death.”

  Understanding filled her face. “This boy, the love you speak of—he gave you the frankincense, didn’t he?”

  I nodded at her astuteness. “It was to help me in case I was ever in trouble.”

  “I’d venture to say that you’re in a great deal of trouble right now,” she said, gazing at me.

  “I’ve been hiding in these hills, trying to figure out how to steal a camel in Mari. Whether I should try to find my tribe. Go back to my sister at the temple. Or go so
uth to find my dead love’s family. But with the city under siege I haven’t dared try to get back inside the city gates.”

  “Those are hard decisions. But you cannot do this alone. It’s impossible to travel any of those distances by yourself. You need more than one camel, too.”

  “I realize that I might die,” I said slowly. “But any of those decisions are made with one goal in mind.”

  She cocked her head, scrutinizing me. “What do you mean?”

  “I plan to kill the man that killed my love.”

  She stepped back in alarm. “You speak of evil deeds. Please tell me no more.”

  I bit at my lips and looked her in the eye. “He has murdered before, and any redemption inside him has disappeared. Now he lives only to torture me. Unless I marry him, he will kill me, but I’ve vowed to kill him first. I must, in order to survive.”

  “That’s why you’re hiding out here in these hills.”

  “That’s right,” I whispered, recounting the last seven frankincense nuggets in my bag and securing the string tie around my waist.

  “You are a determined girl,” she said, watching my careful actions with the frankincense. “I’m sorry for all you’ve lost.” And then her next words astounded me. “We saw frankincense like this on our journey up to Tadmur before we came east to Mari. A man from the canyon lands had a bag of frankincense nuggets. He took a piece and ground it up, making a paste to rub into the bleeding gash my son, Benjamin, suffered when he fell.”

  I pictured the nugget I’d ground up for Kadesh’s wound in his stomach and felt faint with the memory. So many months ago. So much had happened, it was nearly impossible to grasp all that I’d been through and all that I’d lost. My eyes burned with unshed tears as I wrapped Kadesh’s cloak around me, hiding the bag of frankincense once more.

  “Anah told me her brother fell playing on some rocks. Did the frankincense help to heal his wound?”

  “Yes, it did, and we were so grateful that he helped us. Having frankincense close at hand was like a miracle. I’ve heard of its medicinal use before but never witnessed it.”