I turned around and smiled to myself. Then stared back at him, curious. “Will you tell me who did this to you?” I asked, nodding to the bandage wrapped around his torso. It was not a question for me to ask, but I couldn’t help myself.
“I don’t intend to keep my tale a secret, but it’s neither heroic nor courageous,” he replied cryptically.
“Were they trying to kill you?”
He didn’t answer at first, but finally he nodded. “When someone puts a knife near your heart, they intend for death to follow.”
I hefted the waterskin, pressing my lips together and wondering who wanted him dead. Then I reached down to stroke Sahmril, who squirmed in her sleep in a small patch of shade. My curiosity kept rising, but I’d wait until my father asked the questions—and got the answers.
The stranger glanced between me and Sahmril as he dribbled more water into his mouth. “The babe, is she yours?”
“She’s my sister,” I answered, trying to keep my voice steady. “Born this morning to my mother, who is now dead.”
Awareness flooded his face. “Ah, yes. The burial spot.”
“The babe’s twin brother lies there as well.”
He looked down. “I’m truly sorry,” he said quietly. “I owe you a debt for my life, and I’ve burdened you even further on such a day of sorrow. But I’m not sure how much longer I could have survived. I’ve been praying for three days that I’d find someone who would help me.”
“Then it appears as though your prayers were answered,” I said. Why did he have to say such kind things when I wanted to curse him for delaying us and frightening me so badly? He had caused more anguish than he would ever understand, even though his manners were impeccable. Which just annoyed me even more.
I strapped the last waterskin onto Shiz as the boy rose to his feet, keeping one hand on top of the well’s wooden cover for balance when my father appeared.
“There’s no time to exchange talk and news,” my father said. “But if we’re to travel together, please tell me your name.”
“My name is Kadesh and I’m of the lineage of Dedan.”
My father’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “You are a long way from home. I’m Pharez of the tribe of Nephish. My daughters are Leila and Jayden, and the babe is Sahmril. If we’re to harbor you on our journey you must tell me your business in these lands. The well belongs to the Kedar tribe, who is friendly to us. I’ve traveled these lands since I could walk.” Pointedly, he added, “Men of the South rarely pass through here. Usually never get this far north, but travel west to the cities of Salem and Egypt.”
“You deserve an answer,” Kadesh agreed, making an effort to stand straight, but I noticed from his pained expression that he was still greatly hurting. “My uncle and his brothers and cousins are building trading posts and forts along the Red Sea highway. It’s getting too dangerous not to have shelter, weapons, or food on such long caravan journeys. Our goods are sold in the cities of Mesopotamia, along the Great Sea, as well as into Egypt. I’ve grown up learning my uncle’s trade, since he has no son. He sent me north with stops at Akabah and Salem, but there were complications, and I found myself in unknown territory. Three days ago my camel collapsed and I was caught in a raid between two other tribes.”
“Is that how you were wounded?”
Kadesh nodded. “The raiders mistook me for an enemy. When darkness fell, I managed to escape.”
“Foolish,” my father said briefly, securing the ropes on the loaded camels. “You’re lucky you’re not dead.”
The young man helped him check the halters and ropes as they walked the small line of our camels. I followed behind, curious. “I heard about a well in this direction but it was farther than I expected, and I was slower on foot . . .” The boy’s voice trailed off as his eyes took in the shade of the palm tree and the waterskins. “But I did find the well.”
My father gave a quick laugh. “You’re fortunate, although you’re still weeks short of Damascus.” He clapped his hands for Bith, who trotted over. “It’s time to go. The sun is beginning to cross the sky. Take the lead and push the camels as hard as you can. I still hope to catch up to Shem’s family by nightfall. I’ll make sure the rear ones don’t stray and drag us behind. They’ll obey me, not you.”
After climbing into the camel litter, I held Sahmril on my lap, listening to the creaking leather harnesses of the carriage. It was stifling inside the contraption, and cramped, but at least the sun wasn’t burning our heads.
Parting the front draperies, I watched Kadesh straddle the lead camel behind the animals’ large hump, lying flat on his stomach. It was obvious he was no stranger to desert journeys, since that position was the most comfortable way to ride for long hours.
Kadesh’s story was curious. Mysterious wealth, surviving a raid without a camel, and the intelligence of a desert tracker. These characteristics did not usually go together. There had to be much more that he wasn’t telling us. . . .
The heat of the day was now at its height and Leila immediately fell asleep. The swaying motion soon had me dozing in fits and starts. Images from the morning wouldn’t leave my mind; the washing of my mother’s dead body, Isaac’s tiny form, his dark lashes and clenched fists. I rolled over and dreamed of handfuls of earth that fell without ceasing, clods of sand and earth that rained down until I was buried just like my mother.
I woke to Sahmril’s screams.
Leila opened one eye. “Feed her, Jayden! Her screams are giving me a headache.”
“What do you think I’m doing? The heat makes you so irritable. Don’t you have any patience?”
“Not for crying babies. Perhaps I’ll rethink motherhood.”
“You’ll feel differently when you have your own babies.”
Leila closed her eyes again, mumbling. “I’m not so sure.”
Now Sahmril was kicking her legs and fists, her screeches rising in volume. Unstopping a jar of camel milk, I dipped a small rag into it, and then squeezed the milk into her mouth. She gagged when the liquid hit her throat, but she was so hungry I finally managed to get some of the milk inside of her. After a few minutes, she fell asleep, her face scrunched against the blanket, the tiny brow lined with frowns.
“Finally.” Leila sighed.
I fell against my own pillows, hoping the camel’s milk wouldn’t give Sahmril stomach cramps. Tucking her into a corner filled with blankets to cushion her from the jolting ride, I stretched out my legs against the wooden frame of the litter’s opening. “Oh, Sahmril,” I whispered, bending down to kiss her fragile eyelids. “Try hard to live. Our mother would want you to live, to be strong and beautiful.”
After a few hours Father stopped to let the camels rest. He untied a waterskin from Bith and gave us each a small drink, but that would be our last one until evening.
Kadesh and my father studied the ground in both directions, then scanned the horizon and checked the sun. I watched them, mesmerized. Every desert man knew his own camel’s footprints intimately. He could also identify the herds of his clan and neighbors, making it easier to track another clan’s journey. My father could tell how many camels they had, the number of people in the group, and their pace and direction.
My father trotted past the carriage on his way back to the rear and I leaned out from behind the curtains. “Father, what do you see?”
“Shem’s tracks. He passed only a few hours ago, and we’ll be certain to catch up to him.”
Good news, I thought, and sat back down next to my sleeping sisters.
We started off again, and I sat deep in reflection until the sun’s long rays slanted through the curtains.
A headache pounded at my temple as the camel lurched across the desert. When I rubbed at my burning eyes, I saw that Leila was staring out between the curtains, tears silently falling down her cheeks. Her knees were pulled up underneath her chin.
“Leila,” I whispered.
She stayed silent until finally she turned her face, eyes red-rimmed,
looking miserable. “What are we going to do without Mother?”
I shook my head, trying to speak, tears forming in my own eyes. I’d been wondering the same thing.
“We have to do everything now,” Leila said. “Take care of the entire household, the camels, the meals, raising Sahmril—everything. I—I don’t think I can, Jayden. I don’t want to. I just feel like running away. If only we had money, we could have help. I hate being poor.”
I wasn’t surprised to hear my sister say these things. She’d always said she wanted to marry a rich man. A merchant or a nobleman with a big house and servants.
“I know,” I managed to croak out.
“What about our weddings to plan, our trousseaus to sew? And how will I find a husband without Mother’s help to negotiate an agreement between the families?”
“I wish—” I stopped abruptly. I wished Leila could marry Horeb. That the betrothal with Zenos had passed on to the next brother. They seemed better suited for each other, and she was ready now for the world of men and marriage. Leila was practiced at flirting with the boys of the tribe. But I couldn’t say any of this.
“What?” Leila asked.
“Nothing.” I patted Sahmril mindlessly as she began to cry again. It all felt hopeless.
Leila let out a sob and buried her face into her knees, bowing her head. “I miss her! Even traveling to Tadmur is not the same without Mother.”
“I know,” I agreed, and the tears threatened to overwhelm me. I bit my lips and held them in. Even so, I wanted to rip at my clothes as my father had done. Throw dirt in my hair and wail for a week as was the custom of our women. But we had a stranger with us. And a long journey ahead. I had to keep my wits about me and not give in to the mourning. “I miss her, too. We will for the rest of our lives.”
A moment later, a sharp dip in the road made a hard, wooden object clatter across the litter floor. I reached down to pick it up. It was the figure of a naked woman carved from a tamarisk tree. She had large hips and a voluptuous figure. Her arms rose in a circle above her head, and her face was lifted upward, eyes closed as if in prayer.
My pulse seemed to stop for a moment; I was so shocked to see a statue from one of the goddess temples here in our belongings. “What is this doing here?”
Leila reached out to grab it from me. “Give me that!”
“Leila? Where did this come from?” I pulled the statue away from her outstretched hands. I studied the beautiful statue, the swirls of dark and light within the polished wood. The woman’s face was serene, her nakedness sensuous and exotic.
“It’s mine! I mean, I got it from a girl in the groves.”
“You should never have accepted a gift like this. We are not idol worshippers, Leila.”
“But I think it’s beautiful. Let me have it, Jayden.” Leila retrieved one of her scarves and held out her hand, challenging me.
I ignored her, running my fingers down the satiny finish. The artistry was astonishing. “It’s valuable, isn’t it?”
Leila’s eyes flitted away and then returned, nodding slowly. “Yes, it’s a woman dancing for the divine Ashtoreth, the goddess of fertility.”
“What would our mother say? She would weep, you know.” I broke off, thinking of her lying in that dark grave, farther away with every passing moment. “This figure is not only dancing, but she’s praying to Ashtoreth. That is idol worship and you know that our people don’t worship idols.”
“It’s only a wooden statue, Jayden! Dancing just like we dance for babies and weddings. Must you make a mountain out of a grain of dust?”
“This is no grain of sand,” I told her. “Mother warned us about the goddess temples. The wealth and idleness. Our grandmother said the same thing. For the women of the desert, this is pure wickedness.”
“Dancing is not wicked,” Leila said evenly, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “You dance. Every woman we know dances. There’s nothing wrong with this statue either. It was given to me out of friendship. Created by a master artist.”
“I feel sick seeing you with this. These girls—these friends from the groves—they’re trying to lure you to the Temple of Ashtoreth. Don’t you see that?”
“They haven’t blinded me, Jayden. I want to see behind the walls of the temple in Tadmur for myself. Not because they’re bribing me or forcing me. I’ve heard it’s the most beautiful place in all the world, and the rites of the goddess make you feel as though you’ve become divine, right here in this world. Think of it!”
Her words made me shudder. The dance last night had risen forcefully and mystically from deep inside my soul. My grandmother had told me that the power of women was beautiful and good and that if I used my abilities wisely, I would have joy and peace and an eternal, loving husband. I’d never pondered the idea before that I personally had the power to be beautiful and good and wise.
“Our ancient Mother Goddess gave us life, Leila. She doesn’t have cold marble arms, lips made of stone, or a heart made of rock.”
“Don’t talk about something you know nothing of! If the activities in the groves go beyond a few friends dancing together, I’ll be sure to warn you,” she said sarcastically.
I stared down at the elegant torso of the dancing woman and touched her closed, praying eyelids. All at once, the wooden figurine seemed to burn my fingers. I threw it across the swaying camel carriage and let out a cry.
“What are you doing?” Leila flung herself to the floor, snatching up the carving and holding it like a child in her arms. “Don’t touch my things again. Ever.”
I leaned forward, pleading. “Bury the statue in the sand and forget it ever existed. Put away thoughts of the city and the temple. You are a desert girl, and you will always be a part of the desert. Stay with me, Leila. Please don’t leave.”
Leila stared through the draperies, her face red and splotchy from our argument.
“I need you, Leila,” I added softly. “Now more than ever. I don’t want to sit alone with our grief and tears.”
She finally reached out her hands to me and we held on to each other. Her skin was warm against mine as we embraced. Her hot, salty tears wet my face, and I cried into her hair.
7
Late in the afternoon there were shouts from Kadesh. “Fresh tracks,” he yelled. “And a dust cloud from camels up ahead.”
Leila stuck her head out through the curtains, and the blinding sun cast lines of light across the floor of the carriage. “Jayden, it’s them!” she cried, a wave of relief in her voice.
I looked out as we entered a valley of rising swells and definite signs of smoke from a campfire. Within the next hour, we caught up to the tribe. My father herded his camels into a circle next to Shem’s campsite, and I couldn’t get out of the camel litter fast enough.
As I stepped down and stood unsteadily on the ground, I saw Kadesh standing next to the camel he’d been riding. The light of the setting sun shone down on him, glinting off his dark brown hair. Despite the hardship he had suffered, he was beautiful.
I tried not to gaze at him, but I knew that, no matter what happened, years from now, I would still have a clear memory of those penetrating eyes under the rich, hooded cloak. I shivered, and yet I wasn’t afraid of this mysterious stranger.
I warned myself not to be foolish. Kadesh had still looked upon me as I danced at my mother’s grave, even if he’d given me profuse apologies ever since. He’d said that his was a curious and unashamed marveling as he observed my tears and heard my prayers.
I had no idea what he thought of me, and yet I suddenly, desperately wanted to know.
He glanced over at me, and I quickly looked away. “Let me take Sahmril,” he offered, walking over to me and reaching out to take the sleeping bundle. It was true that she was growing heavy in my arms. “I have a younger sister,” Kadesh added as though to convince me of his abilities. “And many nephews and nieces.”
He looked so eager I almost laughed. “Are you going to add any of your own children to
that list?”
“Not yet,” Kadesh mumbled, his eyes glancing away from mine.
“She’ll probably start screaming,” I warned.
“I’ve held crying babies before.”
Before I could speak again, Nalla ran up. “We’ve been praying all day that you would reach us. Praise God Sahmril is still with us.” Then she looked at Kadesh with an appraising gape. “Who are you, young stranger?”
Rocking Sahmril in his arms, he answered, “Kadesh, of the tribe of Dedan, from the southern lands.”
Nalla took the tiny baby from his hands. “I’ve never heard of your tribe, but if you travel with Jayden’s father, then welcome.”
I felt guilty letting Nalla take over, but I was so weary from the long hours of crying and feeding. “I’ve been giving her camel’s milk, but it’s not fresh any longer. She’ll probably have stomach pains all night. Is there any way Dinah would be willing . . .” I stopped, having no idea how to negotiate something as delicate as this.
Nalla shushed Sahmril, rubbing the baby’s back with firm, experienced hands. “Dinah doesn’t want another child so soon. Her own is still so young.”
“A wet nurse is all I need,” I added quickly. “I want to keep Sahmril and raise her myself.”
“Do you understand what that means?” Nalla asked. “The responsibility? The years it will take to raise her?”
I nodded knowing that I couldn’t count on Leila’s help, especially if she married this summer, plus our father might be gone for months trying to get our missing camels back. But if I lost Sahmril it would be like losing my mother all over again.
I wondered if Horeb might break the betrothal if I was raising Sahmril. Then again, his family might pressure him to provide a home to my baby sister, and I’d be bound to the agreement more than ever.
“We have time to decide such things,” Nalla said. “After such a long and grief-filled day, sleep is what you need right now.”
After we settled and ate, the sun disappeared behind the mountains, and my father lifted his chin toward Kadesh. “It’s time to care for that wound of yours.”