Forbidden

  “It can wait. You’ve had a difficult day,” he added, his words threaded with an unspoken condolence.

  “I’ve seen the wound with my own eyes,” my father said firmly. “The blade went deep and soon you’ll be ill with a fever and another burden on me. We must heal it, now.”

  “It will go well,” I whispered, and my hand automatically reached out to Kadesh to reassure him. It was an impulsive gesture, and I pulled back quickly, embarrassed. I felt my face flush, and moved away to collect clean rags from the baskets.

  When I returned, I instructed Kadesh to lie down so I could doctor him before the stitching. Blood had seeped through the bandage, staining the cloth bright red again. He wouldn’t be able to go on like this, and I wondered how he’d managed to make it this far.

  “You should have lain down in the camel carriage,” I told him. “I could have ridden. I’ve done it my whole life. And helped my father drive the herd.”

  His eyes locked on to mine and he said in a low voice, “I’m sure you’re very good at it, too.”

  I didn’t respond and kept my eyes on the task of cutting the new cloth.

  He gave a shudder as I pulled the old bandage from the oozing wound. “I was fine most of the day, but I think you’re right. I overdid it and the wound has opened again.”

  I nodded, but when I picked up the turmeric to clean the cut, he stopped me, pulling out a leather bag tucked into his waistband.

  “Lie still,” I told him. “The bleeding has started again.”

  “In my land, we use this for treating wounds,” Kadesh said, glancing about as if to make sure no one could overhear. The women were cleaning up dinner and I could see my father and Shem tethering the camels for the night.

  “I have turmeric and henna ready.”

  “What I possess is even more powerful.” Opening the bag’s strings, he shook out a handful of pale yellow, teardrop-shaped nuggets into his cupped hand. A strong, perfumed smell wafted through the air.

  My eyes widened. “What is that?”

  Kadesh dropped his voice so only I could hear him. His eyes held my gaze with such intensity I could barely breathe. “They call these frankincense tears.”

  I’d heard of frankincense, had even seen the expensive and rare spice in a marketplace stall from afar, but never this close. It was a luxury my family could never dream of purchasing.

  “This is worth a great deal of money,” I whispered. “Where did you get it?”

  “I farmed this bag from my uncle’s trees.”

  “What?” My jaw dropped in astonishment. “What are you saying? Your uncle owns frankincense—?”

  “Ssh,” he warned, and reached out to grasp my hand. His fingers were warm and gentle around mine and his touch created an instant, intense reaction in my belly. One by one he shook six of the teardrop nuggets into my palm. They were dense and very fragrant, but light, hardly weighing anything.

  “Frankincense groves don’t grow anywhere near here!” I exclaimed.

  “That’s true,” Kadesh said, glancing up to catch my eyes.

  Tingles raced up my spine as I realized what he was saying. “You don’t live near the Moabite nation at all. The frankincense lands . . . Nobody knows where they are.”

  “Your father is correct; the travel is more than three months’ journey from here.”

  “That’s the ends of the earth! How did you get here?”

  Kadesh tightened the drawstring of the bag and tucked it back into his cloak, leaving the frankincense in my hand. “With much preparation the journey can be done twice a year, but that’s only part of the reason frankincense is so expensive. Frankincense is also quite rare, more so than gold or silk or the most precious gems. Every city and temple, physician and embalmer, cosmetic merchant and farmer desires it. But the trees only grow in one place on Earth, and I’m blessed that it’s my homeland.”

  “You are fortunate, indeed. I’ve always thought that it must be a magical place.”

  “You know how difficult it is to travel these deserts, but to reach the frankincense lands takes a great deal longer. The trees grow in special forests in a range of mountains where it’s very rocky, also making harvest difficult.”

  I swallowed past my dry throat. “What are you saying? You lied to us? You brought a caravan of frankincense up north to sell.”

  “No, I have not lied to you!” Kadesh tried to sit up.

  I pushed him back to the ground. “Stop moving. You’ll only make this wound bleed worse.”

  “Jayden.” He gazed into my face—speaking my name in such a gentle yet firm tone that my heart raced. “What I say is true. I have not misled you or your father. I was heading north to take messages to my Dedan clan, who are building forts along the King’s Highway to protect caravans and travelers. The caravan roads have grown dangerous.” He glanced at his knife wound and added, “As I am a witness. We left our load of frankincense in Akabah with another company, who takes it west into Egypt. We were attacked, the frankincense stolen, and our company split apart. I escaped, lost my way, and found you—I mean, your family. If I hadn’t, I’d be dead now.” He stopped, his voice becoming unsteady.

  “What is it?” I sensed that something even more terrible had happened.

  “My friend was murdered by thieves a few months ago. They stole thirty camels laden with my family’s frankincense. I had planned to stay in the north and avenge his death, but with this wound, I’m in no shape. And now, I’m afraid that my uncle will hear I’ve disappeared, too.”

  “I understand why the Dedan tribe is building fortresses,” I said, a peculiar tightness rising in my chest when I pictured the precarious journeys he made each year. “Soldiers to protect travelers, as well as a place to rest and buy supplies. But you need to get well and my father can help you. Does he know about your family?”

  Kadesh’s breathing became more labored. “I spoke with him when we stopped to study the tracks. He needed to know the truth if he was willing to harbor me. And now I’m entrusting you with this secret.”

  Chills ran down my neck. Why he felt he should tell me, I did not know. “You can trust my father, and me. But if less honorable men discover you’re an heir to frankincense, you will be in certain danger. There are stories of men murdering just to learn the location of the secret groves.”

  “The stories and rumors are true,” Kadesh affirmed, his voice so quiet I barely heard the words. “We are often followed once we turn east across The Sands to get to our homeland.”

  “Gossip says that those who search never find the groves—or they are never heard from again.”

  “True on both counts.”

  “So you must have guards . . . with weapons . . .” I shivered in the warm evening air, and our eyes met in the dusky light. I studied him, taking note of his profile, the way his long dark hair fell and brushed my hand. He really was beautiful, and the kindness in his eyes ran deep. A kindness I hadn’t seen, especially not in Horeb’s eyes. “Why do you trust me?”

  “My grandmother used to tell me that I’m a good judge of others.”

  I brushed off his words, turning my attention to his injury. “You’re about to start bleeding again. I can only hold pressure on this for so long.”

  “Grind one of the nuggets to a powder,” Kadesh said. “Then apply it to my wound.”

  I rose to retrieve a bowl and pestle, feeling secretive and guarded. Keeping my back to the rest of the camp, I quickly ground the nuggets. The frankincense tears were so soft, it didn’t take long before they became a silky, shimmering powder. I applied it to the wound and gently pressed down with a clean cloth as my father arrived with Shem.

  “Hide the bowl—quickly!” Kadesh began, and then fell back. His skin had suddenly turned ashen. Perspiration was a sheen on his face. He had lost too much blood, and was weakening.

  I tucked the grinding bowl under his pillow just as Shem kneeled down beside me, producing a stick from our supply of wood.

  “Clench this b
etween your teeth,” he told Kadesh.

  My father was prepared with thread and a sharpened camel bone. “I’m going to sew up the skin so the scar will be small.”

  Kadesh nodded, closing his eyes tightly.

  Using tiny stitches my father sewed the flaps of skin together around the open wound. Sweat poured from Kadesh’s face, but he barely made a sound.

  “You’re doing well,” I told him when the stitching was finished. The bleeding had slowed considerably, and I wiped away the few streaks of blood with a clean, wet cloth one last time to prepare the skin for the burning.

  Shem had already laid a flat disk of iron on top of the hot coals of the fire. Using tongs, he picked it up and prepared to lay it on Kadesh’s side. The heated iron would burn the laceration and seal the skin together.

  “Is there any way to change your mind?” Kadesh asked.

  My father came forward to hold his arms down, saying briefly, “I promise you, the pain doesn’t last long.”

  Shem straddled Kadesh’s legs so that he couldn’t move during the procedure. Leaning over, the older man held the fire-heated disk close to the young man’s bare flesh.

  “Don’t look at it,” I warned. I closed my eyes, saying a silent prayer, and then quickly opened them again. I was surprised to find Kadesh watching me. His hand reached out to grip mine and the touch of his fingers made me tremble.

  My eyes watered as Shem positioned the scorching metal directly over Kadesh’s tender, wounded side, then pressed it down, hard. The young man’s entire body went rigid, and grinding his teeth against the stick, he choked down a series of screams. Within seconds, it was over and Shem stood, dropping the hot iron seal into the sand to cool it.

  I looked down at the wound, and even though it was bright red, it had closed, no longer seeping blood. Kadesh released his grip on my arm, his face gray as an old dishrag. “I didn’t mean to crush your hand.”

  I gave him a faint smile. “All my fingers are accounted for.” How many times in one day had he touched me now? I remembered every single one, and only wanted more. “I’m—” I started, but the next moment Kadesh lost consciousness. I covered him with a blanket, tucking it around his form as my mother used to do, and fighting an urge to curl myself around him while he slept so he wouldn’t be alone.

  I bid my father and Shem good night and walked through the camp, which had quieted at last under the milky stars. Usually there were dozens of flickering campfires to keep the wilderness at bay when the rest of the tribe camped alongside us. Now the blackness was so thick it was as though the world had been swallowed whole.

  The temperature dropped and the air turned colder. As I approached our bedding, which lay on top of tarps under a shelter of scrub brush, I heard Leila crying and I crawled into bed next to her and reached out to take her hand.

  “Leila,” I whispered. “Are you all right?”

  She didn’t speak at first, her back to me. And then she rolled over, shielding Sahmril, who was fast asleep between us for extra warmth. “My thoughts are hateful and horrible. At least you’ll think so.”

  “I would never think that.”

  “I can’t help wishing that our mother had lived, and Sahmril had not.”

  I reached out to wipe away the tears that rolled down her chin. It seemed evil to wish for our mother’s life instead of Sahmril’s, but I didn’t blame Leila for how she felt. “Perhaps it’s a good thing we didn’t have to choose between them.”

  There was silence between us and little comfort out here, without shelter. My baby sister would be crying again before dawn. A moment later, Leila threw the blanket over her head and fell asleep. She usually hid when life became too unbearable, just as she had disappeared while Kadesh was being doctored.

  I rolled onto my back, unable to get warm. Finally I rose and hovered over the remains of the fire, but I still felt chilled.

  The camels huddled together, softly chewing their cud. I was tempted to curl up next to one, but I needed to do something first.

  This day must end with my last thoughts for my mother.

  Stepping around the sleeping forms of my sister and my father, I tiptoed to the perimeter of the camp toward the litter, now taken down from the back of our camel and sitting on the ground for the night. Not having a candle, I parted the curtains, using my hands to sweep under the piles of pillows and blankets. At last my fingers touched the hard piece of wood wrapped in one of Leila’s scarves.

  I rocked back on my heels and caressed the dark golden piece of wood. In the moonlight, the figure’s polished strands of hair cut from the terebinth bark were glossy, her legs firm, her hips and breasts lovely.

  “What secrets do you hold?” I whispered in the night air. “What music do you dance to? Certainly not the music of my tribe. Is this why you are forbidden, as my mother always said?”

  No immediate answers came, and I finally placed the dancing woman back under the pillows so Leila wouldn’t be screaming at me in the morning. Then I found a large, flat rock away from my sleeping family and sat down, shivering inside the folds of my old, worn cloak.

  A shooting star dropped out of the sky, sizzling at the horizon. I wanted to hear the voice of my mother one more time. I tried to recall the sound of her laughter, the music of her singing, the vision of her dancing.

  Her soul had gone somewhere else, somewhere I couldn’t see. I tried to conjure her beautiful face, her strong arms, the touch of her hands stroking my hair. “I’ve never felt so lost in all my life,” I told her softly, hoping her spirit was nearby and could hear me. “I’m afraid I will lose Leila to the desert’s harshness—or the Temple of Ashtoreth. I’m afraid Sahmril will die because I don’t know how to take care of her. And—” I paused, knowing I shouldn’t say this out loud. “And I’m afraid to marry Horeb, even though I know you wanted me to, and it is my duty to our family and tribe.”

  Only last night I’d danced with my mother and sister and grandmother. Eaten sweets until my stomach ached. Laughed at the women teasing me about the marriage bed, and shivered with fear as I stood in the circle to dance by myself for the first time.

  “Turn to the dance of our ancient mothers,” a voice seemed to whisper to me along the wind.

  With the memory of my mother’s face before me, I dropped my cloak to the rock, raised my arms, and began moving them in slow half circles—first my right arm, then my left, swaying to the silent music of the desert.

  I dug my toes into grains of sand still warm from the day’s sun, and outlined the moon overhead with my wrists and arms, gazing at the white, perfect sphere encrusted by a galaxy of stars. Closing my eyes, I pressed my legs together to form small, tight hip circles. Four to the right, and then four to the left. With each change of direction I increased the speed of the circles until my body began to warm up and loosen all the fear and grief I’d been holding in all day.

  Then I brought my arms higher and clasped my hands flat together overhead. In this position, I began a series of hip thrusts, holding the rest of myself as still as possible. My mother had once shown me how to balance on my back foot while putting my front foot forward.

  I practiced hip drops, bringing my hands down and holding them at my hip bone so I could experience the movement more fully. When I ended my dance with a series of final slow circles, there was a film of sweat on my forehead. Finally, I was tired—not from stress and grief, but from physical exhaustion.

  I raised my eyes and hands to the sky, hoping I could pull down the powers of heaven.

  “Life for Sahmril,” I whispered like a prayer. “Safe passage to the northlands. Abundant rain and life for the families of my father and Shem. A tender heart and flowing milk for Dinah.”

  I began to drop my hands, and then added, “And healing for the stranger, Kadesh, as well as a safe journey back to his uncle.”

  I picked up my cloak to return to bed, trying to get Kadesh out of my mind, and then realized I’d forgotten someone—my sister Leila. Perhaps she was the p
erson I needed to pray for the most.

  As I finished, a dark shape crossed my path. The saltbush crackled and I let out a small shriek. “Who’s there?”

  A male voice spoke from the darkness. “It’s only me, Kadesh.”

  “By the god of heavens,” I hissed. “You scare me again! The second time today.”

  “It wasn’t intended. Either time.”

  “You lie, sir. Jumping down from the bluff was no accident.”

  “That’s true, but I didn’t want you to run away. Blame it on crazed thirst, or a delirious fear that I was going to die.”

  I took a step backward, every nerve along my skin raw and exposed, knowing he’d watched me—again—as I danced in the darkness. He was too close, too personal, listening to my prayers.

  His face had invaded my mind all day. His voice rang like music in my ears; his touch stirred my emotions. And now he was here, as if I’d called to him; as if our souls were speaking to each other without using any words.

  “What are you doing up from your bed?” I asked him. “You need to sleep, to heal.”

  “The burned skin makes my sleep restless. I needed some cool desert air.”

  “Let me get you a wet cloth. The first hours are the most painful.” As I turned, my arm accidentally brushed against the soft weave of his cloak. He was closer than I realized. Too close. “Just now, you were watching me again, weren’t you?”

  “I confess my shortcomings, daughter of Pharez.”

  “It’s not right.” I lowered my voice. “You know that.”

  A heartbeat passed, and then he asked, “What is this dance you do when all the world is asleep?”

  “A prayer for strength.”

  “Strength for who?”

  I stared into his eyes, feeling parts of me pulled in every direction. My heart pounded so fast my face was hot, even in the chilly air. “You ask too many questions. Go back to bed. You need to heal.” I needed him to leave me alone. I needed to encase my heart with stone so that he couldn’t penetrate it. Emotions surged over me, mystifying, and yet powerfully real. Even as I tried to push the feelings away, I wanted to draw them close.