Forbidden

by Kimberley Griffiths Little

  “She keeps her feelings close to her heart,” I said, struggling for the right words. Aunt Judith had taken to her bed for a month after Zenos’s burial, but Leila wasn’t the sort of girl to weep or talk of lost dreams. Or were there secrets she didn’t dare divulge?

  In my secret dreams, I wished that Leila had been betrothed to Horeb. I would hand him over without a second thought!

  Brasia sipped at her tea. “Judith must be so grateful to have Horeb. The clan leadership will remain intact even with Zenos gone. Especially when your father has no sons that could come forward for Abimelech to adopt for tribal prince. But at least there are daughters like you to unite with Horeb and keep the families and the tribe together. As long as the Maachathites and the Ammonites don’t join together to destroy us.”

  I nodded, my lips straining to keep up my smile. I’d never paid much attention to tribal politics, but with my new position, I supposed I’d have to learn.

  “Listen to me talking such gloom!” Brasia said with a laugh. “Not on your special night, Jayden. And Horeb is so handsome,” she added. “Truly, he inherited all the looks in his family. I’ve always thought so.”

  “So do all the girls!” another girl interrupted, listening to our talk.

  I flinched, knowing I needed to be careful of every ear in the room and what I said—or didn’t say.

  Hands and arms squeezed me, happy and envious as their fingers pressed into mine. A giggle came from behind. “I wish my father was a relative of Horeb. It’s just pure chance that out of all the girls you will get him for yourself.”

  I gave a faint laugh, my face beginning to hurt. “Yes, lucky me.”

  “That’s the problem with betrothals when we’re children,” someone else added. “Nobody gets to chase the most coveted man in the tribe.”

  I shifted my legs and rose, unable to listen anymore. “I’ll get some more hot tea.”

  “Sit down, Jayden,” Hakak told me from the other side of the circle. “We are the ones to wait on you, like the princess you are. You only get a betrothal celebration once in your lifetime.”

  “But I love to serve, and I need to stretch my legs,” I said, moving quickly out of the room. When I passed my mother, her eyes flickered to me, and I wondered if she sensed that I was ill at ease.

  “It’s time to give my gift to Jayden,” she announced, gazing at me as though relaying a message. “But I was in such a rush I left it back at our tent. Jayden, would you please retrieve my alabaster box? The chest is beside the baskets I packed this morning.”

  I smiled and nodded. A rush of love for my mother spread through my heart. She knew my discomfort and was sending me out for a moment of relief. “Of course, Mother. I’ll be right back.”

  Before anyone could stop me, I set down the tea tray and flew through Aunt Judith’s door into the night.

  2

  Laughter followed me as I ran along the path back to my own family’s tent. I breathed in the cool, clean air as I jumped over saltbushes and skirted around a small hillock of sand, passing several black-and-white goat-hair tents. Hobbled camels muttered to one another in the distance.

  Close to my tent, I slowed, taking in the night, which was starkly beautiful under a canopy of jeweled stars. I savored my moments of freedom, which were marred by the realization that it was dripping away day by day.

  A moment later, I spied the clansmen seated around the hearth fire. My toes curled into the dirt when I realized I had to go directly past them to get back to the safety of the women’s quarters. While the women had their celebration, the men gathered at another tent to talk and drink their own strong coffee. I remembered the days when I was small and I’d curl up under my father’s cloak to rest my head on his knee and fall asleep to the sound of their deep voices.

  The sizzle of coffee beans roasting in the skillet floated across the still air. Cups clinked on a tray as my father passed them around the circle. The aroma of roasted brew spiced with cardamom seeped into the night.

  As I tried to slip past, Horeb’s eyes caught mine. Firelight flickered over his face, outlining his jaw and wind-tangled black hair. He was devastatingly handsome just as all the girls said, but his lips curled into a smile that sent shudders down my spine.

  Horeb’s glance lingered on my body, settling not on my face, but lower, as if he was undressing me right there on the dirt path.

  His eyes locking onto mine, Horeb rose from the circle of men. I jerked around, breaking off his stare. Walking faster, I turned the corner of the tent just as his arm reached out to stop me.

  “So, little cousin,” Horeb said. “Have you been enjoying the betrothal ceremony? Tell me, are the women recounting stories of marital relations?”

  My breath caught like a thorn in my throat. The women’s ceremonies were not discussed with any male—only inside the privacy of a marriage bed.

  “You shouldn’t be saying these things to me.”

  Running his fingers down my arm, Horeb continued to study me. “There are so many things I’d like to say to you, Jayden. Do to you.”

  There used to be a time when my throat pounded every time Horeb turned in my direction. A time when he was growing into those big, dark eyes and that hard, muscular body. Moments when I wanted to touch his thick, black hair, or run my finger along his jaw to discover what a boy’s skin felt like with a newly growing beard. But now that I was sixteen, and he twenty, his stares made me uneasy. My heart still pounded, but not from love. And I wasn’t sure what it was or what to call it.

  Wary of the strength in Horeb’s hands, I bit my lips. The fire crackled behind me, and I could hear the men’s low murmurs. My father and Uncle Abimelech wouldn’t mind Horeb talking to me, but they wouldn’t let it go on too long.

  “Better to get to know each other before the wedding day,” my father always said. “As long as you’re in sight of other members of your family.”

  I lifted my chin, pretending I was Leila, who never worried about what to say. “You used to call me a whipping stick.”

  “I did? You were probably only nine years old.”

  “And you said my nose was big enough to scare a scorpion.”

  He laughed now, as if pleased with his creative insults—and still his gaze did not leave me. “A few months from now we will be wed,” he said, his voice dropping. “You will be queen of our tribe. How fortunate for you and me.”

  “What are you saying? Our fortunes have only grown because Zenos was killed. An event we all still mourn.”

  “Zenos was never a great warrior.” His voice grew stony. “A daydreamer who empathized with our enemies when we needed to make sure they didn’t return to their wives and children.”

  A cold chill seeped through my bones. “How can you speak so cavalierly about your own brother? Zenos died a hero.”

  His face steeled, an expression I’d seen more often since that tragic war with the Maachathites. “You are ignorant, Jayden. What do you know of war and raids?” he hissed.

  Questions ran unheeded through my mind. “But didn’t you say upon your return that Zenos died while you were scouting ahead as spies?” As soon as I spoke the words, I wanted to take them back. I was questioning his skill as a warrior and his courage.

  Horeb’s voice was low and fierce. “I barely managed to escape certain death myself on that ill-fated raid. Which was fortunate. What if my parents had lost both of us? I did what I had to do.”

  There was something he wasn’t admitting. “Tell me what happened that day, Horeb,” I urged. Perhaps it was evil on my part to suspect that Horeb ran away and left Zenos to die. That he was a coward. War was harsh. Who was I to judge?

  Horeb bent over me, his expression hardening. “I advise you never to speak of it. As my wife and queen, you are expected to fully support my decisions—in everything.”

  We stared at each other and I couldn’t stop myself from remembering the many times Horeb insisted on winning over Zenos in their games and warrior training while grow
ing up. There was also the particular incident when Zenos had pinned him to the ground and Horeb, at twelve, had actually burst out in tears.

  I was the only witness that day, accidentally coming upon the brothers as I was delivering sewing items to Aunt Judith.

  Horeb told me he would slit my throat if I ever told another person.

  My eyes flickered and Horeb grabbed my arm as though seeing the memory in my face. I swallowed hard, wondering if he’d hurt me now. To deflect him, I quickly added, “Zenos was like an older brother, kind and thoughtful. I deeply regret his untimely death.”

  “Let’s not speak of the dead any longer,” Horeb said, softening his voice. “Our tribe is moving forward, moving toward our marriage and a new leadership.” Before I could speak again, Horeb bent over me and ran his hand down my neck, not stopping when his fingers reached my chest.

  I jerked backward, stunned. “What are you doing?”

  His eyes were black and intense on mine. “A little taste before the wedding, Jayden?”

  “You’re mad. And rude.” Pushing him away, I raced for the back door of my tent, hearing his laughter and hoping he wouldn’t follow me.

  When I yanked the door in place, I sank to my knees before the wooden chest in the corner, trying to catch my breath. Was Horeb’s behavior normal for a betrothed couple? Perhaps I was the rude one by not allowing him to touch me, since tonight it was official? Nobody had talked about this part of betrothal. I’d always assumed any physical affection was strictly for the marriage bed. For a moment, I tried to picture kissing Horeb and then stopped, not wanting to imagine it. I realized more and more that I did not want him, and the knowledge left a bitter taste in my mouth.

  I lifted the lid of my mother’s chest and found the green, luminescent box lying underneath a stack of white linen. The box was the most beautiful thing my mother owned. A wedding gift from my father, purchased from a merchant in the grand city of Akabah. Holding it close, I ran back to Aunt Judith’s tent, careful to stay as far from the men’s circle as possible.

  The scent of perfume and sugared sweets was even stronger now and the chatter of the women at high volume. I clenched my shaking hands and banished Horeb’s encounter from my mind. Besides, I still had to dance my solo and that was more than enough to terrify me.

  My mother pressed a hand to her belly as if the baby kicked her. “Yes, yes, Jayden, bring it quickly.” Lifting the lid, she took out a small package wrapped in thick cloth and gave it to me. “A gift, my daughter, to celebrate the crossing of this important threshold.”

  Sitting at her feet, I unfolded the corners of the linen cloth. Stunning jewelry glittered in the fire’s light—silver armbands, earrings, and a matching necklace with intricate workings like lace. My cousins and aunt crowded closer and I heard oohs and ahhs echoing around the fire.

  “Oh, Mother, where did you get this?”

  She smiled. “A year ago I found a silversmith in the seaside market and purchased them, waiting for your special day.”

  The necklace was a delicate drapery of silver strands and coins. Two bracelets, one for each arm, boasted etchings of flowers and leaves and stars. The earrings were hanging domes of needle-thin strands of silver, with tiny blue and amber beads woven throughout.

  “Your next jewelry will be the gifts your husband gives you on your wedding day.”

  I must have scowled because my mother laughed and smoothed my brow with her finger. “When the time comes, you’ll be ready, my sweet daughter.” She gazed at me more closely, gently cupping my chin and speaking softly. “You will be happy, Jayden. I promise. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

  My throat tightened with tears and I willed my eyes not to spill over. I couldn’t disappoint my parents. I wanted to do what was right, but inside I was miserable. I couldn’t please my family and find happiness and love with Horeb, too. I couldn’t do both.

  My mother whispered, her dark eyes looking deep into mine, “Shall we talk more tomorrow?”

  I swallowed hard and nodded, clinging to the chance to tell her my feelings.

  Next to me, Leila reached out to examine the jewelry, picking each piece up in her fingers. “Hurry up and put them on!”

  I slapped her hand away. “Don’t touch them.”

  She sniffed. “Aren’t you selfish tonight?”

  Hakak spoke, her voice light. “Jayden gets to be wonderfully selfish. It’s her special night.”

  My mother smiled at me again, and I looked into her black eyes: pools of still, shining water. I’d heard stories of my mother’s beauty as a young girl and the bride price my father had paid for her. He’d once told me that I was favoring her more each passing day, but that wasn’t completely true. I hadn’t inherited my mother’s beautiful, womanly body. I was thinner and taller, and my aunts said I had skinny arms. Just like Horeb had always told me. But when I peeked at myself in a piece of shiny copper or the oasis waters, my eyes were as black and deep as my mother’s, and I had the same high cheekbones.

  My mother picked up the necklace and wrapped it around my neck, fastening the clasp. “Here is the symbol of the evening star hugging a full moon, the sign of our clan. Your father and I had these made especially for you.”

  The necklace was a small weight against my breastbone, its layers of finely wrought chain lavish against my skin. My mother reached out to tuck my hair behind my ears while she inserted the earrings. Swinging my head, I felt them brush my neck. Last of all, she slipped the silver bracelets onto my arms. They fit perfectly.

  “Oh, Mother,” I said, overwhelmed. I embraced her and breathed in the smell of her clean hair and milky skin. “I’ll treasure this gift always, and never take them off.”

  She kissed me on both cheeks. “Tonight we celebrate you, Jayden.”

  My grandmother’s face turned sober. “From the beginning of time we have been taught about the God and Goddess. Divine, heavenly parents who created us and then passed along the seeds of creation to us.”

  Aunt Judith spoke up next. “We inherited the ability to give life and bring forth our own bounty—children.”

  “Rebekah will soon be blessed with another precious baby,” my grandmother said, nodding toward my mother. “Creating life is a dangerous journey for a woman, one fraught with potential perils. Our Goddess Mother knew she needed to give us safety between this earth and the invisible world of the dead. If not, a woman could die each time she tried to bring a new soul into the world. So our Mother gave us a dance to use—that would help save our lives.”

  My mother gave my hand a squeeze. “The dances of fertility and labor help us bring our babies safely from the spirit world into mortality. A physical gift to give our bodies strength to become mothers as she is our Mother.”

  “If we had a Mother Goddess so long ago,” Leila asked, “why do we only speak of the true and living God now?”

  I leaned over to pinch her. My sister absolutely could not keep her mouth shut.

  “That’s very simple,” my grandmother said. Her face glowed with the power of her wise soul and the many decades she had lived. “Because She is sacred. We celebrate Her divinity and purity and modesty. Our pureness must not be spoiled and dishonored.”

  My mother put an arm around me. “We also know that She once existed, and perhaps She still exists in a place we cannot see, but a realm where we will meet Her after death. To maintain this fragile relationship is the reason the daughters of the desert do not associate with the Temple of Ashtoreth. For all her claims of divinity, Ashtoreth is not our Mother Goddess. She is merely a symbol, and her likeness simply inanimate stone or marble. The temples are a place where womanhood and marriage have become desecrated.”

  “So true,” Aunt Judith murmured with a hard look at Leila. “Any desert woman whose daughter runs away to become a temple priestess is to be pitied.”

  “But aren’t any of you curious to see inside the temples?” Leila asked. “To know what they do when they dance?”

  Mother
looked at Leila pointedly as though to shush her, but my sister ignored her and tossed her hair. Someone else snickered.

  “It’s what happens after they dance that tribal girls shun,” Hakak said demurely.

  “Everyone speaks in riddles,” Leila said defensively, staring around the tent. “Just come out and tell us.”

  My sister’s questions were my own. I wondered what happened there, too. “How is the dance turned into something wrong at the temples?” I asked softly, afraid the women would laugh at me for my ignorance.

  Dinah pushed into the conversation with her loud, insufferable voice. “It’s what the dance leads up to. First, they wear dresses so sheer it shows off their naked bodies underneath, just to lure men in off the streets. Then the temple priestesses perform the Sacred Marriage Rite. They offer their bodies to the priests of Ba’al and the men of Tadmur so they can partake of divinity with the Goddess.”

  I gulped and Leila hid a smile behind her hand.

  “Is that true?” I asked, comprehension dawning on me as the room tittered with nervous laughter.

  “That’s enough, Dinah,” my grandmother said firmly, her eyes roaming the room, aware of the younger girls who sat in their mothers’ laps.

  “It’s a sham,” Dinah went on. “For gold and jewels, the women of the temple pretend they’re married for one night—with the priests or even strangers in the city—”

  My mother quickly interrupted her. “There now, we’ve had a marvelous lesson on our eternal and sacred Goddess roots. It’s time to welcome my precious Jayden into the circle of women.”

  She kissed the top of my head, causing the new earrings to jingle in the sudden quiet. Bursts of relieved laughter broke the tension. Beads of sweat had broken out across my mother’s forehead and her face drooped with exhaustion. Perhaps she was just sitting too close to the fire.

  “And now, Jayden, we’ll help you prepare for the day you will take your husband. He will adore you as you care for the babies you will have together.”

  “Mother,” I said, and the tent burst into laughter. My cheeks burned, but a cold dread pushed deep into my belly.