Crown in the Stars

by Kacy Barnett-Gramckow

  “It is also obvious that our citizens love you far more than they love me or anyone else, except your Lady-Mother—who will soon squander their affections. Certainly you should govern here.” Ra-Anan took another sip from the shining cup.

  You are taunting me.

  Before Adoniyram could say anything, Ra-Anan put down his cup, severe. “Now, unlike you, I do wish to discuss Shoshannah. She is, for a while at least, a member of my household. For her sake—and for yours—I ask you to treat her respectfully; I want no scandals.”

  “There will be no scandals, Uncle.” Unless they involve you or Lord Kuwsh or my foolish mother. But his animosity swiftly faded against his frustrations and concerns. Not long ago, Adoniyram had believed he could gain power and challenge Ra-Anan and Lord Kuwsh. Now, bound by their edicts, wondering if his life might be cut off before theirs, and shaken by this fresh knowledge of his own clouded heritage, he felt almost defeated. Ra-Anan, in particular, would control him.

  This is what you wanted, isn’t it, Master? he asked Ra-Anan in bitter silence. You have me in your fist. How can I break free without killing you?

  Another thought occurred to him then: Shoshannah might know whatever else Ra-Anan was hiding from him. We’re going to have another talk, Adoniyram decided. As soon as I leave this place.

  Followed by Demamah—and closely watched by Perek—Shoshannah led Ma’khole into the main courtyard. Whatever joy she felt at regaining her cherished mare was dashed by the sight of servants scrubbing sand over the bloodstained bricks in the courtyard.

  “Do you think they killed those men?” Shoshannah whispered to Demamah, fearful, as she untied her scuffed leather bag from Ma’khole’s back.

  “There would have been more blood, I’m sure,” Demamah replied beneath her breath, looking upset as she helped with the leather cords. Shoshannah longed to ask what might have happened to the unfortunate men, but Perek was almost beside them now, and she didn’t dare risk angering him. No doubt he was the one who had carried out the beating. He had been disgustingly self-satisfied when he had come to fetch Shoshannah and Demamah from the stable.

  Guarded by Perek, the two cousins exercised Ma’khole and groomed her until Adoniyram emerged from the house. He glanced up at the clouded sky, as if gauging it for rain. Then he approached Shoshannah and Demamah.

  “Since our hunt has been ruined, come ride with me. Our Master Ra-Anan gave his permission, as long as Perek accompanies us.” Looking askance at Ma’khole, Adoniyram told Shoshannah, “You’ll need a horse—not

  that.”

  Defensive, Shoshannah said, “Don’t insult Ma’khole. My father gave her to me.”

  “Oh? Why does he—a trained guardsman—allow you to ride this pretty toy?”

  “Because she’s safe, as my father intended. And she’s not a toy; I love her.”

  “You would.” Adoniyram beckoned two of his own guardsmen. To Shoshannah’s frustration, Adoniyram sent Ma’khole back to the stable, instructing the attendant-guardsmen to return with “proper” creatures. As they waited, Adoniyram said, “Don’t sulk; if we race, I’m sure you’d want to beat me. That little mare wouldn’t have a chance.”

  He was right. Worse, Shoshannah realized, if she intended to escape, her chances would be improved if she had a faster animal; she would have to leave Ma’khole here in the Great City. The thought made her ill.

  Adoniyram noticed her distress. “Are you still angry with me for insulting you earlier? Don’t be. I regret it.”

  Distracted by his apology, she blinked, amazed. “Really? But you should hate me after everything I’ve said.”

  “At least you tell me the truth.”

  Shoshannah grimaced. “Sometimes I think lying would be easier.” Worried, she added, “I hope you’ll be well… after what I’ve told you.”

  Almost inaudibly, he said, “I dread meeting my mother again. I’m rarely surprised by anything she does, but to abandon her husband and infant son…”

  Listening to his vulnerably soft admission only intensified Shoshannah’s uneasiness. He was beguiling. Almost as appealing as her dear Kaleb. She studied her scraped leather boots, at a loss for words. Demamah’s slender sandaled feet approached her now, and Shoshannah was grateful for the interruption.

  Meekly, eyeing Perek, who lingered nearby, Demamah spoke quietly to Adoniyram. “I asked Shoshannah’s forgiveness earlier, and she forgave me. I’m asking yours now. I regret that our parents have made it impossible for us to trust each other.”

  Adoniyram gave Demamah a careful, thoughtful look, then murmured, “I say we should be more sociable and truthful whenever we can. Also, if certain matters are too dangerous for words, then perhaps we should understand one another in silence.”

  Demamah relaxed visibly, as if a terrible burden had been lifted from her shoulders. Shoshannah was glad that they were negotiating with each other after separate lifetimes of mistrust.

  Giving Demamah a teasing nudge, Shoshannah said, “I’m sure you two were ridiculous, quarreling children. Your wild cousins in the mountains wouldn’t have put up with you if we’d grown up together.”

  “Oh?” Adoniyram grinned suddenly, seeming fascinated. “What would they have done to us?”

  “They’d have tossed you into a cold lake or a snow heap, depending upon the season—and they still might.” Shoshannah’s mood brightened as she imagined Adoniyram being pitched headlong into a bank of snow; she couldn’t help smiling.

  “Well,” Demamah said lightly, “since there’s no snow or lake here, then I’m sure we are perfectly safe, and we can enjoy our morning together.”

  “Shall we ride to the river?” Adoniyram suggested, as his attendant-guardsmen returned with a sandy horse for Demamah and a tawny-brown horse for Shoshannah.

  Studying the lackluster beast fretfully, Shoshannah said, “I think you just want to throw me into the river for revenge.”

  “I don’t. Yet.” As he spoke, Adoniyram’s expression darkened, slipping into gloom. “Perhaps I should throw myself in.”

  “Don’t say such a thing!” Demamah protested, alarmed.

  Knowing she had caused his despair, Shoshannah winced. “You wouldn’t try to drown yourself, would you?”

  “They’d rescue me,” Adoniyram muttered, tilting his head toward his guardsmen.

  “Then they’d blame me.” Shoshannah raised her voice as Perek drew nearer. “And, no doubt, Perek would beat me.”

  “I will, Daughter of Keren,” Perek growled. He motioned her toward the tawny horse and “helped” her onto it roughly, causing the creature to sidestep skittishly, which agitated Demamah’s horse.

  Shoshannah quickly guided her horse away from Demamah’s, to prevent a small skirmish. Obviously fearing the same thing, Adoniyram and his guardsmen hurried outside the gate to their own horses. Now, unexpectedly, the ruddy, pert little maidservant, Ormah, rushed from the house to Demamah, saying, “I’ve been sent to accompany you.” She flashed a cold look at Shoshannah, as if blaming her.

  Another enemy, Shoshannah thought, resigned. She waited as Perek helped Ormah up to ride behind Demamah, then guided Shoshannah’s horse after his, outside the gate.

  Adoniyram was waiting and nodded as soon as he saw Shoshannah. “Perhaps we should ride to the tower instead. Have you seen it yet?”

  “How could I not see such a mountain of brick?” Shoshannah asked, keeping her voice down, knowing Perek would slap her for being rude to Adoniyram.

  Adoniyram looked mildly exasperated. “Let me say this more clearly: I’m sure you haven’t climbed the tower and visited the new temple yet. We’ll go there instead of the river.”

  To Shoshannah’s distress, Adoniyram edged Demamah and Perek away, forcing them to trail behind as they rode along the wide paved market street. Demamah seemed to not mind, but Perek and Ormah would probably report this insult to Ra-Anan and Zeva’ah. Ormah had raised her pretty eyebrows, and Perek scowled, displeased.

  Some of the men in the marke
tplace also looked displeased, but many of the women exhaled squeals and jubilant cries of welcome to Adoniyram—and to Shoshannah. “Son of Heaven…”

  “He’s riding with our Lady—she’s been welcomed again.”

  “She’s returned to us!”

  They’re confusing me with my I’ma, Shoshannah thought, dismayed. She cast a nervous glance at Adoniyram. He was smiling, seeming guileless, but watching the citizens and listening to their reactions. “You planned this, O Son of Heaven,” Shoshannah muttered, fuming.

  He answered with a mock-innocent shrug. She longed for the strength to toss him off his horse. Instead, she suggested sarcastically, “Perhaps we should go to the river later.”

  “Behave or we will, Cousin.”

  Now Shoshannah suspected that Adoniyram had merely pretended to consider killing himself earlier to gain her sympathy. He was too smug and proud to want to die. She pointedly ignored him for the remainder of their ride through the Great City.

  At the end of the broad market street, they rode across a wide bitumen-coated wooden bridge. Shoshannah was alarmed by the clatter of their horses’ hooves over the bridge, and by the silted depths of the canal waters below. Just beyond this unsettling overpass, they entered the gates of the wall-enclosed lands surrounding the tower. Shoshannah stared upward at the structure, amazed. How could mere humans build such a would-be mountain? O Most High, she thought, why do they even want such a thing?

  Rebellion… contempt… rejection … The words came to her like tiny currents in the breeze. Was she imagining Him in those dejected words? She shivered, staring at the tower, unable to calculate the sheer numbers of bricks and years it had taken to build to such heights—it seemed to threaten the sky.

  Frowning, she asked Adoniyram, “Why do they pour all their strength and time into this tower?”

  “You’ve said the very word: strength. Through this tower, we show our domination of the earth. Also, the citizens will give their devotions to our Shemesh in the temple above.” He was unexpectedly quiet, causing her to stare at him. Did he question the wisdom of building such an astounding structure? Meeting her gaze then, he grinned disarmingly, his quick-changing nature again taking her by surprise.

  “Let’s go up inside; perhaps we can startle some of the priests awake.” Turning, he called out, “Perek, guard the horses. Ormah, stay at least ten paces behind us.”

  Perek glowered ominously, and Ormah eyed the endless stairs with poorly concealed dread. Demamah, however, dismounted willingly, gracefully, with the help of a guardsman. She gave Shoshannah a look that begged her to humor Adoniyram.

  Submitting reluctantly, Shoshannah dropped gracelessly to the brick-paved ground, fearing Perek might “help” her. Demamah looked scandalized, but Adoniyram smiled and shook his head. “You behave like a little boy.”

  “So do you,” Shoshannah argued beneath her breath. “Though I’ll be completely dignified now.”

  “Be sure you are. It would be foolish to offend Rab-Mawg and his priests.”

  Don’t worry; I haven’t forgotten that men like your “priests” tried to kill my mother. Apprehensive, she smoothed her garments and followed Adoniyram up the high, wide stairs that angled sharply up the sides of the tower.

  “Who is Rab-Mawg?” she asked Demamah as they neared the top of the first level.

  “Our chief magician,” Demamah whispered. Even more softly, she added, “Father says Rab-Mawg is young and impatient, but very… acute. Please, weigh everything you tell him—several times.”

  “What are you whispering?” Adoniyram demanded, pausing, then descending a step to join them. “More secrets?”

  Quickly Shoshannah explained, “She was telling me to think carefully before speaking to Rab-Mawg. And I intend to.”

  “Good,” Adoniyram murmured, studying her closely. “And what you don’t tell him, you will tell me.”

  “Do you think I’m keeping other secrets from you, Cousin?”

  “Are you?”

  “None that I know of.”

  “That’s reassuring,” he said. But he didn’t sound convinced. He started up the stairs again. Shoshannah glared after him, aggravated.

  Tugging her arm, Demamah gave Shoshannah a pleading look. Shoshannah nodded reluctantly. In unison, they started up the endless stairs, with Ormah following them at a distance. When Shoshannah looked back down at her, the countless steps seemed to merge together; the effect was dizzying.

  Catching her attention, Demamah said, “Father insists we should be reverent when we climb all these stairs… to calm our minds before entering the temple above.” There was a softness in her voice and in her dark eyes that made Shoshannah stare.

  “Just now, you sounded so much like our I’ma-Annah. You even looked like her. But she would detest this place.”

  Adoniyram heard and turned suddenly, almost wrathfully. “If you say anything like that up there in the temple, Shoshannah, you’ll be thrown off the edge of the terrace to your death! Is that what you want?”

  She halted on the steps, shocked. “No, of course not. Forgive me. I won’t say anything else until we leave. Except… why are you so determined to bring me here?”

  “I’m asking myself the same question.” He resumed climbing.

  Is he trying to decide if I should live or die? she wondered, furiously irreverent. O Son of Heaven, quit tormenting me; make up your human mind!

  With Demamah still clasping her arm, she followed him to the top of the stairs. The uppermost walls protecting the terrace were low and unfinished; Shoshannah resolved to stay away from them. But she lingered, inspecting the numerous small, pampered, mostly dormant trees and plants. The terrace had been coated with bitumen to seal it against the water used to irrigate the mulched, brick-enclosed gardens. Several roughly clothed young men were laboring in a far corner with bricks, slime, and sand, apparently building the foundations of another raised garden.

  Gently, as if speaking of normal things could erase Adoniyram’s threat, Demamah said, “The trees will be lovely this summer.”

  I pray I won’t be here to see them, Shoshannah thought. But she nodded, determined to remain silent.

  Adoniyram beckoned them toward the unfinished temple. As Shoshannah reached him, he said, “Remember, say nothing unless I permit it.”

  Again she nodded and lowered her eyes, pretending meekness. The pretense vanished as soon as she entered the chilling, lavish temple. Gold, polished stone, and rare gems glimmered at her from every direction, illuminated by deftly placed oil lamps, which heightened the mysterious, humbling aura of this place. And its inhabitants, the priests, added to this daunting impression.

  They all looked the same to her, brown, blade thin, with dark, glittering eyes, shaven heads, and smooth faces, all wearing pale single-shouldered woolen robes and sandals. One of them wore a leopard-skin mantle and stared at Shoshannah, unblinking as any predator.

  Rab-Mawg, Shoshannah guessed, looking down swiftly as he approached. She understood why Adoniyram and Demamah had warned her against him. Young as he was, Rab-Mawg was fierce. Extreme. And focused on her.

  “This is her daughter?” he asked Adoniyram, his voice unexpectedly soft.

  Watchful, cautious, Adoniyram agreed. “Yes.”

  As Shoshannah glanced at her cousin involuntarily, Rab-Mawg suddenly flashed a hand toward her throat. Something thin, cool, and sharp rested just below her jaw. Shoshannah froze. Years of dealing with unexpected teasing shocks from Kaleb and her younger brothers had finally taught her to stand still, hiding her inward turmoil.

  As Demamah gasped, Adoniyram stepped closer, warning, “Don’t hurt her.”

  “I won’t,” Rab-Mawg told him. But to Shoshannah, he murmured, “I’ve heard that your mother didn’t retreat when our He-Who-Lifts-the-Skies put a knife to her throat. I see you are the same.”

  And I see you are insane.

  Rab-Mawg continued, “I was also told that your mother pledged herself—on her own life—to thi
s temple. And she hasn’t fulfilled her vows. Perhaps our Shemesh has brought you to us in her place. I believe you should receive the sacrifices and offerings she should have received… or be one instead.”

  Unable to move, Shoshannah prayed she would escape alive. He lowered the knife, smiled politely, and stepped away. Demamah hurried to Shoshannah’s side as Rab-Mawg talked to Adoniyram. The rest of Shoshannah’s visit to the temple was lost in a haze of terror. She said nothing.

  For five days, Shoshannah hid pieces of bread and dried meat and fruits in a bundle within her bedding. For five nights, she arose in the predawn darkness, feigning visits to the privy, allowing Demamah to become used to her early wanderings. She “carelessly” left her belongings and weapons in Demamah’s courtyard but otherwise behaved perfectly. And she studied the tree in the courtyard, thinking of her mother. Of I’ma-Annah.

  Before the sixth dawn, after the dreadful confrontation with Rab-Mawg, Shoshannah pretended to visit the privy again. But this time, she took her stash of food and went into Demamah’s little courtyard.

  Stealthily she tied her belongings and weapons together, climbed the tree beside the wall, lowered her belongings down the outside wall with a leather cord, then tied a thicker leather cord to a branch and struggled down the wall, shaking with fear. Halfway down, the cord snapped. Shoshannah landed hard in the dirt, gasping and bruised.

  Recovering, praying she hadn’t been heard, she snatched up her belongings and sped off in the darkness toward the stables.

  Nine

  HER HEART THUDDING, Shoshannah set down her weapons and crept into the dark, manure-scented stables. Where were the guards? She waited and listened. Rasping snores sounded from two areas: a stall to her far left, and the opposite corner behind stacks of bundled hay.

  Let there only be two guards, she begged the Most High silently. And let them continue to sleep.

  As her eyes adjusted to the dimness, Shoshannah noiselessly lifted a bridle and reins from one of the pegs by the door, then slipped over to the nearest stall. Be good, she thought to the horse, judging its size, offering a dried date. The creature breathed lightly into her hand, nipped up the fruit, then cooperated as she worked the toughened leather bit into its mouth and fastened the bridle. Stroking the horse coaxingly, she opened the reed gate to its stall and led it outside.