Crown in the Stars

by Kacy Barnett-Gramckow

  “No. He touched only the horse’s mane.” Adoniyram’s dangerous tone and cutting stare took Shoshannah’s breath away. She had to remind herself not to look back at Kaleb for help. Recovering, she stammered, “I-I’m well. Truly.”

  “You don’t look well.”

  “I was shocked. He was offering ‘protection against all misfortunes.’”

  “Why is that so shocking?” Adoniyram relaxed now, shaking his head at her. “There’s nothing wrong with protecting yourself against misfortunes.”

  “He had marks beneath his skin, and scars. They looked horrible.”

  “Oh, those.” Adoniyram was dismissive of her ignorance. “Certain tribes cut patterns into their skin, then rub them with powders to dye them. When the marks heal, the dyes remain.”

  More at ease now, Shoshannah argued quietly, “But dyes won’t protect you against misfortune. Only the Most High can do that—and sometimes we have to struggle through difficulties to learn.”

  “Then that shows your Most High’s cruelty,” Adoniyram interrupted, smiling.

  Offended by his derision, Shoshannah said, “The Most High isn’t cruel; we are. I think you’re looking for reasons to turn against Him. If He were truly horrible, Cousin, we wouldn’t exist. The Great Flood would have destroyed us all. But He loves us—He longs to protect us.”

  “As He has protected you thus far?”

  “Perhaps He has protected me and we don’t realize it.”

  “I’ve protected you,” Adoniyram said.

  “And you’re supposed to ignore me in public. Go away.”

  “But who will protect you if I go?”

  Now he was flirting with her. She had to discourage him. Kal would notice.

  “Lady,” a woman called from alongside the street ahead.

  Shoshannah looked. Several young matrons with dark, tapering braids and lavish shawls were clustered together.

  One of them nudged another, who held an infant. “Will you honor her child?”

  “I’m no one here,” Shoshannah started to say, but the shawl-swathed mother quickly lifted her baby toward Shoshannah. A newborn. Moved with longing, Shoshannah halted her plodding horse and accepted the baby, cuddling it gratefully. She kissed the newborn’s forehead, stared into its soft eyes, then returned it safely to the proud mother. “Thank you. What a beautiful child.”

  Jolted unexpectedly, Shoshannah turned to see Adoniyram riding ahead, leading her horse by the bridle. “Adoniyram…”

  He looked back at her, raising an eyebrow. “Now I’ll have to agree with my mother when she complains that you’re stupid and trying to take over her kingdom.”

  “I can’t take her ‘kingdom’ if I’m truly stupid, can I? Tell her that I just want to go back to my family. Please, Adoniyram, let me guide my own horse, and you can ignore me for the rest of the day.”

  Bowing his head in taunting silence, Adoniyram released her horse. But he looked pleased.

  Attended by Ormah and Perek, Shoshannah wandered onto the rain-dampened terrace. Her lesson was finished and she wanted to leave, but her uncle and Lord Kuwsh were talking with several tradesmen in a far corner of the terrace, gesturing broadly, raising images of the tower’s ever-increasing future levels. Adoniyram waited nearby, arms crossed, looking as bored as Shoshannah felt. Kaleb, meanwhile, was near the stairs, long spear in hand, clearly on guard duty. There was no chance of speaking with him.

  Sighing, Shoshannah retreated to the moist garden area, studying the raised bricked beds, dormant shrubs, and young trees. To her dismay, Adoniyram followed her, motioning Ormah and Perek back.

  “I’m here to protect you again,” he teased softly.

  Resisting his flirtatious overtones, she argued in a whisper, “That’s what you believe. I say that the Most High has directed you to guard me.”

  Adoniyram grimaced, as if her opinion was ridiculous. “He hasn’t spoken to me.”

  “Then you can’t be the Promised One. But that wasn’t what I meant; I think the Most High has caused you to help me, whether you realize it or not.”

  “No, I’ve made all my decisions for myself,” the Young Lord argued, unnervingly serious. Leaning toward her, he murmured, “That brings me to another thought: What if I am the Promised One?”

  “You aren’t, O Son of Nimr-Rada.”

  Hesitant, his words a mere hair thread of sound, Adoniyram breathed, “Tell no one: I’m not the Great King’s son.”

  Shoshannah felt all the blood ebbing from her face. She could hardly speak. Was he serious? “Whose son are you, then?”

  “Perhaps a son of Arpakshad.”

  She stared at him for a long instant and decided he was challenging her. “You don’t know that.” “You don’t know that I’m not.”

  Remembering the stories of her childhood, learned during happy evenings spent with the Ancient Noakh and I’ma-Naomi, Shoshannah said, “I was taught that we will recognize the Promised One by his unfailing love and obedience toward the Most High. You don’t love the Most High; you cannot be the Promised One.”

  “What if I should turn to the Most High?”

  Again she stared at him, amazed, doubtful. “Will you?”

  He smiled charmingly. “You don’t know that either, do you?”

  “You’re mocking me.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  She wished he were.

  Perek approached now, beckoning her. Lord Kuwsh and Master Ra-Anan were preparing to depart.

  Adoniyram chided himself silently, riding behind Ra-Anan and Kuwsh through the city. Twice today he had broken his own resolution to avoid speaking to Shoshannah in public.

  Not wise. And perhaps I said more than I should. Now I will see if she can keep my secrets.

  Prodding his horse forward, he joined Lord Kuwsh and Ra-Anan, who were still arguing about how to proceed with building the tower and the temple. But listening to them quarrel over paints, pillars, and stairs, while he tried to suggest his Lady-Mother’s preferences as she had instructed, had been dull work today. How could he concentrate after speaking with Shoshannah and, earlier, watching her embrace that baby? He had imagined her holding his own child.

  Dangerous.

  Willfully Adoniyram subdued those thoughts, which might remain only thoughts if all his plans ended in disaster. He also had to deal with Shoshannah’s belief that he wasn’t the Promised One. Is she right? he wondered, looking up at the clouded skies.

  You don’t love the Most High; you cannot be the Promised One.

  Could he trust or believe in a God who had probably foreshortened his own life, as Shoshannah had said?

  A voice seemed to whisper at the back of his mind, But if Shemesh is your god, you must ask the same question of him.

  Adoniyram considered this, surprised. He felt as if this new thought was whispered by a teacher who was reasoning with him kindly, telling him to be fair.

  “You’ve been talking with her quite a bit today,” Kuwsh observed, startling Adoniyram into the present.

  Composing himself, Adoniyram smiled sardonically to convince Lord Kuwsh that he was annoyed with Shoshannah. “Earlier, on our way to the tower, she was upset by marks that trader had carved in his arm. I persuaded her that they were nothing. Then she had to hold some merchant wife’s baby—did you see her? We must convince her to behave more cautiously in public. Otherwise my mother will take offense.”

  Kuwsh glowered at this, casting a dark look at Ra-Anan.

  Coolly, Ra-Anan said, “I will speak with Shoshannah tonight.”

  Adoniyram maintained a perfect, disinterested mask. But he warned Shoshannah in his thoughts, If you reveal my secrets to our enemies, beloved, then you won’t deserve my protection in the future. Prove to me that you can be cautious.

  Shoshannah tried to remain calm as Ra-Anan scolded her after the evening meal.

  “If you insist on resuming your mother’s tradition of openly honoring every baby who’s offered to you, Shoshannah, then you must unders
tand that you will cause Lord Kuwsh to turn against you.”

  Softly, severely, Zeva’ah added, “You will also provoke our Queen of the Heavens. She’s already threatened to kill you. Do you understand how serious this is?”

  “Yes, Aunt.” Aware of Demamah’s subtle, tense concern, Shoshannah suggested hopefully, “Perhaps Demamah should accompany me whenever I go out into the streets. She can accept the babies and everyone will be satisfied. She would enjoy it, wouldn’t you, Demamah?”

  “Of course, but not if my parents are against the idea,” Demamah agreed, worried.

  Zeva’ah shrugged and glanced at Ra-Anan for his opinion.

  “I have no objections. Yet.” Ra-Anan frowned at Shoshannah. “What were you talking about with Adoniyram today?”

  “I’m sorry I delayed you this morning, Uncle; forgive me. We were discussing that peddler’s arm; it was covered with dark slashes. Adoniyram said that certain tribes cut themselves deliberately and rub dye into the cuts and—”

  “What else?” her uncle demanded, looking dangerous.

  Shoshannah squirmed uncomfortably. “Adoniyram was flirting with me. He said that he had to stay to protect me, but I told him I wanted him to just ignore me. Please, Uncle, can you speak to him? I don’t want anyone to talk and say things that aren’t true.”

  “If his behavior becomes inappropriate, yes. What else?”

  What else could she safely tell? Slowly, painfully, she said, “Adoniyram believes that the Most High is cruel, and that He isn’t protecting me, or anyone else.”

  His voice lowered, hard, Ra-Anan asked, “And do you still trust in the Most High?”

  Demamah stiffened beside her. Zeva’ah, too, seemed to be holding her breath.

  Looking her uncle in the eyes, Shoshannah answered softly, “Yes.”

  Ra-Anan stared at her as if she were manure scuffed into his clean house. “If you wish to live, child, you will not repeat this foolishness to anyone—particularly not to Rab-Mawg or our Lord Kuwsh. Now, leave the room.”

  Shoshannah hurried away, disgraced, but thankful the questions had stopped.

  Shoshannah looked up. Demamah entered the sleeping area, shaking her head, upset. “Father said that if he had struck you, he would not have been able to prevent himself from killing you. He asked me if I’ve been hiding things from him.” Demamah’s big eyes glimmered with tears. “I gave him my word that I wasn’t keeping information from him to protect you. At least not that information… confessing you still follow the Most High…”

  She sat beside Shoshannah on the makeshift bed now, staring at her, whispering, “Why did you say anything at all?”

  “It was the truth; he would have known if I was lying.”

  Demamah pushed a hand through her straight, glossy hair. “It would have been better to remain silent. Now he will suspect everything I say.”

  “I’m sorry.” Wondering, Shoshannah asked, “Is there anything to suspect of you?”

  Clearly unwilling to answer the question, Demamah changed the subject. “Why do you suppose your parents haven’t tried to rescue you from here? Surely they love you.”

  They are trying. But I’m not going to tell you that. Aloud, Shoshannah answered, “They do love me. But I’d rather die than have them risk their lives, and I’m sure they know it.”

  “You will die if you speak so foolishly again, defending your Most High.”

  Softly, Shoshannah asked, “Isn’t your Shemesh worth defending?”

  Demamah stared at her, silent.

  Alone in her ornate bedchamber, Sharah lifted a small, oval obsidian mirror and stared hard at her reflection in the mirror’s dark surface. Her makeup, skin, teeth, and hair were all perfectly groomed. She put the obsidian down and picked up a mirror of highly polished metal and frowned into her gleaming, now goldish-pink image. Still perfect.

  Restless, she thrust the mirror away and poured herself some wine. Perhaps she should have ridden out into the city today with Adoniyram. Attention from the citizens usually lifted her sense of gloom. She could have also prevented Adoniyram from speaking to that girl. And she could have taken that infant for herself, forbidding Shoshannah to accept the citizens’ adulation.

  You are scheming against me, she thought, frustrated. You’re stealing my son, and my citizens. I’m going to insist that Ra-Anan keep you hidden. If he doesn’t …

  A respectful cough interrupted her. She frowned. “What?”

  “Lady?” One of her maidservants approached timidly, her dark head bowed. “A woman has come to the gates with news of your family. She won’t talk to me but says that you will want to hear what she says.”

  Sharah was about to send the woman away unheard, but curiosity and boredom changed her mind. “Bring the woman to me, then leave. And don’t let me catch you listening!”

  As she waited, Sharah smoothed her expression deliberately and practiced a benevolent smile. If this woman was some fool with news of a cousin or something equally stupid, Sharah would send her away immediately. Hearing footsteps, Sharah flashed her practiced smile toward the entrance of her private rooms.

  A nondescript brown-skinned woman bowed toward her, then knelt shakily, obviously scared.

  Becoming irritated, Sharah said, “It’s late. Not a time I usually receive pleas from citizens.”

  Moistening her ashen lips, the woman whispered, “This is about Keren, your own sister, Lady. I saw her. Please believe me; there’s no mistake. I know where she is.”

  Sharah took in a breath, then exhaled, delighted. “Does anyone else know? If you’ve told anyone…”

  “My husband and children know. And my husband’s brother… who is married to your niece Yelahlah. But we’ve remained silent. We will also leave your city at once, if only you could give us the means to support ourselves as we try to return home. There were terrible floods on our lands this year, Lady…”

  Donning her generous, loving mother expression, Sharah said, “I’ll provide for your family this once. But I warn you: If I find out that you’ve lied, I will have you hunted down and punished. You and your family.”

  The woman’s brown eyes widened, terrified. “I’ll tell you the truth, Lady. And others are with her. Please, listen…”

  As the woman poured out names and descriptions in a muted monotone, Sharah listened, elated. This was news worth paying for, worth hiding. Worth celebrating. Ra-Anan and Kuwsh were going to have fits when she rubbed her victory in their smug faces. Laughing to herself, she hurried away to summon her guardsmen.

  Twenty-Two

  SHELTERED JUST INSIDE the doorway of Ra-Anan’s home, Shoshannah dropped her spindle into her lap and peered outside. As she watched, Adoniyram strode into the crowd of merchants and visitors seated in Ra-Anan’s busy courtyard and bowed graciously to Lord Kuwsh and Ra-Anan.

  “Look at him,” she murmured to Demamah. “Late and not caring a bit.”

  Kneeling beside her, Demamah stopped combing a puff of wool. “I hope he doesn’t upset Father.”

  Kaleb followed Adoniyram, his usual brisk walk now slow and measured. He positioned himself in a corner, cautiously eyeing everyone. Shoshannah was concerned by his unusual behavior but dared not look at him for too long; Demamah would notice. Reluctantly, she glanced toward the gate just as two trainers entered, guiding two of Adoniyram’s leashed leopards in their golden, jeweled collars.

  The sleek, showy, almost sacred leopards were reminders of Nimr-Rada, Adoniyram’s mighty hunter-“father,” and symbols of Adoniyram’s status in this kingdom. Everyone in the courtyard watched the leopards, unnerved. Kal, however, studied the pampered beasts as if he were planning how to stop them if they attacked anyone. Adoniyram merely smiled.

  If you hoped to disrupt this meeting, Adoniyram, then you’ve done it, Shoshannah thought. But what would all these merchants and visitors do if they realized that you’re not their revered Nimr-Rada’s son? She often wondered if he had been merely teasing her all those weeks ago. If it’s true,
then others must know …

  The Lady Sharah would know, of course. Lord Kuwsh, perhaps—he seemed indifferent to Adoniyram, not fond or watchful as a grandparent would be. However, Lord Kuwsh was usually indifferent to others. And if Adoniyram were not Nimr-Rada’s son, wouldn’t the proud Lord Kuwsh have denounced him at birth? Unless he had some selfish reason to keep Adoniyram alive… As for their Master Ra-Anan… Frowning, Shoshannah watched her uncle, trying to decide.

  Ra-Anan’s lips pressed to a thin, impatient line. “Be seated, Adoniyram, please. We are discussing our plans for the festival during the High Month of Shemesh.”

  “I should leave then, since I have nothing important to say.” But he sat near Ra-Anan and relaxed, signaling for the keepers to settle his leopards nearby.

  Without another glance, Ra-Anan turned from his nephew to the crowd of merchants again. As if Adoniyram were nobody.

  I think you know Adoniyram is not Nimr-Rada’s son, Shoshannah told Ra-Anan silently. But you allow him to stay; you control him, as you control me, for your own purposes.

  “Look,” Demamah whispered, combing another puff of wool, “Tiyrac is going to stand with his brother. They seem to guard each other.”

  She’s calling him “Tiyrac” now. Astonished, Shoshannah eyed her cousin. Was Demamah becoming fond of Tiyrac? The thought was both delightful and worrisome. She didn’t want Demamah to become unwittingly enmeshed in her own future plans to escape with Kal and Tiyrac; if they were caught, Demamah would suffer terribly. And yet…

  Unable to squelch her curiosity, Shoshannah asked beneath her breath, “What do you think of him? Is he as bad as Perek?”

  “He’s much more polite than Perek—and never angry with me. You’d think he was trained to live in the city, while Perek is actually the wild man dragged in from the steppes.”

  “You’ve been watching Tiyrac.”

  “No, I haven’t, so hush.”

  Shoshannah hid a smile. Demamah was watching Tiyrac. Oh, how she wished she could tease Tiyrac and see him blush and stammer denials that any girl, particularly one so lovely as Demamah, could be interested in him. But that could never happen; if Ra-Anan even suspected that Demamah was fascinated by the young man, Tiyrac would be sent away. And that was the last thing Shoshannah wanted.