When my sons marry, Naomi thought, then I will have women to keep me company. And grandchildren …
“She’s there,” Shem announced, breaking into Naomi’s thoughts, making her look across the river.
She—the cause of his joy—sat on the opposite river-bank, her right profile toward them, slender and vulnerable against the darkness of her long hair. Naomi raised her full, dark eyebrows, shocked. What is my son thinking? She’s a mere child, and much too thin. But she is lovely. And at least her hands aren’t idle.
The young woman was working on what appeared to be a long, pale, intricate piece of netting. When she sensed their approach, she turned slightly, anxiously. The instant she saw Naomi, she struggled to her feet, facing them fully, revealing the ghastly violet-blue contours of her swollen left jaw and cheek. As Naomi stared in dismay, Shem threw his bundles of leaves and coiled vines onto the riverbank.
“What’s happened to her?” he cried, turning to Naomi as if she could answer his question. She had never seen her son so angry; his face darkened and his eyes glittered with fury. He strode down to the water, screaming his rage across the river, not at his beloved, but at her abuser. “Yerakh!”
Immediately the girl backed away, clutching her meshwork, covering the pale sea carving slung about her neck. Her eyes were huge, terrified.
Setting down her basket and coiled vines, Naomi hurried to Shem, touching his arm, trying to calm him. “No, Shem, hush. If you scream again she’ll run away—if she can run. Oh, look at her, the poor child!”
Moving away from Naomi, Shem angrily yelled to the young woman above the rushing current. “Did Yerakh do this to you?”
She nodded, obviously still frightened.
Once again, Naomi reached out to her son. “You must calm yourself.”
“But look what he’s done to her! She didn’t have those bruises yesterday.”
With an effort, Naomi kept her voice low. “And you’ve made her feel worse, I’m sure. No doubt she’s heard enough screaming from her family; she shouldn’t hear it from you. Look at her, poor child. She has to sit down.” To convey her sympathy and concern, Naomi motioned to the opposite riverbank, urging the young woman to be seated.
She knelt slowly, stiffly, holding her meshwork.
Shem knelt also, rubbing one hand over his face. He began to talk, obviously thinking aloud. “How can we get her over here, away from him? If we simply take her into our lodge, that Yerakh would probably come after her. And once he catches her, he might kill her.”
Naomi sank down beside her son, adding her thoughts to his own. “If Yerakh still has one of those giants—that Nephiyl—among his supporters, then we can only wait. She must be released with his permission, or his death—as the Most High wills.”
“Until then she suffers,” Shem muttered. Lifting his head, he gazed across the river. The young woman was watching him and met his look by lifting her hands and shrugging, conveying her resignation. As if to change the subject, she held out one hand and turned it gracefully, indicating Naomi.
After a brief hesitation, Shem tapped himself, then took Naomi’s hand and put it on his head, rolling his lip out, looking miserable as he used to when he was very young and in trouble. Apparently amused, his beloved rocked back slightly, one hand to her mouth to cover a painful half-smile, the other hand clutching her side.
Perplexed, Naomi pulled her hand away, frowning at her son. “What was that about?”
“I told her that you’re my mother. I couldn’t think of any way to express it properly except to show her that you used to punish me when I was young. I think she would have laughed if she weren’t in such pain.”
Naomi swatted him, pretending exasperation. Shem grinned. The young woman tilted her head and studied this exchange, clearly fascinated, her dark eyes wistful. Then, as Naomi watched in wonderment, Shem and the young woman conversed silently through a series of hand motions and facial expressions. Their communication ended with the young woman lowering her head, clearly exhausted and miserable.
Shem looked at Naomi. “Yerakh beat her from head to heel! It hurts her to move.”
Naomi shook her head sympathetically. “Ask if she has eaten today.”
Shem tossed a stone into the river to make the unhappy girl look up. In response to his silent question, she touched her hand to her swollen jaw, then pantomimed drinking water from the river.
“She’s had nothing but water,” Naomi realized aloud. Scolding, she wagged her finger at the young woman, who drooped her head briefly in submission. Tapping Shem’s arm, Naomi said, “Go back to our lodge and get my basket with the ointments and herbs.”
“But, I’ma, how can you treat her from here?”
“You can throw the ointments to her. Go. Go!”
Sighing, Shem signaled to his beloved, asking her to wait. Then he quickly left the riverbank, heading back to the lodge. She watched him leave, shadows of fresh pain crossing her bruised, swollen face.
Naomi felt a new rush of compassion for the young woman. To distract her, Naomi tossed a small stone into the river, then motioned to the meshwork in her lap. In response, the girl finished off the knot she had been working, tucked her tool into a nearby bag, and shyly lifted the meshwork.
Naomi was amazed. It appeared to be very fine and light and was much larger than she had supposed. The young woman swung it over her shoulders, not displaying it, but huddling beneath it, as if it could protect her from further pain.
If I were beaten like that, I’d want to hide too, Naomi told herself.
As she lifted her hand to try to communicate, Naomi saw a young matron come out of the trees on the opposite bank. Round-faced and sulky, her rope of black hair tightly bound and decorated with gold talismans, the newcomer glanced at Naomi suspiciously, then ignored her and stalked over to Shem’s beloved.
Aware of the matron’s approach, the beleaguered girl covered the sea carving with her hand and cautiously slipped it into the neckline of her leather tunic. To Naomi’s distress—and her growing fury—the matron didn’t bother to greet the poor child, but snatched a handful of her hair and pulled hard. Wincing, the girl struggled to her feet, her expression blank and unseeing as a mask. If Naomi had not already communicated with her, and seen the life in her eyes, she would have thought the young woman was mindless. Aggrieved, she watched as the matron led Shem’s beloved off into the trees.
Donning her veil, Annah followed Iltani through the trees, hurting and fearful. How had Iltani known where to find her? And why should her sister-in-law want to find her this early in the morning? Usually Iltani slept until midday. Mystified, Annah plodded behind Iltani up one of the many tortuous, almost imperceptible paths that cut through the thick undergrowth.
Iltani wandered, turning down this path, then that path, becoming more and more frustrated. At last she turned to face Annah, who looked down at Iltani’s feet as the woman snarled, “You found it yesterday, little fool! Somewhere in that dull mind of yours, you know where it is!”
Confused, Annah stared at Iltani’s plump brown feet. What did I find yesterday that Iltani wants? Nothing except … the honey. That’s it—the honey. Relieved that the explanation was so simple, Annah hid her grim amusement. If I weren’t so tired and weak from hunger, Iltani, I’d lead you on a walk from here to your next kentum and back again. But I can’t take you directly to it; you’d realize that I’m not mindless.
To delude Iltani, Annah wandered aimlessly through the undergrowth, pushing aside leaves and stepping over vines, gradually approaching the honey-laden sweet-resin tree.
Iltani followed her, complaining aloud. “The creature doesn’t know where she’s going. Stupid-faced thing!”
At last, too tired to continue, Annah sat down in the undergrowth, within sight—and scent—of the resin tree. She could hear the bees humming softly.
Too engrossed in her own resentment to hear or smell anything, Iltani muttered, “I knew it! Worthless creature.” Aiming a peevish kick a
t Annah’s left shin, Iltani turned and walked toward the resin tree. She had just passed the tree when she looked back, laughing triumphantly. “Ha! I found it without the creature’s help.”
Gloating, Iltani gathered several dark, glossy, mantle-sized leaves from a nearby clump of rhizomes and spread them beneath the resin tree. Eagerly she reached into the hollow of the ancient tree and scooped out the glistening, dripping honeycomb. More than once she flicked away the bees, uttering little cries of pain.
Annah thought, I’ve never been stung. I think there are some advantages to being a nothing-creature. Perhaps the bees recognize Iltani’s greed and bad temper. Pondering this, Annah threw a sidelong look at Iltani. She was still muttering and scooping out chunks of honeycomb.
When she had filled the center of the first massive leaf, Iltani knelt and folded the leaf edges over the pile of honeycomb, slipped a second broad leaf over it, then wrapped them all again with the third leaf. Then she stood, frowning as she surveyed the trees and vines. Her gaze swept toward Annah, who looked down at once. Iltani’s feet pattered on the narrow trail of moist earth. Stopping in front of Annah, she snatched Annah’s woven-grass bag.
Startled, Annah clutched the bag, trying to keep it. They struggled briefly, then Iltani wrenched Annah’s veil away and kicked her hard in the side. A breathtaking jolt of pain shot through Annah’s ribs. She fell sideways, releasing the bag. Laughing, Iltani gave her a final kick to the rear. Defeated, humiliated, Annah bit back her tears of pain and struggled to sit up, clawing the earth with her hands.
“Next time, you won’t fight, stupid thing.” Iltani snatched the grass bag, then paused. “What’s this? A creature wearing an ornament?”
To her horror, Annah realized that the precious shell carving had slipped out of her tunic. Before Annah could hide her cherished possession, Iltani grasped the carving and swept it over Annah’s head, tearing away some of Annah’s hair as she pulled the cord away.
“Where did she find this?” Iltani wondered aloud. Still on the ground, Annah watched as Iltani looped the shell carving’s cord over her own head, then tucked the leaf-wrapped honeycomb into Annah’s grass bag. Clearly pleased with her victory, Iltani sauntered toward the settlement, never looking back.
Annah lay on the moist earth and wept.
Eventually, recovered enough to move, Annah got to her feet and put on the veil. All the way back to the settlement, she blamed herself for not properly concealing the precious shell carving. How could I have believed it was safe? I should have known someone would see it eventually. How can I go to the river and face him without the carving? I have to get it back.
She entered the lodge warily. There was no sign of Yerakh, but she heard voices at the far end of the lodge, behind the taut leather partition where Parah and Iltani stored the dried grains, spices, and roots for cooking. Annah paused and listened. Iltani was actually chattering pleasantly.
“I found this while I was looking for the honey, and I’m so glad! I wanted a sea stone like the one that trader wore last year, but it’s no use asking Yerakh for such a thing. Anyway, this is pretty, isn’t it?”
“As you say,” Parah agreed, noncommittal. “I haven’t seen anyone wearing it in the settlement. You found it in the open? On the path?”
“Didn’t I say so?” Iltani huffed. “Anyway, I’m going to use some of the honey for cakes tonight.”
“Who could have dropped such a thing?” Parah asked, obviously still pondering the shell carving.
“I don’t care who dropped it,” Iltani said defensively. “I found it, so it’s mine.”
Liar, Annah thought, shutting her eyes. She had no strength to fight Iltani for the shell carving. She would have to bide her time and steal it back.
The sound of water being poured made Annah lick her dry lips. She had eaten no solid food for more than two days; by now she was so hungry that plain water seemed like a feast.
“Come here,” Parah called out. “Annah, come here.” Realizing that her mother had sensed her presence, Annah lifted the veil from her face. Eyes lowered, she crept past the taut leather partition and knelt on the mat near her mother, like a trained creature.
She felt her mother’s impassive scrutiny, then heard her sigh and turn away, apparently giving her attention to an assortment of spices, flavoring pastes, and grains she had gathered on the tray before her. Iltani’s opened leaf-packet of honeycomb lay beside the tray, and Annah’s discarded grass bag was beside the mat.
I’ll get it later, when Iltani’s not looking, Annah decided. Now, however, I need some water. I’m dying of thirst.
As Annah was thinking this, she heard her mother pouring water into a wooden cup and carefully setting the small clay water jug down on the tray.
“What are you doing? ” Iltani demanded. “That’s mine! I gathered that honeycomb, you didn’t.”
“And I gathered the last store of honeycomb, which you ate,” Parah responded, wearily. “You can part with one piece.”
“To sweeten water for that creature?”
“She needs nourishment, Iltani. She’s missed at least a full day’s worth of meals. Have you ever missed a meal in your life?”
“Are you saying that I eat too much?” said Iltani, her voice rising dangerously. “Next you will say that I don’t deserve your son!”
Setting the cup down before Annah, Parah said, “I meant no offense, Iltani. And I know Yerakh does not admire women who are too thin. Now, if you aren’t going to clean those sweet-bean pods, give them to me.”
“Well,” Iltani said, still irate, “from what I hear, Tseb-iy likes his women to be thin. And young.”
“We will not talk of Tseb-iy,” Parah answered quietly. She began to split the long, dark sweet-bean pods with her thumbnails.
Annah sipped her honeyed water unobtrusively, casting quick, sidelong glances at her mother’s hands. Parah was too busy, too intent upon her work. She looked tired. Bloodless.
Iltani sighed—a sweetly false sigh of concern—and scooped some dried grain from a deep storage basket. “Oh, I’ve upset you, I’ma. Don’t worry; I won’t mention Tseb-iy again. I’m sure you realize that he was the worst sort of man for you.”
Parah dropped the split sweet-bean into the small clay pitcher of water. Later, it would be boiled, cooled, mixed with Iltani’s precious honey, and added to finely crushed wheat to make cakes for their evening meal. Choosing another bean, Parah split it carefully, as if the task were more important than Tseb-iy.
“He has not abandoned me, Iltani, but I won’t discuss him with you or anyone else.” Parah stood, holding her tray of food. “These two beans should be enough to flavor your honey cakes. Now, I’m taking this water into the other room to boil it over the fire. If you wish, you may bring out the wheat, and I’ll help you grind it. But I warn you: Any more of your little sighs and words about Tseb-iy, and I’ll tear all the hair from your head for being so disrespectful to the mother of your husband.”
“I was not being disrespectful,” Iltani protested. Carrying her bowl of grain, she followed Parah. Passing Annah, Iltani aimed a kick in her direction. “Move!”
Annah cringed. She wanted to follow Iltani to keep watch over her precious shell carving, but decided it would be wiser to remain in the storage area. She had to finish her water and rest. Alone now, she retrieved her grass bag. Satisfied with this small victory, she covered herself with her veil and cautiously stretched out on the mat.
Closing her eyes, she remembered him, her beloved. He had been so enraged by her bruises this morning that she was terrified. But it was good to know that he longed to protect her. She was also glad Yerakh had not witnessed her beloved’s rage; Yerakh would have found some way to challenge the young man and kill him—and Annah.
How do you know of Yerakh? Annah wondered to the young man. Have you met him before? Did you meet my father? Pondering these things, Annah drifted into sleep. Her dreams shifted between visions of her beloved, the river, the shell carvin
g, the Tree of Havah, and Iltani’s gloating, honeyed smile.
Suddenly Yerakh’s voice intruded, bellowing, “Answer me! Who gave this to you?”
“I found it!” Iltani screeched in response. “If you want the truth, I found it on the creature. She was wearing it.”
Fully awake now, Annah huddled on the mat. Yerakh was in the main room of the lodge with Iltani. But if he came after her in the storage room, she could not escape. She trembled, listening for his footsteps. Instead, she heard the sound of a slap, flesh against flesh. Iltani screamed. Then something small and light struck the taut leather partition of the storage room.
Annah could hear Iltani scuffling with Yerakh, crying, “I’ve done nothing wrong! Ah … I swear to you, the creature had it!”
“Liar!” Yerakh cried. Annah winced, hearing him slap Iltani’s face again. “No man in this settlement would give that creature such an ornament. They won’t even touch her; they know she’s mad. Who gave this to you?”
Iltani sucked in a breath, whining, “Let me go. Ask your mother. She’ll tell you.”
Feeling a bit safer now, Annah crept over to the partition and peeked around its carved wooden frame. Yerakh was gripping Iltani’s long, gold-decked braid of hair with one hand, while his other hand was poised to slap her again. But at the mention of his mother, he glared at Parah.
“She said she found it,” Parah said, neither defending nor condemning Iltani.
“I’ve done nothing wrong,” Iltani protested again, tearful. “You shouldn’t punish me; I’m not the one who’s bearing Tseb-iy’s child!”
Hearing this, Annah clutched at the partition frame in horror. Parah gasped and fled through the open front doorway of the lodge. In a renewed fury, Yerakh ran after her. Iltani followed them, fearful but eager.
She wants to see Yerakh beating I’ma, Annah thought, sickened. She started to go after her mother when a pale gleam caught her eye: The shell carving lay on the earthen floor beside the partition. Elated, Annah picked it up and kissed it. She would bind it inside her grass bag to hide it from the others. Now, however, she had to find her mother. Wrapping herself in her veil, she tucked the precious ornament into her grass bag, then slipped out the back of the lodge.
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