Qeb-al looked at Annah with new interest. Discomfited, Annah looked away. Qeb-al asked Methuwshelakh, “Is there a lodge of the Tsaraph nearby?”
“Yes … her family is across the river,” Methuwshelakh answered proudly.
Licking his lips in evident anticipation, Qeb-al said, “Perhaps I should cross the river tomorrow.”
Methuwshelakh lifted one frail old hand. “There is a bridge … though your cart is too … big. Only handcarts fit.”
Annah flinched inwardly, turning away from Methuwshelakh and Qeb-al, forgetting to ask them if they wanted something to drink. I’m going to be sick, she thought, hastily stepping outside the lodge. Qeb-al is going to visit Yerakh, and then I’m going to be killed.
Seated near the evening fire in his lodge, Yerakh stared at the trader. Then he looked at his sisters. Haburah and Ayalah knelt nearby, eyeing him, hateful and smug. Yerakh glared at them, longing to slap them both.
Unintimidated, Ayalah tossed her head. “Listen to the trader, brother, since you wouldn’t listen to us. Annah has made you a fool.”
Leaning forward, Yerakh frowned at the trader. “You spoke to my sister? And she spoke to you?”
Clearly unnerved, Qeb-al stammered, “Ah, um, well, she n–never spoke directly to me, but we were there for all of last evening and half of today. I saw her talking to the daughter of my brother. And I was told that she—your lovely sister—has tools to work the gold.”
“You saw these tools?” Yerakh snapped, no longer caring to be polite.
A haze of sweat broke out over the trader’s red-brown face. “No, I didn’t see the tools, but their ancient one described them to me. I’m sure he spoke the truth.”
Yerakh sat back, seething. I’ll kill you, he thought to Annah. I should have killed you years ago. Where did you get tools? As far as he could remember, he had used all of his tools since Annah’s marriage. None were missing. Unless she had taken those old, deservedly forgotten tools belonging to his father.
Controlling himself, he asked, “Where is the daughter of your brother? I want to hear what she has to say about my sister.”
The trader gaped at him, clearly offended. “Forgive me, Yerakh of the Tsaraph, but I doubt my worthless niece could say more than what I’ve told you.”
Kneeling beside her husband on the grass mat before Yerakh, the trader’s thin little wife spoke. “I’ll tell you where she is.”
Yerakh frowned at the woman, contemptuous of the ridiculous would-be-gold talismans in her hair.
She shifted uncomfortably. “We left her at the lodge of Noakh to guard our cart and to visit with your sister; they seemed to enjoy each other’s company. Our cart would not fit over the bridge, so my husband and I carried our wares over on our backs. See …” The trader’s wife opened a leather bundle, spreading out various carvings, combs, and scent-pots.
Ayalah and Taphaph edged over to inspect these offerings, but Yerakh ignored them.
If you’ve stolen my father’s tools, then you are dead, he thought to Annah. Tomorrow morning I will cross that bridge, find you, and strangle you!
Without another word, he left his seat and strode into his workroom. Tensing, he opened his father’s storage chest and rummaged inside, reluctantly breathing his father’s scent among the herbs and spices. He patted his hands through his father’s garments, his favorite stone molds, his windings of stiffened leather cords. He searched the entire storage chest without finding the tools. They were here, Yerakh thought. I know I put them in here the next morning.
The next morning, after his father’s death. After a terrifying night of digging, sweating, and cursing as he struggled to bury his father’s body beyond the far edges of his fields. He could still hear the hoarse laughter of the Nachash when she discovered him working that night. Her rasping, avid voice still echoed in his mind.
Bloody, bloody man! Can you hide blood? No. Blood is alive! It follows us! Can you bury blood? No! One drop grows like a seed! Like a stream, blood flows until you drown! You!
Even now, after all these years, he was sweating, remembering the Nachash—her wild hair, her death-odor, those sightless, staring eyes. She was the essence of all his youthful nightmares. Shaking his head, Yerakh forced himself to clear his mind. The tools were gone. Annah had taken them. She was working the gold; she had deceived him for twenty-five years.
You’ll beg my forgiveness! he raged silently, remembering her pretense of a vacant face. You stole my knowledge and made a fool of me. For that, I will kill you.
Kneeling on the softness of their bed, Annah kissed her husband’s cheek, then combed out his thick, dark curls, cherishing the feel of his hair winding about her fingers.
“You can comb my hair tonight,” Shem teased her. “Yepheth and my father are waiting for me.”
“No, I can’t comb your hair tonight,” Annah said, smoothing his curls into the confines of a black leather cord. “You have to go out to the herds again, remember?”
“I’d rather not remember,” he sighed, turning to kiss her. “Will you stay with I’ma and Ghinnah again today?”
“Later,” Annah murmured. If I live. That Qeb-al was in the settlement last night, and I have no doubt he’s told everything to Yerakh.
His eyebrows lifting almost sternly, Shem pulled Annah into his lap. “You will remember what I said? You’ll stay away from the river?”
Annah focused on his beard, brushing it lightly. “If Yerakh is determined to kill me, beloved, he will kill me. And if he brings his favorite weapon, that Naham-the-Iron-breaker, then you and your brothers won’t be able to fight them. I would die anyway.”
“The Most High did not bring you across the river to let you die,” Shem reminded her gently. “He has other plans for your life, and He won’t change them. Even so, it would be wise to take precautions and watch for Yerakh.”
“I will.” She stood, allowing him to rise.
After tying a soft leather band across his forehead, he bent to kiss her again, nuzzling her. “Remember what I said: Stay away from the river.”
She hugged him tight, then smiled and handed him his herding stick. “Don’t worry. I love you, but you have to go. Your father and Yepheth are waiting. If you see I’ma and Ghinnah, tell them I’ll come a little later, when I’ve finished tidying up here.”
She watched him leave the clearing surrounding their hut, waving at him once when he turned to look at her. As soon as he was gone, she smoothed their bed, filled the oil lamp, then carried a dish of nutshells and fruit peels out to the waste pit. Returning to the hut again, Annah rinsed the dish and threw the rinse water into the grass beyond the doorway. Then she deliberately pulled the precious ornament from her neck and tucked it beneath her pillow. She would not give Yerakh the option of strangling her with the cord of her beautiful shell carving. Shouldering her grass bag, she willed her feet to move toward the river.
She already knew where she would wait—on the south side of the bridge. Her husband and his brothers wouldn’t see her there. But Yerakh would see her immediately.
Perhaps I should throw myself into the river now and be done with the waiting, she thought, as she approached the bridge. It would be easier and certainly less painful.
No. The thought came to her, firm and undeniable. If I die today, then let it be because Yerakh has taken my life.
She knelt on the sand and waited, sweating. Once in a while, she dipped her hands into the water to cool them and to calm herself. Then she thought of her shuttle; she hadn’t touched it since before her wedding. By now, she never used her veil, but she could still use her shuttle.
She groped inside her woven-grass bag. Pulling out the shuttle, she stared at it as if she had never seen it before. Everything is different now, she thought. I no longer need this. But she unwound a length of the delicate thread and began to knot it loosely. The thread was neglected, brittle and difficult. By the time she had worked a cord the length of her palm, she sensed a presence. Glancing across the river,
she saw Yerakh, his darkly bearded face staring, gloating. Her heart began to thud.
I am afraid, she admitted to herself, her hands shaking, clenching the shuttle. O Most High, help me. I’m afraid. Shield me as you did the night of my mother’s death. Yerakh is eager to kill me; I can feel it. She swallowed hard, praying. If I am to speak to him, Most High, please give me the words. And if I am to die, then let me die quickly. Also, if I must die … please, I want to take Yerakh with me.
Sixteen
YERAKH CROSSED the bridge eagerly, staring at Annah. She was kneeling in the sand near the bridge, simply waiting for him.
Haburah and the others claim you do have a mind, he thought, sneering. Though it can’t be too clever a mind if you’re so easily caught, Ma’adannah.
He had not thought of her given name in years, but he remembered it now, hating it as much as ever. Hating her. He had always despised her; she had been an irritant, a troublesome child. Always full of questions, always thinking of new things. Little fool. I’ll be glad to know you are dead.
He stepped off the bridge, still staring at her. She hadn’t moved. She was kneeling in the sand, her head lowered, her eyes almost closed. She looked better—cared for. Actually beautiful. Not the Annah who had cringed before him for so many years.
Yerakh slowed, then stopped, trying to comprehend the difference. A new presence surrounded her, swirling about her and washing over him like strong, unstoppable waves. He felt confused, alarmed. His mind told him this was Annah, but his senses told him this woman was someone else. Uncertain, he hesitated. “Annah?”
She did not look at him, but she spoke, her voice low and firm. “The Annah you remember is dead.”
Frowning, fighting down his uncertainty, Yerakh narrowed his eyes. “Really? If Annah is dead, then who are you?”
With grace and dignity, she stood and looked him full in the face. Her eyes were his mother’s eyes. But unlike his indifferent mother, this woman’s eyes were passionately alive and full of power. A wave of fear passed through him. Catching his breath, he asked again, “Who are you?”
“I am an enemy of the Nachash, whom you have sheltered, O Yerakh of the Tsaraph!”
The Nachash has an enemy? Stunned, Yerakh stepped back. Annah, or the woman he had thought was Annah, moved toward him in a torrent of words.
“And because you have sheltered the Nachash, Yerakh of the Tsaraph, you are cursed. You have condemned yourself by your love of violence: choking the life from your father, then causing the deaths of your mother, your wife, and your brothers. Listen, Yerakh!”
She advanced on him, her eyes kindling. “Because you have done these things, Yerakh of the Tsaraph, your new wife will never bear a child. And you will die a violent death, but not by the hands of a man; you will see your death coming. Your fear will be so great that the death of your brother Gammad will seem like a mercy. You will long for the quiet of his grave—in the waste pit beside your first wife, Iltani!”
Hearing this, Yerakh began to shake. She knows Gammad’s burial place! But how? Naham swore he would tell no one.
Yerakh retreated to the bridge, but she followed him, calling out, “Your body will be torn to pieces, and your bones will be crushed and scattered like bits of straw!”
Yerakh scuttled across the bridge, barely able to see where he was going. But her words followed him, lifting across the water. “There will not be one person left who will mourn for you, Yerakh. You are cursed! The heavens themselves will turn upon you!”
On the opposite side of the river, Yerakh charged up into the trees lining the riverbank, desperate to get back to the settlement, terrified that she would follow him. He could still feel the presence about her, sweeping out against him like a mighty lash. The combined powers of the Nachash and her whisperers were nothing compared to this boundless tide.
Annah was shaking, unable to believe Yerakh was gone. But it’s true. Amazed, she retrieved her grass bag to put away the shuttle. She had been clenching it so hard that its outlines were bright red against her palm. Still unable to believe what had happened, she looked at Yerakh’s footprints, fresh, damp, and leading to the bridge.
I did not imagine this, she thought. Yerakh is gone, and he won’t return. I am free. O Most High, thank You! She hugged her grass bag and—like a child—spun in a joyous circle, lifting her face toward the warm, ruddy sky. “Thank You!”
Elated, she slung her grass bag over her shoulder and ran up to the trees. Someone was there. Ghinnah emerged from the undergrowth, obviously shocked, the soft bloom fading from her cheeks. “Annah!” she cried. “I came looking for you. Was that your wicked brother? You said such horrible things—I thought he would soil himself.”
“He’s gone, and he won’t return!” Annah hugged the astonished Ghinnah, dancing around her, pulling her in a circle. “I’m free! Where’s my husband?” She hurried through the shadowy flowering trees.
Ghinnah trotted after her, panting. “But … those things you said about his death, and his bones being crushed, and no one mourning him …”
Annah halted, her elation dampened by Ghinnah’s fear. “Ghinnah, I know those things must have sounded horrible to you. But they were the truth. I knew it, and Yerakh knew it, which is why he was so frightened. And he ran because he felt the condemnation of the Most High, though he won’t perceive it that way. He will make up an explanation of his own.”
“Your Most High frightens me.”
Somberly, Annah touched Ghinnah’s arm. “If you’re not His enemy, then you have no reason to fear Him. He simply desires that you call to Him—and listen to Him in love. As for me, He is better than my own father. He has saved my life twice. He also brought me out of that horrible settlement and gave me a true family. I owe Him everything. Whatever happens in my life, I’ll never say a word against Him.”
Ghinnah didn’t respond. Annah smiled again, her joy returning. “O Ghinnah, in one day you’ve been more kind to me than my own sisters have been for all my life. Please be happy for me now. My brother is gone! I’m going to live, when I was so sure I would die!”
“You thought he would kill you?”
“I knew he would. But the Most High surrounded me and gave me words. Now I will live! Please, be happy for me.”
Reluctantly Ghinnah smiled, but she changed the subject from the Most High. “The mother of your husband will wonder where we are. I promised I would find you and bring you immediately.”
“Then we should return to the lodge.”
They found Naomi seated just outside the lodge, weaving cordage through the ribwork of a new basket, obviously waiting for them. Seeing Annah and Ghinnah, she said, “I knew you would be playing and taking your time.”
Kneeling, Annah put her hands over her mother-in-law’s hands, unable to conceal her happiness. “We weren’t playing, I’ma. I have to tell you—”
“Wait, please,” Naomi interrupted, seeming anxious. “While you are both here, and before Qeb-al and his family return from the settlement, I must tell you something.” She looked at Ghinnah, now kneeling beside Annah. “This morning before you awoke, Ghinnah, my first son asked me to speak to your aunt for you.”
Color rushed to Ghinnah’s face. “To speak to my aunt … of marriage?”
Hastily Naomi reassured her, “I will only speak to her if you wish to accept marriage with my son. If not, then we won’t be angry. My son will not coerce you.”
“But …” Ghinnah faltered, “he hasn’t said a word to me.”
Annah patted Ghinnah’s shoulder comfortingly. “My husband’s older brother doesn’t speak often. He must admire you tremendously if he has spoken to his mother.”
Distracted, running her hands through her hair, Ghinnah said, “This is too much. I have to think.” She wandered into the lodge.
Annah turned to Naomi, worried. “Ghinnah had a fright, I’ma, and it’s my fault. Yerakh found me this morning.”
“Child! Why didn’t you tell me!”
“
I’m telling you now.” Eagerly, she told Naomi about her confrontation with Yerakh. When she finished, Naomi dropped her basketwork, agitated.
“Forgive me, child. I must find my husband and my sons.”
Shem strode into the lodge and stopped in front of Annah, staring at her. For an instant he seemed incapable of speech, then he pulled Annah into his arms. “I should be angry with you for not listening to me! If Yerakh had touched you …”
“You would have tried to kill him,” Annah said, giving his thought words. “Or he would have killed you and your family. I couldn’t risk your lives for mine.”
Giving up, clearly relieved, Shem sighed, holding her close.
Noakh entered the lodge and said calmly, “Now, daughter, I hear you had a pleasant morning.”
“Yes, I did, Father of my Husband,” Annah agreed, beaming at him. “But I frightened Ghinnah.”
“Where is Ghinnah?” Wondering, Noakh looked around, but their guest had gone out the back door to be alone. Noakh exhaled thoughtfully. “Well, I am sure that she must have time to think, as we must have time.”
He believes Yepheth has decided hastily, Annah thought, startled. He has doubts. And Ghinnah has doubts. Was I too eager to be friends with her? Was I mistaken?
Equally solemn, Naomi entered the lodge. “Yepheth and Khawm are coming, so we will have our midday meal soon. Is Ghinnah outside? I wonder if Qeb-al and Etsah might return this evening. I told Ghinnah she should make her own decision concerning Yepheth’s request; I won’t mention anything to her family unless she is willing to stay.”
“What do you think of her?” Shem asked Annah beneath his breath, his arm now encircling her waist.
Annah answered, “I’ve enjoyed visiting with her. But I have to remind myself that she’s still basically a stranger.”
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