She called for a servant girl to bring us a fresh pot of wine and led us to the edge of the building nearest the temple. Gazing over the parapet, I felt a moment of dizziness until she gestured for us to sit on pillows so finely woven that they glimmered. I sank down gratefully and looked toward the temple complex, where what seemed like hundreds of torches had been lit all around the plaza in anticipation of the setting sun.
“When the sun hits that point on the horizon”—Lina pointed to the tip of a hill in the west—“the ritual will begin.”
“And which god does this celebration revere?” I asked.
“Why, Astarte!” she replied. “Don’t you know that this city is allied with the Sidonians?”
I shook my head, feeling chastened in my ignorance. I’d heard of the coastal city far to the north, rumored to be wicked in the extreme, but knew nothing of a treaty between them and Laish.
“When Sidon graced us with protection twenty years ago, we gratefully elevated their primary goddess over the rest we serve,” said Lina.
Astarte, or Ashtoreth in our tongue, was a consort of Ba’al, and I’d been raised on stories of how our people drove her worshipers out of Canaan. It seemed that about the time the Hebrews were moving into the Land of Promise, this city had allied with Sidon.
Although my father and the Levites railed against such practices, secretly I’d always wondered what was truly so repugnant about them. Lina and her friends seemed kind—not the wild-eyed, raving idol-worshipers and baby-murderers I’d imagined such devotees to be. The stories must have been exaggerated to ensure that we Hebrews were not tempted to pursue other gods. And while I had no interest in turning from Yahweh, I could not help but be curious. Anticipation pulsed as the entire city seemed to hold its breath while watching the sun touch the tip of the farthest hill and then slowly melt behind it.
Then, as the torches took over the job of illuminating the celebration in the plaza, drums began a low, steady beat. My heart echoed the rhythm. A line of white-robed men and women emerged from the temple, their crimson and purple headdresses the only flash of color in the torchlight. When they stopped, so did the drums, leaving an eerie silence filled only by the rush of breeze through the many trees that encircled Laish.
A voice rang into the emptiness, one lone female voice singing an unfamiliar song, the notes sliding up and down in a way I’d never heard before. Behind her, priests and priestesses began a soft chant, their bodies swaying with each word. The distance swallowed up its meaning, but something about the eerie song called to me, tapped at an empty place at the center of my being, as if it were speaking only to me and vocalizing my deepest desires. I held my breath, wishing the song would go on forever. The singer held the last note for an impossibly long few moments, until the echo died away and the drums struck up a frantic beat. Another line of about twenty priests emerged from the temple, each one carrying a young pig. I’d never traveled to Shiloh with my father to experience the daily sacrifices at the Mishkan, but our law forbade the eating of swine flesh and considered the offering of a pig an abomination—an affront to the Almighty God. Disgusted, yet compelled by morbid curiosity to keep watching, I fidgeted in my seat as the pigs were brought before a two-horned altar, slain, and butchered, and then their mutilated carcasses tossed into the flames. The sweet-acrid smell of burning flesh caused my stomach to lurch. I glanced over at Nessa to gauge whether the violent sight bothered her as much as it did me, but she was caught up in conversation with Lina.
A servant girl returned to fill my wine cup, which I’d already drained to douse the roiling of my stomach, and although I thanked her, she darted away swiftly without meeting my eye.
The darker the evening grew, the wilder the revels became. Soon all the bodies pressed into the plaza swayed and bounced in rhythm, loud laughter and shrieks of jubilance filling the air, along with the smoke from the sacrifices and sickly sweet incense. Two of the white-robed people on the temple porch were entertaining the crowd with some sort of dance I’d never seen before. I leaned forward to make sense of their movements and was struck by the dreadful realization that they were performing intimate acts together, in plain sight of everyone in the city. I lurched to my feet, horrified, sick to my stomach, and flushed with embarrassment down to my toes.
Startled, Nessa jerked her head to stare at me, annoyance crimped between her brows. “Rivkah, are you well?”
Torn over what to say, since she clearly was not as bothered by what we’d witnessed and seemed eager to please Lina, I cleared my throat and forced a tight smile. “I am fine. Need to move away from the incense. It’s making me queasy.”
“You do look a bit pale.” Lina waved a hand at the far side of the rooftop with cool dismissal. “The air will be fresher on the other side of the canopies. Go, have something to eat. Rejoin us when you feel better.”
Glad to turn my back on the depravity, I crossed the rooftop, avoiding the canopy and the food beneath it. I sank down in a shadowed corner, my head on my knees and my hands pressed to my churning belly.
What had I gotten myself into? The exhilaration of walking away from Kedesh, breaking free from my father’s authority and marriage to Malakhi, had withered to nothing. Even the flattered euphoria I’d experienced after Thalma complimented my skills seemed foolish. I did not belong here. The liberation I’d imagined back in Kedesh, had craved so much that I’d turned my back on everything, was nothing like the reality of the debauchery here.
“Are you well?” A deep voice drifted down from above me.
I lifted my head, blinking at the shadowed figure against the bright torchlight. “Can I bring you something?” asked the man. “A drink of water?”
“I am well, thank you,” I said, dropping my head back to my knees, hoping that the man would walk away if I ignored him, and determining to stay in this position until Nessa came to look for me.
“You are Hebrew?” asked the man in a voice completely devoid of foreign accent—a Hebrew voice.
Shocked, I lifted my eyes. The man had shifted so I could see his face more clearly. The full beard gave testament to our common heritage, and he dressed similar to most other men in my acquaintance, but he was uncommonly handsome and broad-shouldered, with a reddish hint to his wavy hair and light eyes that shimmered in the flickering light. He looked to be a few years older than me, perhaps twenty-five or so. “From which tribe?” he asked, his words nearly overtaken by the music and drums that had grown louder as I huddled against the low stone parapet.
Sheer relief at the familiar question caused the answer to tumble out of my mouth. “Levi. My father is one of the kohanim.”
“A priest? Truly? And what brings you to Laish?”
Foolishness. “I am here with friends for the festival.”
“It does not seem that you are having a pleasant time,” he said, amusement in his tone.
I pressed my hands tighter to my abdomen and pulled in a deep breath to settle my stomach. “It is not what I expected.”
“And what did you expect? Have you not been told of Canaanite worship practices?”
“Yes . . . but truthfully I thought they were exaggerated.”
“Ah,” he said, with a lift to his brows. “An innocent.”
Annoyed by the gentle tease in his laugher, I scanned the rooftop behind him, and my eyes were drawn to a few of the revelers who seemed to be imitating what they’d seen on the temple porch. Bile coated my throat, and I dropped my head back to my knees with a gasp. “I never should have come.”
If only I could squeeze myself into a tight ball and somehow wake up in my bed at the inn. The drums kept pounding, each beat adding to the rhythm of my regret, and the titillated laughter wafting from dark corners mocked my stupidity.
Tears gathered in my eyes. The things I’d seen tonight could never be washed from my mind. I now fully understood why the Torah forbade that we even know what the nations did during their repugnant rituals. How would I face my father upon my return? How cou
ld I stand before the priest who so faithfully taught the Torah to the people of our city after coming here?
When the Hebrew man spoke again, I realized he’d folded himself down next to me, his tone soothing. “I know this is different from our ways, and some of this may be a shock to you, but it’s all just a harmless celebration,” he said. “There is even beauty in some of the things they do.”
I thought of the singer from earlier and how her haunting melody had touched a place in my soul, a place I’d not realized was so hollow. But then a waft of heavily perfumed smoke from an incense burner nearby caused me to cough violently, my eyes burning as I attempted to catch my breath. I placed a hand on my chest, over the hidden purse I carried beneath my tunic, and was glad that the noise around me muffled the clink of the remaining silver pieces against the rings inside the bag.
When I’d revealed my treasure to Nessa earlier, she’d talked me into spending some of it on cosmetics, which we’d done our best to apply like a few of the girls we’d seen in the market, and then cajoled me into wearing the lapis lazuli necklace. Pressing aside the reminder that the last time I’d worn the piece was on the day of my wedding to Gidal, I’d given in to her argument that there was no better night to display such a trophy. Then, intoxicated with the freedom of spending the mohar, I’d also purchased new kid-skin sandals for both of us and new leather belts for Yoash and Kefa as thanks for their escort. Perhaps I had been a bit reckless with the silver today, but I vowed to ration it more carefully from now on.
Oblivious to my musings, the man handed me his own cup, encouraging me to drink as he rubbed a comforting circle on my back. The wine was strong, filled with fruit and spiced heavily, with a faintly bitter aftertaste. However, it did soothe the irritation in my throat.
“All better?” he asked, once I’d stopped choking and my body had begun to relax. His tone was gentle and his smile encouraging. When I attempted to hand back his cup, he lifted a palm in refusal. “That one is yours.”
I took another sip of the drink, which was not as bitter after a few more swallows. “I should find my friends.”
“The two young women you were with went down to the plaza a while ago,” the man said. I flinched, surprised that he’d been watching me.
He seemed to divine my thoughts. “I saw the three of you together earlier.” He smiled, a bit shyly it seemed, and then set his gaze on me. “Or rather, I saw you and happened to notice there were other ladies beside you. I am doubly pleased that you are a fellow Israelite.” His warm smile caused my former anxiety to sidle backward a step. What an odd coincidence that a Hebrew would find me here in this foreign city.
Noticing that I’d already drained his cup, the man gestured for a servant. The same woman from before approached, eyes downcast. “Bring more of the spiced wine,” he said. The servant’s gaze cut to mine briefly, a flicker of something moving within their dark depths. But just as quickly, her expression went blank and she nodded.
“Tell me your name,” the Hebrew man said, without a second glance toward the girl as she backed away, head down. I stared back into his eyes, the weighty moment stretching long. It was a question and a challenge in one. Would I stay? Or would I go? After the things I’d seen here I was still tempted to run, to beg Yoash and Kefa to take me home, but here was a handsome man interested in talking with me, not a vexing boy who had been pushed on me to fulfill some ridiculous law that benefited no one but my dead husband’s family. I’d had enough of others making decisions for me, enough of being pushed around and passed over.
“Rivkah,” I said, before I could change my mind again.
“Ah, Rivkah.” He slanted a grin at me. “And you are no doubt even more lovely than your namesake.” Although I knew his statement to be little more than flattery, I flushed at his assertion as I opened my mouth to ask his name, but he spoke first.
“Tell me, Rivkah,” he said, settling beside me with one elbow leaning on the parapet and his cheek resting on his fist. His attention on me was complete, as if nothing existed outside the circle of our conversation. The piercing focus of his light eyes was exhilarating “How is it that a daughter to a priest came to be in Laish?”
His calm demeanor and the familiar cadence of his voice encouraged me to relax, the raging panic that had threatened to choke me earlier fading further into the background. The servant girl returned to fill my cup, her lips pressed in a flat line, but she did not look at me again as she padded away on bare feet. I took another sip of the wine and hummed in pleasure as the liquid left a warm trail down my throat. “What spices are in this? I’ve never tasted the like.”
The man waved a palm. “Oh, cardamom. Cinnamon. Honey, of course, and some sort of citrus fruit. And special seedpods imported from the coast.”
“It’s delicious,” I said, taking a deep inhalation of the fragrant mixture. It smelled like bliss and cozy firelight. “It makes my tongue tingle.”
He laughed, his eyes dancing in a way that enticed me to make him laugh again. The kindness in his expression and the way he’d maneuvered his body to block the depravities from my line of vision made me feel safer than I had in some time. Perhaps I had been too hasty in considering a flight back to Kedesh.
A pleasant sensation descended over me as I considered my reasons for coming to Laish in the first place. Lina had told us there were many other Hebrews here in the city, and if they were all as welcoming as this man, Nessa and I might yet find a place among them. I could still be a scribe, still find my own way. I’d simply turn down any more offers to be a part of these awful celebrations. I was strong. I knew how to take care of myself. I could worship Yahweh even if no one around me was doing so.
All the earlier fears that had threatened to waylay my plans dissipated like smoke, and I stood, feeling the need to shed my inhibitions fully, to throw wide my arms and embrace the freedom I deserved.
“Where are the stars?” I asked the man with the lovely eyes as I tilted my head back to peer into the blackness above. “I want to see them. . . . No, I should dance with them! Like Nessa and Lina are dancing!” Words dripped from my mouth and lifted into the sky too, swirling like me . . . around and around and around . . . floating like a leaf on the water . . . melding with the drums and the laughter in a swirling pool of happiness and freedom.
Something collided with my calves, and I wobbled, my arms wheeling, grasping at nothing as my vision blurred and swooped. But strong arms locked around me, preventing me from toppling backward over the parapet. My heart pounded a frenetic pace as I clung to my rescuer, my body plagued with the sensation of falling even though my head knew my feet were planted on the rooftop.
“There now, you are safe,” the man said, his tone soothing as he traced circles on my back again, his warm body lending me strength. “I’ve got you.”
“Thank you!” I said, my words coming out on a giggling exhale. “I could have fallen to my death!”
“Not to worry.” He guided me back to the ground, then sat next to me, cross-legged, and peered at me with concern in his gaze as I waited for my head to stop spinning. This man was so kind. I was glad he’d found me. He saved my life. He would not hurt me. Or trap me like my father and Malakhi. Nessa was a good friend to bring me here.
“Where is Nessa and . . . that other girl?” The words emerged stitched together, as if my teeth and tongue could not separate the sounds. I laughed at the silliness.
“Don’t you remember Lina took your friend down to the plaza to dance?”
“Yes! Yes I do!” My lashes fluttered, making the oil lamps dip and sway in a strangely fluid way. “But . . . do you know Lina?”
He blinked twice. “No, you told me your friends’ names.”
Of course I had. He had such a nice face, I could tell him anything. I smiled at him, my lips stretching so wide my cheeks hurt. “Thank you for stopping me from falling off the roof.”
He shifted, leaning closer, his voice gentle and his breath enticingly sweet. “Well now,” he
said, a slow smile moving across his lips and his hand curving around my hip. “That was my pleasure.”
The noise of the celebration and whatever foolish thing I’d been worried about before faded away, leaving only the two of us in this world of shadows. A flood of warmth pooled in my belly, and a feeling of bone-deep calm spread through my body like wild honey.
“Now . . .” He reached to smooth my hair behind my shoulder, the move sending a wave of delicious shivers across my skin. “I want to know everything about you.”
CHAPTER
ten
Metal on metal clanked against my growing awareness, the sound clawing into my ears with bone-jarring steadiness. My blurry thoughts attempted to place the hideous racket, but the throbbing at my temples warred with any semblance of order. Flinging my arm over my face, I rolled to my side, caring nothing that the ground beneath me was hard as cobblestones, or that my aching neck seemed to have been at an odd angle all night. I only needed to sleep a few more hours. Or days, perhaps.
Someone nudged my elbow, and I jabbed at the intrusion, muttering a demand to let me be. Pain knocked around the walls of my skull, nothing left inside it but shards of glass and fiery arrows that stung the backs of my eyes.
Another rude nudge was accompanied by a low grunt near my ear. My eyes seemed too large for their sockets and my eyelids far too heavy, but I cracked them open. A violent spear of sunlight pierced me through, pinning the back of my head to the ground. I moaned, my parched tongue clinging to the roof of my mouth with alarming tenacity.
This time the jab to my thigh was painful. “Whatever you people do at night is of no concern to me,” croaked a raspy voice. “But at least have the decency to leave when you’ve finished.”
Until the Mountains Fall Page 7