“Perhaps when Paul returns he had best be informed so he can give you a little free time. You have told Paul, have you not?”
I shook my head, blushing again. “Of course I should have known that he did not know! Few men can keep the glad tidings secret. You must tell him at once, my daughter. It will give added fervor to his planning, and perhaps it will increasingly sharpen his wits knowing that he is about to have a son to carry his name!”
“But Mother, perhaps it will be a daughter.”
“I know! But you will be happy and Paul will not be disappointed—it will be a new miracle—that is what matters!”
A new miracle! Oh, indeed, it was a new miracle!
Even the appearance of a strangely sober Ahmed could not darken my day. He returned a short time after my hour with mother. I had gone to my room to rest as she suggested and was floating in a dreamworld when Ahmed’s knock trespassed. Impatiently I would have ignored him, but then suddenly I thought that he might have brought me word of Paul so I opened the door. His eyes seemed unfamiliar. I had not seen them often without mischief in them.
“The Doctor has not returned?” he asked when his eyes had searched the room.
“No, he hasn’t come back. Is there something the matter? Are you sick?”
“I am not sick—but there is much trouble in the land.”
“Are you just finding that out?” I asked.
“Oh, no, Miss Tanya. But this is new trouble. I have been gone—” he said this quite as if he were telling me something I did not know. “I have been with my people. They are your friends—you are their friends, but their tents are filled with strangers who do not like them to be your friends. They wear down the ears with their arguments. I do not like it.”
A chill swept through me, but I had grown up a little the past hour and I could afford to pretend that Ahmed was giving his imagination too much play. I could not believe that the hours spent in giving aid to their sick and in teaching and helping them to change their barren fields to productive greenness or the exchange of gifts and other ideas would be thus easily forgotten. Ahmed seemed puzzled, but when finally I sought to relieve his worry by mentioning the sweet date concoction awaiting him in the kitchen I was rewarded by a return of brightness to his eyes. A moment more he lingered, then hurried away to claim the confection.
I was still laughing after his retreating figure when strong arms about me whirled me around to Paul’s kiss. I forgot Ahmed and his soberness in the joy of having Paul home and in the secret I had to share.
Mother had been right! It was a secret no longer! Paul must have given the news wings for the workers coming from the fields seemed to come through the gates with congratulations on their lips. Paul had left me only briefly before we went down to dinner.
“I hope it will be a boy,” I whispered into Paul’s ears after the millionth well-wisher had mentioned how happy we must be.
“Don’t let that bother you, my sweet! Remember Rebekah had twins!”
10
BROODING UNBELIEF
I WAS VERY HAPPY. Paul remained at the village and at last it seemed as if he were finished with the secret work. I reveled in his solicitude and love. It seemed wonderful to be released from the clinic. Paul had laughed at me, but had forbade me to return after he had seen my green face when he unstopped one vile-smelling bottle.
“Tanya! You really have it bad. Come on out.” He led me out where the air was hot but sweet. “Look, how about you going up to the shower-house, then finding a nice cool spot and a good book. I can get along.”
“Maybe better without me,” I chided in order to hear him deny it.
“Just the same, whether you like it or not, I can get along better without having to worry about you! I want you out where you can rest and not be upset.”
So I wandered around the walled-in gardens and watched the children at play. I never had read much and did not want to sit still now. It seemed heavenly just to be free to go and come as I wished, to eat or not to eat as I pleased, to relax knowing that Paul was close by and would come if I called. Ahmed was on my heels at first but Paul needed him, and I was glad when his worry vanished and he went back to help in the office. I was so content, so spoiled perhaps, that I did not feel perturbed greatly when the first night-raid swept one of the vineyards, casting the ripening fruit to the ground to rot.
I listened, then followed as others ran out through the gate to see the damage. Once outside, however, I lost interest. I had not realized what a prisoner I had been. I had escaped so seldom beyond the huge gates. I walked through the vegetable gardens envying the brown-limbed girls who weeded or hoed in them. One of the things the Arabs still resented was the girls’ dress. They thought the shorts and simple shirts indecent. I fain would have thrown away my sticky white starched uniform and have dug; my bare toes in the fresh-turned earth.
To my consternation and surprise I saw that I was not the only one happily looking forward to the future. It made me feel uncomfortable and silly to be pampered and given respite from work. Others were laughing and working in the fields unconcernedly.
“Not everyone feels as you do, Tanya. You have been inside too much. You need to get some sunshine. Walking and fresh air are good for you. So go on out there and let the sunshine get at you. If you can I will still have to leave you in charge of the clinic when I go again.”
I needed time to lose some of my whiteness. How I longed to be golden like others or, perhaps more truthfully, like Lilah! Paul had warned me, however, to take care lest I burn, but it was hard to believe that the warm, soothing rays of the sun could burn so quickly. Still I began looking for a shady spot after lying among the sweetly waving grains of the field. I had gone to meet Paul.
A low hedge of fruit or flowers bounded the field and reluctantly I halted my sunbathing to seek its shelter. Already after only a very few days I could see signs of my skin changing color, but Paul had continued to insist that I be careful. I sat down under the thick shade of the bushes and clasping my knees with my arms let my thoughts go chasing the white clouds in the blue sky. It often seemed brassy hot, but today a gentle wind stirred the clouds into low, intermittent rumbling which presaged a much-needed rainstorm.
It may have been that soft rumble of thunder which kept me from hearing footsteps, or I might have dosed. The shade seemed suddenly to thicken and I looked up to see a tall, still figure looking down at me. The breeze seemed to have stilled and certainly my heart almost stopped beating. My eyes had caught sight of sandaled feet then the flowing heavy skirt, the intricately carved and graceful curve of the knife in the bright sash. A dark hand rested on the jeweled knife, yet that was not what struck terror to my heart. My eyes took in the enveloping folds of the scarf which opened for his face. Black eyes were half-hidden within the twisted turban, but the face bore a wide smile and revealed darkly discolored teeth. It was the smile that brought me to my feet.
I had seen Ahmed smile in the midst of his most impish prank, under reproach, and under approbation—and knew that to an Arab a smile is less a key to his thoughts than a mask. Yet this smile was disturbingly sinister. I felt the thick branches entangle in my hair as I came up among them. This Arab was very close; also I had crept back under the hedge a little to find the coolest shade. Now that thorny hedge formed fetters holding me as surely as chains. Before I could possibly disentangle myself from them the dark grinning Arab could stop me, if he desired. I stood finally, breathless, and waited.
He must have enjoyed the terror in my face for he prolonged it, then, flinging back his head, he laughed. At my first slight movement he ceased his wild laughter and reached out to put a dirty finger under my chin. Evil delight flamed in his eyes and once more he waited, enjoying my fear. Then he spat across my head and I was surprised that he had not aimed at my face. Words hissed at me.
“So, you are afraid without your high walls and hidden arms! Do not look surprised! We know that there are guns and ammunition, in your village even
though the British did not find them. But we can wait! I can wait—” there was sudden personal menace in his words. Once more he laughed to stop abruptly and turn away. Before I could gather my wits and give wings to my feet he looked back once more.
“Don’t forget, we are not like others. We do not kill women!” With that sentence of scorn, he was gone. A chill wind swept across the field carrying with it icy drops as the storm broke.
Paul met me in the middle of the field but there was no ecstacy in the meeting under the gray deluge that already swirled the grain in hopeless tangles under our stumbling feet.
“Tanya! Tanya! Why didn’t you come in when the storm threatened?” Paul shook me, then wound a silly wet blanket around me.
Shivering I tried to explain, but the cold shook my teeth and the wind snatched the words away to drown them in the deluge. It seemed hours before we reached the big gate and the water ran swiftly through it as we splashed inside. Eager hands took me. The blanket had been both heavy and cold. As it was peeled from me I thought I had never been so cold. Mother thrust me into a bath, and as if I were a baby she rubbed me until she was sure that I was really warm, then got me into bed. Exhausted, I let her draw the covers up under my chin and I slept.
Paul was looking down at me when I opened my eyes. I saw the lines of strain go out of his face then he knelt by me.
“You are such a headstrong child, my Rebekah! I warned you to take that sun in small doses! I don’t know whether the rain and the chilling were a kill or a cure—but anyway from now on you take your sunbaths where I can supervise!”
I looked my astonishment. I did not know that I had burned nor that it had been part of the reason for my chill. But then Paul did not know another reason for it. I sat up.
“Paul, did you see the Arab?”
“What Arab?”
I told him of the stranger who had accosted me and, to my surprise, he did not tell me that I was imagining it.
“I have seen him—dressed as you describe him. He is an arrogant sort of person. I think he is a prince. Certainly he ranks high among his people. I wondered why you muttered and tossed while sleeping; it was not all the effects of the sun. Nevertheless you are not to walk outside the walls without me.” I nodded in complete acquiescence. Never again would I feel that I was a prisoner inside those high, sheltering walls.
He questioned me until satisfied that I had told all there was to tell, then he began walking restlessly about the room.
“I wonder what he meant by saying that he could wait.” Paul was not talking to me but rather to himself. “So they know about our guns and munitions? Even the British couldn’t find them when they came! They were convinced that we had none. Then how could they have found out?” I had no answer. In fact, I had not known about the arms until that afternoon when the Arabian had spoken of them.
“You can’t blame me for that since you have never honored me with that much confidence.” I could have bitten my tongue when I saw his look of astonishment.
“I’m sorry, Tanya. I have not liked keeping secrets from you. But I have had to in order to protect you. They are not my secrets to tell. I am sorry, even now, that you have learned about the arms. If the British should return to question you it would mean that you would have to lie and I do not like to think of lies on your lips.”
There were tears of humility in my eyes as I kissed him briefly before he began pacing again. A sound in the corridor caught my attention and I began to understand how the secret might have leaked out. My thoughts must have communicated themselves to Paul.
“What is on your mind, now? You look as if you were still seeing unpleasant things.”
“Shh!” I motioned him to my side, then drawing his head close to my lips I whispered one word, “Ahmed?”
He scowled as he took my suggestion. To my relief he shook his head reluctantly.
“It looks that way, yet I cannot believe it.”
“Perhaps not intentionally, but might it have slipped out by accident?”
“That could be true—I think you may have guessed it, Tanya.”
“What are you going to do?” I asked.
“Nothing, at least right now. The damage has been done and cannot be undone. But from here on we’ll be even more careful. I still can’t see how—but in the light of other happenings I can see,” alluding to Ahmed’s light-fingered abilities, his keenness of eye and hearing. Even now, as softly as we were speaking, he might naïvely ask us about some of our conversation later. He had done it before. We had found some of the questions merely funny, but after all it was rather embarrassing having him always asleep at our door.
He acceded to all other orders but that one. He refused to give up his post and could be pried from it only by being sent on errands which Paul purposely saved for him during the day. There had been no conferences in our room, but even across the wide dining room low voices might have carried through closed doors to a passing inquisitive mischief-maker like Ahmed!
“Paul, I’m hungry.” My petulant change of subject startled Paul. Smilingly he sent our shadow after food for me. Scarcely had he gone before I turned angrily on Paul.
“I like Ahmed and trust him. I don’t think he meant to give away any secrets—I mean if he knew them to be secrets—but why, why if, indeed, we are God’s chosen people (to the Bedouin no such distinction was given) must we fight them for our own land? Why, if God did give us this land, has He not driven them out? Why are they left to torment and to hurt us?”
Paul always seemed reluctant to answer my doubts. Was it, perhaps, because he was coming to doubt, too?
“I wish that I knew the answers to your questions, Tanya. I keep looking and searching, but I seem unable to grasp what I see and read. Dal said it was a blindness, my not being able to see—I sometimes wonder if he is right, or if, maybe, it’s just that we’ve been building our hopes on a mirage. I don’t mean that. I believe that God gave us some kind of promises but maybe they are for a future life and not for this life at all. Even Dal did not seem to mean that. He agreed that God definitely gave this land to us. The scattering was a punishment—” his voice trailed off as his mind followed a new thought.
“Punishment! For what? For being His people?” I cried out scornfully.
“Perhaps. Well, not exactly. What I meant was that we were scattered as punishment in order that we might be in the end better. Parents punish their children, yet they do not stop loving or caring for them—.” Again he paused.
“That’s just it!” I interposed impatiently. “Parents don’t stop loving their children nor feeding and clothing them. Yet, this wonderful God we are supposed to believe chose and loved us cast us off for some little thing we don’t even know about! It doesn’t sound like love to scatter and cut us off without a home! How long does the punishment have to go on? On and on and on? We have been persecuted, branded, hounded, tortured, slaughtered, destroyed! Still some of us cling to the Songs and the Psalms and to God when He couldn’t more clearly show that He had repented His promise to us! Is that the God we are to follow, to worship and believe?”
“I do not know, believe me, Tanya, I do not know!” There was agony in his voice that was like the cry of a wounded and lost child, only it was more terrible for it was the deeper cry of a grown man! It stopped me. Even in my most cynical moments I had not felt quite as hopeless as he sounded. Perhaps because I had found and pinned my faith on him; perhaps because he had found no one on whom to pin his faith!
He walked across the room to stand fingering the black Book which Dal had left him. I wished often that I could read it and see what fascination it held, but it was written in English.
“Dal tried to show me so many things. I wish he were here. I think perhaps he could help us a little to see more clearly. I seem to have lost sight of God. One of the reasons I came to Palestine was my pride in it. I was so sure that it was ours by divine right. Yet now that I have come and seen how the Arabs fight our work, and how the trouble an
d the persecution seem to have been merely transplanted I wonder. Maybe God does want us to have this land, but does not like the way we have been forced into coming to it—.” He was thinking aloud, perhaps remembering and adding together some of the things Dal had told him or that he had been reading. “I don’t suppose any of us would have come here if we had continued in the prosperity we once knew. I went to America because it had more to offer me than Germany. I don’t like to admit it, but I came to Palestine with much the same idea. I wasn’t sure but it sounded like the golden opportunity. I left the way open so that I could return to America if things didn’t pan out here as I thought they should. That doesn’t sound like trusting one’s God, does it?” he mocked bitterly. “Dai said something like that. He said that it took oppression and slaughtering to make us even look this way. I suppose he is right. The doors were opened when Allenby took Palestine for the British, yet only a few Jews took advantage of it to come here. Why are we clamoring to come back now? Only because all other doors have closed against us!”
I waited for him to go on, then I went back to my old question. “But suppose you are right—I mean about God wanting to give us the land—we are here now and what has He done about the Arabs? If His promise is of any value surely there must be some way to uproot the Arab! Maybe He still doesn’t like us the way we are and is going to whip us into being good or else!” I exclaimed cynically.
Paul looked at me quizzically. I saw that even his unbelief had not quite reached the depths of mine.
“Out of the mouths of babes.” He tried to joke, but was too serious to make a go of it. “Maybe you are right. I mean about our not being ready to receive what God has for us. I know I seem to quote Dal all the time but the things he says he doesn’t say of himself. He reads them to me out of that Book! It’s all there if I knew where to find it. I can’t seem to find the things Dal read to me but some I have found and perhaps I will find the others, too, if I keep looking. One thing does seem clear even though I don’t understand it—some place along the way we went so far away from God that we left Him no choice but to cast us aside. Yet, how can a God who makes promises that seem to reach into eternity so easily forget and nullify His own promises?”
The Lost City Page 10