Climbing the Date Palm

by Shira Glassman

  “See you back at the inn.”

  Isaac walked away from Tivon, back toward the marketplace. He walked past people selling musical instruments and clothing and food and things to put on the wall that held flowers. Sweet smells came from the shop selling pastries, and he stepped to the side to avoid the children chasing one another around with glee.

  At the far edge of the marketplace stood a grand shop that looked established and venerable. A youth teetering on the edge of puberty hovered outside, arms folded across his chest, a knife strapped at his waist. He might as well have been captain of the Guard, so seriously did he take his position as shop security.

  With a deferential nod to the youth, Isaac entered the shop. He noted the presence of a woman in extremely fine clothing out of the corner of his eye, but instead of moving straight toward her, he prowled the shop a bit, exploring. After a few minutes he had selected a few necklaces, each focusing on the color lilac. One looked like freshwater pearls; another, opaque beads with a dragon pendant. A third alternated between lilac and clear crystals.

  He pretended to snap his head up with surprise when a soothing female voice beside him asked, “She likes that color?”

  “Oh! Yes, yes, she does. Although, who knows what young girls like... Just when we think we can explain them, well...” Isaac flashed her a warm smile. “What do we know? They know everything, right?”

  He could tell from her carriage that he was successfully charming her.

  “At least, even if you guess wrong and you come home and she’s thrown away all her lilac, she’ll still treasure it because her Baba gave it to her.” The jeweler unconsciously fingered the jasper beads she wore at her own throat.

  “She loves her father, yes,” said Isaac. As with the king, he hadn’t uttered a single lie and didn’t plan on doing so, but his answers led her down a false path. Such games amused him.

  “Do you need help choosing? Maybe I can help.” She took the necklaces from him and laid them out on the table in front of her. Standing back, she considered his selection. “Would you say her style is more... showy or more shy?”

  Isaac waited a very calculated moment, then threw up his hands. “I don’t know. One minute, she--” He turned around and looked around the rest of the shop with a wounded expression.

  “Can I help? I raised three girls -- and two boys. And I’m discreet.”

  Isaac turned back around. “Do you think it’s possible to pay a... rather ragged young man to go away and leave her alone?”

  A complicated expression that wavered between sadness, wisdom, and amusement veiled the jeweler’s face. “My honest answer? I’d say you’d have better luck if you just found a way to make him look a fool in her eyes, without saying so directly. That payoff ruse doesn’t work. I don’t want to scare you too much, but millions of years ago when I was a young girl, my father took a payoff... but I kept sneaking out to meet... a boy. It wasn’t Baba’s fault -- I’m pretty sure he never knew.”

  Isaac didn’t have to feign dismay. If sneaking out meant what he thought it meant... “Sneak out? Do you think she sneaks out?”

  “I couldn’t say. I don’t know your daughter at all. It’s different from girl to girl -- but I can tell you that what we got up to at that age, you know -- hiding inside gardens -- that was exactly what the money was supposed to prevent. So, save your money -- or spend it with me! -- and find a way to embarrass the poor idiot instead. Make her see him as less than a man. You probably don’t have far to go with boys that young, anyway.”

  “Thank you so much for the advice. I think I’ll take this one with the beads and the, er, what is this?”

  “It’s a dragon. Supposed to be, anyway. That’s purple jade.”

  “Oh, yes! Now I see. Very pretty.”

  “I hope she likes it. Can I help you find anything for your wife?” It was a sales pitch; it was also a probe.

  “No, no, just the necklace for my little queen,” said Isaac. “My wife, I gave her something big and silver when we first met, and that’ll always be her favorite.”

  Rivka’s sword had originally been Isaac’s spare.

  They discussed prices and the weather for a few minutes, and soon Isaac was out in the street again with his present for Shulamit packed safely away. He walked toward the inn with a heavy heart. Delara had lain with Crown Prince Jahandar, then -- how nice for them both, but it meant she obviously wasn’t the woman from the poem. And someone who would take money with one hand while committing the very acts the money had been spent to prevent with the other didn’t have the strong moral convictions of the mystery woman, either.

  He figured that he should have known; her breasts had fed five children, but they weren’t the size that would inspire poets to speak of melons.

  Thunder cracked, and the beginnings of the afternoon rains began to soak his sherwani jacket. It helped him decide his next move. With a sudden jerk, he ducked behind a tree and dwindled down to his lizard form, the necklace safely in his pocket so it would reappear with the rest of his clothing. Going back to Shulamit without a solution would be embarrassing; even though they’d been successful in their mission, all they’d found was a dead end. Hoping Tivon would stay put and not try to come find him, he scurried across damp walls toward the palace.

  The key to this whole mess was King Jahandar. Isaac resolved to spy on him until he learned something useful -- even something small, but something he could take back to Shulamit that would be more useful to her than a necklace of lilac jade beads.

  Chapter 16: Shabbat in Flames

  “Blessed are You, Milady, Queen of the World...”

  It was Shabbat, and those closest to the queen were seated as usual around the big wooden table waiting patiently for her to kick off the day of rest with the usual blessings. Moments ago, Aviva had brought her a firestick she’d lit at a nearby torch, and now she held its blazing end toward the two candles placed in front of her.

  Kaveh leaned in closer to Aviva and demonstrated his lack of skill at whispering. “I know you said that your god must be bigger than male or female, but I’m still not used to the way she--”

  From across the table there came a sharp “Shhh!”, and Kaveh flinched. Riv was glaring at him from beneath the dark-brown kippah that was somehow -- as if by magic -- taming the captain’s usual mop of wild golden hair. Shulamit was relieved to see him shut his mouth, and she resumed her prayer while he watched in silence.

  Shulamit shut her eyes as she sank into the familiar rhythm of the blessing, and then withdrew further into herself for the silent portion of the prayer. She hoped Isaac and Tivon’s prolonged absence was a sign they had found the jeweler’s daughter and were negotiating with her, or even better that they stood now by her side as she pled with Jahandar to come to his senses.

  In her secret heart where she stood naked before God, she abandoned herself to selfish prayer -- the mystery woman from Jahandar’s past was her only rescue from the unsavory choice between leaving her country in the care of strangers after her death, marrying a man who would inevitably demand her body, and making an enemy or possibly even starting a war. She couldn’t live with herself if she ended up starting a war or leaving her throne to the whims of fate just to avoid having to sleep with a man on a regular basis -- what kind of a queen would she be?

  But could she do that to herself?

  God, help!

  She started when she opened her eyes. Behind the friendly, flickering light of the candles, she saw Isaac standing before her on the other side of the table.

  “Isaac! Tivon!” she added, seeing the other man standing in the shadows. She noticed a change in the body language of both Rivka and her mother, and she was momentarily amused. But as she studied Isaac’s face for a clue to their adventures, she began to feel a weight in her stomach.

  Isaac often sought to be mysterious, sharing only what he wanted to, and his face revealed nothing. But over the past few years, Shulamit had figured out that pride was also a powerful
force within him, and she knew that if he had good news to tell her, his inscrutable expression would have been covered with a thin veneer of smug.

  Instead, she saw nothing -- nothing at all. Not a good sign.

  She found it hard to swallow. “Wh--what happened?” she stuttered softly.

  “Bless the country, Queenling,” he prompted her sotto voce. In other words, she had duties -- not now.

  As the parents in ordinary homes bless their children at their own Shabbat dinners, Queen Shulamit blessed the nation under her rule. Tonight, especially, she felt the weight of that surrogate motherhood.

  Aviva poured out some wine, and Shulamit was able to stutter out a blessing over that as well, her mind on other things. Isaac sat beside her and tried his best to radiate a calming aura, but her jittery nerves were powerful even against his charisma.

  Shulamit lifted Rivka’s hand and nodded at her as she did each week, and then the captain proceeded to perform the blessing over the bread. This nod was a ritual passing of the torch that helped the queen not to feel so left out of that part of Shabbat, although she still longed to reach out and grab a piece of the fluffy golden braid with everybody else, stomach cramps or no stomach cramps.

  When dinner itself was finally on the table, Shulamit finally turned to Isaac and asked, “Can you please tell me? I’m too tense to eat. I have to know.”

  Isaac paused a moment before speaking. “You were right about the jeweler’s daughter, but she’s not the woman from the poem.”

  “What?”

  “She and Jahandar had an affair back when he was a teenaged prince, like you thought, and you were right that her father was the one who took the bribe from King Omeed. My smart little malkeleh! But they ignored the deal and saw each other anyway, in secret, and what’s more -- they did lie together, years before the poem was written. Also, her chest is too small.”

  Shulamit opened and closed her mouth like a fish.

  Isaac, who had just carried a full-grown man a full day’s ride on his back, clearly didn’t have any of her reluctance to eat and attacked his plate with nearly as much ferocity as if he’d still been in dragon form.

  “So, I was right,” she observed, “and it still did me no good.”

  “I’m sorry, Queenling.” Isaac looked genuinely distressed. “I knew it would upset you terribly, so I stayed behind to spy on the king after I found out. I hoped he’d say, or do, something to give me a clue about his childhood love, so I turned lizard and spent hours in his palace. The only thing I found...” Here he lowered his voice. “...was worse news.”

  “Worse? What do you mean, worse?” Shulamit began to play with her fingers nervously.

  Isaac leaned his head toward hers and continued in a soft voice. “Late at night, the king sat in conference with his executioner.”

  “I don’t like where this is going.” Shula lowered her head and rubbed her forehead.

  “He wants to get rid of Farzin as soon as possible, but according to their religion, executions are forbidden during the Month of the Sun.”

  “Right... We already knew that.”

  “The executioner was summoned in case he had any ideas around the religious prohibition,” Isaac continued. “Originally, they planned to hang Farzin at dawn, as soon as the sun came up, so that the spectacle of his death would serve as an example to his followers and any others who want to act as he does. But technically, they’re allowed to kill him at sundown the night before -- their holidays are like our holidays, starting at sunset.”

  “So he didn’t want to hang him at night because then nobody would be able to see? I really, really don’t like this man.”

  “Exactly. But the executioner pointed out that there are ways of killing people that are still very, very visible at night.” Isaac’s face darkened. “Even if they’re far more cruel than the instant death of a neck broken by hanging.”

  “What are you--?”

  Then she noticed Isaac’s eyes were no longer on her but were staring to the front of her, at... the Shabbat candles.

  “No. What? Really? That bastard!” Then she covered her mouth quickly, but Rivka wasn’t even listening, and Mitzi was engrossed in whatever Tivon was saying, as usual.

  Kaveh, however, was -- somehow. Their efforts to hide the conversation from him hadn’t gone as planned. “What are you whispering about? Why is she staring at the candles? Why does he look like he just got a death sentence?”

  Shulamit, panicking, remained silent. Isaac turned away from Kaveh. Their reticence to answer only made the prince more anxious. He sprang from his seat, attracting everyone’s attention. “Tell me! Has Farzin -- is he still alive?”

  “He’s alive,” said Isaac gravely. “Your father’s just moved up the execution half a day.”

  “You mean after nightfall? How can he do that? It’s at night! Nobody will see-- will see-- Oh, oh...” Kaveh trailed off as his eyes fell upon the candles. “No...no, he can’t! Not fire! Oh, my poor love! What pain!” Pale-faced and breathing oddly, he lurched forward. Several pairs of eyes watched the unsteady man warily, unsure if he was about to faint or vomit.

  “That way he’ll be easier to see against the darkening sky,” Isaac explained to those on the other side of the table who were just catching up.

  “How horrible!” Mitzi exclaimed, groping around on the tabletop vaguely for Tivon’s hand.

  “Watch him!” someone shouted, just before Kaveh stumbled sideways and knocked roughly into the queen. Kaveh, wide-eyed, shaking, and clearly oblivious to his surroundings, began to scream. He stumbled out of the room, and Shulamit was close enough to the courtyard that she could hear him throwing up.

  “Riv, please go help him.” Shulamit struggled to regain control of her own emotions, but all she wanted to do was cry.

  Chapter 17: The Amazing Shulamit’s Juggling Act

  “Ugggh,” groaned Shulamit, collapsing into her usual chair within the safe confines of Aviva’s kitchen-house. “What happened to Shabbat? So much for peace and contemplation. I feel worse than ever!”

  “This Shabbat we peeled a litchi, and all that was inside was the seed,” Aviva commented, rubbing her shoulders. “No fruit at all.”

  “Just a rough little nubbly husk thing,” Shulamit agreed, picking apart one of the aforementioned litchi husks with agitated fingers.

  Aviva quickly swept up the rest of the discarded husks before Shulamit’s discomposure could cover the table in vegetative confetti.

  “I’m sorry,” Isaac murmured distantly.

  “Oh, Isaac, we don’t blame you! I’m grateful that you stayed and tried to find out who the woman was. It’s not you that wants to set people like us on fire.” The queen grinned manically, a smile with no joy.

  “Someone loved him... once...” said Aviva in disbelief.

  “If we could just find her again -- if he’d listen to her--”

  The usual unselfconscious clatter announced the approach of Captain Riv. “Shulamit, you have to make a decision,” said Rivka as she entered. “Kaveh’s under guard right now because he threatened to castrate himself if Farzin dies.”

  Aviva gasped, but the queen was nonplussed. “You don’t have to watch him so closely,” Shulamit pointed out. “If he does it now he loses his bargaining chip.”

  “Bargaining chip?! Gottenyu, this man risked his life to come to me for help, and I gave him my word that--”

  “I know, I know, and I want to help him too. I keep thinking, what if it was Aviva--”

  Rivka sat down across from her and next to Isaac. “I know you worry about a lot of things. I know you have the whole kingdom on your shoulders, but you have to focus for a second.”

  “Focus? I haven’t been thinking about anything else in weeks. Look. Here’s my problem. If Kaveh doesn’t let me marry him, I’m caught between letting people I don’t know or trust inherit my kingdom whenever I die someday, or having to-- my body--” Words failed her and she sputtered and panicked, and Aviva put her arm aro
und her in comfort.

  “I don’t like either one of those, either. Which is why I say we attack.” Rivka took both her hands and fixed her in her gray-blue gaze. “Queenling. Let me sound the call. There’s no time left. I know it’s Shabbat, but everyone here knows what you’re up against, and so does God. When this is all over you can give yourself a week’s rest, and it’ll all come out in the wash. If we leave now, we can be there with plenty of time for you and I and Isaac to talk to the king, free Farzin and pay his workers -- and, by the way if you don’t like that idea, let me introduce you to my Royal Guard. We have the might! Why do you hold back?”

  “It’s going to start a thing,” Shulamit insisted unhappily.

  “A thing? Do you mean a war? I can handle a war. Jahandar can’t put up that much of a war, anyway. Our men are strong, well trained, and clear-headed. They’re ready to fight for you.”

  “I know -- I know we have the strength, but people could still get hurt. This could have lasting... Besides, the City of the Red Clay has never been our enemy. I hate the idea of making enemies out of nowhere.”

  “Please tell me this whole agonizing mess isn’t just you trying to avoid being disliked.” Rivka’s elbows hit the table with a thud, and she rested her face on her fists. “They’re gornischt -- just one little nothing city.”

  “They still have an army! And no, I don’t want to make enemies.”

  “Why do you even care what King Jahandar thinks of you? If you hate him, why do you need him to not hate you?”

  “It’s not just that.”

  “You don’t need him to like you, just to fear us enough that he won’t attack you.”

  “I thought you said he’d take it personally and attack even if he was outmanned.”

  “You think too much. Handsome prince shows up, begs for help. We give it. You get a free husband who won’t touch you except to make babies. Why make it so complicated?”

  “Rivka, if this starts a thing--”