by Naomi Ruppin
“I should say so. Much more than enough. Are you sure?”
When I nodded, she immediately donned my shirt, then filled one of the lamps with oil from the jug, stuck a cloth wick in it and lit it from the lamp she kept burning. “What do you want to talk to the mistress about?”
“About…a woman who used to come here.”
She handed me the lamp and cocked her head towards the cave’s dark interior.
“Go on then.”
Hesitantly, I entered the narrow mouth of the cave. The flame of my lamp failed to illuminate much beyond my hand and I walked slowly, shining the lamp on the floor and walls of the passage before taking each step. The flame’s reflection gleamed yellow where water trickled down the slick limestone walls and formed puddles underfoot. The air had the wet-stone smell of the palace walls after a rain, and it was cold in a different way from the air outside—utterly still and heavy as frigid water. Without my warm shirt I immediately began to tremble from the chill. I crept cautiously along for perhaps fifty paces until the narrow tunnel widened into a large round chamber. It was lit faintly by several lamps placed in niches in the stone wall. A woman was sitting by the wall in a wooden chair, covered with a woolen blanket and sleeping soundly. Her snores echoed off the cave’s high ceiling. Next to her, four young women huddled together on a straw mat, beside a pile of folded cloths. A few paces away, four basins were hewn into the rock floor, side by side in a square formation, with water welling up to fill them and stone steps leading down to them. I couldn’t imagine a worse agony than parting with the rest of my clothes and immersing myself in the near-freezing spring water. And to think that women paid for this dubious pleasure! I walked over to the sitting women and set my lamp down on the ground.
“Mistress,” said the one closest to the woman in the chair, shaking her shoulder.
The woman started and blinked at me, then stood and threw her blanket onto the chair. She was small and wiry and appeared middle-aged, as far as I could tell in the gloom. The other women hastened to their feet as well, and as they rose I saw the gleam of metal on their ankles.
“You’re an early bird,” their mistress said. “Not like those pampered ones from the palace.”
“I’m from the palace.”
“Oh. To be sure, but I meant the wives and such. I’m sure you work very hard.”
Timna’s dress had done its work well. The woman clearly thought I was a servant.
“Strip, dear, one of the girls will fold your clothes. Didn’t bring a cloth? You can use one of ours for drying, but it’ll cost you extra. Raise your arms, dear.”
I clutched at the hem of my dress as she tried to tug it upward.
“No need to be shy. We’re all women here.”
“I’m not here to bathe. I’m…I’m Abigail, daughter of King Solomon.”
She let go of my dress and eyed me skeptically.
“Are you sure?” she asked.
“Of course I’m sure!”
“What do you want then, if you’re not here to bathe?”
“Information. I just want to talk to you.”
“Information, to be sure.” She eyed me calculatingly. “That’ll cost you extra.”
Now I was getting annoyed.
“Madam, I’ve already paid to get in here. You will cooperate with me or the king, by whose command I’m here, will hear of it.”
“Very well, dear.” She shrugged as if to say that there had been no harm in trying. “What can I do for you?”
“It’s about a woman from the palace, one of the king’s wives. She’s Egyptian and her name is Amisi. I want to know when she was last here.”
The woman laughed. “Bless you, dear, I don’t know their names, and I certainly don’t keep track of their baths. I can’t help you. I’m sure I don’t know why the king keeps so many of them—they all look the same with their clothes off.”
My heart sank with disappointment, though this was no different than what I’d expected.
“Unless there’s something unusual about her,” the woman added. “There’s one with a big purple birthmark on her back—she was in last week. And one with hair the color of wheat—I’ve never seen the like. Haven’t seen her for a while.”
I felt some faint hope and said, “This woman is very beautiful. If you’ve seen her, I think you’d remember. She has black hair and large eyes, almond-shaped but green. About my height, but more slender.”
“I’m sorry, dear. There’s not much light in here. And it’s usually my girls who see the women closer up. What’s she done? Run off, has she? The foreign ones, they sometimes long for home. My girls too. They’re no end of trouble when they run off.”
“Please think again. It might have been in the month of Peshet. Or maybe sometime up to the Feast of Aviv.”
“Last spring! I can’t possibly remember that far back.”
“You’re sure you don’t remember?”
“I’m sure.”
I sighed and said, “Well, thank you anyway. I’ll take my leave.”
I picked up my borrowed lamp and started down the narrow exit tunnel.
“Mistress, I need to make water.” The voice of one of the slave girls echoed from the chamber.
“Go on then. But don’t dawdle. You won’t like it if I have to come looking for you.”
I heard the girl come up behind me and flattened myself against the cave wall.
“Please, pass before me,” I said.
“Lady, I came to talk to you,” the girl said in an urgent whisper.
I squinted at her in the near-blackness. She had dark hair, eyes and skin, and I couldn’t see much of her but her teeth and the whites of her eyes.
“What about?”
“I remember the lady you speak of, the lovely one, Amisi. She spoke to me in Egyptian and I asked her name.”
“You did! Do you remember when you saw her last?” My heart was pounding.
“You’re right, she did come just before the Feast of Aviv. It was a very busy day. All the Hebrew women came to purify themselves before the holiday sacrifice.”
“Then how do you remember that Amisi came that day?” I asked.
“It’s not just her face that is lovely. At feast time, the women often bring holiday gifts for the mistress. But Amisi was the only one who also brought gifts for us slaves. I could never forget that. But we’ve not seen her since then. I pray she is well.”
I was so grateful to her; for the second time that morning I wished I had some form of payment.
“I thank you. She is well.” As Khepri might have said, the truth was more complicated than that, but there was nothing to be gained by elaborating. “She’s simply with child, so she hasn’t needed to come to the bath.”
“I don’t understand,” she said with a frown. “Then why do you ask about her?”
“You should get back to your mistress. Again, a thousand thanks. I’ll tell Amisi you remember her kindly.”
As I walked up the road to the palace, the wind pierced my thin dress cruelly, locked icy fingers on my body and shook me. The slave girl’s memory had sounded detailed and convincing. Amisi’s kindness to the slaves made me feel warmly towards her, which made me feel even worse about what I was doing. Taking the slave girl’s story as truth meant that Amisi had not been pregnant in the middle of the month of Aviv, the month after Peshet. Had she lied about the timing of her last monthly flow? Perhaps not. Suppose her flow had started at the very end of Peshet, ended a few days later, and she had then visited the bath after waiting the required five “clean” days. This could have been about the middle of Aviv, as reported by the slave girl. But if the king remembered correctly that the last night he’d spent with Amisi had been in the previous month, then she was not carrying his child. Had she really betrayed him? Or could he be mistaken after all? I had gleaned some information from my visit to the ritual bath, but the truth remained as elusive as ever.
§
When I returned from the bath it w
as late morning, and I knew Moth would be training. I was impatient to discuss with him all that I’d learned, as much to see if the telling of it would inspire me with some new insight as to hear his opinions.
After the midday meal in the women’s court Timna, who was clearing a nearby table, caught my eye. She cocked her head and raised her eyebrows and I hurried over to her. She was wearing my purple-trimmed dress and moving very slowly and carefully so as not to soil it with any food or drink.
“What news, Timna?”
“Nothing about Amisi, lady. It’s only that I have a message for you from Joel. I saw him when I was serving luncheon in the men’s court. He’s quite good-looking, isn’t he? Such pale skin and copper hair. Some might not like those little brown spots on his nose, but I think they’re charming.”
I felt quite annoyed at Timna’s mentioning Moth’s freckles, still more at her liking them. They were none of her affair.
“I suppose. What’s the message?”
“Oh, he said to meet him after you eat, at your usual place. He said you would know where.”
“I do. Thank you, Timna.”
I hurried to the entrance of the Hall of the Throne and sure enough Moth was waiting for me there, sitting on the branch of an olive tree and swinging his legs. When he saw me he jumped down.
“Timna gave me your message,” I said as we started walking around the Hall.
“She’s quite a pretty girl, isn’t she?” Moth said. So the admiration was mutual!
“Is she? I hadn’t noticed. Maybe, if you don’t mind such snarly hair.”
“I like curly hair.”
“Anyway, she’s foolish as a child.”
“Not everyone can be as clever as you, Abigail. She’s sweet. I like talking to her. It’s restful.”
“You mean, it requires no mental effort on your part!”
“I guess I do mean that.” Moth grinned. “What’s new with your investigation?”
“Quite a few things, actually.”
I told him first about that morning’s visit to the bath while it was fresh in my mind. He congratulated me for coming up with the idea, but agreed that what I’d learned didn’t quite tip the scales of judgment either way.
“I had another thought.” I hesitated before setting forth my theory about Gideon. I knew that Moth greatly admired him and would probably reject any suspicion I cast on him. “I was in the stables yesterday.”
I told him about how Gideon had come upon me and mistaken me for someone else.
“Abigail, you’re mad!”
“Wait, there’s more.”
“You can stop right there.”
“You must hear me out and promise to keep an open mind.”
I told him how I’d remembered seeing Amisi in the stables, and pointed out how we might be taken for each other based only on our heights and our hair. I concluded with the fact that ‘Amisi’ meant ‘flower’ in Egyptian, and that Gideon had called me ‘little flower’.
“Can I speak now?” Moth asked.
“Yes.”
“First of all, Gideon is a soldier and a commander in the king’s forces, and he’s the most loyal, honorable person I know.”
“Moth, you’ve only seen him in one set of circumstances. You don’t know what he’s like in personal situations.”
“Nothing would make me believe that he would betray the king. Secondly, there are over six hundred women in the palace, counting servants and your sisters, and nearly all of them have dark hair.”
“Yes, but I doubt very many of them visit the stables.”
“And thirdly, there’s a very simple fact that proves you’re talking nonsense.”
“What?”
“In Aviv, Gideon commanded the operation in Midian. Harel took his place teaching us trainees. The skirmishes at the border went on for two months. Gideon was wounded. He stayed in camp for another month before he was well enough to make the journey back. In other words, Gideon wasn’t even in the palace at the time you say that Amisi conceived, and long after.”
“Oh, horse apples!” I exclaimed.
Moth hooted. “Where did you learn that expression?”
“I don’t know. Probably from you. So unless Amisi is six months pregnant when she appears nine, and she skipped the ritual bath for two months when she wasn’t pregnant, Gideon can’t be the father.”
“That’s what I’m saying.”
“Well, then…oh, I need to learn more curse words! It was such a beautiful premise.”
“Yes, well, while you were dazzling yourself with your beautiful premises, you made ugly accusations about an innocent man.”
“I’m sorry,” I muttered. “You’re right. I guess I was so desperate to make some progress that I leapt at the wrong conclusion.”
To change the subject, I told him about my unsettling session with Nathan. Moth’s expression grew darker as I spoke.
“Do you think the king’s inheriting the crown was Nathan’s doing?” I asked when I’d finished.
“I guess it’s possible. Why would King David put a child in power? Maybe he really was feeble-minded with age.”
We walked for some time in silence, passing the Hall entrance again and starting on another circle.
“I think you should give this up,” Moth said suddenly.
“What do you mean?”
“This case. It’s like searching for an ant in a wheat field. You’re getting nowhere. You can’t risk having to marry that snake. You should quit the investigation and look for another way out.”
“Like what?”
“Anything. Escape the palace, like we said. Or marry someone else. Or even…”
He broke off. I looked at him expectantly; he was blushing and looking at his feet.
“Well, what?”
“Forgive me for saying this but…I’m pretty sure Nathan would lose interest in you if…if you were no longer a maid.”
“Oh.” I felt an answering warmth in my cheeks and I took a sudden, intense interest in a raven that had landed on one of the nearby palm trees. “I can’t give up yet, Moth. Not until I’ve tried everything. It’s not just about me. I brought this trouble on Amisi with my census. It’s my fault. If I can’t prove her innocence, she’ll die!”
Now I did look at Moth. He was looking back at me sorrowfully.
“What if she’s not innocent?”
I sighed. “I don’t want to believe it, but I know it’s possible.”
We walked on in silence.
“I’m running out of ideas,” I said finally. “But there’s one thing I haven’t tried.”
“What’s that?”
“I want to watch the encampment at night.”
“Abigail, you’re mad! What’s the point? Even if Amisi did have a lover who managed to get into the encampment without being seen, he wouldn’t be foolish enough to try it again when he knows she’s under suspicion.”
“I know that. I just want to see who comes and goes. I know it doesn’t make much sense.”
“Well, go ahead then. Want some company?”
“Sure. I’ll be watching from the balcony over the women’s court. I’m pretty sure no one else will be out there on a winter’s night. And there’s something else I want you to do for me. Can you please find me some khat leaves? Maybe someone in the men’s court has some.”
“Why, who are you planning to poison?”
“Only myself. I want to stay up all night to watch, and I’ve been sleeping so badly lately I’m afraid I’ll nod off if I don’t have something to keep me awake.”
“I’ll keep you awake.”
“Really! You sleep like a stone. I don’t trust you for a moment. You’ll have to chew some too. Meet me on the balcony tonight, after they light the watch fires.”
Chapter Nine
Night Watch
I was already stationed on the balcony when I saw the night fires bloom in the watchtowers. I had brought food, water and three woolen blankets. Thankfully the sky wa
s clear and I didn’t expect rain. I spread out one of the blankets and sat on it, peering out between the wooden bars of the balcony railing. I didn’t think I could be seen in the dark from below. I wrapped myself in another blanket, saving the third for Moth, but I was still far from warm.
I wondered whether Moth would manage to find some khat. It wouldn’t be the first time. Once, when we were about ten years old, Moth had pilfered an entire khat plant brought by merchants from Ethiopia. He’d heard about its effects from some of the older boys. We planted it amidst a cluster of hedges on the palace grounds and tended to it carefully until it had grown into a fine bush. I was the one who came up with the idea of how we would amuse ourselves with its harvest. Moth created a diversion in the kitchen one evening, while I mixed a goodly amount of khat leaves in with the mint leaves used to make an infusion for the royal wives and children. After dinner we took up position on the balcony and observed with much mirth as the women and children of the court became frantically animated, all talking at once, laughing, singing, dancing, women quarreling and slapping each other, children jumping off the dangerously tall trees that grew in the courtyard. I remember Moth saying with delight, “Look! Now they’re all like me.”
Now I heard Moth coming up the stairs to the balcony. He walked over to me, carrying a lidded earthenware pot.
“Did you get the khat?” I asked.
Moth set the heavy pot down on the floor and lifted the lid. Inside was a long-handled copper kettle nestled in a bed of glowing embers.
“It’s khat infusion,” Moth said. “I thought it could keep us warm too.”
“Brilliant!”
Moth produced two small earthenware cups from his pocket and poured us some of the brew. I sipped at it cautiously. It was the most bitter thing I’d ever tasted.
“Moth, this is truly disgusting.”
“Then don’t drink it.”
I had brought some date honey to eat with bread. Using a knife, I transferred a blob of the honey into my cup and stirred. This made it slightly more palatable, so I gave Moth’s cup the same treatment.
“Would you believe the bush that we planted years ago is still alive?” Moth said. “I had to root around in the hedges to find it. You can’t see in the dark, but I’m all scratched up.”