by Naomi Ruppin
“Poor Moth! Thank you.” I remembered the third blanket and draped it around his shoulders. I drained my cup and held it out to him. “Pour me some more?”
“Should you be drinking it so fast?”
“I can’t feel a thing. I don’t think it has the slightest effect on me. Anyway, I’ll drink this one more slowly. I just want it to keep my hands warm.”
I wrapped my hands around the cup and surveyed the scene below. We sat at the left end of the balcony, as close as we could get to the encampment. Below us to the right the women’s courtyard had long since emptied, after supper had been served and cleared and children had been put to bed. Even the hardiest gossips and backgammon players had been driven inside by the cold. A few of the torches still flickered in the courtyard but would soon die down. The traffic to and from the encampment had slowed to a trickle. The occasional woman still greeted the guard at the gate and entered, probably returning from a last trip to the latrine. The wind whispered through the palm fronds in the courtyard, and a baby’s cry was heard from one of the nearby tents, followed by a faint lullaby that floated up to the balcony.
I sipped at the warm brew and felt both peaceful and completely alert. For the first time in weeks I was content to do nothing, especially not to direct my thoughts in any orderly fashion. At that moment I felt no need to solve anything, or prove myself, or wonder why I was different from my sisters. Sitting in my aerie above the slumbering women of the palace, I was inseparably rooted in everything around me, not an observer. That was strange, because I was way up high, there to observe, and I giggled a little because it made no sense. I was no longer cold.
“This must be how a tree feels, Moth,” I said. “Pour me another. Pour yourself some too.”
“I’m fine,” he said, very softly but I heard him anyway. “One of us should keep our wits about us.”
“Shhh. Somebody’s coming. Oh, look, it’s Khepri and someone else.”
I saw Khepri’s slender, graceful figure talking with the guard at the gate to the encampment, accompanied by another man who was carrying what looked like two poles, one long and one short. They entered the gate and approached one of the tents. It was near enough so I could see that its central pole was missing and its fabric had collapsed into a hip-high dent instead of being peaked in the middle, and it was flapping up and down in the wind. A woman came out and the two men ducked inside. I heard some hammering and the tent grew a peak. Then Khepri and the other man left the encampment.
The pot holding the khat brew stood in front of us and I leaned forward to hug it, laying my cheek against the lid and turning my head towards Moth. Somehow I could feel the thoughts emanating from his mind just as I could feel the heat from the embers inside the pot, and I knew that he was worrying. I wanted him to feel as peaceful as I did, so I tried to think of something that would make him happy.
“Moth, it’s our birthday next week,” I said. “We’ll be fifteen years old.”
“So it is.” He turned to me and smiled.
“You’re a man, Moth!” I said wonderingly. “And I’m a woman.”
I thought of our childhood selves meeting outside the Hall of the Throne, and wondered what they would think if they could see us here now, and how impossible it would be to explain to them the strange and complicated behavior of adults that had brought us to be here. I started to laugh, though really it was more sad than amusing.
“What’s so funny?”
I shook my head and said, “It’s too hard to explain.”
My thoughts soared and fluttered, alighting on some idea every so often, but never for very long.
“I’m like a bird, Moth!”
“Are you done being a tree?” He laughed and I did too.
The fire in the watchtower across from us was dancing and I swayed in time with it. I had grown a crown of eyes and I could see everything at the same time without turning my head—Moth, the courtyard, the tents, the palace walls and towers, the city walls beyond them. Khepri came up to the encampment gate again and I grabbed Moth’s arm and pointed; he nodded. Khepri spoke to the guard and passed through the gate. I was disappointed and a little surprised when I lost sight of him among the tents, even though I was a sparrow flying over the encampment. Time coiled and stretched like a snake and it was impossible to mark its passing.
Moth was a small brown woolen mountain, his face a pale oval glowing at the top, thatched with fiery tufts. With my heightened vision I could see the two long scratches down his right cheek, like the ruts made by wagon wheels, from his struggle with the hedges. I reached out and traced them with two fingers. Moth jumped at my touch.
“I’m sorry, did I hurt you?” I asked, drawing my hand back.
“No. You just startled me.”
I could also see the freckles on Moth’s nose clearly, the ones that Timna had remarked upon, and I stroked them with one finger. They were slightly raised—I could almost count them. Moth was looking at me as if he were a new horse I was trying to befriend—wary and a little suspicious. But he didn’t shy away like the horses sometimes did. For a moment he looked unfamiliar, but I knew just how to go about redrawing his face, so with my fingers I traced his gull’s-wing eyebrows and the outline of his mouth, then the meeting of his lips, which parted slightly. Moth gasped sharply but didn’t move. I was on the verge of a discovery, and even my fingertips were not a sensitive enough tool, so I moved my hand to his cheek, leaned toward him and brought my lips to his, aligning our upper and lower lips. Not quite. I tilted my chin up slightly so that our lips nestled against each other like twigs in a bird’s nest. Yes, closer. Moth’s hand emerged from under his blanket and gripped mine hard, and he tasted my tongue. Then he drew back suddenly.
“Don’t go,” I said.
“You don’t know what you’re doing, do you?”
He sounded bitter. I didn’t understand the question, let alone know how to answer it. I had made Moth angry and I didn’t know why. While I was puzzling at it, Khepri emerged from the encampment’s gate.
“Khepri!” I hissed through the balcony bars. He looked around.
“Abigail, leave him be…” Moth whispered.
I stood up, leaned over the balcony and waved.
“Khepri! Up here!”
Khepri waved back, walked over to the outer stairs to the balcony and climbed up.
“What are you two doing here at this hour?” he said.
“Thinking. Come.” I patted the blanket and Khepri sat behind us, so that we formed a triangle. Moth and I turned to face Khepri.
“What are you doing here, Khepri?” I asked.
“Oh, you know. A woman hears a raven and thinks it’s a demon. A child gets up to make water and can’t find his mother’s tent. You can imagine. Some nights I get little sleep.”
“Coming and going. Coming and going. You remind me of someone,” I said.
“Who?” Khepri asked.
“I don’t know. I can’t remember.” I laughed.
Moth poured the khat brew into his own cup and handed it to me.
“For Khepri, not you,” he said sternly. I giggled. “Give him some honey.”
I took the cup and treated Khepri to two blobs of honey. He sniffed at it.
“Foo! Smells like tanning fluid.”
“Don’t be rude, Khepri,” I said. “It’ll keep you warm.”
Khepri sipped and said, “It’s not so bad.”
I put the ceramic pot in the middle among the three of us and tucked my toes under it.
“How’s your investigation going, Abigail?” Khepri asked. “You were very excited about something the last time I saw you.”
“She can’t…” Moth started to say, but I interrupted him.
“Terrible. I thought I had a brilliant idea that Gideon, you know, the army commander, was the father. But no. Gideon was away from the palace at the relevant time.”
“I see,” Khepri said. “What’s next, then?”
“Let’s not talk about it
now. I’m resting.”
Moth poured Khepri another cupful and I sweetened it.
“Let’s play a game,” I said.
“Very well,” Khepri answered. “Which one?”
“Riddles. I’ll start. I know a lot of riddles.”
“Go ahead.”
“Very well.” I tried to gather my thoughts. “Well. Yes, I know. There are two horses, a black horse and a white horse. The black one can run twice as fast as the white one. But the black one falls and breaks his leg. No, that’s not it. I’ll ask another one. The head of the tribe has seventeen camels. Or eighteen camels. No, seventeen camels.”
Khepri laughed long and loud.
“Shh, Khepri. You’ll wake the women. I’ll remember in a moment.”
“I suggest moving on to donkeys,” Khepri said, and we both laughed.
“Never mind then, I have a different game,” I said. “My sisters play it, so you can imagine it’s not too difficult. It’s called ‘Who do you love’.”
“How does it go?” Khepri asked.
“Everyone has to say who they love. And you can’t say your mother. It has to be passionate love. Moth, you go first,” I said. “Who do you love?”
Moth was quiet for so long that I wasn’t sure I had spoken aloud, so I repeated, “Who do you love, Moth?”
“I love…someone in the palace.”
“I know why you won’t say her name!” I crowed. “It’s Timna! Highly unsuitable, Moth, she’s a servant girl. Now Khepri. Khepri, who do you love?”
Khepri laughed and said, “Someone in the palace. Someone highly unsuitable.”
“You’re both cowards. You’re supposed to say, not hint. I would say, but there’s no one.”
“Why should we believe you?” Khepri said. “Perhaps you’re a coward too. Say someone. Anyone you find attractive.”
“Very well. Gideon!”
“This is a stupid game,” Moth muttered.
“It is a little silly.” Khepri agreed. “Joel, you choose another.”
“No. I’m tired,” Moth said.
“Really?” Khepri said. “I feel like I might never sleep again.”
Suddenly I was exhausted too. I needed another drink of the khat brew. I lifted the lid from the clay pot, wrapped a corner of my blanket around the kettle’s handle and lifted it out of its bed of ashes. It felt empty. I tipped it over the pot and the last drops hissed onto the embers. I put the kettle back and lay down on the blanket. In the distance the edges of the mountains had caught fire, and the dawn glow was seeping up the sky like water spreading up a skirt’s hem. I closed my eyes.
“Go back to your tent, Abigail,” Moth’s voice was already merging into my dream. “It’s too cold to sleep out here. Khepri, can you take her?”
§
I was up against the wall and Moth was embracing me. I could feel cold hard stone against my back and Moth’s warm flesh pressing into mine. Then suddenly the world tilted sideways, and it was not Moth’s but Nathan’s intolerable weight crushing me to the floor. He put his foul-smelling mouth on mine and I was choking, the breath was squeezed out of me and I had no way to draw air. I was dying.
I jolted upright. I had never been so happy to see my cramped little tent. I got up and splashed some water on my face, combed my hair and changed my dress. My head felt as if someone had tied a leather thong about it and was slowly tightening it. I drew my tent flap aside. Judging by the height of the sun, I had missed breakfast and would soon miss lunch. I hurried over to the women’s courtyard, wincing as I walked out into the watery winter sunlight. The women’s chatter seemed louder than usual. I found a seat and stared at the lentil stew on the table in front of me and found that I had no desire to eat it. I closed my eyes and leaned my chin on my hands.
What had happened the night before? It had seemed to go on forever. I remembered a feeling of joyful peace, cold starlight and the warm pot I had tucked my feet under. Khepri had been there. He’d reminded me of someone, something that felt vaguely important, but I had no idea what. We’d played a game. And Moth. Moth had kissed me. No, I had kissed him! I would have groaned had there not been other women sitting near me. I dropped my forehead into my hands.
What had possessed me? Moth was my brother. Well, not really, not by blood. But we’d grown up in the same household, as close as any sister and brother, or closer. He must have thought I’d taken leave of my senses, and I supposed I had. Yes, and Moth had been angry with me. The khat leaf had served its purpose in keeping me awake nearly all night, and I had thought it enjoyable at the time, but it was a horrible, horrible thing that I swore to myself I’d never partake of again. It had caused me to completely abandon all reason and self-control.
I would have to apologize to Moth! I must have groaned softly after all, because a servant woman by my table said, “Lady, are you well?”
“Yes.” I opened my eyes and saw that she’d set down a dish of bread. I tore off a piece and gnawed at it.
The details of the night before were hazy; they seemed almost as unreal as the nightmare that had followed. Was there any chance at all that Moth would not remember the kiss? No, I had drunk three or four times more khat than he, and I still remembered it. I rose to my feet. I had to make amends with Moth immediately; I could think of nothing else until I did. Rather than re-enter the palace, I circled around its front and went out back to wait in the stables. Sounds of the boys’ training came from the field, but I didn’t watch them. I didn’t want Moth to see me yet. I paid the new black mare a visit, and when I discovered that I was still clutching a piece of bread, I gave it to her. She nibbled at it daintily while I stroked her mane. How soothing animals are. They ask no questions and everything they do makes perfect sense.
Eventually the boys started streaming off the field. I scanned them anxiously from inside the stables, but I saw neither Moth nor Gideon among them. I looked back at the field and there I saw Moth, and someone else shouting at him, someone wearing a commander’s red sash and sword, but who was too short to be Gideon. The man strode swiftly off the field, and when he neared me I saw that it was Harel, the commander who sometimes replaced Gideon as instructor. I ducked down into the stable until he passed, then went to join Moth. He was standing beside a pile of the stone-filled leather sacks that the boys sometimes had to carry when they ran. He was untying their strings and upending them. Rocks the size of pomegranates thudded dully onto the ground.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
He looked up at me. His face was even paler than usual, so that his freckles and the dark circles under his eyes stood out starkly. I realized he’d probably had no sleep at all, but he’d reported for training as usual.
“Harel thought it would be nice to build a pyramid in the middle of the horse run,” he said. I searched his face for the hint of a smile, but there was none.
“What happened?” I began helping him to empty the sacks. I couldn’t lift a full sack, and had to remove some rocks one by one before I could tumble the rest out.
“They’ve been working us like donkeys because of the king’s spectacle.”
Every six months the king was invited to an exhibition of the boys’ military skills. I’d forgotten that this was coming up.
“I kept coming in last, in the runs,” Moth continued. “I’m not usually so bad.”
“Not bad! You’re usually first.”
Moth shrugged.
“Harel decided I was being lazy. He added more rocks to my sack but strangely, that didn’t help. And then I…said something I shouldn’t have.”
“What?”
“Horse apples.” Now he did smile, and I was horrified to find that when he did, I wanted nothing more than to kiss him again.
“I’ll sort the rocks by size,” I said hastily. “They’ll be easier to stack with the big ones on the bottom. Where’s Gideon?”
“Away with the troops on some mission.”
We emptied rocks in silence for a while.
&nb
sp; “So, last night…” I began. “I guess I shouldn’t have drunk so much khat.”
“Maybe.” Moth kept his eyes on his task.
“I’m sorry about…what I did. I didn’t mean to.”
“That was clear.”
“And I’m sorry you got in trouble with Harel. All for nothing. It was a stupid idea.”
“No, it was worth a try. But you need to be more discreet—you were too forthcoming with Khepri. I don’t think you should trust him, since he’s so close to Amisi.”
Khepri. Coming and going. The memory arrived so swiftly that I dropped one of the heavy stones on my foot and spent some time hopping up and down and cursing.
“Bilaam the Beggar!” I finally gasped, wincing and clasping my injured foot.
“What? Are you hurt?”
“The tale of Bilaam the Beggar. Do you know it?”
Moth shook his head so I told him the child’s fable. Goshen the Guard, who has the magical ability to see through any material, is stationed outside the king’s gate. He boasts that no one will ever steal so much as a needle from the palace. One day, Bilaam the Beggar comes out of the palace pushing a wheelbarrow full of rocks. Goshen trains his wondrous eyes on the rocks, but can see nothing hidden amongst them, so he lets Bilaam pass. This repeats every day for a month, with the wheelbarrow being full of sand, dried leaves and so on. At the end of the month, Bilaam proudly displays a trove of thirty stolen wheelbarrows.
Moth grunted as he heaved up a sack of rocks.
“Abigail, this is fascinating, but I have a pyramid to build. And I think you really need to go back to sleep.”
“Don’t you see? It’s Khepri! Any man who enters the encampment is accompanied by Khepri. Unless the man is Khepri himself, in which case he can go in alone. Like he did last night.”
“So Khepri is…the wheelbarrow? The thing hidden in plain sight?”
“Well, he could be. And remember what he said after you gave him the khat! He loves someone in the palace—someone ‘highly unsuitable’.”
“Yes, but Khepri’s a…well, he’s a eunuch. He can’t be the father of Amisi’s child.”