by Naomi Ruppin
Behold, he comes bounding over the hills.
It was one of the king’s poems set to music. I wondered if my musical abilities had improved at all since the humiliation of my childhood lessons. I tried to sing along under my breath, but even I could hear how my voice wandered in and out of the melody, never quite coinciding with it. Moth’s words arose in my mind to mock me: No wonder your sisters can’t stand you. You think the only skill worth having is knowing how to win at Jang-Cheh. I was angry at myself both for failing and for caring if I failed at such a meaningless pursuit. I made no more attempts to join in as I waited through two more songs. When they were over I heard Raya the instructor dismissing the girls, and then she emerged from the room, carrying her lute. As she passed me she eyed me curiously and I flushed, but I doubted that she recognized me from six years before. Quickly, before my courage could fail me, I darted into the music room and shut the door behind me. About fifteen of my sisters were sitting in or rising from chairs arranged in a half circle, talking to each other, some holding lutes, harps or flutes. Their chatter ceased abruptly as they stared at me with varying measures of surprise and distaste.
“What are you doing here?” A full-figured girl whose name I couldn’t remember pointed her flute at me accusingly.
I’d come impulsively and I hadn’t planned what to say, but it was too late to back out. They all stared at me for an endless moment until I managed to speak.
“I came to ask for your help. Please.”
Keren was sitting third from the right. When I looked at her pleadingly she turned away. Remembering how I’d brushed her off coldly a few weeks before, I couldn’t really blame her.
“From what I remember of your singing, you’re beyond help. Better stick to playing with clay.” This came from Renana, a tall pretty girl whose black tresses fell below her waist, and who always had a group of sisters fussing about her like handmaidens, ready to braid her hair, do her bidding and laugh at her jests. They laughed now.
“What do you want from us?” Keren asked warily.
I took heart. At least she was speaking to me.
“It’s about the Prophet Nathan.” I could see from their expressions that something of the rumors had reached them. “You might have heard that I’m trying to help Amisi, one of the wives. She says that Nathan raped her on the night of the Feast of Aviv. But it’s her word against his. If I can’t prove it, she’ll die.”
I had their attention now.
“You won’t share a meal with us, but you ask for our help?” Keren asked.
You started it, the childish thought arose in my mind. But I was less sure about this than I once had been. Had they started the feud, or had I? I’d been heaping coals on my anger for so long, it was hard to remember who had first struck the flint.
“I…I thought you didn’t want me. I’m sorry if I hurt you.” I was speaking directly to Keren.
“Why do you care so much about a heathen?” Renana drawled, leaning back in her chair. Some of the girls shot hostile glances at her; I assumed they were the daughters of foreign wives, but no one spoke out against her.
I decided against mentioning my personal stake in the matter. They certainly didn’t care about me or my fate.
“She’s a woman not much older than us,” I said. “I pity her because she’s foreign. She could be me. She might be you one day, if some foreign guest happens to like your singing. If men can attack us freely, if men have the power to decide our fates, then we must do all we can to protect ourselves, and help each other.”
The girls looked at me and at one another, but no one spoke. It was useless—it had been foolish to appeal to them. I could feel ignominious tears begin to sting my eyes and I turned to leave before they could see them.
“I’ll help you.”
I turned back, blinking hard. Hagar had spoken; I knew her mother was an Aramite.
“So will I,” said another girl. “My mother says Nathan has always been grabby.”
“We all will,” Keren said.
“Really?” I smiled at her gratefully. “Thank you. Thank you!”
I looked around the half-circle of girls, finally resting my gaze on Renana.
“Anyone who doesn’t want to help can leave,” I said, careful to speak neutrally.
Renana shrugged her shoulders but remained seated. None of the other girls left either.
“Tell us what to do, Abby,” Keren said.
I spread my sheet of papyrus out on the floor and made a quick sketch of the women’s wings on three floors of the palace, and of the encampment. I took a moment for calculations, then started slicing up the rooms and tents with lines drawn on my map, so that each girl would have to speak to about thirty women. I assigned an area to each of the girls, and made her repeat it back to me.
“Don’t worry if you don’t remember your area exactly,” I said. “When I counted the women a few weeks ago, I made cross marks on their door frames and tent poles, to know who I’d visited. We’ll do the same, only with another symbol. Say, a flower. Just look for the flower outside rooms in your section. Ask the women everything about Nathan. Whether he’s ever made advances towards any of them. Whether they saw him leave the table at the night of the feast. Whether they saw him or Amisi near the latrine. And anything else they can think of.”
“How will we draw the flowers?” one of the girls asked.
“Use kohl,” Renana suggested, to my surprise.
“That’s a good idea,” I smiled at her. “I think it will take us about two days. Let’s meet here tomorrow and the next day after lunch and see what we’ve discovered.”
For the rest of the afternoon and the next morning, as I went about interviewing the women in the cluster of tents I’d assigned to myself, I would come across my sisters doing the same, and we’d smile at each other and stride purposefully on to our mission. It was a novel experience for me, feeling part of a community with my sisters, and I wondered uncomfortably if it really had been my own stubbornness that had denied it from me all those years.
I had assigned the area around Amisi’s tent to myself and I checked in on her to satisfy myself that she was recovering well, to make sure she was never left alone, and to question her once again about the night of the rape. Unfortunately this revealed no new details. I complimented Amisi sincerely on the beauty of her daughter, who remained nameless, but it was clear that she still felt alienated from the child. During my visit she stroked and cuddled Anubis, but the baby received no such attentions.
After lunch my sisters and I gathered again in the music room and each girl spoke in turn. I myself had heard nothing new; I hoped that it was my own bad luck and that my sisters had fared better. But they too had little to report. Several women who’d had any kind of acquaintance with Nathan agreed that he was “grabby”, but other than the occasional suggestive remark, stroke of an arm or pat on the rear, no one had experienced any further molestation.
“I heard something,” Keren said. “I don’t know if it’s important.”
“Tell us,” I prompted.
“Sarah remembers that she sat with Amisi at the Feast of Aviv,” she said, “and that Nathan sat at the next table. She says she remembers because he was wearing a huge purple robe embroidered with grapes, that put the wives’ dresses to shame.”
Everyone laughed.
“Who can miss seeing him? The man takes up three seats,” Renana said. We laughed again and I began to see how ridiculing someone could be quite enjoyable, as long as you weren’t the target.
“Did Sarah remember Amisi leaving the table? Or Nathan?”
“No,” Keren answered. “I’m sorry.”
“Did anyone else learn anything interesting? Even something small?”
“No.”
“Not me.”
“Sorry, Abigail.”
I sighed and said, “Well, thank you all. You’ve done good work. Maybe we’ll have more luck by tomorrow.”
Keren hung back as our other sisters left the music
room. When just the two of us were left, we looked at each other and laughed nervously. I’d been sitting in the teacher’s chair, and I went over to sit beside her.
“I can’t thank you enough for helping me with this, Keren,” I said.
“It’s not just me.”
“I know, all the girls have been wonderful, but…I’ve missed you.”
“I haven’t gone anywhere.”
“I know,” I said again. “I’ve been a foolish child.”
“Me too.”
“What was it you wanted to tell me, the other day?”
“I wanted to tell you that…I’m betrothed,” Keren said, blushing.
“Oh, congrat…” I stopped mid-word, remembering my own ill-fated betrothal and thinking that this might not necessarily be good news. “Are you happy? Do you like him?”
“Yes. I think so. It’s Reuven, the master of the palace guards. He heard me singing at some festivity. He told me that he asked to meet ‘the girl with the voice like a stream in spring’. After the fourth time we met, he asked the king’s permission to marry me.”
“That’s wonderful! I wish you every joy and good fortune.”
“Thank you.”
We smiled at each other, still uneasy after our years of silence.
“I’ve been wanting to ask,” Keren said. “How did you get involved with Amisi, anyway?”
I thought of the many ways I could answer that question, and finally said, “Mostly by sticking my nose where it had no business being.”
We both laughed and Keren said, “Then you haven’t changed, after all!”
“Maybe not entirely,” I said slowly. “But I’m trying. When will you be wed?”
“In two weeks,” Keren said. “I didn’t want to just disappear one day without talking…without telling you…”
“I’m so glad we talked,” I said. “And you won’t disappear. You’ll just be living in the city, and I’ll come to visit you.”
“Perhaps you’ll marry a Jerusalemite too, and we’ll be neighbors!” Keren exclaimed, clasping both my hands in hers.
The horrid visions conjured by that thought, the prolonged fatigue and frustration of the recent weeks—they all suddenly overwhelmed me, and for the second time in two days I felt tears start in my eyes. This time I couldn’t control them, and they pooled and spilled down my cheeks.
“Must you always cry!” Keren mocked, and hugged me close.
§
We continued our interviews into that evening and the next morning. When I went out into the courtyard for lunch, I stood hesitating for a moment. The girls I’d enlisted were sitting together. Keren saw me and waved me over. We didn’t talk about the investigation as we ate, but rather about little things, silly things, food and clothes and how annoying mothers could be. I couldn’t contribute anything to the last two topics, but for a change I didn’t feel that my sisters were purposefully slighting me by talking about them. Underneath the chatter I could feel our unspoken mission drawing us together. The older women who passed smiled at us and some gave me a nod. I could feel warmth and strength glowing from my middle outward, and it wasn’t just my comfortably full stomach. According to my census there were some six hundred of us, girls and women together. Probably more by now. I laughed.
“What’s funny, Abby?” Keren asked.
“What if all the people in this palace shouted at once?” I said. “Only the women would be heard. The king himself would be drowned out.”
“Abigail, you have the strangest thoughts,” Renana said.
“Thank you,” I said, and we all laughed.
But again I was to be disappointed when we met in the music room after the meal to review our findings. The only new thing that came to light was that Nathan’s first wife, who’d died in childbirth, had been King David’s daughter by Eglah of Jericho.
Chapter Fifteen
The Other Women
It was two days before I had to report to the king. In my mind I kept thinking of it as “the trial”, but I wasn’t sure whether it was Amisi’s trial, Nathan’s, or my own. My anxiety was with me every moment like a pain in my stomach. For the first time I could remember, I lost my appetite. Once a few bites of food had dulled the worst pangs of hunger, I had no desire to eat more.
I desperately wanted to see Moth, but I was still angry with him. I was waiting for him to come to me and apologize more sincerely for spilling the secret about Nathan and putting Amisi’s life in peril. The more time went by, the angrier I was at him for not coming. But I refused to go and confront him—the next move was up to him. He was clearly the one in the wrong.
I decided to go to breakfast in the courtyard even though I wasn’t hungry, feeling that if I stayed alone in my tent any longer I might start tearing my hair out. But when I opened the tent flap to leave I saw Timna coming my way, accompanied by three servant women, two older and one young. I was none too pleased to see Timna. If it hadn’t been for her, Moth and I would still be talking.
“What is it? I’m on my way out,” I said.
“Please, lady,” Timna said. “We have important things to tell you.”
I snorted. I was very close to dismissing them, but in my desperate state I couldn’t afford to ignore the slightest chance of new evidence. I stepped aside for them to enter my tent, saying, “This had better not be about Amisi’s cat.”
I gestured for the two older women to sit on my bed and set out cushions for Timna and the other young woman to sit on. I sat on a stool in the middle of the floor.
“Lady, first let me say that you should not be angry with Joel,” Timna said. “I heard that you didn’t intend for him to tell me about Nathan. But I could see it would ease him to talk to someone. He was very distressed that day.”
“He took the death of his commander very hard,” I said coldly.
“Yes, that was one reason. Joel is a very kind and sensitive person. Also strong and brave. But mostly very kind. I think he’s the kindest…”
“Did you come here to talk about Joel?” I interrupted.
“Oh, I…no, lady. It’s about Nathan. At first I was so shocked when I heard what he did that I told a few of my friends. But later I realized that the best thing I could do was to tell everyone I know.”
“Indeed,” I said icily. “How did you arrive at that conclusion?” How stupid was this girl?
“You gave me the idea, lady. Your sisters were questioning all the wives and concubines about Nathan. I thought you should hear from the rest as well.”
“The rest?” I asked.
“The servant women,” said one of the older women.
“And the slaves,” added the young one.
“Oh.” Perhaps I had been too hasty. “What do you know about Nathan?”
“That’s what we came to tell you. Rachel?” Timna nodded at one of the older women sitting across from her. She was perhaps ten years older than me.
“Lady, that prophet man has more arms than a centipede has legs,” Rachel said. “I hate to serve him. Every time you put a piece of bread on his plate, he puts a hand on your rear. I was serving wine at his table during the Feast of Aviv.”
“Did he touch you?” I asked.
“Well, that’s the thing,” she said. “Not that night. Every time I came to pour him some wine, I could see him staring across to the next table, to where she was sitting. The pretty one, with eyes like spring leaves.”
“Amisi.” Now I was excited. “Did you see her leave the table? Or him following her?”
“No, lady. Once I was finished with the wine, I went to help out in the kitchen.”
I was disappointed. But there were still two more women. I turned to the young one sitting beside Timna. She had wide-set eyes and dark brown hair braided on one side of her head and down over her shoulder. Her skirt covered her bent knees like a tent, but beneath its hem I could see the slave chain on her ankle.
“And you? Will you tell me your name?”
“Tannis of Sidon, l
ady.”
“What do you know of Nathan, Tannis?”
“He sometimes stays overnight in the palace,” she said, almost in a whisper. “One morning I was bidden to bring him warm water for his bath.”
“I didn’t know that he stays here at night. That is interesting.” I smiled at her encouragingly. “Go on. So you brought his bath water to one of the guest rooms?”
“Not to a guest room. He was staying in Queen Bathsheba’s chambers.”
This jolted me like a horse stopping short in mid-gallop. Nathan spent nights with Bathsheba! How had I not known this fact that was apparently no news to any of the servants? And yet I immediately accepted it as making perfect sense. I would have to give it some thought later.
“Go on, Tannis.”
“I knocked on the door of the queen’s chambers and the prophet opened it. I came in carrying a pot of hot water. The queen was not there. He was wearing only a thin robe. He bid me to pour the water into a tub of cool water. As I was bending to pour it he…he…”
Her eyes filled with tears. I realized with horror what was coming.
“Take your time, Tannis,” I said gently. “Take a breath.”
She breathed in and out deeply.
“He grabbed me about the waist. The hot water scalded my legs and spilled onto the floor. He pulled me to the ground, in the wet. He tore my clothes. And he…violated me.”
Tears were spilling down Tannis’s cheeks. Timna hugged her shoulders with one arm. I went to kneel before her and took both her hands.
“You’re very brave to talk about it. When did it happen?”
“About two years ago.”
“Did you cry out?”
“I tried. But he covered my mouth. And the builders were hammering like always—no one heard. I tried to fight him but he’s so large. He crushed me.”
“What happened…afterwards?”
“He told me to bring him another pot of water.”
Timna was tearing up in sympathy. The woman sitting beside Rachel hissed and exclaimed, “Son of a dog!”
“Did you tell anyone?” I asked.
“Only one friend, another slave. I didn’t know who else to tell. I didn’t think anyone would believe me or care.”