A Garden Locked
Page 23
I sighed. It was no more than I had expected. The baby made a fretful mewing sound and I had a thought.
“Amisi, bring the baby with you. Carry her yourself until it’s your time to speak.”
“Why?” She looked at me questioningly.
“Maybe…maybe her father will have a care for her and her mother.”
Amisi shook her head.
“I’ll do ask you ask,” she said. “But do not hope for it. A man like that—mercy is not in him.”
I could think of nothing more to say except to voice my fears, which would have achieved nothing. I stood to take my leave.
“Abigail.” Amisi spoke again. “Thank you. You have done and will do your best for me, I know. Whatever happens, there is no blame on you.”
“Thank you, Amisi,” I said, not knowing what else to say.
“Abigail, can I speak to you a moment?” Khepri asked.
I nodded and he followed me out of the tent. We walked to a small clearing, still in sight of Amisi’s tent, and spoke in undertones.
“Any news?” Khepri asked.
“Not much,” I said, shaking my head regretfully. “Timna found two slave women that Nathan raped.”
“Really? But that’s wonderful! I mean, that’s terrible, but now you have two more witnesses.”
“Unfortunately I don’t. They refuse to testify before the king. They’re afraid Nathan will hurt them. And I can’t promise that he wouldn’t.”
“Plague strike him!”
“Amen. It’s Amisi’s word against his. And I don’t know if the king will believe her, especially if the truth about Gideon comes out. I’m afraid he’d consider the fact that she was in love with Gideon just as treasonous as if she’d lain with him. And I have no way of proving she didn’t. Please try and convince her to say as little about him as possible.”
“Won’t Nathan bring him up anyway? He’ll say she’s accusing him to cover up an affair with Gideon.”
“He might. But he might not. His knowing about Gideon but not telling the king could also be considered treason. If he does bring it up, I’ll certainly make that point.”
“What other evidence do you have?”
“There’s the shoe that I found in the bushes, that may or may not be Nathan’s. And that’s it, that’s all I’ve got.”
Khepri’s stricken expression spoke more than words.
“I know,” I said. “And it’s even worse than you think.”
I told him about hearing Nathan advocate for the king’s actions at the city gate, and my conclusions about the pair’s mutual exploitation.
“So the king has something to lose if he convicts Nathan,” Khepri said.
“Exactly. Still, I doubt he could turn a blind eye to such a personal betrayal, if he believes there was one. But without solid evidence, he might prefer not to believe it. Also, Nathan’s a powerful prophet and I think the people truly believe he’s God’s messenger. If Nathan were sentenced to death, it could make the king very unpopular.”
“Could he give him a lesser sentence?”
“Not if he convicts him of adultery. Not by law.”
Khepri sighed.
“Before I forget,” he said, “the king asked me who you want to be present at court tomorrow. He’ll need to approve the participants.”
“Just Amisi, you, Shoshana and Nathan.”
Khepri raised his eyebrows and said, “You don’t want Joel to be there?”
I felt my cheeks warm. I was still angry with Moth. I thought of my last words to him—that I could no longer rely on him. Now I desperately wanted him to be at the trial. In all my fearful imaginings of this final ordeal, he was there by my side, giving me his silent support. But would he want to?
“I’m…not sure,” I said. “We’ve had a sort of fight. But ask the king about him, just in case.”
As I walked away from Amisi’s tent, my stomach churned sourly. Amisi was clearly preparing for her death. She’d absolved me beforehand of all blame, but I couldn’t ignore the fact that I’d been the one to arouse the king’s suspicions about her with my census, and that a failure to prove her innocence would be my personal failure.
Khepri’s question about Nathan’s possible sentence sparked a new train of thought. Although I wanted more than anything for Nathan to get the punishment he deserved, I had to admit that a lesser sentence than death might possibly be more palatable to the king. I tried to dredge up from memory the outcomes of any trial I’d ever attended or heard about that had to do with rape, adultery or treason. I could think of none involving treason. I remembered one trial for adultery, and both the man and the woman had been sentenced to death. In the two rape trials I had witnessed, the victims had been unmarried. In one case the rapist had to compensate the father of the girl with some form of payment. In the other case the rapist had agreed to marry the girl, and as Hannah had said, this was considered a satisfactory resolution.
I thought of the parallel Hannah had drawn between King David’s behavior with women and that of his son. It was hard to avoid drawing a third parallel with Nathan. Was Hannah right; did all men in positions of power ultimately exploit or abuse women just because they could?
I went back to my tent and stared desperately at my notes, casting about for something more to do, perhaps another person to talk to. Was there a direction I hadn’t explored, another thread to pull at? For the hundredth time I slid my hand under my mattress to make sure that the shoe was still there, and suddenly I realized that there was one more thing left to do. The very thought of it filled me with dread, but I owed it to Amisi.
I rummaged among the piles of my clothes until I found the scroll I sought, furled but unbound. I unrolled it. It was the battle record I’d begun to transcribe for Nathan. There were still gaps in the written lines where I’d never filled in the missing words. The moth-eaten appearance of the report irked me and I had a strong urge to take a pen and ink and start filling in the blanks, but that would just be putting off what I knew I had to do. It was hardly the point; I hadn’t given the report a second thought since that suffocating session in the king’s meeting room, nor had Nathan inquired about the finished version. Clearly he had no more interest in it than I did and had only been using it as an excuse to make subtle threats. Well, now the report would serve as my own excuse. I changed my dress to Timna’s stained one, I took my finest cloak—sand-colored wool with purple embroidery—and folded it into a bundle under my arm, tucked the scroll inside it, and set out for the back gate of the palace. Again I slipped past the guard in the guise of a servant.
I remembered that Nathan had said his house stood by the Sheep Gate, but I didn’t know the way there. I thought of my terror the last time I’d been outside the palace walls alone and my heart began to pound. But I reprimanded myself and hastened my strides. It was daylight now and there was nothing to fear. After I circled the palace and entered the city’s narrow alleyways, I asked directions from a woman who was leaning from her window to pour out some dirty water.
Although it was early afternoon, my path was dark. The sun was mostly hidden, and even when it emerged fitfully from among scraps of clouds, the high city walls left me in shadow. The wind whistled through the narrow tunnel created by the houses on either side, pushing at my back as if to urge me on. I shook out my cloak and put it on, hugging myself for extra warmth. As I passed a group of travelers walking toward the temple it occurred to me to wonder fearfully whether the next day’s trial would be open to the public. I immediately decided it wouldn’t; it was a personal matter of the king’s, which he would surely wish to handle discreetly.
I found the Sheep Gate with no mishap, and when I arrived there I had no doubt as to which house was Nathan’s. It stood head and shoulders above the rest, being the only house in the area with two stories. It was also the only one to be encircled by a wooden fence, above which the tops of olive and palm trees sprouted. Each post in the fence was topped by a carved rampant lion and the wooden ga
te was crowded with more carvings of lions, rams and serpents. The lions were stained in yellow, the serpents in green, and the rams were inexplicably blue. It was a fitting house for a man who had both beads and tassels on his shoes, and one who regularly stole from the people’s taxes.
My heart began pounding again. If Nathan was at home, my mission was doomed before it began. I took a deep breath, pushed open the gate, went up the path to the door and knocked. For a while there was no answer. I knocked again. Finally I heard footsteps approaching the door and it opened. A small, wiry servant woman stood inside. She was wiping her floury hands on a cloth and she looked annoyed.
“Good afternoon,” I said. “Is this the house of the Prophet Nathan?”
“He’s not home,” she said.
I breathed a surreptitious sigh of relief. She started to close the door in my face, but I stopped it with my hand and said, “Then I must wait for him here. He told me to meet him.”
“He said nothing to me.” She eyed me suspiciously. “Who are you?”
“I am Abigail, daughter of King Solomon,” I said haughtily, forcing myself to add the detestable words, “I’m Nathan’s betrothed. May I come in?”
“You came here from the palace alone?” she asked, eyeing me suspiciously.
“Yes. No! My guard is waiting at the market by the gate.”
I could see the woman weighing my claims against my appearance. I drew my embroidered cloak more tightly about me, hoping that no part of the stained dress was visible underneath. She actually reached out and fingered the royal purple threading on my cloak. She must have decided not to risk antagonizing her future mistress, and she opened the door for me to enter. She led me past a stairway and into a guest salon just off the entrance.
“You can wait for him in here,” she said, then added grudgingly, “Anything to drink?”
“No, no, thank you. I can see that you’re busy. I need nothing. Is anyone else at home? Nathan’s children perhaps?”
She looked at me skeptically again and said, “Children are grown and gone.”
“Oh. I’ll just wait then.”
She stood there staring at me until I sat on a stuffed leather cushion. She left the room, casting another glance back to make sure I hadn’t moved. I listened to her steps fading and forced myself to sit still for another few moments. Then I slipped off my sandals and moved about as silently as I could.
I was looking for the red shoe; the right shoe that matched the left shoe I’d found in the bushes. I knew how faint and preposterous was the hope of finding it, even assuming it was Nathan’s to begin with. If he’d realized where he lost his shoe, he would certainly have gotten rid of its incriminating twin. And even if he hadn’t, what was the use of keeping a single shoe? The only way I could imagine it might still be in his possession was if he’d been so drunk that night that he carelessly put away one shoe and then forgot about it. I searched the room thoroughly, lifting up rugs and cushions, looking behind wall hangings, opening anything that had a door or a lid. I found nothing, nor did I expect to. Surely if the shoe were in the house it wouldn’t be in the salon.
I opened the door quietly and went back down the hallway to the stairs. I guessed that the bedrooms were on the second floor. I stepped onto the first stair and it gave a loud creak. I froze for a moment, then continued to climb, staying to the sides of the stairs, which made less noise.
When I reached the top of the stairs I saw five doors, two on each side of a short corridor and one at its end. I entered the side rooms first. The two right-hand rooms were a bedroom and a sitting room; the latter had a table laden with five or six flasks of wine. On the left were two more bedrooms, one that had clearly been a woman’s, with a bronze mirror over a table covered with jewelry boxes and perfumes. All the rooms were very neat and only the woman’s room had clothes in it. I searched the rooms methodically, again with no results.
The last room at the end of the hall was the largest. In its center was a wide bed on four short legs, covered with a linen cloth on top of several woolen blankets. To the right of the bed there was a small table and a cushioned wooden chair, with more wine on the table. To the left, a curtain ran the width of the room. When I drew it aside I saw countless pegs hung with Nathan’s colorful collection of robes, striped, beaded and embroidered. On the floor beneath them was a jumbled heap of shoes and sandals. I started by sorting them and pairing them neatly on the floor. No shoe remained without its partner. I scraped the shoes into a heap and spread them out in disarray, as they’d been before. Then I examined each robe, shaking its folds, checking its pockets. I found nothing.
I’d known this was a foolish undertaking. I wanted nothing more than to escape back to the palace, but I forced myself to look under the bed. I removed and searched all the pillows and blankets. It was useless. I spread out the blankets again then began placing the pillows back one by one, trying to remember where each had been.
“Is the bed to your liking, Abigail?”
I whirled towards the doorway. Nathan was standing there, pursing his lips at me, the blue and red stripes of his robe following the ponderous contours of his body.
“I was…I sat down and knocked off some cushions,” I said ridiculously. What was there to say about the outrageous fact that he’d found me in his bedroom?
He gestured at my bare feet.
“I can see you already feel at home.”
He advanced into the room to stand before me. I still clutched one pillow in front of me like a shield.
“What are you doing here?” he asked. “Have you been questioning my servant?”
“No. She just let me in and went back to her work.”
“How did you get here? Why are you here?” he asked again.
I dropped the pillow on the bed and whipped out my scroll, as if exchanging shield for sword.
“I came to give you this,” I said.
He took the scroll from me, slowly stroking my hand as he did so. I could feel my nostrils flare and I rubbed my hand hard against my cloak as if he had sullied it. He unrolled the scroll and we both looked at it, scattered with bare patches like small islands in a sea of ink. I could feel my cheeks burning. He rolled up the report, pushed out his lips even further and tapped them with the scroll as if sealing it with a kiss. He took a step towards me.
I stood my ground, squaring my shoulders and lifting my chin. What was the point of flimsy subterfuge at this stage? I was his enemy, his hunter, and he knew it.
“I also came to ask you to attend tomorrow, when I present the results of my inquiry to the king,” I said, looking straight into his reptilian eyes.
“I wouldn’t miss it. God will see to it that justice is done, never doubt it. The heathen adulteress will receive her deserts.”
“You seem pleased about that.”
“I am.”
“Have you no mercy for her motherless child, if anything should happen to Amisi?”
“Girl children do not signify. They’re rarely of much use and if so, only briefly, if they bring a good bride price. Personally I’m only interested in sons. And I expect you to bear me many.”
He took another step towards me. Would his housekeeper hear me if I screamed? I had a horrible feeling she would do nothing even if she did. I began to edge my way to the door, facing Nathan all the time.
“It won’t work, Abigail.”
“What?” I asked, still backing away.
“Your attempt to intimidate me. Sending the concubine’s son.”
“What are you talking about?” I stopped.
“Don’t play innocent. He must have escorted you here. He leapt out at me in the alley just now. He held a knife to my throat and threatened to kill me if I didn’t ‘confess to my crime’. It was quite ludicrous.”
Nathan spoke offhandedly but rubbed his throat as if he could still feel a blade pressed up against it. I felt both burning fear and fierce pride for Moth, as I often did at his more foolish and dangerous exploits.
“Then perhaps his talents are ready to be tested on the battlefield. I think I’ll suggest that to the king after court tomorrow.”
“And I think you’ll find you no longer have the king’s ear after court tomorrow. I’ll see you then.”
I was shaking but I forced myself to walk calmly out of his room. Then I sped down the stairs, collected my sandals from the salon and ran out into the street, only stopping to put them on when I’d escaped the house.
Part 3: The Trial
Chapter Seventeen
Confession
It was the morning of the trial. After picking hastily at my breakfast, I collected a cloth sack from my tent, the same one I’d used for my census tablets, which now contained my pitiful list of notes and the red shoe. Then I sped around to the other side of the palace and knocked urgently on Moth’s shutters. I now had no doubt that I wanted and needed him at the trial; his ambush on Nathan the evening before clearly meant that he was still on my side, even if he was angry with me. I knocked again but there was no answer. I opened the shutters and found only his empty room. I realized with anguish that he was already at his training session. I could hardly burst onto the training field to extract him, and anyway there wasn’t time. I ran to the back entrance of the Hall of the Throne. To my immense relief, Moth was waiting there, together with Amisi, Khepri and Shoshana. Moth took a step towards me.
“Thank you for coming,” I said, with an awkward formality that belied my true feelings. What I really wanted to do was throw my arms around him. But it was hardly the time or the place.
“Khepri came to get me,” Moth said, equally stiffly. “He said you wanted me here.”
“I do.” I smiled my thanks at Khepri and we all entered the Hall. To my annoyance, I saw that Nathan had appropriated the right-hand side of the floor before the stage, the side traditionally reserved for the plaintiff. The long bench had been pushed against the wall and Nathan was leaning back comfortably in a cushioned chair. My party had no choice but to sit on the left-hand side of the room, on the bench usually occupied by the accused. I sat in the middle, with Khepri and Amisi to my left, Moth and Shoshana to my right. Moth was fidgeting, knee over knee, one foot vibrating like a dragonfly’s wing, making the entire bench tremble. Amisi sat straight-backed and white-faced, holding her baby. I looked across the room at Nathan. His face seemed to be swelling up like a loaf of bread in the oven, and on it he wore such a smug expression that I longed to walk over and slap him just to see if it would deflate.