A.D. 33 (10 page)

UPON LEAVING Dumah, I wept rivers of tears known only by a mother who has lost her son and a woman who has lost the man she loves. Was my Father in heaven weeping for me? If he was, I could no longer enter his love.

Saba tried to comfort me with soothing words, uttering not a single suggestion that I should change my outlook or be stronger. Only once did he speak of Yeshua's teachings.

“When we are blind,” he said that night as we were seated by the fire, “there is no sight of the light. And so we are in darkness. But this doesn't mean that the realm of Yeshua's eternal light has ceased to exist. Only that we cannot see it. We have been blinded by our own grievance.”

I knew his words were true.

“Why, Saba?” I asked, staring into the flames through my tears. “Why do we go blind, having once seen? True sight now seems like an illusion.”

“Perhaps we have lived too long attached to this world.” He gathered me into his gaze from across the fire and spoke softly. “But Talya is uncorrupted, Maviah. He has seen and sees still. Our little lamb has surely found Yeshua and laughs with him even now.”

They were the kindest words he could have spoken to me.

“Yeshua will restore the joy of our salvation,” he said. “He knows no sorrow. We must go to him now.”

Yes…But I was a queen called to her people and a mother desperate for her son.

“Perhaps, but first we will go to Petra.”

“Petra?”

“I've shown myself worthy to King Aretas and his wife. Shaquilath is a mother as well as a queen, like me. She might speak to Saman on behalf of the children.”

He thought a moment, then nodded. “Then Petra.”

That night I slept with my head on Saba's chest, calmed by the rising and falling of his strong breast. I fell into a deep sleep, crying for Judah.

More than a thousand of our warriors had perished in the raid, and the Shangal valley was still filled with the terrifying sounds of wailing when Saba and I joined the survivors there the next day.

I wept with them all, embracing as many as I could.

I gathered the council and told them of Kahil's demand that the forty tribes bow to him. They tore at their beards and cried bitter words of rage. But I calmed them and begged them not to take up the sword. Instead, they should retreat into the desert and rebuild their lives until I returned from Petra with the power of Yeshua, for Kahil was temporarily appeased.

After two hours of argument, no more was heard. They agreed with me.

But I asked for more. I insisted they not breathe a word of Kahil's demands to a single soul, for this would only enrage hearts and flood the sands with the blood of our people.

After yet more impassioned deliberation, they swore their compliance, Fahak last.

“I would beg you reconsider this ill-advised journey,” Fahak said through a frown. “When have any Nabataeans come to the aid of the outcast?”

But there was no other way. Arim insisted that he be allowed to accompany Saba and me, for he was blood brother to Judah. And so it was decided.

Later, with an anguished heart and darkened soul, I stood upon a dune above the valley and tried to offer courage to thousands who looked to me for guidance. But my words carried no courage, only remorse.

“I will go to Petra in the name of Yeshua and secure an alliance,” I said for all to hear. And then louder as my mind cleared: “Yeshua, the lover of all children. Yeshua, who heals the sick and calms the storm. Yeshua, who empowered me to prevail in Petra once before.”

They stared at me in silence, for they had put their faith in me, not in a distant god or a foreign prophet.

“Kahil has offered me two moons to submit. I swear to you, I will return before the second moon with all the powers of heaven and earth to save us all.”

Someone took up the cry,
Maviah
, and then more until thousands thundered my name.
Maviah, Maviah, Maviah.

I, who had already failed, was their last hope.

And King Aretas was now mine.

I felt ill in heart and mind.

TALYA SAT in the corner of the large cell, shivering in fear, watching the other children. Most of them huddled in small groups on the stone floor. Two large lamps burned, one on each wall, sending black smoke toward the dirty ceiling. There were three tables in the room, each with two benches. And there was straw on the ground, but not enough.

For three days, the room had been filled with the sound of terrible weeping. No one knew why they had been taken and placed in the darkness underground. All of them cried for their mothers, even the orphans who didn't have mothers. They'd cried until the Thamud Kahil had come and cut Salim's chest with a blade because their wailing could be heard all through Dumah, he said. If they didn't stop, he would cut their throats.

Since then they'd cried softly, into their arms or the straw.

Talya was strong at first, because he was sure that Saba would come for him. So would his mother, who was queen and commanded the sands. Nothing could stop them. Both were of the realm that flowed with light. Both would bring a hundred thousand warriors to save him.

He clung to that vision. The others were afraid, but he knew they would be saved at any moment.

Then the serpent, Kahil, had taken him to the pool and pulled the bag off his head.

His mother and Saba had come for him! But of course they had!

Even when his mother was crying, telling him to be strong, he was sure he would be saved. Even when they led him from the platform.

It wasn't until the long walk back to the palace that doubt and fear came to him. Not until he was led back into the dungeon that his tears began. And once they started he couldn't stop them for a long time.

Two days had passed. Now he wasn't crying. Now he was only shivering. Shivering and trying to remember his vision of Eden and the forgotten Way into the sovereign realm.

But fear darkened his mind.

THE LAST TIME I traveled to the west, Judah had led us through the formidable Nafud sands by night. The wasteland had nearly taken our lives on more than one occasion. This time we traveled along the Wadi Sirhan, the same route well traveled by caravans laden with treasures. Saba led me by day and his footing was as sure as his camel's.

But I could not shake the darkness that hovered over me nor the despondency that seeped from deep within me. I could not release the fear I felt for Talya, nor forgive Kahil for taking him. And so I suffered.

I mourned Judah nearly as much as I feared for my son. What cruel fate had delivered him to me for three days only to take him away forever? The sands would never again hear his song; the stars would never treasure his gaze. His laughter had been forever silenced.

Arim spoke incessantly, eager to pull me out of my misery.

“Do not fear, Maviah! Kahil is nothing, you will see! I myself will lead the army of Aretas and dispatch the Thamud as easily as I dispatch a worn cloak.”

In many ways he reminded me of a thinner, younger Judah.

“Just like a cloak?” I said. “That easily?”

“Just throw it off, you see?” Arim stood upon his camel, balancing easily, and stripped off his tunic. He threw it on the saddle and sat back down, using it as a cushion.

“The sun is no enemy to me,” he said. “Nothing can hurt Arim. And with this same power that delivered you in Petra, I will slay the beast in Dumah!”

Even Saba could not resist a grin.

“And just so, you can throw off the dark cloud that follows you, Maviah.”

Saba looked ahead, rolling with his mount's gait.

But I could not find the power to make it just so.

On the fifth night, when Arim had gone looking for his camel, which had wandered from the camp, I sat close to Saba as he tended to a dying fire.

For the first time since leaving the tribes, I spoke of Dumah and of Judah and of Talya. Tears seeped from my eyes as I quietly poured out my heart to him.

And Saba listened.

Where had I gone wrong? How I mourned Judah. Had not Yeshua sent me back into the desert to set the captives free? How many mothers were now without sons? Was not the blood of all those slain on my hands?

“No, Maviah. You only did what any mother would do.”

“And look what suffering it has brought us all.”

“More suffering than the desert knew before?” he asked.

No.

He poked at the fire with a long stick. “For as long as I can remember, there has been suffering on this earth. And for as long as I can remember, that suffering has been judged and opposed by force, which has only brought more suffering. Using the sword must have its place, but now we see that to live by it is to die by it, just as to live by wealth is to pay the price of that wealth. Both are cycles without end.”

Yes.

“So tonight, I offer you no judgment. Perhaps if you stopped judging yourself, you might find love for yourself, rather than condemnation.”

My heart stilled, and in that moment I think I loved Saba more than I had ever loved any grown man or woman. Not as a lover, but as a human being.

We came into Petra, the towering rock city without rival in all of the world, on the ninth day. Arim had never been to any city so grand, and he gawked as we passed a great marketplace bordered by majestic columns of red limestone.

A thousand traders sold and bought wares and linens and spices and frankincense and myrrh. Coins and jewels were passed and agreements made with spit upon the hand.

As we moved deeper into the city, headed for the court of Aretas, Saba attracted attention. None could mistake him for less than a warrior of great stature. But seeing Saba, some pointed also to me, whispering.

“They see us and know how mighty we are,” Arim said.

We reached Aretas's court without incident. And this time, my name alone was enough to gain us entrance.

KING ARETAS, surely the most powerful man in all of Arabia, could not hide his respect for me. Had I not bested his greatest challenge in the arena and filled his coffers with gold two years earlier?

Because of Yeshua, I had won over Aretas.

Because of Aretas, I had become queen of the outcasts.

His elegant queen, Shaquilath, swept into the lavish dining hall where we had been presented, her face lit like the moon. We were not dressed for the opulence of that court with so much silver and gold and silk on display, but this, I believe, was a part of our appeal. She cast a disapproving glance at my pedestrian dress but quickly played to her higher self and embraced me as a queen.

“So…” Shaquilath spoke with one brow cocked, wearing a guarded smile. “The great Maviah returns to Petra.”

I bowed. “My queen.”

She wore a long purple dress that clung to her body, dark hair braided with golden thread. Silver rings set with emeralds sparkled on her manicured hands, and she wore a heavily jeweled gold necklace, the value of which might have fed our entire tribe for a week.

Shaquilath looked at Saba. “The dark warrior still by your side. Phasa would be jealous. If she hadn't found a husband, she might seduce you still.”

“Saba isn't easily seduced,” I said. “As Phasa already knows.”

“I see.” Her smile seemed to suggest she suspected how deeply I cared for him.

“Maviah!” I turned to see Phasa rushing in, gown flowing behind her, ever a stunning vision. “I knew you would return!”

Her pleasure in seeing me lifted my spirits.

“Phasa…” We embraced like two sisters reunited. “It is good to see you again.”

“But look at you!” she said, standing back. “I've heard so much of your exploits in the desert.” Her eyes went to Saba, brightened for a moment, then ran over his body, settling on his face. “Saba.”

He dipped his head.

She glanced between us. “So the stallion is now yours,” she said.

“He serves me—”

“Of course he does.” She gave me a knowing smile, then redirected, touching my scarf as if to test its quality. “You've journeyed far, we must eat! Do you care to bathe before? My servants could dress you.”

“Thank you, but I have urgent matters and I prefer the dress of my people.”

“Then a hot bath at least. The desert enters with you. Did they tell you I have found a husband? One who could give even Saba a match.”

“Please, Phasa,” Shaquilath said. “There will be time.”

“There's a new bath salt you must try, Maviah. From Rome. It leaves the skin—”

“Phasa!”

“What?” Phasa snapped. “I haven't seen my dear friend in two years. If not for her, Herod would have murdered me!”

“Yes, and we are grateful. But now she comes with urgent business. Please, give us a moment.”

Phasa turned to me. “This is your wish?”

I took her hand. “I must speak with the queen. Then I will come. I promise.”

“Very well. But you must bathe before we eat. I insist.”

“Of course.”

She left, humming.

“Phasa has a free spirit, wouldn't you say?” Shaquilath said with a smile.

“As always.”

“Petra wouldn't be the same without her. Now, where were we? Ah, yes, urgent business.”

Her eyes went to Arim, who stood stunned in the presence of such wealth and power. Draped in little more than rags, he was too much for her.

“Please have your slave wait outside—this is not a stable.”

“I can never leave my queen's side!” Arim said. “There is no greater queen in all of the deep sands, and I am her greatest warrior. No man may lay a hand on her in my presence and live.”

“Oh?”

“Forgive me, my queen,” I said, “but I kindly request that Arim, the Thamud warrior who once saved my life in the Nafud, remain as my right hand.”

Standing to Shaquilath's side, Aretas was clearly intrigued.

“You see what spirit these Thamud have,” he said, grinning. “It is no wonder Maviah finds so much trouble at Dumah.” He swept his hand toward a table heavy with food. “Maviah's companions are welcome in my court.”

And so we reclined at a table spread with grapes and melons and steaming venison, with tall vessels of red wine. Attended by three servants dressed in golden tunics, we guests of honor appeared to be the poorest in the room. Which we were.

Aretas set his goblet down, ready to hear me. “Tell me, Queen of Outcasts: what is all this trouble in Dumah that I hear about? Tell me what I do not already know.”

I quickly told him everything about my followers from among the forty tribes, my council of twelve, our camp in the Garden of Peace, Saman's release of Judah, the ill-fated battle that ended in our defeat, and the captivity of our children.

When I came to the last, my resolve to remain strong failed me and I had to turn away, overcome with emotion.

“I see,” Shaquilath said after a long pause. “You are mother to your outcasts as well. And now your own son has been taken by the monster who rules Dumah.”

I tried to swallow my sorrow. “The same one who took the life of my first son two years ago.”

She nodded, sympathetic. But her words revealed her heart.

“Don't you know, Maviah, that the desert is full of monsters? Ruling them means becoming one yourself.”

“You are too harsh,” Aretas chided, plucking a grape from the silver platter. “What she has accomplished in two years is more than any army could have.” He lifted the grape to me. “I salute you, Maviah.” Then he tossed it into his mouth.

“I only speak the truth,” Shaquilath said. “You came into our arena blind and sure to be killed. And by whatever means, I do not know, you left the victor, seeing. But now you also see that you should have killed Maliku that day. By offering him mercy, you only freed a beast.”

I turned to the one I could trust more than myself.

“Saba…Speak for me.”

He looked between us, then addressed Shaquilath with a gentle yet sure voice.

“What Maviah means to say, my queen, is that in taking an eye for an eye, there are no eyes left to see. The whole world is blind. What she saw in your arena was the
only
path to truth and freedom and the greatest power as spoken of by Yeshua in Galilee. Only with his sight can faith, which calms any storm, be found.”

“And you, dark sage,” Shaquilath said. “Can
you
see what none of us can see?”

“Sometimes. And sometimes I am blind. Yeshua's Way of sight and faith is easily forgotten.”

“Can you see it now?”

He hesitated.

“What Saba means,” I said, “is that I have gone blind once again. The way once so plain to me has gone dark. I come to you for mercy in my time of deepest need.”

Shaquilath sat back, thinking on this.

“And what manner of mercy do you seek?” Aretas asked.

“That in the kindness of your heart, you persuade Saman to return our sons to us. We want no more bloodshed, only peace.”

For a long while no one spoke. How could a mother such as Shaquilath deny mercy to children?

“I don't think you grasp the simple truth, my dear,” the queen finally responded. “Are we not all children? You mention Yeshua, who speaks for the children of Israel. His children are captive to Rome as surely as your own are captive to Saman. Are we to rescue these children of Israel from their oppressors as well?”

“They are a kingdom, not orphans,” I said. “I beg you. One word from you and Saman would return Talya to me.”

“Would he? He was within his rights to take your children. Judah attacked him.”

“Judah was only raising his sword against those who took him captive!”

“So you see…an eye for an eye. And now Saman has taken one of yours. So then take one of his. But we cannot take his eye for you.”

Aretas regarded me, sympathetic but one with his wife. “Our agreement with you wasn't to offer you an army, only our blessing for you to raise your own,” he said. “Each ruler is responsible for her own children. At the right time I will exact a punishment from Herod for his offense against Phasa. That is my responsibility. Your son is not. He's your own.”

An eye for an eye. There was no end to judgment for offense. Saba was right. The whole world was already diseased by blindness and now I as well.

“I am not asking you to take an eye for me,” I said. “Only to ask Saman for mercy on my behalf. Is this too much for a mother to do?”

“He will see it as weakness,” Aretas said. “Much gold comes to me from Dumah's trade. The only reason Saman pays our tax is because he knows that to refuse will bring my wrath upon him. He's a dangerous man with a powerful army. Any sign of weakness and he might lose his head.”

The balance of fear. This was the power wielded by the threat of an eye for an eye. It had offered a necessary balance for a thousand years.

And yet Yeshua spoke of a new way.

“If I may speak for my queen,” Arim said.

He had eaten all of the food in his reach, surely overtaxing his belly. He was out of his league but too bold to know it. And so he continued without permission.

“If you are so afraid of this viper called Saman and his vile son called Kahil, then you might be wise to crush their heads. Maviah will rule Dumah in peace. You will not fear her as you do Saman and there is no greater ruler in all of the sands than my queen.”

Aretas grinned. But I couldn't fault Arim's point.

Shaquilath, on the other hand, could.

“We do not break our agreements or betray our allies. Without them, power is stripped from even the greatest king.” She turned to me, tapping her nails on the table. “But perhaps we could be persuaded that you are a greater ally than Saman.”

Renewed hope flowed into my mind. “Anything,” I said. “I am at your mercy.”

She smiled, daring. “I know how much you like challenges. Saba claims that Yeshua's way of seeing is the path of greatest power. Saman has given you two months. Stay with me and show me this way of seeing. Convince me that Yeshua's way is the only way to true power. If you succeed, we will have audience with Saman on your behalf.”