Forbidden (12 page)

Abruptly, I turned to pace the stone walkway, my heart racing.

“What were you going to say a moment ago?” Kadesh asked, pressing forward.

“It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters.” I stared up at the blue sky, so deep and clear above the red, lofty cliffs, and wished I could crawl into one of the caves and start my life all over again. I was fairly certain that Kadesh didn’t know I was betrothed to the prince of my tribe, or he probably would have said so outright, despite his saying I was in line for the role of princess. My father would not confide the details to a stranger. Only that our families were connected to the ruler of Nephish, to show our tribal standing.

“It matters to me. Don’t be afraid, Jayden. You can tell me, I promise.”

He hovered close, and I knew he wouldn’t let me run back down the stone staircase until I finished my sentence. “I was only going to say that surely someone like you, in line to inherit the frankincense and business of your uncle, is—is already married—or betrothed to the most beautiful girl in your kingdom. I’m sure that’s why you’re so eager to get back home.”

Kadesh looked startled. Then his face clouded over as he snapped his cloak, striding away. He stopped at the edge of the stone precipice, and then turned to me with such an expression of dismay and frustration, it caught me off guard.

“Don’t speak of things you know nothing about,” he said quietly.

“I’ve said something wrong,” I quickly apologized. “I’m so sorry. I’ll go now.”

No sooner did I move to head for the stairs than Kadesh darted forward into my path. We bumped into each other and I wobbled, not expecting him to be there.

Without speaking, he gently steadied me, placing a hand on the stone parapet so I wouldn’t lose my balance and fall forward. The touch of his hand on my arm caused my stomach to rise into my throat, and yet it saddened me, too. His pensive, melancholy reaction spoke to the fact that there
was
someone else in his homeland. Someone his heart must be missing. Another girl, a princess meant just for him, and yet he didn’t confirm or deny it.

Kadesh’s eyes were black as a well of water, with depths I couldn’t even begin to fathom. We stared at each other, mere inches away, not saying a word. I needed to move, to walk away, but I felt rooted to the ground, unable to compel myself.

“Jayden—” he began, and the sound of his voice speaking my name seemed to engulf my soul with something peculiar and magical and wonderful.

“No,” I said with a small shake of my head. Taking a shallow breath, I stepped toward the staircase, my thoughts careening in a thousand different directions.

“Jayden, I only—”

I shook my head. “Please don’t say my name like that.”

He looked at me, confused. “And how am I speaking your name?” His voice was so tender, so gentle, so complicated.

I trembled, dizzy from the intense focus he was directing at me. I wanted to sit down, but I was certain that sitting would be much too dangerous.

“You mustn’t look at me like that,” I whispered, my eyes locking onto his.

His gaze was like fire on my face. “I can’t tell you what’s in my heart?”

I put up a hand to touch my hot cheek. “No, Kadesh.”

“But,” he said. “I think you feel it, too.”

My throat was thick with unspoken words, but I finally tore my eyes away and ran, jolting down the steps back to the courtyard below.

“Jayden, please come back!” His voice made me ache all the way to my toes, but I hurried across the expanse of the earthen courtyard and slipped inside the tunnel crevice that would take me back to my family at the well.

Overhead, black rain clouds concealed the sun where there used to be blue sky. There was a sudden white snap as lightning flashed. Thunder roared next, rumbling the earth under my feet.

I put my hand up on the wall of stone and felt the vibrations deep inside the rock. It was the sound of a fury coming straight at us, but I had no idea if it was a storm or an earthquake. At the moment it didn’t even matter, I was so sensitive to the atmosphere that Kadesh created around me.

My heart slammed into my ribs when I turned to see that Kadesh had followed me. He was right on my heels, and before my heart could beat again, his hand closed over mine, locking me to the wall. I turned my head away, aware that I couldn’t gaze into his face and not betray my fascination toward him. He mesmerized me, filled me with an intense longing I couldn’t even define.

His hand was warm as it engulfed mine, his strong fingers
grasping my own in his, entwining us together. I couldn’t move; I couldn’t breathe, every one of my senses shivering and vibrating like the rocks around us.

Before I could say a word, Kadesh lifted my hand from the cold stone and turned me toward him. We stood inches apart and I gazed, enthralled, as he brought my open hand to his lips and gently kissed my palm. I knew I should pull away, yet I had an urge to lift up my other hand so that he could kiss it as well.

“Jayden,” he said softly. “You’re trembling. Please know that I would never hurt you, or your heart.”

“I think I know that, but—”

He cut off my protests by quickly kissing my other hand, holding it to his mouth, his eyes closed. The touch of his lips made me want to burst out of my skin.

“As a man who spends his life directing caravans for whole seasons at a time, you know I have great patience,” he said as he bent to whisper in my ear. He was so close; if I merely took a new breath, I would melt right into him.

“Sometimes the seasons pass too quickly,” I whispered. Horeb and my impending marriage were in my mind, never far away. But Kadesh knew none of that, and I couldn’t bear to tell him. The words would break me apart. I didn’t want this moment to end. If only I could stop the sands of time from slipping through my fingers.

Kadesh tightened his grip, and a strange joy stirred in my belly. “There’s plenty of time. Don’t worry, Jayden.”

I didn’t answer, knowing there was so much to worry about. And I was running out of time. But I couldn’t tear my
eyes away from his face, his lips, and the wonder of his hands holding mine, the caress of his skin, his fingers, so exquisite, even as tears swam behind my gaze.

The narrow tunnel suddenly fell into shadow as afternoon became evening. When the wind rose, fat splashes of rain fell through the narrow ceiling of sky overhead. Within seconds, a torrent of rain began to fall, dribbling down my face as though the clouds had split open.

“Look,” Kadesh said, pointing to the ground. “The rain is coming down fast. This is going to be a big storm. Not a good sign.”

Puddles were forming right where we stood—and growing larger by the second.

He looked up, rain running in rivulets down his face, soaking his hair and clothes. “We can’t stay here,” he said, nudging me forward. “We need to leave, and quickly.”

I nodded and glanced back at the narrow passageway from where we had originated. Had I really wandered so far? The entrance to the corridor still loomed a great distance ahead, the path hidden by twists and turns of the narrow, sheer rock walls. Within seconds, the water was rising so rapidly I wasn’t sure we’d make it back to the entrance before we were engulfed.

“It’s a flash flood!” Kadesh suddenly shouted. “Run—as fast as you can!”

I obeyed, my knees pumping, feet stumbling across the rocky ground, hair whipping into my eyes.

The rain continued to quickly fill the passageway. Too quickly.

“I don’t think I can outrun it!” I gasped.

Within moments, the water level was halfway up my legs, making it hard to even walk. My hands scraped against the rough sandstone as a sea of reddish-brown water pulled at my feet. I fell, banging my knees into the stony ground, swallowing a mouthful of dank water.

Kadesh lifted me up by the waist and I coughed so hard my lungs burned. “Are you all right?”

I nodded and started forward again, willing myself to keep moving. Kadesh stayed right behind me, urging me forward, but by the time we reached the end, we were sloshing through water as high as our waists. The last few feet were painful, as though the ravine had created its own undertow, desperate to suck me down. Slogging forward, I burst out of the passageway, free at last, but the current was still strong and fast, although not as deep. My legs were on fire by the time we struggled up the steep slope and were safely out of the high water.

Finally, I turned to look back.

Behind us, the narrow gorge kept filling as thunder smashed overhead. Roaring floodwaters flowed down the cavern like a river had suddenly been created. If we’d stayed inside the passage a moment longer we would have surely drowned.

“You aren’t hurt?” Kadesh asked. I shook my head, gulping in blessed air as rain soaked my skin, and I could tell his relief was immense.

I sensed that he wished he could sweep me up and carry me onto even higher ground, but we both saw my father at
the same moment, standing in the pouring rain scanning the horizon. As we ran, I purposely widened the space between us.

“Keep going, Jayden,” Kadesh told me tenderly. “We still have to get to higher ground.”

I was exhausted, but managed to keep climbing even though the red dirt had become a slog of mud, sucking at my feet.

A puzzled expression crossed my father’s face when he saw us together, and he gripped my arms as soon as I reached him. “Did you know that people have drowned in that crevice when there are floodwaters?” he asked, his arms enclosing me. “As soon as it began to rain you should have left.”

I shook my head, my teeth beginning to chatter. “Kadesh found me in the narrow ravine. He knew. That it wasn’t safe, I mean. With the rain, the flooding.” I stopped. I was beginning to sound guilty, like I’d done something wrong. But I wasn’t guilty of anything, was I?

The rain continued to pour. Leila hung on to the harness of one of the pack camels, the shawl over her head dripping forlornly. The camels stood stoically, unfazed by the sudden inundation of the storm. My father and Kadesh rallied the animals, tying them together in their dwindling line as I mounted Meela.

The sensation of Kadesh’s fingers gripping my hand lingered as I stared down at my own. As if his skin had imprinted onto me forever—his lips searing my palms, his eyes reading my soul—as though we would forever remain in the narrow crevasse, living that moment over and over again.

My mind reeled with desire I’d never felt before, accompanied by the despair that I was betrothed to someone else. I shouldn’t be daydreaming about any other boy this way, but I only wanted him to touch me again, even as a shadow of guilt crossed my conscience.

I held on to the memory of Kadesh’s lips against my palms, the burning in his eyes that told me he was thinking about me just as much as I was thinking about him.

S
everal days later, we entered the summer lands near the city of Tadmur, a week’s journey from Damascus.

When I saw it coming over the last ridge of sand dunes early that morning, I was sure we’d found paradise. The large oasis pond reflected the sun while groves of palm trees, heavy with dates next to wild grapes, circled the ring of water. Grass and shrubs and flowers spread like an intricate carpet before formidable mountains in the hazy distance.

Familiar black tents dotted the oasis valley, the most welcome sight of all.

We quickly rode into camp and when we got to the tent of Abimelech, Horeb’s father, Aunt Judith ran out, her face streaming with tears of relief to see us at last. She wiped at her eyes, laughing at herself, and then clucked her tongue. “Every
day I thought we would see you behind us, but never were my prayers answered.”

“We had some delays along the way,” I said wearily. “But we’re here now and that’s all that matters.”

“You girls are skin and bones,” Judith went on. “We’ll have to feast every night to put you back together again.”

Uncle Abimelech eyed my father’s shrinking herd. “Three camels lost. You’ve suffered on your journey,” he said simply.

My father nodded without speaking. There was nothing much to say, but eight camels was a pathetic herd, even for a poor man, when the rest of the clans had many dozens, even hundreds of camels for food and trade. As tribal chief, Abimelech owned close to a thousand camels, and yet he wouldn’t shame my father by giving him any. He could only help my father get his lost herd back by organizing a raid to retrieve them from the Maachathites, who had stolen from us over and over again.

With Kadesh’s help, my youngest cousin, Chezib, ran around the camels, untying them and giving them lush flowers to eat straight from his cupped hands. I could hear the pair of them chattering and laughing together. I wanted to sit and watch as Kadesh patiently listened while Chezib instructed him on camels and travels and the next hunting expedition.

But as I looked over at the fire hearth in front of Abimelech’s tent my stomach dropped, the relief on my face quickly erased. Horeb lay on a mound of pillows, sipping coffee and eating from a basket of ripe fruit.

I walked over, but my betrothed didn’t get up. “You’re
dirty, Cousin,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Most people are travel worn after more than two weeks on the desert,” I replied, not trying to keep the tone of annoyance out of my voice.

He laughed, inching back into the shade. “Your sister’s grown,” he added, staring at Leila.

I jerked my head, seeing Leila through his eyes. Grown? Not in height. Only in womanly attributes. I gave a snort as Horeb rose up on one elbow, examining Kadesh. “Who’s the stranger?”

“A man named Kadesh from the South,” I said shortly.

“Where did you find him?”

“He found us, actually,” I said curtly, trying to cut off the conversation.

“Where? After you left our last camping site or on the road?”

“Before we left. We were—my mother—” I couldn’t get the words past my lips.

“That’s right. Your mother was about to give birth. Did she finally manage a son for your father?”

I closed my eyes and wished Horeb would disappear from my sight. He was so unfeeling, so insensitive. “There was a son, Isaac. He died. And a twin sister. My mother—” I still couldn’t say it, and I couldn’t move until our conversation was deemed over.

Horeb sat up from his rug and swished a stick through the hearth fire’s embers, where water was boiling for coffee later that evening. He studied my face without any emotion of his
own, but surprisingly read the pain in my eyes. “You had to bury her before you left. That’s why you never caught up with us.”

I nodded and bit at my lips.

“And your father trusted this boy, this stranger? You’re lucky you’re all still alive.”

“He was wounded by enemies,” I answered, making sure my voice was devoid of any sentiment. “My father and Shem tended him. He’d lost his caravan and had to come with us until he can buy more camels in the market at Tadmur and get back home.”

“I see,” Horeb said, appraising Kadesh from a distance as he and Chezib led our tired and hungry camels out to a field of flowers and shrubs.

Silently, I watched my father move the bundles of tent and stakes to an empty camping spot several hundred paces away from Abimelech’s camp. “I need to put up the tent,” I said. “My father is weary. It’s been a terrible two weeks since my mother’s loss.”

Horeb pursed his lips, nodding. “You’d better hurry before the sun sinks.”

I stared at him; he wasn’t even moving to help me. A moment later Hakak was at my side. “We’ll help with the unpacking,” she said, kicking a foot at her older brother. “Just because you stayed in the city all night with your friends at the drinking houses doesn’t mean you can be lazy all day.”

“Yes, it does, little sister,” Horeb said, leaning back again. “I’ve been cleaning and sharpening my tools and weapons, as
well as preparing for this evening. We’re having a tribal council meeting after all you girls go to bed.”

“It’s nothing but boring talk. But you’re good at that, dear brother.”

“Is that a compliment or a critique of my negotiating skills?”

“The former, I suppose,” Hakak teased in return. She paused and added soberly, “I know you will make a fine king one day for the tribe of Nephish. Already you are forming alliances, making us stronger. Not everybody can do that.”

Then Hakak slipped her arm through mine. “And when you and Jayden marry and settle into the finest tent, I picture you holding court and solving problems and using your wisdom to keep us strong and safe.”

Horeb inclined his head, gazing at me again. I wished I’d had a bath and combed my hair. I looked every bit the poor and dirty peasant. “Thank you for your confidence, dear sister. I just hope that Jayden will understand the good life she will have with me,” he added meaningfully.

Hakak gave a snort. “Of course she does. We all know how fortunate and blessed your union will be.”

Horeb picked up a bowl of sliced melon and popped one into his mouth. He offered me a piece, and as hungry as I was, I shook my head in refusal. I didn’t want to get so close that he could grab my arm. “She can be assured on that account. I’ll be gone a lot or have visiting dignitaries from other tribes, so Jayden will need to run the camp alone, but I know she’s capable. And she will live like a queen once we’re anointed. A
chest full of jewels will be hers. A herd of camels she won’t be able to count. And so many servants, she’ll never put up a tent or draw water again.”

It was strange to hear them talking about me like this, even complimenting my household skills, but I couldn’t say a word.

Hakak tugged at my arm, stooping down to get our woefully empty food baskets that had been left on the ground after unpacking the camels. “No more talking, Horeb! Jayden’s exhausted and we need to bathe and dress her and help her get settled. We will see you at dinner.”

Hakak led me away, looking healthy and beautiful even though the tribe had to have arrived at the oasis only a few days earlier. Her marriage to Laham was getting close; perhaps that accounted for Hakak’s radiance.

As we walked, I knew I had to tell her about my mother. The words were on my tongue, but I couldn’t bring myself to say them. My throat closed up as Hakak embraced me.

A moment later, Falail and Leila came up the road, carrying fresh water in a large clay jug from the oasis well between them. “I’ll help you girls with a bath,” Falail said. “Now that we have water. You can borrow some of our clothes until yours can be washed.”

“Now tell me,” Hakak said, squeezing my arm. “Where is your mother? I haven’t seen her yet. Did she slip by us all, and she and my mother are catching up on all the gossip?”

At that moment Aunt Judith hurried around the camel carriage that was now sitting empty on the ground. “Jayden!
Leila!” she shrieked. “Where is your mother—the litter is empty!”

I held myself tightly, forcing myself not to fall apart in front of everyone.

Aunt Judith read my face and clasped me in her arms, then pulled Leila close as she herded us into her tent for privacy. She began to weep. “It’s true, isn’t it? She’s gone. Oh, dear God, it isn’t possible! Rebekah, dear Rebekah. When did this happen?”

“The day the valley emptied. She went into labor that morning.”

Judith pulled back in surprise. “But the baby wasn’t supposed to come until we got here. Where is the child, the infant? Let me see him!”

Tears slipped from my eyes and I tried to brush them away, but there were too many. “There were twins, Aunt Judith. My brother, Isaac, is buried with my mother. Sahmril survived, but she’s with Shem’s family, who left us at the crossroads to go to Mari.” I stopped, not wanting to recount that terrible day of the journey. It was too painful, still too fresh. “Dinah agreed to nurse her.”

Aunt Judith groaned and wiped at her face.

“Nalla did all she could, but there was no way to stop—” I broke off, weeping as that terrible morning swept over me all over again.

“I pray Rebekah didn’t suffer too terribly.” Aunt Judith shook her head, disbelief etched in her eyes. “Then, her last night alive was your betrothal celebration—only—weeks ago.
It doesn’t seem possible that she’s gone. She was my dearest friend in all the world.”

I buried my face into my aunt’s neck, wanting to give her all the grief and anxiety I’d been holding in for so long.

“Where is the grave?” Judith whispered.

“Under the bluff,” I said. “Father dug it deep and we covered it with rocks. I—I danced for her. To say good-bye.”

“What a good daughter you are, Jayden.” Aunt Judith traced a finger against my empty collarbone as she raised her red, streaming eyes to mine. “Where’s your jewelry? The necklace, the earrings—they’re missing.”

“Payment to Dinah for saving Sahmril,” I choked out.

Shock filled my aunt’s eyes. “That wicked woman!” She hugged me tightly, and I leaned against her, unloading all my grief of so many weeks.

Leila was weeping again, too, and Falail and Hakak sat her down, embracing her and murmuring condolences. Then Hakak and Aunt Judith bustled about, getting us bread and camel’s milk to eat and drink. My sister was so thin I worried about her. But it was a relief to sink into the rugs of someone else’s tent and let myself be cared for.

A few moments later, the tapestry partition was pulled aside and I saw my grandmother Seraiah standing in the doorway; the folds of her wrinkled face were almost as dear as my own mother’s.

“My girls,” she said, holding out her hands.

I jumped up to run to her, fresh tears bitter on my cheeks. “Oh, Grandmother!” I cried, burying my face into her neck.
Seraiah was tiny and frail, but her soul was like a rock, firm and immovable, and she loved me unconditionally. She was the one person I’d wanted to see more than anyone else.

“Ssh, ssh,” she hushed me, kissing my cheeks and stroking my hair. “No need to speak. Your father has told me all that has happened.” She embraced me again and I wept into her for everything I had lost.

A few hours later, after my father and I erected the tent, laid out our rugs, and unpacked the pots and jugs, we fell into our beds. More tired than hungry. But Judith and Abimelech wouldn’t let us keep to ourselves for long. Two nights later we sat with them for dinner, enjoying a feast we hadn’t had in almost a month.

Surely the terrible time was over, I prayed as we feasted on a huge platter of roasted meat and mounds of rice and dripping fat to celebrate our safe arrival.

There were stories of the desert crossing and laughter and relief. And all the while, from across the fire, I felt Kadesh’s eyes on me. After those secret, intimate moments between us in the flooding chasm, I tried not to let my own eyes linger, but it was impossible, and it wasn’t long before Horeb noticed the attention Kadesh was giving me. I blushed, always aware of the heightened excitement Kadesh caused in my belly, but I worried over Horeb, who was watching me too, observing everything Kadesh said and did—as well as my reaction. It was worse than if he’d smirked and laughed. As if he’d caught me cheating, and was enjoying it. And yet, I could say and do nothing.

At the end of the meal, Kadesh rose to his feet, holding out his cup. “You have all been endlessly kind to me. I honor the House of Pharez for rescuing me, healing me, and giving me a home on my solitary journey. Thank you, Abimelech, for this feast. If I may give a small token of my gratitude.” He untied one of the leather bags at his side and pulled out a rectangle of fluttering lavender silk, then bowed to Judith and laid the beautiful silk at her feet. “Thank you for your hearth and home.”

Hakak leaned close to Leila and me, her eyes dancing. “He’s very generous and courtly, isn’t he?”

Stepping across the rugs, Kadesh kneeled to kiss my father on both cheeks. “You saved my life and no gift can equal that, but when I return to my uncle and finish my business there, I intend to bring back fifty camels to help heal your herd.”

My father bowed his head and murmured his thanks. Camels were a fine gift, and expensive, but it could take months for camels to arrive and my father needed them now—especially when the oasis became overgrazed and it was time to leave for the winter rains, when we wandered from valley to valley following the rain clouds that brought food for our camels.

“Before I leave I will inspect the swordmaker shops in Tadmur,” Kadesh added. “And bring back a sword as a token of my devotion.”

My father looked pleased. The only weapon he owned was the short sword given to him by his father when he turned twelve and went on his first raid. But it had always been more
like a long dagger rather than a true sword. Nothing like Kadesh’s weapons.

“You may not have an
extra
sword for gift giving, stranger,” Horeb said, standing up to circle the fire like a restless lion. “But you have at least one.”

“That’s true,” Kadesh said, nodding.

“An expensive sword, is it not? From the city of Damascus?”