The Dovekeepers (64 page)

I wished that the lie the Romans told about Nahara’s father’s people was indeed true and that her blood did run blue, so that when they cut her down a thousand more would arise in her place. I had nearly died giving birth to her, and would have, had Aziza
not been such a fearless child. All of that agony spent only so that I might live to sing lamentations for her throughout the day and night. I tore my garments until my hands bled, keening as I did so. Though I had lost her when she defied me and married Malachi, I mourned her bitterly now. Her blood was on my hands. I did not blame Malachi or the Essenes, for I was the one who had led her to her doom, exactly as my mother had said I would, bringing ruin to all I loved and to anyone who might love me.

When my daughter of Moab was born, her father had waited ten days to see her, as was the custom of his people. He had wanted a son, but when he entered the tent, his face broke into a smile. It was good that a man could not see a child immediately, when an infant was still battered by birth, swollen and blue from the burden of coming to life. To her father’s eyes, this girl child was a radiant being. He was a man who did not hide what he felt. He chose her name, and I agreed to his choice, for Nahara meant the light that shone upon great beauty. We agreed on many things, but on this most of all. I wondered if, on the other side of the Salt Sea, my daughter’s father knew that she was lost, if he had been waiting all this time for us to return. I wondered if when he found me in the wilderness and took me with him I had been wrong not to love him. At the very least I should have been grateful enough to offer him my loyalty in return.

OUR PEOPLE
went out to see the new moon at the time of
Rosh Chodesh.
We offered God our prayers, but we did not rejoice. There was no dancing. The Roman wall had been completed, encircling us like a viper. The camps had risen, several of them larger than most villages. Those who had not come from Jerusalem were stunned by what the legion had accomplished; below them there were more people than many had seen in their lifetimes, the
six thousand wearing the white tunics of the legion, and thousands more enslaved to help them with their brutal tasks.

The Romans’ main camp, set directly across from the Northern Palace, boasted a tower that rivaled that of any garrison. There was another large camp behind us, guarding the treacherous eastern slope, and six more smaller camps set in a circle. Beyond Silva’s camp there was the village of followers, where people led their daily lives, raising chickens, taking women for their pleasure, praying to their gods. I considered each one to be the murderer of my daughter.

I went out at night to the wall where I had drawn spells before, and there I took a dreadful oath.

I invoke and beseech the Most High God, Lord of all spirits and of the flesh, against those who treacherously murdered or killed, who spilled innocent blood in an unjust fashion. Lord who oversees all angels, before whom every soul humbles itself, may you avenge this innocent blood and seek justice
.

I wrote these words upon parchment, then burned them so they might rise up to the Almighty. I called down the angels of
Chimah,
the messengers of wrath and of vengeance.
Chimah
is also said to be the name of the stars in the sky that are the seven sisters, who look down upon us in times of sorrow. As I beseeched the angels, I took a knife to my flesh and sliced along the palm of my left hand, though our people were not allowed to cut ourselves, or harm that which God had created. I cut deeply as I offered myself in a bargain to keep my surviving children safe from every living thing, and from the demons who were so close by, and from the lion below us.

OUR ENEMIES
studied our ways. To them, we were nothing more than a scorpion placed under glass. They wished to gauge when we would next sting. Each time they attempted to scale the serpent’s
path, we poured boiling oil onto them. Our archers were perched in the olive trees and along the wall, ready to shoot down whoever might try to pass. The path was narrow, and the legion was wide, an easy target when they tried to scale the mountain.

We thought they would see how dangerous a scorpion could be, despite its small size. But if anything, the Romans decided that the best way to catch a scorpion is to crush it in its own garden. To destroy us, they needed to reach us. They began their own path, a wide ramp built at the western slope and rising toward the North Gate. Barrel upon barrel of earth was brought to raise up this ramp, which took the form of a white mountain. We thought they were mad to attempt to create what only God could form, a cliff reaching two hundred cubits from the valley from which they could pursue us. But there were so many slaves and the work was unceasing, and before our eyes the cliff appeared, so white it burned with brightness. At night it seemed the world had overturned, and the stars were beneath us, rising up to us, threatening to burn us with their light.

The men at the synagogue met to discuss whether or not it was truly possible for this ramp to reach our walls. But in the time it took for them to debate this matter, the ramp rose so high that we could plainly hear the workers. The Roman soldiers were able to swing javelins and spears that took several lives. We were stunned by what our enemies had accomplished, and how, like our Creator, they had built a mountain overnight.

IN JERUSALEM
I had seen my rival only once, as I stepped into the cart on the day I was driven out of the city. The wooden cage of doves was in my hand and I carried my child, who wailed in my arms. They forced me to go barefoot, as was the custom; when my feet bled, one more sorrow would be added to my punishment.
I remember that Ben Ya’ir’s wife was wearing fine sandals, made of goat leather, clasped with brass buckles. She wore necklaces of lapis and carnelian and turquoise, with gold bracelets on her arms. I had only a black scarf wound around myself. As my enemy watched me climb into the donkey cart meant for hauling ewes to the butcher, I thought not of the torments of the wilderness, nor of the vultures and ravens that would follow us. I was not occupied with the heat that would bring us low or the jackals that would not be content to wait for our death so we might be their meal. Instead I was ashamed of my bare feet.

Now, after all this time, she came to my door on the day the Roman ramp was completed. The ramp had fallen short, and for this we were grateful. But we shuddered to think of how the Romans might amend this, and how intent they were on reaching us, even if that meant they must float through the air.

The dog who watched over my son howled when Channa approached, as he might have had the Angel of Death knocked upon our door. Dogs are said to know of such visitations. In Alexandria I had witnessed a priest’s dog howl at the moment of his owner’s death; the grieving creature was then put to death himself so that his body might be buried beside his master’s. I held our watchdog by the neck and opened the door so that I might gaze upon my caller with loathing. I had already faced her once on this mountain, and she had no more power over me.

At least she knew well enough not to cross my threshold. I took in my rival, her pinched face, her sorrowful eyes, and in return she stared at me. By then there was no disguising I would soon bring another child into this world. But it was a world torn asunder. To me, birth seemed less like a gift to the soul I carried than it did a curse.

The dog pulled back his lips and showed his teeth to my visitor.

“I only want a minute,” Channa said hastily.

I loosened my hold on the dog, and he snapped his jaws. Perhaps
Eleazar had once mentioned she was afraid of dogs. Perhaps that pleased me.

“I thought you wanted my life,” I remarked.

“No.” She shook her head. “I wanted my husband.”

“Then go to him,” I suggested.

She was hesitant. Not until I began to close the door did she speak out, her words flowing.

“Only you can grant me the protection of his life.”

We gazed at each other over the threshold. I wondered if it was possible that, even now, as Rome was besieging us, Channa might be trying to ensnare me, hoping to have me brought before the council and tried as a witch. Still I listened, for this woman and I had been tied together as the night is tied to the day, never knowing each other yet never eluding one another.

Perhaps I wanted to see her beg for something. The idea of her bleak pleas and her remorse was compelling. I sent the dog inside, then stepped into the yard. In any other year, this season would have meant the start of planting, but our fields lay fallow. There were no seeds and no men to work the plows and no beasts to assist them.

“I am not a magician,” I told my rival. “I can’t grant you anything.”

The almond trees were in full flower, and the hyssop bloomed. Channa had finished the cure I had sent to her and was once more prone to difficulty when she drew in deep breaths. I did not mention that hyssop grew nearby, along my wall. I let her puff and pant.

“Tonight the warriors are going out to try to stop the building of the ramp. They will not all return.”

I was resolved not to let her see how this news affected me. If she thought I was indifferent, she would not have the power to break my heart.

Channa went on when I was silent. “I dreamed he would return only with the help of a black bird.”

“I’m not a bird,” I said, though I was alarmed by this news, for I, too, had dreamed of a black bird, a raven, such as the one that had visited Elijah and fed him when he was lost in the wilderness and had no sustenance. “Why come to me?”

She was gazing at the child within me. “Is it a son?” Her voice was plaintive.

“Now you think I’m a witch and can divine God’s will. You think I’m many things, it seems. Did you ever think I was a girl who was sent into the wilderness? Did you see that my feet were bare and that the vultures followed me and that I was alone, sent to die? Maybe that was why your dream came to you. Perhaps you’re meant to choke on feathers.”

“Save him, even if it’s for yourself,” Channa said to me then.

She raised her eyes, and I saw the truth, that he was her husband and that she was willing do anything to rescue him. I took a step away. I knew then that she had power over me still, and that her power came from the fact that she loved him.

“I should have brought you into our home,” she went on. “Then your children would be mine as my husband was yours. We might have carried our burdens and joys together, as sisters.”

I marveled that she had the courage to speak to me in this manner, that she hadn’t been afraid to court my hatred of her and my spite. Because of this, I softened in a way I hadn’t thought possible. Perhaps it had been written that she would ruin her life and my own. Perhaps she, too, had no choice but to follow her fate.

“Don’t do this for me,” Channa said. “Do it for the one you love. Our husband.”

I watched her hasten away, following the wall, although arrows flew close by, some set on fire. She didn’t shrink from them; perhaps she no longer cared about matters such as her own safety. I noticed that her feet were bare, and that she had wound a black scarf around her shoulders, and that she was now in the wilderness herself, and that everything she had said was true.

*

I WENT
to the Snake Gate and asked the guard to let me by. I understood why I had dreamed of forty acacia trees surrounded by bees. The dream had been given to me by the angels and by the Almighty. What had appeared to be a puzzle now formed itself into a path.