The Dovekeepers
Page 134
The dog followed me while I retrieved my brother’s tunic and cloak, waiting patiently. I thought perhaps he was at my side because he imagined I was Adir, or perhaps he assumed I was gathering a meal for him. Yet when I shooed him away, he insisted on traipsing along to the barracks. In the dark I dressed in armor, a sheet of silver scales. I wore my head scarf tied low on my forehead so that my face was obscured and I might appear to be my brother in the other warriors’ eyes. Sure enough, a fellow named Uri came out and told me which spears to collect for the others. I did so willingly.
I had brought along only a small pack containing figs and pistachios and hard cheese, along with the gray cloak. The old assassin had taught me the tricks of invisibility, how to walk in shadow, how to step without making a sound, how to slip from the grasp of another’s attack in a blur of fog. At the end of our time together, he had proclaimed me a worthy student, although he assured me I would not make a good wife for Amram.
“They can say you’re a woman, but you’re something else.” The assassin was aging, but he was still clear-eyed, and his glance was piercing.
“A shedah?” I tried to make a joke of it.
He might have laughed, but he didn’t. “A warrior,” he said.
I bowed in gratitude, and left him there to clean other men’s weapons.
*
THERE WERE SIXTY of us who left that day, a raiding party led by Ben Ya’ir himself. My heart raced to think that I was now to be one of my father’s men, and that I was to follow him and perhaps bring some pride to him. I tied Eran to a post, but he shrank out of his rope and chased after me. Because he refused to leave my side, I used the huge dog as one might pack a donkey with belongings, enlisting a thick rope so I might tie spears onto either side of his body. Certainly, the beast was as strong as a donkey, and nearly as stubborn.
As we went through the gate, I was at the rear of the column. I could see the man who was my father in the lead and, behind him, Amram and his friends. I knew Amram even from a far distance, for he had attached the blue square to his armor. I could glimpse it as we made our way down the twisted path.
The heat was blistering, and the sky blazed white. I was unused to the armor I now wore, and the bulk of it made my gait awkward. The people of my sister’s father had never worn anything that might have weighed them down. The lighter they were, the more fleet, able to dart in and out of battle; only their horses were protected by metal masks and chest pieces, for the tribesmen knew the value of such creatures. I longed for the horse that had been given to my brother, or the great warhorse Leba, who could always find his way home and had no need of a bridle. On horseback I would have been flying; now I trudged along.
The footpath was treacherous for the careless. Dust rose into our faces, and the rocks slid out beneath our feet. I stayed to myself, Eran at my side, and let the other warriors interpret my demeanor as shyness. As we went along, several men applauded me for my willingness to set forth so soon after my wound. They praised Eran as well, saying that a man whose dog was loyal to him was one you wanted beside you in battle. I dipped my head in gratitude, giving thanks in silence. Whoever gives his true self away does so with words.
We were setting forth in the direction of Ein Gedi. West of that place there was said to be a band of travelers who had settled among the local people and had in their possession gold and gem-stones, oil and frankincense. On the mountain we were suffering from great poverty. When our walls fell down, we repaired them with mud and straw; when our lamps were without oil, we let them remain dark; when there was not enough wood, we used the waste of donkeys for our fires. We ate not stew or boiled meat but gruel, a thin mixture of barley flavored with the flesh of the few doves we had to spare for our meals. Our warriors had no choice but to take what they needed from villages and camps, so our people might live. It was no different than what I had done alongside Nahara’s father. This was our country, and we were its kings, and those who entered were wise to understand they were at our mercy.
We walked until we were tired, sleeping in the open. The night was brisk, and I was glad for the dog’s presence, for I lay beside him and he warmed me. I watched Amram from beneath the cover of my cloak and my armor, but I was careful not to reveal myself. I kept my head down so that he would not see the scar he thought was a teardrop. I used the tricks I’d perfected in Moab, going off alone to relieve myself, never shirking my duties, speaking rarely and, when I did, only in a dull voice. They all came to accept me as Adir.
As soon as I could, I went off to hunt. I shot a young ibex, and when the buck stumbled upon being struck by my arrow, I went to him and slit his throat so that his spirit might rise painlessly and with dignity. When I brought my kill back to camp, draped over my shoulders, Amram himself came to butcher the creature with me.
I had brought along only a small pack containing figs and pistachios and hard cheese, along with the gray cloak. The old assassin had taught me the tricks of invisibility, how to walk in shadow, how to step without making a sound, how to slip from the grasp of another’s attack in a blur of fog. At the end of our time together, he had proclaimed me a worthy student, although he assured me I would not make a good wife for Amram.
“They can say you’re a woman, but you’re something else.” The assassin was aging, but he was still clear-eyed, and his glance was piercing.
“A shedah?” I tried to make a joke of it.
He might have laughed, but he didn’t. “A warrior,” he said.
I bowed in gratitude, and left him there to clean other men’s weapons.
*
THERE WERE SIXTY of us who left that day, a raiding party led by Ben Ya’ir himself. My heart raced to think that I was now to be one of my father’s men, and that I was to follow him and perhaps bring some pride to him. I tied Eran to a post, but he shrank out of his rope and chased after me. Because he refused to leave my side, I used the huge dog as one might pack a donkey with belongings, enlisting a thick rope so I might tie spears onto either side of his body. Certainly, the beast was as strong as a donkey, and nearly as stubborn.
As we went through the gate, I was at the rear of the column. I could see the man who was my father in the lead and, behind him, Amram and his friends. I knew Amram even from a far distance, for he had attached the blue square to his armor. I could glimpse it as we made our way down the twisted path.
The heat was blistering, and the sky blazed white. I was unused to the armor I now wore, and the bulk of it made my gait awkward. The people of my sister’s father had never worn anything that might have weighed them down. The lighter they were, the more fleet, able to dart in and out of battle; only their horses were protected by metal masks and chest pieces, for the tribesmen knew the value of such creatures. I longed for the horse that had been given to my brother, or the great warhorse Leba, who could always find his way home and had no need of a bridle. On horseback I would have been flying; now I trudged along.
The footpath was treacherous for the careless. Dust rose into our faces, and the rocks slid out beneath our feet. I stayed to myself, Eran at my side, and let the other warriors interpret my demeanor as shyness. As we went along, several men applauded me for my willingness to set forth so soon after my wound. They praised Eran as well, saying that a man whose dog was loyal to him was one you wanted beside you in battle. I dipped my head in gratitude, giving thanks in silence. Whoever gives his true self away does so with words.
We were setting forth in the direction of Ein Gedi. West of that place there was said to be a band of travelers who had settled among the local people and had in their possession gold and gem-stones, oil and frankincense. On the mountain we were suffering from great poverty. When our walls fell down, we repaired them with mud and straw; when our lamps were without oil, we let them remain dark; when there was not enough wood, we used the waste of donkeys for our fires. We ate not stew or boiled meat but gruel, a thin mixture of barley flavored with the flesh of the few doves we had to spare for our meals. Our warriors had no choice but to take what they needed from villages and camps, so our people might live. It was no different than what I had done alongside Nahara’s father. This was our country, and we were its kings, and those who entered were wise to understand they were at our mercy.
We walked until we were tired, sleeping in the open. The night was brisk, and I was glad for the dog’s presence, for I lay beside him and he warmed me. I watched Amram from beneath the cover of my cloak and my armor, but I was careful not to reveal myself. I kept my head down so that he would not see the scar he thought was a teardrop. I used the tricks I’d perfected in Moab, going off alone to relieve myself, never shirking my duties, speaking rarely and, when I did, only in a dull voice. They all came to accept me as Adir.
As soon as I could, I went off to hunt. I shot a young ibex, and when the buck stumbled upon being struck by my arrow, I went to him and slit his throat so that his spirit might rise painlessly and with dignity. When I brought my kill back to camp, draped over my shoulders, Amram himself came to butcher the creature with me.
