The Dovekeepers
Page 29
ONE NIGHT we were so near to the Salt Sea I rose from sleep to discover that salt had wound through my hair and turned the edges hard and white. I had been dreaming of a path of stones and a snake so huge it could devour a city. I tried to talk to the slithering creature, pleading for it to go away and leave us in peace, but the serpent wouldn’t hear of it. Come closer, it whispered. I longed for the lion in my dreams. I missed him and yearned for him, despite the danger in doing so. I reached for the snake, but it disappeared, leaving me with a handful of black dust.
The shouts of the warriors who led us roused me. Groggy, I pulled myself from the tangle of my sleep. I stood and rubbed the salt from my eyes. All at once I saw a miracle before me. If a thousand blue butterflies had risen from the ground it would have been no more of a marvel. Herod’s fortress was suspended in air, jutting out from the edge of a white cliff, exactly as the warriors had promised, a wonder of the world.
There was the path that led to Masada, winding up the sheerest cliff imaginable. One misstep, one moment of doubt, and anyone who made his way here could easily careen to his death in the valley below. The wilderness had made me a disbeliever, but as I climbed what was called the serpent’s path, which wound like a snake up the side of the mountain, I felt something open inside me. This was where the snake in my dream had led us. I recognized it as surely as though it was a path I had walked a hundred times before: the small willows and clusters of bent olive trees, the chalky white earth beneath the limestone rocks. It had been written in the Book of Life that we would come to this path, and so it was meant to be.
Above us there were birds of prey, falcons and hawks. I knew they would be upon me if I were to stumble. They would take their revenge for all the birds I had killed in the desert, all the feathers I’d plucked, some with my fingers, some, when I was starving, with my teeth. I had wished for another’s death and taken a man who didn’t belong to me. I had given myself to the desert to become what I now was, a woman possessed by a ghost, mourning an existence that would never be again, carrying a secret that would ripen and expose me for the thief I had become.
I paid attention to the path and did my best not to think about the way I might appear to others, a barbarian, my skin powdered white with rock dust, my garments filthy, my hair turned to straw and salt, white at the edges but scarlet at the roots, my eyes empty except for the reflection of the desert. I was a lioness without claws or teeth, bent over like an old woman as I maneuvered along the rocks, so far from the girl I had been I could barely recall my own name. I thought of how I had given Ben Simon my promise to be silent. Now silence was all I had. The wind was howling as we rose higher on the cliff; that was the single voice we heard.
The serpent’s path appeared endless. Stones fell and echoed when they hit the ground below. The world looked smoky and distant from this vantage point. I took the rope from around my waist and said I wanted to make my own way. I walked on without assistance, even at the steepest part of the path. I could hear the rattle of my breathing, sharp, like a dagger. The fortress before me was like a dream, and like a dreamer I went forth, marveling at the sight of what I beheld. It was everything they said, all the more brilliant for the desolation around us.
We had been found and brought to this place so near to the sky we could hear the voice of the King of Creation. The Lord had saved us and delivered us, as the Torah vowed He would. I would have been willing to do anything for the glory of God as I walked through the gate, except forgive Him for what I had lost.
*
BENEATH HIS CLOAK, my brother wore armor to protect him on those occasions when he went out in the night. A dagger would not suffice. He needed heavier weapons now: a bow, arrows, an ax, a lance of wood and brass. He resembled a dragon with scales or a silver snake, creatures feared by men, known to God alone. There were indeed three hundred warriors, but I instantly recognized my brother across the field beneath the pink bower of almond trees, planted high on this plateau above the rest of the world. I knew the swagger of his walk, the shining light that came from deep within him. Even armor couldn’t hide that. My father had been brought to him right away, but I met with Amram after I was cleansed. I was taken to one of the mikvahs, of which there were several, for women and for men. In the largest bath, there was a line down the stairs for the clean and the unclean. The water pooled black where I was, and the other women left the bath lest they become unclean once more. I was not surprised. What I had done could never be washed away.
I dressed in the torn tunic and scarves Tamar had given me, then ran to meet my brother in the field. If I closed my eyes and breathed in the scent of almonds, I could imagine I had entered into another life. Perhaps we might one day return to Jerusalem and find the world that had been stolen from us. Perhaps all these months had been a dream, like my dream of the lion. Then I heard my brother shout to me, and it was quite clear there was no way to go back. He called me Yaya, my childhood name. I knew that girl was gone.
The shouts of the warriors who led us roused me. Groggy, I pulled myself from the tangle of my sleep. I stood and rubbed the salt from my eyes. All at once I saw a miracle before me. If a thousand blue butterflies had risen from the ground it would have been no more of a marvel. Herod’s fortress was suspended in air, jutting out from the edge of a white cliff, exactly as the warriors had promised, a wonder of the world.
There was the path that led to Masada, winding up the sheerest cliff imaginable. One misstep, one moment of doubt, and anyone who made his way here could easily careen to his death in the valley below. The wilderness had made me a disbeliever, but as I climbed what was called the serpent’s path, which wound like a snake up the side of the mountain, I felt something open inside me. This was where the snake in my dream had led us. I recognized it as surely as though it was a path I had walked a hundred times before: the small willows and clusters of bent olive trees, the chalky white earth beneath the limestone rocks. It had been written in the Book of Life that we would come to this path, and so it was meant to be.
Above us there were birds of prey, falcons and hawks. I knew they would be upon me if I were to stumble. They would take their revenge for all the birds I had killed in the desert, all the feathers I’d plucked, some with my fingers, some, when I was starving, with my teeth. I had wished for another’s death and taken a man who didn’t belong to me. I had given myself to the desert to become what I now was, a woman possessed by a ghost, mourning an existence that would never be again, carrying a secret that would ripen and expose me for the thief I had become.
I paid attention to the path and did my best not to think about the way I might appear to others, a barbarian, my skin powdered white with rock dust, my garments filthy, my hair turned to straw and salt, white at the edges but scarlet at the roots, my eyes empty except for the reflection of the desert. I was a lioness without claws or teeth, bent over like an old woman as I maneuvered along the rocks, so far from the girl I had been I could barely recall my own name. I thought of how I had given Ben Simon my promise to be silent. Now silence was all I had. The wind was howling as we rose higher on the cliff; that was the single voice we heard.
The serpent’s path appeared endless. Stones fell and echoed when they hit the ground below. The world looked smoky and distant from this vantage point. I took the rope from around my waist and said I wanted to make my own way. I walked on without assistance, even at the steepest part of the path. I could hear the rattle of my breathing, sharp, like a dagger. The fortress before me was like a dream, and like a dreamer I went forth, marveling at the sight of what I beheld. It was everything they said, all the more brilliant for the desolation around us.
We had been found and brought to this place so near to the sky we could hear the voice of the King of Creation. The Lord had saved us and delivered us, as the Torah vowed He would. I would have been willing to do anything for the glory of God as I walked through the gate, except forgive Him for what I had lost.
*
BENEATH HIS CLOAK, my brother wore armor to protect him on those occasions when he went out in the night. A dagger would not suffice. He needed heavier weapons now: a bow, arrows, an ax, a lance of wood and brass. He resembled a dragon with scales or a silver snake, creatures feared by men, known to God alone. There were indeed three hundred warriors, but I instantly recognized my brother across the field beneath the pink bower of almond trees, planted high on this plateau above the rest of the world. I knew the swagger of his walk, the shining light that came from deep within him. Even armor couldn’t hide that. My father had been brought to him right away, but I met with Amram after I was cleansed. I was taken to one of the mikvahs, of which there were several, for women and for men. In the largest bath, there was a line down the stairs for the clean and the unclean. The water pooled black where I was, and the other women left the bath lest they become unclean once more. I was not surprised. What I had done could never be washed away.
I dressed in the torn tunic and scarves Tamar had given me, then ran to meet my brother in the field. If I closed my eyes and breathed in the scent of almonds, I could imagine I had entered into another life. Perhaps we might one day return to Jerusalem and find the world that had been stolen from us. Perhaps all these months had been a dream, like my dream of the lion. Then I heard my brother shout to me, and it was quite clear there was no way to go back. He called me Yaya, my childhood name. I knew that girl was gone.
