Forbidden (7 page)

I shook my head, trying to speak, tears forming in my own eyes. I’d been wondering the same thing.

“We have to do everything now,” Leila said. “Take care of
the entire household, the camels, the meals, raising Sahmril—everything. I—I don’t think I can, Jayden. I don’t
want
to. I just feel like running away. If only we had money, we could have help. I hate being poor.”

I wasn’t surprised to hear my sister say these things. She’d always said she wanted to marry a rich man. A merchant or a nobleman with a big house and servants.

“I know,” I managed to croak out.

“What about our weddings to plan, our trousseaus to sew? And how will I find a husband without Mother’s help to negotiate an agreement between the families?”

“I wish—” I stopped abruptly. I wished Leila could marry Horeb. That the betrothal with Zenos had passed on to the next brother. They seemed better suited for each other, and she was ready now for the world of men and marriage. Leila was practiced at flirting with the boys of the tribe. But I couldn’t say any of this.

“What?” Leila asked.

“Nothing.” I patted Sahmril mindlessly as she began to cry again. It all felt hopeless.

Leila let out a sob and buried her face into her knees, bowing her head. “I miss her! Even traveling to Tadmur is not the same without Mother.”

“I know,” I agreed, and the tears threatened to overwhelm me. I bit my lips and held them in. Even so, I wanted to rip at my clothes as my father had done. Throw dirt in my hair and wail for a week as was the custom of our women. But we had a stranger with us. And a long journey ahead. I had to keep my
wits about me and not give in to the mourning. “I miss her, too. We will for the rest of our lives.”

A moment later, a sharp dip in the road made a hard, wooden object clatter across the litter floor. I reached down to pick it up. It was the figure of a naked woman carved from a tamarisk tree. She had large hips and a voluptuous figure. Her arms rose in a circle above her head, and her face was lifted upward, eyes closed as if in prayer.

My pulse seemed to stop for a moment; I was so shocked to see a statue from one of the goddess temples here in our belongings. “What is this doing here?”

Leila reached out to grab it from me. “Give me that!”

“Leila? Where did this come from?” I pulled the statue away from her outstretched hands. I studied the beautiful statue, the swirls of dark and light within the polished wood. The woman’s face was serene, her nakedness sensuous and exotic.

“It’s mine! I mean, I got it from a girl in the groves.”

“You should never have accepted a gift like this. We are not idol worshippers, Leila.”

“But
I
think it’s beautiful. Let me have it, Jayden.” Leila retrieved one of her scarves and held out her hand, challenging me.

I ignored her, running my fingers down the satiny finish. The artistry was astonishing. “It’s valuable, isn’t it?”

Leila’s eyes flitted away and then returned, nodding slowly. “Yes, it’s a woman dancing for the divine Ashtoreth, the goddess of fertility.”

“What would our mother say? She would weep, you know.” I broke off, thinking of her lying in that dark grave, farther away with every passing moment. “This figure is not only dancing, but she’s
praying
to Ashtoreth. That is idol worship and you know that our people don’t worship idols.”

“It’s only a wooden statue, Jayden! Dancing just like
we
dance for babies and weddings. Must you make a mountain out of a grain of dust?”

“This is no grain of sand,” I told her. “Mother warned us about the goddess temples. The wealth and idleness. Our grandmother said the same thing. For the women of the desert, this is pure wickedness.”

“Dancing is not wicked,” Leila said evenly, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “You dance. Every woman we know dances. There’s nothing wrong with this statue either. It was given to me out of friendship. Created by a master artist.”

“I feel sick seeing you with this. These girls—these friends from the groves—they’re trying to lure you to the Temple of Ashtoreth. Don’t you see that?”

“They haven’t blinded me, Jayden. I want to see behind the walls of the temple in Tadmur for myself. Not because they’re bribing me or forcing me. I’ve heard it’s the most beautiful place in all the world, and the rites of the goddess make you feel as though you’ve become divine, right here in this world. Think of it!”

Her words made me shudder. The dance last night had risen forcefully and mystically from deep inside my soul. My grandmother had told me that the power of women was beautiful
and good and that if I used my abilities wisely, I would have joy and peace and an eternal, loving husband. I’d never pondered the idea before that I personally had the power to be beautiful and good and wise.

“Our ancient Mother Goddess gave us life, Leila. She doesn’t have cold marble arms, lips made of stone, or a heart made of rock.”

“Don’t talk about something you know nothing of! If the activities in the groves go beyond a few friends dancing together, I’ll be sure to warn you,” she said sarcastically.

I stared down at the elegant torso of the dancing woman and touched her closed, praying eyelids. All at once, the wooden figurine seemed to burn my fingers. I threw it across the swaying camel carriage and let out a cry.

“What are you doing?” Leila flung herself to the floor, snatching up the carving and holding it like a child in her arms. “Don’t touch my things again. Ever.”

I leaned forward, pleading. “Bury the statue in the sand and forget it ever existed. Put away thoughts of the city and the temple. You are a desert girl, and you will always be a part of the desert. Stay with me, Leila. Please don’t leave.”

Leila stared through the draperies, her face red and splotchy from our argument.

“I need you, Leila,” I added softly. “Now more than ever. I don’t want to sit alone with our grief and tears.”

She finally reached out her hands to me and we held on to each other. Her skin was warm against mine as we embraced. Her hot, salty tears wet my face, and I cried into her hair.

L
ate in the afternoon there were shouts from Kadesh. “Fresh tracks,” he yelled. “And a dust cloud from camels up ahead.”

Leila stuck her head out through the curtains, and the blinding sun cast lines of light across the floor of the carriage. “Jayden, it’s them!” she cried, a wave of relief in her voice.

I looked out as we entered a valley of rising swells and definite signs of smoke from a campfire. Within the next hour, we caught up to the tribe. My father herded his camels into a circle next to Shem’s campsite, and I couldn’t get out of the camel litter fast enough.

As I stepped down and stood unsteadily on the ground, I saw Kadesh standing next to the camel he’d been riding. The light of the setting sun shone down on him, glinting off his dark brown hair. Despite the hardship he had suffered, he was beautiful.

I tried not to gaze at him, but I knew that, no matter what happened, years from now, I would still have a clear memory of those penetrating eyes under the rich, hooded cloak. I shivered, and yet I wasn’t afraid of this mysterious stranger.

I warned myself not to be foolish. Kadesh had still looked upon me as I danced at my mother’s grave, even if he’d given me profuse apologies ever since. He’d said that his was a curious and unashamed marveling as he observed my tears and heard my prayers.

I had no idea what he thought of me, and yet I suddenly, desperately wanted to know.

He glanced over at me, and I quickly looked away. “Let me take Sahmril,” he offered, walking over to me and reaching out to take the sleeping bundle. It was true that she was growing heavy in my arms. “I have a younger sister,” Kadesh added as though to convince me of his abilities. “And many nephews and nieces.”

He looked so eager I almost laughed. “Are you going to add any of your own children to that list?”

“Not yet,” Kadesh mumbled, his eyes glancing away from mine.

“She’ll probably start screaming,” I warned.

“I’ve held crying babies before.”

Before I could speak again, Nalla ran up. “We’ve been praying all day that you would reach us. Praise God Sahmril is still with us.” Then she looked at Kadesh with an appraising gape. “Who are you, young stranger?”

Rocking Sahmril in his arms, he answered, “Kadesh, of
the tribe of Dedan, from the southern lands.”

Nalla took the tiny baby from his hands. “I’ve never heard of your tribe, but if you travel with Jayden’s father, then welcome.”

I felt guilty letting Nalla take over, but I was so weary from the long hours of crying and feeding. “I’ve been giving her camel’s milk, but it’s not fresh any longer. She’ll probably have stomach pains all night. Is there any way Dinah would be willing . . .” I stopped, having no idea how to negotiate something as delicate as this.

Nalla shushed Sahmril, rubbing the baby’s back with firm, experienced hands. “Dinah doesn’t want another child so soon. Her own is still so young.”

“A wet nurse is all I need,” I added quickly. “I want to keep Sahmril and raise her myself.”

“Do you understand what that means?” Nalla asked. “The responsibility? The years it will take to raise her?”

I nodded knowing that I couldn’t count on Leila’s help, especially if she married this summer, plus our father might be gone for months trying to get our missing camels back. But if I lost Sahmril it would be like losing my mother all over again.

I wondered if Horeb might break the betrothal if I was raising Sahmril. Then again, his family might pressure him to provide a home to my baby sister, and I’d be bound to the agreement more than ever.

“We have time to decide such things,” Nalla said. “After such a long and grief-filled day, sleep is what you need right now.”

After we settled and ate, the sun disappeared behind the mountains, and my father lifted his chin toward Kadesh. “It’s time to care for that wound of yours.”

“It can wait. You’ve had a difficult day,” he added, his words threaded with an unspoken condolence.

“I’ve seen the wound with my own eyes,” my father said firmly. “The blade went deep and soon you’ll be ill with a fever and another burden on me. We must heal it, now.”

“It will go well,” I whispered, and my hand automatically reached out to Kadesh to reassure him. It was an impulsive gesture, and I pulled back quickly, embarrassed. I felt my face flush, and moved away to collect clean rags from the baskets.

When I returned, I instructed Kadesh to lie down so I could doctor him before the stitching. Blood had seeped through the bandage, staining the cloth bright red again. He wouldn’t be able to go on like this, and I wondered how he’d managed to make it this far.

“You should have lain down in the camel carriage,” I told him. “I could have ridden. I’ve done it my whole life. And helped my father drive the herd.”

His eyes locked on to mine and he said in a low voice, “I’m sure you’re very good at it, too.”

I didn’t respond and kept my eyes on the task of cutting the new cloth.

He gave a shudder as I pulled the old bandage from the oozing wound. “I was fine most of the day, but I think you’re right. I overdid it and the wound has opened again.”

I nodded, but when I picked up the turmeric to clean the
cut, he stopped me, pulling out a leather bag tucked into his waistband.

“Lie still,” I told him. “The bleeding has started again.”

“In my land, we use this for treating wounds,” Kadesh said, glancing about as if to make sure no one could overhear. The women were cleaning up dinner and I could see my father and Shem tethering the camels for the night.

“I have turmeric and henna ready.”

“What I possess is even more powerful.” Opening the bag’s strings, he shook out a handful of pale yellow, teardrop-shaped nuggets into his cupped hand. A strong, perfumed smell wafted through the air.

My eyes widened. “What is that?”

Kadesh dropped his voice so only I could hear him. His eyes held my gaze with such intensity I could barely breathe. “They call these frankincense tears.”

I’d heard of frankincense, had even seen the expensive and rare spice in a marketplace stall from afar, but never this close. It was a luxury my family could never dream of purchasing.

“This is worth a great deal of money,” I whispered. “Where did you get it?”

“I farmed this bag from my uncle’s trees.”

“What?” My jaw dropped in astonishment. “What are you saying? Your uncle owns frankincense—?”

“Ssh,” he warned, and reached out to grasp my hand. His fingers were warm and gentle around mine and his touch created an instant, intense reaction in my belly. One by one he shook six of the teardrop nuggets into my palm. They were
dense and very fragrant, but light, hardly weighing anything.

“Frankincense groves don’t grow anywhere near here!” I exclaimed.

“That’s true,” Kadesh said, glancing up to catch my eyes.

Tingles raced up my spine as I realized what he was saying. “You don’t live near the Moabite nation at all. The frankincense lands . . . Nobody knows where they are.”

“Your father is correct; the travel is more than three months’ journey from here.”

“That’s the ends of the earth! How did you get here?”

Kadesh tightened the drawstring of the bag and tucked it back into his cloak, leaving the frankincense in my hand. “With much preparation the journey can be done twice a year, but that’s only part of the reason frankincense is so expensive. Frankincense is also quite rare, more so than gold or silk or the most precious gems. Every city and temple, physician and embalmer, cosmetic merchant and farmer desires it. But the trees only grow in one place on Earth, and I’m blessed that it’s my homeland.”

“You are fortunate, indeed. I’ve always thought that it must be a magical place.”

“You know how difficult it is to travel these deserts, but to reach the frankincense lands takes a great deal longer. The trees grow in special forests in a range of mountains where it’s very rocky, also making harvest difficult.”

I swallowed past my dry throat. “What are you saying? You lied to us? You brought a caravan of frankincense up north to sell.”

“No, I have not lied to you!” Kadesh tried to sit up.

I pushed him back to the ground. “Stop moving. You’ll only make this wound bleed worse.”

“Jayden.” He gazed into my face—speaking my name in such a gentle yet firm tone that my heart raced. “What I say is true. I have not misled you or your father. I was heading north to take messages to my Dedan clan, who are building forts along the King’s Highway to protect caravans and travelers. The caravan roads have grown dangerous.” He glanced at his knife wound and added, “As I am a witness. We left our load of frankincense in Akabah with another company, who takes it west into Egypt. We were attacked, the frankincense stolen, and our company split apart. I escaped, lost my way, and found you—I mean, your family. If I hadn’t, I’d be dead now.” He stopped, his voice becoming unsteady.

“What is it?” I sensed that something even more terrible had happened.

“My friend was murdered by thieves a few months ago. They stole thirty camels laden with my family’s frankincense. I had planned to stay in the north and avenge his death, but with this wound, I’m in no shape. And now, I’m afraid that my uncle will hear I’ve disappeared, too.”

“I understand why the Dedan tribe is building fortresses,” I said, a peculiar tightness rising in my chest when I pictured the precarious journeys he made each year. “Soldiers to protect travelers, as well as a place to rest and buy supplies. But you need to get well and my father can help you. Does he know about your family?”

Kadesh’s breathing became more labored. “I spoke with him when we stopped to study the tracks. He needed to know the truth if he was willing to harbor me. And now I’m entrusting you with this secret.”

Chills ran down my neck. Why he felt he should tell me, I did not know. “You can trust my father, and me. But if less honorable men discover you’re an heir to frankincense, you will be in certain danger. There are stories of men murdering just to learn the location of the secret groves.”

“The stories and rumors are true,” Kadesh affirmed, his voice so quiet I barely heard the words. “We are often followed once we turn east across The Sands to get to our homeland.”

“Gossip says that those who search never find the groves—or they are never heard from again.”

“True on both counts.”

“So you must have guards . . . with weapons . . .” I shivered in the warm evening air, and our eyes met in the dusky light. I studied him, taking note of his profile, the way his long dark hair fell and brushed my hand. He really was beautiful, and the kindness in his eyes ran deep. A kindness I hadn’t seen, especially not in Horeb’s eyes. “Why do you trust me?”

“My grandmother used to tell me that I’m a good judge of others.”

I brushed off his words, turning my attention to his injury. “You’re about to start bleeding again. I can only hold pressure on this for so long.”

“Grind one of the nuggets to a powder,” Kadesh said. “Then apply it to my wound.”

I rose to retrieve a bowl and pestle, feeling secretive and guarded. Keeping my back to the rest of the camp, I quickly ground the nuggets. The frankincense tears were so soft, it didn’t take long before they became a silky, shimmering powder. I applied it to the wound and gently pressed down with a clean cloth as my father arrived with Shem.

“Hide the bowl—quickly!” Kadesh began, and then fell back. His skin had suddenly turned ashen. Perspiration was a sheen on his face. He had lost too much blood, and was weakening.

I tucked the grinding bowl under his pillow just as Shem kneeled down beside me, producing a stick from our supply of wood.

“Clench this between your teeth,” he told Kadesh.

My father was prepared with thread and a sharpened camel bone. “I’m going to sew up the skin so the scar will be small.”

Kadesh nodded, closing his eyes tightly.

Using tiny stitches my father sewed the flaps of skin together around the open wound. Sweat poured from Kadesh’s face, but he barely made a sound.

“You’re doing well,” I told him when the stitching was finished. The bleeding had slowed considerably, and I wiped away the few streaks of blood with a clean, wet cloth one last time to prepare the skin for the burning.

Shem had already laid a flat disk of iron on top of the hot coals of the fire. Using tongs, he picked it up and prepared to lay it on Kadesh’s side. The heated iron would burn the laceration and seal the skin together.

“Is there any way to change your mind?” Kadesh asked.

My father came forward to hold his arms down, saying briefly, “I promise you, the pain doesn’t last long.”

Shem straddled Kadesh’s legs so that he couldn’t move during the procedure. Leaning over, the older man held the fire-heated disk close to the young man’s bare flesh.

“Don’t look at it,” I warned. I closed my eyes, saying a silent prayer, and then quickly opened them again. I was surprised to find Kadesh watching me. His hand reached out to grip mine and the touch of his fingers made me tremble.

My eyes watered as Shem positioned the scorching metal directly over Kadesh’s tender, wounded side, then pressed it down, hard. The young man’s entire body went rigid, and grinding his teeth against the stick, he choked down a series of screams. Within seconds, it was over and Shem stood, dropping the hot iron seal into the sand to cool it.

I looked down at the wound, and even though it was bright red, it had closed, no longer seeping blood. Kadesh released his grip on my arm, his face gray as an old dishrag. “I didn’t mean to crush your hand.”

I gave him a faint smile. “All my fingers are accounted for.” How many times in one day had he touched me now? I remembered every single one, and only wanted more. “I’m—” I started, but the next moment Kadesh lost consciousness. I covered him with a blanket, tucking it around his form as my mother used to do, and fighting an urge to curl myself around him while he slept so he wouldn’t be alone.

I bid my father and Shem good night and walked through
the camp, which had quieted at last under the milky stars. Usually there were dozens of flickering campfires to keep the wilderness at bay when the rest of the tribe camped alongside us. Now the blackness was so thick it was as though the world had been swallowed whole.