Crown in the Stars (25 page)

“For me?” Adoniyram asked, startling them from the shadowed doorway. “Thank you, dear Cousins.” He strolled into the warm afternoon sunlight, bare chested and coppery brown, wearing a simple fleece wrap. His
dark curls shone, fresh scrubbed, and he smiled appealingly at Shoshannah.

She made a face at him, exasperated. How brazen of Adoniyram to come into Demamah’s private courtyard unsupervised. Why didn’t Ra-Anan and Zeva’ah restrain him? Pushing back her hair, Shoshannah said, “The belt’s not for you. We’re making this fabric for Aunt Zeva’ah.”

“I’ll ask her for it then,” Adoniyram said, crouching beside her. Whispering, he added, “And when I wear this fabric, I’ll remember that your hands have touched every part of it.”

“Oh, you’ll remember; I’ll weave some itching burrs into the area covering your backside—and it would serve you right!”

Demamah looked scandalized, but Adoniyram laughed warmly—as attractive as Kaleb in a playful mood.

Disturbed by Adoniyram’s nearness, Shoshannah arose and stepped around the low wooden loom. He grinned and moved as if to follow her, but she put up a defensive hand. “If you’re going to visit, then you stay
there
and don’t interrupt us; we’re working.”

Sobering a little, he said, “I give you my word… I’m here for a reason.”

“Then say it,” Demamah commanded, winding some of the precious crimson thread onto a slender shuttle. She had begun to adopt Shoshannah’s dictatorial air with Adoniyram, which he enjoyed—to a point.

Adoniyram remained silent for such a long time that the young women both sat back and stared at him, forgetting their work. Looking hard at Shoshannah, he said, “I wanted to warn you: Our highest day of Shemesh is approaching. Whatever happens, you should not attend the ceremonies in the tower.”

Before she could request an explanation, he said, “Our Great King died on that day, at the hand of Shem, because of your mother. You could be blamed in her place. Some of the celebrants might demand your blood for revenge.”

Confounded, Shoshannah said, “The Great-King Nimr-Rada was
your
father, Adoniyram. If anyone should want my blood for revenge, it should be you. Why are you warning me about this?”

“Because I would be bored without you,” Adoniyram teased, clearly deflecting her question, forbidding her to pursue the matter further. “Now, since I’ve said everything I’m allowed to say, it’s your turn to talk. Tell me again what the Ancient Ones say of that Serpent in the Garden of Adan.”

Shoshannah hesitated, longing to demand a straightforward answer to her question.

But Adoniyram prompted her, “Remember? ‘Now the Serpent was more crafty than any animal…’”

So he
had
been listening to her recitations for all these weeks. Encouraged, Shoshannah temporarily abandoned her curiosity at his lack of vengefulness, picked up her shuttle, and resumed the story. “He asked the woman, ‘Did the Most High really say…’”

Adoniyram listened to the restful cadence of Shoshannah’s narrative, admiring her slender, always-busy hands working the shuttle through the threads on her loom.
I would be bored without you
, he thought.
You’ve given me a sense of being part of a family for the first time in my life—quarrelsome as that family can be. But more than that… how can I demand revenge for the death of a man who probably wasn’t my father?

His mother’s unguarded expression on the night of Shoshannah’s escape had run through his mind again and again: hateful, triumphant, spiteful at the mention of Kuwsh and the Great-King Nimr-Rada. Now, months later, Adoniyram was finally beginning to confront the reality of this new shame, which must remain hidden. His mother had certainly betrayed her “husband” Nimr-Rada. It would be just like her to stupidly, maliciously give herself to another man for her own petty retaliation against slights, imagined or deserved, from the Great King.
I am the result of her revenge
.

In a way, Adoniyram was relieved to think that he wasn’t the son of Nimr-Rada—who was by even the most loyal accounts a brutal, blood-loving man. But he still felt a wholehearted resentment toward his mother. Watching Shoshannah, he wondered how his life would have been with honorable, respectable parents he could admire. Parents like Shoshannah’s.

“I will put animosity between you and the woman, and between your descendant and her descendant.…” Shoshannah recited, her voice intensifying. “He will bruise your head, and you will bruise his heel.”

Pondering her words, remembering the histories she had recited earlier, Adoniyram thought,
If the Great King was not my father, then another man was. And perhaps he was a descendant of Father Shem. Perhaps even of the Tribe of Arpakshad. Shoshannah, beloved, what if you are wrong? What if I am the Promised One?

To Shoshannah’s Most High, he thought,
Reveal the truth, if You live
.

In the unfinished room behind the temple, Shoshannah watched as Rab-Mawg sipped from a cup and inscribed sun symbols on a pliable clay tablet. Soon he would expect her to copy the symbols and recite their meanings to him again. But Rab-Mawg’s thoughts seemed to shift all of a sudden. He stared at her coldly. What was wrong with him? Was he drunk? Most mornings he was decisive and sharp as flint. Other times he seemed to speak to her from a fog. But now he watched her as if she were evil, an enemy conspiring against him.

Worried, longing to hurry her lesson so she could escape, Shoshannah asked, “Are you well?”

Rab-Mawg’s black, unfathomable eyes narrowed fiercely. He thrust the tablet away, mashing its soft contours against the brick floor. “I meant what I said.”

What had he said? When?
To soothe him and avoid a scene, Shoshannah nodded. “Of course you did.”

“Then why are you so rebellious, resisting me?”

“Forgive me,” Shoshannah whispered humbly, panicked. How was she resisting him? He wasn’t making sense. Beside her, Ormah shifted uncomfortably, edging away.

“You thought I didn’t mean it,” Rab-Mawg persisted, standing, approaching, making Shoshannah scramble to her feet. His eyes looked odd—glazed, intense—and his color was heightened. “I’m telling you, Daughter of Keren,
she
hasn’t fulfilled her vows.”

I’ma, he’s referring to you
. “You’re right; she hasn’t.”

“But
you
will,” Rab-Mawg said, belligerent.

“As you say.” She looked down at his clenched hands. He held no knife this time, but she was still afraid—he
was behaving so oddly. By now, Ormah was scuttling through the doorway. Shoshannah tensed, ready to run after her.

“Enough,” Perek growled, coming from behind the linen-draped temple doorway. Ghez-ar and Ebed followed him, their eyes wide, nervous.

“She thinks I’m lying,” Rab-Mawg said, smoldering, fixated on Shoshannah, who struggled to remain calm.

“She will do as you say,” Ebed assured Rab-Mawg cautiously. “But she’s called away now. She has to go.”

“She should stay,” Rab-Mawg muttered, harsh, glaring.

“She will return,” Ghez-ar said. His voice was tranquil, though Shoshannah saw him sweating. “And meanwhile, you can rest and have something to eat and drink.”

“He’s had enough already,” Perek retorted.

Ebed frantically waved a bony hand, signaling Perek to hush.

Rab-Mawg saw the movement and stared at his assistant. “What are you doing?”

“Swatting flies,” Ebed lied, sweating as profusely as Ghez-ar.

Irritated, Perek said, “We’re going. Rab-Mawg, take a nap and be sober for the lesson tomorrow night. Master Ra-Anan won’t be pleased.”

Rab-Mawg moved toward Perek, but Ghez-ar and Ebed grabbed his arms; they were wrestling with him as Shoshannah hurried from the temple. Perek followed her, though Shoshannah was sure he would have preferred to beat Rab-Mawg.

Outside, the guard gave her a shove. “What did you say to make him so angry?”

“I didn’t say anything,” Shoshannah protested.

“You should’ve noticed he was drunk; I’ll wager you said something rude.”

“It wasn’t simple drunkenness, Perek, I’m sure. He’s imagining things. Ask Ormah if I said anything rude—she was beside me during the whole lesson.”

“We’ll see,” Perek snorted as they hurried down the endless bricked stairs. Ormah was rushing ahead of them as if Rab-Mawg was after her. When they finally reached her, she was in the tower yard bowing to Ra-Anan. Irritable, he waved some guardsmen out the gates, instructing them to take several pack-laden horses to his home.

Jabbering like a frightened child, Ormah said, “Master, Rab-Mawg threatened us! Shoshannah must have said something during her last lesson to make him angry.”

“You were at my last lesson,” Shoshannah reminded the maidservant firmly. “If I’d said anything wrong, you would have tattled on me that same day.”

Ormah’s pert little face darkened, and she appeared ready to argue, but Ra-Anan lifted a hand to stop her. “Ormah, go to your horse. Now. Perek will help you.” Frowning at Shoshannah, he said, “Tell me what happened.”

“Uncle, I give you my word; it was more than drunkenness. Rab-Mawg was talking wildly, and his eyes were odd.” She pleaded, “Don’t make me study with him tomorrow night. If he’s in the same mood, he will throw me over the edge of the terrace, I’m sure.”

“He won’t touch you,” Ra-Anan said coldly. “I will be there, and I will speak to him about his behavior today.
You
quit making excuses to avoid your lessons.”

He didn’t believe her. Sick at the thought of facing Rab-Mawg again, Shoshannah trudged toward the horses. Perek resentfully tossed her onto the lackluster mount
now considered her own, then rode ahead, leading her horse and Ormah’s away from the tower.

As they passed through the brick gates, a rough, thin, sharp-faced man spat toward Ra-Anan’s back after Ra-Anan and Perek passed by. Shoshannah stared at him, amazed by his open hostility. He returned her look, defiant.

The guardsmen near the gate ignored him.

Uneasy, Shoshannah asked Ormah, “Did you see that man?”

“No, I didn’t,” the young woman answered snippily.

It was useless to talk with her; Ormah would probably pout for the remainder of the day. Concerned, Shoshannah tried to describe the man to Perek.

He gave her a disgruntled look. “Don’t make more trouble for yourself, girl.”

She would speak to Ra-Anan after the evening meal. Surely he would be in a better mood and listen to her then. Though perhaps her experience with Rab-Mawg had shaken her so much that she was seeing danger where none existed. Her fear lingered.