Eve (55 page)

The prince stood before her, naked. His breath was shallow, like hers. His body shone in the light. His skin had been oiled. He was thinner than Cain, not as built up with work, and though his chest was bare, his loins were not. He was excited, and his black thicket of hair did nothing to disguise it.

Although Naava had tried to block out what was happening outside, she heard a swelling uproar and glanced back to the temple entrance.

The prince came to her. “You worry,” he said. “Do not.” His fingertips caressed her forehead. He reached for her hand and led her to the center of the reed mat. He motioned for her to lie down on her back, then he positioned himself on top of her. He was heavy, but not as heavy as Cain. Underneath his nose, a fine glisten of sweat had beaded up.

Heavily oiled, the prince felt warm and slippery. He touched her gently and slowly, whereas Cain had always squeezed her roughly and hurriedly. “Inanna,” he murmured.

Under her fingers, his banded muscles pushed and pulled against her belly and groin and legs. She wanted to run; she wanted to stay. She tasted the salt on his neck, and he returned her kisses—on her neck and face and breasts and even down below. What he was doing to her felt delicious. She was floating. She was Inanna. She was Power. She had gotten what she wanted.
What had she wanted again? This?
Oh, she didn’t want to ponder it. Her belly shuddered when he entered her. Her legs clenched, her in-sides fell away, and she rocked back and forth with the prince. His groans made her groan, and when he rose up on his hands at the end, arching his back, his body tense as a piece of driftwood, she felt something surge inside her, and she was happy.

If she had tried to pick through all the threads of what she felt precisely at that moment, she would have said her happiness was a result of several things. First, she had acquired the prince’s love. Second, she had learned much from Cain, for her lovemaking with the prince was a success. Third, she had been honored in front of her family, so they could no longer ignore her uniqueness. All in all, she had been raised up to the heavens for all to see.

Now her life could truly begin.

When Naava was again presented to the people, dressed once more in her jewels and bangles and robe, she felt strange that all these cheering people knew what she had done.

The prince wrapped his arm around her waist, and the people cheered louder.

The priestess anointed them with more words, and finally the prince and she were allowed down the steps, toward the adoring crowd.

Naava strained to see her family, but they were nowhere to be found. Not even Cain.

The prince supported her arm as they descended and moved forward, and as they did, the crowd bowed and parted as they passed. All the people seemed to understand the prince’s marriage before Naava herself had understood it.

An old woman who had lost all her teeth touched Naava’s robe as she passed, mumbling a plea. Her lips cupped her gums like seed pods, and her words were slurred.

Naava stopped. The prince waited. Naava put her hand on the woman’s brow and said, “Be well, mother.” When Naava thought of this later, she did not know what had compelled her. It was truly a kind gesture, one far outside the boundaries of her nature. Maybe she had become Inanna after all.

The word that the prince’s men brought was that Naava’s family had been forcibly removed from the city after her father and brothers had taken up arms against them.

Surprised, the prince turned to Naava and said, “Your family is not pleased with our alliance?”

“They do not understand,” said Naava.
“I
did not understand … until I went into the temple with you. They did not know I would marry you … Be One with you. It is a sacred thing—something that exists between only one woman and one man.” She saw the prince’s face darken with confusion.

“But we are one woman”—he pointed at her—“and one man”—he pointed to himself.

She frowned and felt a trickle of sweat roll down her forehead. How could she explain about Cain, whom she had already lain with? She put her hand gently on his arm. “Do not worry. I will go to them, placate them, get them to agree to my union with you.”

“How will you do this?” said the prince skeptically.

Naava had to keep him listening, keep him on the topic at hand. “I will go, get my things, talk to them, make them understand. Then I will come back to live with you. That
is
what you want?”

The prince nodded. “Yes,” he said. “That is what I want.” He smiled, yet his eyes portrayed distrust, and she knew it was because her expression must have matched the turmoil she felt inside. “You talk to them. I will come for you. The day after tomorrow.” He kissed her and turned to go, but then he paused and looked back at her. “Tell your brother we expect him to fulfill his oath.”

She could not risk it—the prince meeting Cain again. She grabbed his arm and pleaded with him, “I shall return on my own. My brother Jacan will come with me so I am safe. Please, there’s no need for you to retrieve me. Who knows what my brothers and father may do to you?”

The prince did not like this answer. “I will go to your house. I will bring gifts—marriage gifts. I will take Cain’s offerings. All will go well, don’t worry.”

There was nothing Naava could do or say that would change the prince’s mind.

She remembered things that the prince had whispered to her on the reed mat, that her stars were in alignment, that she was very lucky indeed. Then she had felt that way, but now she only felt a growing sense of unease in her belly.

I feared for Adam’s life, not knowing what the men had done to
him. My two strong sons had disappeared too amid the men who had overwhelmed them, and I had completely lost track of Jacan, Dara, and Aya. I was dragged across the marketplace and hurled into a wagon. There my three poor lambs were cowering in the corner, huddled into one another, bound and gagged as I had been. Dara whined into her gag and scooted, with great effort, toward me. She laid her little head in my lap, and it was only then that I saw she was trailing blood along the rough wooden boards.

I could not tell how badly she was hurt.

It was much later, when darkness had already descended, that Adam and Abel and Cain, bleeding from multiple wounds—thank Elohim they were spared!—were thrown in beside us. Cain would not look at any of us. Adam gazed at me, tears streaming down his face. I knew he loved me just then; he would have given his life for me.

The same servant who brought us to the city delivered us back home. He pushed the oxen hard, so that we rattled and bounced like dried seeds.

The servant halted at last a great distance from our house—he would go no farther—and we were made to stumble toward our abode, not daring to look back or to free ourselves until he was well out of sight.

It was not until the next morning that Naava was returned to us. She came in a cloud of dust evident from a long way off, and I feared what we would see.
What had they done to her? Would they have taken care of her? Protected her? How many of them were with her?

Jacan pointed and said, “It’s the city people.” His arm trembled, and his voice wavered. He ran to retrieve his slingshot.

“Stay close, you hear?” I said, but he ignored me.

“I don’t want to go back,” said Dara. She winced from her cuts and scrapes and clung to my skirts.

I had not the heart to reassure her, for we had to prepare for the worst.

Abel—with one arm and leg girded tightly with Aya’s mendings-gathered heavy implements down off the wall and set them by the gate for easy access. Cain grabbed the torches slathered with bitumen and stood in the courtyard, ready to plunge them into Aya’s fire at the slightest provocation. Adam was too weak to stand; he called out from our room, “Someone help me up. Please.”

There was no time to help Adam join the fray. He would have been a liability. We had to defend ourselves, the best we could.

I stood with Jacan, a slingshot in one hand and a fistful of pellets in the other.

As it turned out, there was no reason to be alarmed. Naava arrived alone, with a male servant who had been charged with delivering her to us safely. She seemed unhurt but was especially sullen and refused to speak to any of us. Once the servant turned his oxen around to go back to the city, she disappeared into her weaving room and came out only for more baskets to pack up her things.

I tried to talk to her. I placed my hand on her shoulder and said, “Naava, are you all right? Were you hurt in any way?”

She skimmed away, like a bug upon the surface of the water. Up close she looked like a badger, with those black-lined eyes, although when the sunlight hit her just so, her face sparkled like a meadow of poppies under a blazing sun, and with a jolt I suddenly understood that she had become a woman. I had not been blind. It was simply a matter of finally glimpsing
something new out of the corner of my eye, rather than gazing upon it directly.

“Where do you think you are going?” I said.

She gave me an incredulous look. “What does it matter?” she said.

“You have responsibilities here.”

“If you must know, I have married the prince, and I am going to live with him. He loves me, and I love him.”

I contemplated this turn of events. “What of Cain, daughter? You have Been One with him; you cannot Be One with another man. It is for bidden.”

Naava laughed derisively. “But I already have, Mother. You cannot stop me.”

“What of your secret, then?” I whispered, grabbing her arm and forcing her to look at me.

Her face fell, and she began gnawing on the insides of her cheeks—her telltale nervous gesture. “No one need know right now,” she said slowly. “And you must not tell anyone.”

My little girl was no longer. Indeed, she had known the truth before I did.