Heavens Before (17 page)

Keeping her face vacant, Annah set down her club and wandered into the main room, past her sisters and the wives of Naham. They were still picking through Parah’s belongings, discussing them eagerly. Pretending indifference, Annah drifted over to the mat in front of her mother’s now-empty storage chest and retrieved the oblong basket of cakes made by Naomi. Holding the basket, Annah wandered absently into the workroom again, eating one of the cakes along the way to make them believe she was still hungry.

For a time, she beat the bride-gold to lull her sisters. Then she tucked her club into the basket and swiftly, stealthily pulled her father’s leather bag of tools from his storage chest in the far corner of the workroom. Quickly, Annah placed the heavy bundle inside the basket, covering it with her woven-grass bag, her veil, and the last of
the cakes. Sensing her sisters approaching, she ate another grain cake, staring into nothingness.

“See,” Ayalah said, “I told you she wouldn’t run away. She’s trained to be in the workroom at this time of day. And …” Ayalah faltered. “Usually I’ma is preparing the evening meal now. I forgot about the evening meal; we haven’t prepared anything for Gammad, and he’s never late for his food.”

“Yerakh asked if I’d seen Gammad,” Haburah said, sounding perplexed. “It’s strange that we haven’t seen him, today of all days. I thought Yerakh was going to give him a share of the animals from that fool-of-a-man.”

“Gammad was quarreling with everyone last night,” Shuwa sniffed.

Annah listened to them, swallowing, the spicy-sweet cake going down hard.
O Most High
, she thought, staring up at nothing beyond the grass-thatched roof of the workroom,
don’t let Gammad be dead! There’s been too much death in this family
. But she knew that he was dead. The numbness descended upon her again, and she welcomed it as a covering for her despair.

Breaking the sudden silence, Qetsiyah said, “I suppose we ought to cook something. What do you have?”

Their voices faded as they went into the storage area. Trying to shake off the mists of the numbness, Annah thought,
Yerakh, why couldn’t you give Gammad fifty sheep, then banish him from the settlement? Why did you have to take his life? Will you ever be repaid for the harm you’ve done to others? But I can’t consider these things now. If I do, I’ll scream like a madwoman
.

Her thoughts clearing, she looked around the workroom.
This is the last time I will see this place. I won’t miss it; except for the memory of my father
. Her gaze settled upon Naomi’s beautiful, intricate oblong basket.
Thank you for making this
basket, Naomi. I hope I’ll be able to carry it away tonight without anyone inspecting it
.

Annah checked the five remaining grain cakes. They were too good to waste on anyone here. She would take them back to Naomi.
I’ll learn to make these cakes
, she promised herself.
They must certainly be a favorite of my beloved’s and his family
.

“Haburah!” Yerakh bellowed from the front entry of the lodge. “The animals are counted and separated. That fool will be coming soon. Is she ready?”

“She’s in the workroom,” Haburah answered indifferently.

Lie down
, Annah told herself. She must not make Yerakh suspicious. What could be more innocent than a nap?

By the time she felt Yerakh’s presence at the doorway of the workroom, she was curled up on her work mat, feigning sleep. Yerakh strode into the workroom and nudged her sharply in the rump with his foot. “Get up. Up!”

She sat up slowly, her gaze deliberately unfocused. It was not difficult to pretend that she was tired; her fears for Gammad had kept her awake half the night.
Murderer
, she thought to Yerakh as he crouched on the opposite side of the heap of leather-clad bride-gold.
Because of your greed, your father, your wife, your mother, and your brothers are dead. O Most High, repay him
.

As she thought these things, Annah practiced her vacant expression. Yerakh growled, disgusted. “Piece of wood! Let’s cover your ugliness.”

With the utmost delicacy, he rolled the top layer of leather away from the bride-gold. Then, holding his breath, he peeled the layer of pale, dried membrane away from the shimmering layer of beaten gold beneath.

It’s perfect
, Annah thought, aware of the gold from the edge of her vision. She had beaten it to a uniform thinness, so light and fragile that it would float on the merest breath. She remained slack and apparently mindless, breathing as shallowly as possible.

Still holding his own breath, Yerakh eased the exposed layer of gold—and its layer of supporting membrane—up off the remaining layers beneath. As he brought the gold up to the level of Annah’s chin, he exhaled softly, steadily. The layer of gold lifted off the membrane, drifting upward into the air like glowing ash released from a fire. It flowed toward Annah, splitting and settling in curling, feather-light pieces on her oil-smoothed skin. Her hair, forehead, eyelids, nose, and cheeks were all gilded and shimmering. The remaining wisps of gold fell here and there, clinging to her oiled shoulders, her forearms, and her hands.

Gold purified by a murderer
, she thought bitterly.

Yerakh grabbed Annah’s wrists as if she were something noxious and set her hands on the edges of the basket containing her veil. “Carry that,” he muttered. “And come. Do you understand? Come!”

Behaving as his trained creature, Annah lifted the basket, stood, and followed Yerakh into the main room of the lodge, where her sisters and the wives of Naham were arguing with each other loudly.

“Hush,” Yerakh commanded. They hushed.

Then Ayalah giggled, as if struck by a thought. Swiftly, she approached Annah, snatched the five remaining cakes from the oblong basket in Annah’s arms, and carried them back to Haburah and the wives of Naham. They were pleased. Even Haburah seemed amused. “Trust you to get out of work and trouble,” she told Ayalah.

“I’ve saved us all!” Ayalah laughed, shoving the cakes into a dish.

“What are you four doing?” Yerakh demanded.

Before they could answer, a clamor arose from outside the lodge, in high, echoing cries of celebration. The men of the village were entering the lodge now, and Annah quivered.
He
was coming for her.

“Hold her!” Yerakh snapped. Obedient, Ayalah grabbed Annah’s elbow and took her to stand beside Haburah. Annah stared at the floor.

You do not care
, Annah reminded herself.
You are indifferent to everyone and everything. You will not look at him. Be a nothing-creature
.

Indirectly she observed the feet of the men, women, and children of the settlement coming into the lodge. A man, K’nan, stood behind Ayalah. She tittered, whispering to him.

“Ayalah!” Yerakh snarled. Ayalah stopped whispering. Now Shuwa, wife of Naham, darted away into the crowd. She returned quickly, dumping a heap of garments and gold-talismaned hair-bindings into the basket in Annah’s arms.

I didn’t want those
, Annah thought, staring past the garments.

A wave of murmurs swept over the crowded lodge now; the feet of men, women, and children were moving, clearing a path. Three young men stood before Yerakh, and Annah listened with all her being as her beloved spoke, his voice calm and low.

“I am Shem of Those-Who-Carve-Wood. My brothers and I gave you payment as agreed. We have come for my wife.”

“Welcome,” Yerakh said, actually sounding cordial.
He lifted a hand and signaled to Haburah and Ayalah. They each took Annah by an elbow and propelled her forward.

Shem
, Annah thought.
Appointed one. Or “to desolate.” Which meaning is your true name, beloved?

Haburah passed the clay dish of Naomi’s cakes to Shem and his brothers. Slowly, they each took a cake, broke it, and ate a portion. Almost in unison, they hesitated, then quickly finished their cakes. Without a word, Shem offered his left hand to Annah. His fingers were long, capable, and callused. And he was taller than she had believed. She stared beyond him, unmoving. Ayalah tugged the basket from Annah, nudging her toward Shem. Yerakh reached down and lifted Annah’s right hand, placing it in Shem’s, palm to palm. Shem’s fingers curled warm around her wrist.
Nothing
, Annah told herself.
You feel nothing
. To Ayalah, she thought,
Do not notice how heavy my basket feels. Think of K’nan instead
.

“I give you my sister,” Yerakh said tersely. “May you have many children.”

“Thank you for your kindness,” Shem responded. Annah felt the quiet anger beneath his words. She prayed Yerakh would not notice, or care.

“Here,” Ayalah whispered to Annah, pushing the basket at her, grabbing her left hand, forcing her to obey. “Take it.”

Annah accepted the basket, grateful that Ayalah hadn’t noticed its weight.

“We’ve been warned that you are in mourning,” Shem told Yerakh politely. “Therefore, we’ll leave you in peace.”

“As you say,” Yerakh agreed, amazingly courteous. Annah suppressed a dark smile. Yerakh wanted to be rid of Shem quickly, fearing he might renounce their bargain.

Gently, Shem took Annah’s arm and guided her outside, followed by his brothers. As they stepped out beneath the rosy late-afternoon sky, Annah heard the other members of the settlement talking and laughing uproariously. Annah did not dare to look at her husband as they walked out of the settlement, toward the river.

Eleven

SHEM’S OLDER brother walked beside Shem and Annah as they made their way along the riverbank toward the bridge. Quietly, without turning his head, he said, “Shem, we’re being followed by some men from the settlement.”

Annah felt a wrenching, sinking movement in her stomach. Seeming to comprehend her fear, Shem tightened his fingers around her arm, urging her onward. Without missing a step or looking back, he asked, “How many men?”

“Four.”

“Is the giant with them?”

“No.”

Annah sighed, relieved. If Naham was not with these men, then Yerakh meant to let her go.
But why should any of the men from the settlement care to follow us?
She didn’t dare to
turn and look at them. Shem and his brothers had no weapons, unless they used her father’s piercing awls and hammers, hidden in her basket.

“Should we challenge these men?” the younger brother whispered.

The older brother released a pent-up breath. “I say no. Others in the settlement might come after us. I say we cross the river and wait in the trees to see what they do.”

“I agree,” Shem replied. He lifted the basket from Annah’s arms. She was grateful to him for this; the tools were heavy and her arms were aching. Despite her gratitude, she did not look at him. If these men from the settlement saw her looking at Shem or talking, they would certainly tell Yerakh.

Even now, Yerakh would come after us. And I would die rather than let my husband and his brothers suffer for my sake
.

Shem and his brothers walked faster, hurrying Annah along. By the time they reached the bridge, she was panting. Mounting the wooden step to the bridge, she halted, eyeing the gently swaying ropes and cane pavings uneasily.

Shem bent, whispering, “Beloved, listen to me: between last night and this afternoon, we herded five hundred animals over this bridge. All crossed safely. Even my brothers survived crossing this bridge!”

Remember how Naomi almost ran across this bridge yesterday
, she encouraged herself.
And as you hesitate, the men from the settlement are approaching
. Resolute, she trotted forward, her hands skimming the high, woven rope sides. Halfway across—without slackening her pace—she heard the roar of the current beneath the bridge.
I’m not as brave as Naomi
, Annah admitted.
I think I’ll never care to do this again
. Her legs shook as she stepped off the bridge. Shem was just behind
her, carrying the basket. Without words, he urged her up the bank and into the trees.

Breathless, Annah scurried into the lush undergrowth of a young cone-bearing tree and peered back at the bridge. Shem’s brothers were just stepping onto the bank, their expressions wary. As her husband and his brothers hurried into the protective trees, Annah looked downriver at their pursuers, who had just reached the river bend.

K’nan! Why should you follow us? And Tseb-iy
, she thought, enraged at the sight of his handsome, self-certain face. They were accompanied by Tseb-iy’s father, Bachown, and by K’nan’s brother, Dahar, a sulky, sly-eyed young man of perhaps forty. All four men stopped to stare at the bridge.
You had no idea this bridge existed, did you?
Annah thought to the four men, grimly pleased by their shock.

Tseb-iy turned to his father, flinging an arm toward the bridge, arguing. Bachown, proud, broad, and graying, pushed Tseb-iy aside and approached the bridge. By now, Dahar was disagreeing with K’nan, waving his hands wildly. K’nan ignored him, following Bachown instead.

“Why are they here?” Shem’s younger brother demanded. “They have the sheep and the grain. They ought to be satisfied.”

“Those men will never be satisfied,” Shem answered softly.

Still watching the four men, Shem shifted the basket into his left arm and put his right arm around Annah’s shoulders protectively. Acutely aware of his touch, Annah looked down at his fingers, curving warm around her gold-flecked right shoulder. It was strange to be embraced. She felt awkward and uncertain of the proper response.

Shouts arose from across the river. Tseb-iy was
screaming at his father, and Bachown—now at the bridge—screamed in response. At last Tseb-iy stomped away, heading toward the settlement. Dahar followed him. Bachown and K’nan talked briefly, then K’nan shook his head and turned away from the bridge. For an instant, Bachown stood at the entrance, obviously longing to pursue Shem and his brothers. Then he flung his hands up in frustration and followed Tseb-iy, K’nan, and Dahar back to the settlement.