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RACHAV DIDN'T REALLY want to be there, but attendance was unofficially mandatory for all citizens of Bet-Yariq. Disinterest would be considered disloyalty, which was a serious infraction in a city on the verge of war.
The courtyard outside the palace had been completely renovated for the wedding of King Addar to the sister of Adonaizidek. Brightly colored decorations adorned the entire city. All the priests and priestesses were in attendance–most of them participants in the elaborate rituals that had taken up the entire week. Soldiers in dress uniforms were posted throughout the crowd to ensure order and respect during the proceedings.
The first two days had been dedicated to sacrifice. Animals and babies were slaughtered upon the High Places throughout the city. Some of the blood was saved for Addar and his young bride to drink. The next two days were consumed by a sexual orgy on the brink of outright anarchy. The animals and children who had survived the first and second days were fair game on the third and fourth. Some women dressed as men, and vice-versa, consummated their charade with whoever consented...and some who didn't. Rachav had no customers during that period, because the men who were satisfied with traditional carnal relations with the opposite sex found plenty of it available from priestesses and their attending maidens. Next came the two days of the great feast. On the seventh day was the expedition...a huge procession, led by soldiers, with buglers behind them...marched to a spot east of the city where Addar was ceremonially "raised from the dead." The procession then escorted him back to the city and when it reached the gate, the entire army began to shout. It was a terrifying noise. As the din of bugles and shouting voices continued, King Addar was carried to the courtyard and placed on his throne.
The whole experience was unnerving to Rachav, but what made it more so was the silence. Right up until the return of the expedition, no words were spoken in the city...not even during the orgies, or the feast. Everyone kept silence in solidarity with their king, who mourned because he had no heir.
For most of the final day's events, Rachav's family couldn't see much at all, due to the Gibborites between themselves and the courtyard. They relied on the word passed back through the crowd from those closer to the front who could see. But at one point, enough gigantic soldiers shifted locations that there was a clear line-of-sight over the heads of normally-sized people to the ceremony.
Taking advantage of the movement of the crowd, Rachav's father climbed atop one of the ceremonial High Places (a brazen stepped pyramid used for daily sacrifices) for a better view. Nadir climbed up to sit on Anwar's shoulders, which gave him the elevation to see over the heads of the human adults.
"Why are they doing that?" Nadir asked, squinting at the ornate ballet taking place in the courtyard.
"The king is circling the bride and her father," Papa explained, "in order to consummate the marriage. Each time he comes around, the king asks for her hand. But the father doesn't give his permission."
"How long does that happen?" Anwar asked.
"Six times he compasses her, and six times he is denied," Papa answered. "But on the seventh...ah, this is it."
"Wow," Nadir said, whistling. "He didn't waste any time. He tore her clothes right off."
Rachav cringed. Her baby brother had already seen too much this week. She could tell by his tone of voice he was fascinated with what he was seeing now. So was everyone else, as the crowd shifted again and the view was blocked.
Anwar cursed. "What? I can't see. Too many people in front of me."
Rachav couldn't see, either. Not that she really wanted to.
"He sure is rough with her," Nadir observed. "And he's so much bigger. Isn't he afraid he'll hurt her?"
"He's ravaging her," their father said, with an amused expression that sickened Rachav. "He's not worried about anything else right now except..."
"That's it!" Anwar said, and, little brother still piggy-back, climbed the High Place to see for himself.
"Get down from there!" Mother commanded.
All around them, other citizens stared in fascination. One boy about Anwar's age decided he, too, should seek higher ground for a better view. But as he began to climb the High Place, two men grabbed him by the wrists. Rachav recognized them as Abdul, the merchant, and Muamar, the jeweler.
"Where are you going, boy?" Abdul asked.
Before the boy could answer, Muamar said, "Are you excited by what's happening?"
Both of them had lascivious grins as they restrained the boy.
"You're a handsome one," Abdul said, gaze roaming over the boy's body. "And nicely slender."
The boy, obviously uncomfortable by their leering attention, forgot about climbing the High Place and tried to break away, eyes desperately searching the crowd, presumably for his parents.
"No, no no," Abdul reprimanded in a sing-song fashion. "You're not escaping us, you tasty little morsel!"
"You're going to enjoy this," Muamar said, soothingly. "I did, when I was your age. It opened my eyes, and a whole world I had never even considered."
The boy cried out his protest, but was dragged away. He shouted louder and made greater efforts to jerk free of their grip as they went, but nobody intervened on his behalf. Some were oblivious, transfixed by the ritual taking place in the courtyard. Others smirked knowingly. Others looked lustfully at the boy themselves, making crude comments. A few were busy capturing children for their own amusement.
"Disgusting!" Mother cried out.
Rachav felt a little consolation that Mother disapproved of the pederasty that took place in the city...especially during festivals. Maybe she would prod Papa into taking action, and rescuing the boy.
Papa was staring at the performance in the courtyard, unaware of anything else going on.
Rachav was horrified to find that Mother's gaze was also locked onto the conjugal scene before them. She bent slightly to watch it through the space between the legs of a Gibborite in front of her, equally oblivious to the abduction and impending molestation of the boy.
"This only encourages the subjugation of women!" Mother continued. "You'd think we had put these barbaric attitudes behind us long ago!"
So much for consolation.
Reminiscent of the previous day, a chorus of bugles sounded and the citizens of Bet-Yariq began shouting at the top of their lungs while the naked bodies of the king and his bride coupled before their subjects.
"The king will have an heir!" declared a thousand voices.
"We have found favor with the gods!"
"Our city is protected!"
"Who is like King Addar? Who can make war against him?"
Mother continued to stare, like everyone around her, but her verbal condemnation of the act was drowned out by the cheers from the crowd.
With everyone's attention focused on the coital display in the courtyard, Rachav found it easy to slip away unnoticed and return to the apartment.
On her way, she glanced upwards. As dusk fell, the thin cloud cover glowed red from the light reflected off Nergal.
"O Yacovite God," she whispered, "I hope with all my heart that you are different from these other gods. That you don't mandate this kind of insanity. That your people are different from this."
Lightning flashed just outside the city wall, and thunder cracked the sky instantly. She jumped back at the startling boom.
"I will trust you," she said, aloud. "I will trust you."
The heavens rumbled ominously, but spit no more lightning that night.
