Chapter Fourteen

It took a long time for me to descend from the tower. I was shaky and scared that I might fall again, so we made slow progress. When we finally entered the library, night had fully arrived and the sky was dotted with stars. Very soon our ceremony would begin. Esther and Naya were waiting for us when we emerged from the library. They had been searching for me, as well. They led me to the second floor, and down the long hallway. We stopped in front of a small door. Esther opened the door and I entered the room.

A wall of ornately colored tile greeted me. Steam billowed out to curl around my body and welcome me. It was a bath. I had never seen one like it before, as the entire room was devoted to it. The floor formed a basin. Around it a half-wall enclosed a bath of steaming water. In the far corner of the room stood a table with towels stacked beside it.

It was heaven. I looked at the women. They smiled and nodded at me.

Naya led me. She said, “You are to cleanse your spirit here. We will cleanse your body. We will bathe you, dress you and prepare you for your joining. You must not speak. The quiet will still your soul.” A strange thing happened now that I accepted my fate. I began to anticipate it.

With deft and strong fingers they removed my clothes. I felt no shame or awkwardness, but rather a womanly kinship with them, and I knew I was in the best of hands. They led me to the bath. I slipped into the water and the heat of it stung my skin. Once I was submerged they left me alone for what seemed like hours. The only sounds were my breathing and the occasional drip of a water droplet falling from the ceiling. I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes. Soon I was so relaxed that I felt sleep calling to me.

The women returned to me with jars of sweet-smelling oils. They led me from the pool to the table. I thought they would rub the oil on me. Instead, they pulled long pieces of thread from their pockets. With their sharp eyes, they studied my whole body looking for stray hairs. Using the string, which they rubbed and crossed in strange patterns, they pulled unsightly hairs, leaving behind swollen red skin. They turned their attention to my face, using the string again to shape my eyebrows.

Then came the oil. Strong hands kneaded my muscles and infused the oil into my skin. Next, the smaller woman pulled out something that resembled a silver knife. With quick strokes, she scraped the oil from my skin, leaving me soft as a newborn.

Now it was back into the bath. Water that was hot before was now cool and soothing on my tender skin. Naya called to me, and I slipped through the water to sit against the wall. She stood behind me and massaged a shampoo into my hair that smelled of gardenias. Her strong fingers worked my scalp sending goose bumps up and down my spine.

At last she guided me from the water and led me to a wooden bucket. She doused me with icy water that rained over my whole body and rinsed the shampoo from my hair. Instantly I was awake and felt strangely refreshed. Her dark eyes twinkled. “Almost ready,” she said and nodded with a small smile. “But not just yet.” She brought me back to the table. “Here, sit. One more step.”

I lay on the table completely nude. Now Esther stood at my head, and ran a thin comb through my hair repeatedly, threading her fingers through my locks, and twisting the strands. The other woman disappeared and when she returned she carried a tray with a large bowl filled with yellow paint. Thin paintbrushes were arranged in a circle. “Now we talk. You listen,” she said.

She picked up a brush, dipped it into the yellow paint and began speaking. “Lucians paint their brides before joining. I will tell you a story about why a bride wears yellow.” I closed my eyes and felt the paintbrush slide straight up my stomach and stop just beneath my ribs. Then, I felt it arc in a wide circle. Her words carried and echoed in the chamber of the bath. “Many mothers ago when our people arrived here they did not bring with them the tradition I now share with you. We lost so many of the old practices when we came. For a long time, we didn’t know if there would be food to eat. We struggled to live. Mothers’ milk dried in their breasts. We struggled to understand why a woman would even take a man in marriage, when there was no hope.”

All the while she spoke, the brush slid across and then down my body. In the strange atmosphere, and with my heightened state of awareness, the words she spoke and the paintbrush entangled in my mind, until without even opening my eyes, I saw the design that she painted onto my skin.

“But we remembered the story of the first dawn, and we drew inspiration. For in the darkness of night we are blind and cannot see to gather food or care for each other. But there was a promise made to us, and we knew to wait for a sun to rise and light the way for us. We struggled in darkness for many generations. We waited for our sun to rise again.”

I felt my hair being yanked and tugged as it was twisted into a design.

“We knew that a lost daughter would come as a beggar and finally serve as a queen. This is why our brides are painted yellow. It is a promise. A promise to her husband, and to her people.” The paintbrush was still on my flesh. I opened my eyes and saw hers glistening with tears. “Now you are here. We know the sun will rise again.”

I put my hand over hers. I didn’t need to look to know what image she painted on my body. But when I saw her staring at her artwork and then at my face, I couldn’t help but to look. There was a sun, beautifully drawn, with rays that twisted and arced across the planes of my body. Every curve hugged by a stretching ray. Better than any jewels that I could imagine wearing, it was not only beautiful but meaningful. I was surprised by the tight feeling in my throat as I tried to thank them.

Both women smiled at me and led me to the door. I stopped them and gave each a deep hug. Then they pulled a thick blue velvet robe from a peg and slipped it over my shoulders. As the last clutch of dark color slipped from the sky, I raised the hood over my hair, and we made our way to the standing stones. They placed me in front of the stone. I felt the cinching of the rope around my wrists, my arms being pulled tight. Then blackness descended over my eyes as the fabric was cinched tightly. I waited.