Chapter 6: Preparations

 

“Starting right away” meant from that moment forward they would be in the service of Sister Tamar, not that they finished their tea and immediately hopped onboard Dragon. Rivka had lots of questions to ask about the sorcerer before they set out. She followed Tamar as the old woman toddled around the garden, meticulously polishing each of her stone sisters with a cloth.

Shulamit followed them outside and heard her asking about the sorcerer’s appearance, about his manner of speaking and his behavior, about his seduction techniques, about whether he raised his voice or became very quiet when angered, and anything else that came up. “I have to know everything you can tell me about him before I meet him in combat,” Rivka explained.

“Of course, my son,” said Tamar.

Rivka took one of the cloths from Tamar’s bucket of water and helped her polish the statues as she listened to the old woman’s stories. Altogether, they made a shocking tale of a group of kind, trusting souls betrayed by a manipulative liar. He had tried a different approach with each woman, waiting until he had gotten to know the diverse personalities of the cloister and then tailoring his words and behavior to the occasion. He’d started with the most vulnerable -- the youngest and those who still felt some ambivalence about their vows.

“With some of us,” said Tamar, shaking her finger knowingly and pausing in her work, “he thought we might already have talked about him. He started right off the mark with a little fiction about how he was a hunted man for a reputation he didn’t deserve. He wanted to make sure that if any of us told the others what he had tried, that she wouldn’t be believed.”

“Such a mensch, he’s not,” said Rivka dryly.

“We were very unfortunate,” Tamar agreed. “Excuse me, my son. I have to go have a little private moment. I’ll return.”

“You’re so thorough,” Shulamit observed once they were alone. “I’m impressed!”

“Well, I do need to know all of this,” said Rivka, “and later on we need to go look at some maps so we’ll know how to get to the sorcerer’s hold in the mountains. But I’m also hanging around because I wanted to help her, and doing it while we talk saves her dignity.”

By the time Tamar had come back, Shulamit had found a third cloth and was vigorously cleaning statues too.

She came to the beautiful, sad-faced novice she’d noted earlier. Tenderly she wiped swaths of water across the statue’s feet and wondered if the woman trapped inside could feel it, or sense her in any other way. “I don’t know who you are,” she whispered, “but if there’s any way I can bring you comfort in there, I’ll try.”

Shulamit’s hands were slower and gentler on this one than on the others, and she couldn’t help wondering what the woman was like. Had she come here out of deep religious conviction and a desire to serve her fellow humans? Or was she living within these walls in order to hide from the outside world? Did she like to read, and if so, did she prefer stories or lessons? With a rush of heat to her cheeks, Shulamit realized she couldn’t bring herself to polish the woman’s entire body -- not her bosom. She knew she would enjoy it and couldn’t live with the guilt of reveling in such a moment at someone else’s expense. Especially if the woman was awake inside the stone. “Riv?”

“Your Majesty?”

“We’re switching.”

Rivka lifted an eyebrow, and the corner of her mouth twitched up knowingly. Shulamit crossed the garden and began to work on another statue.

 

***

 

Later on, they pored over maps together. “Up there -- in those mountains.” Tamar pointed on the parchment.

Rivka squinted. The map was blurry and old. “How can you know that for sure? He was a liar, and you couldn’t believe anything else that he said.”

“Oh, once we all knew what he was doing, we finally figured out who he was. He’s quite notorious around here ever since he first showed up from who knows where, two or three years ago... or was it... Anyway, they call him the bird-master. He raises birds, but his real hobby is causing trouble with women. We didn’t know that’s who the rabbi was. You see, he had changed his hairstyle and put on the right clothing... And he brought no birds with him, so how were we to know?”

She left to fetch a candle, for the sun was departing.

“Will Dragon be able to fly up all that way?”

“I hope so -- she should be,” said Rivka. “I’ve let her rest nearly all of today, and that makes a lot of difference. She’ll have more than just flying up to the mountains to worry about. The ground on the way there is far too rocky and uneven for a horse. And in between us and the mountain are this lake”-- she pointed to the map -- “this waterfall”-- moving her hand again -- “and this other... rock... thing. I’m not taking a horse in that. We fly.”

“I’m looking forward to flying when it’s not pouring rain!”

Rivka grinned. “I’ll show you some tricks while we’re on our way. We have work to do, though. I’m not tossing you into this without more self-defense training.”

“I’m grateful for it.”

When the old woman came back, an issue arose over where they would sleep. She refused to let “Riv” sleep in the temple -- for no man, even a holy man, was permitted to sleep there. The sorcerer posing as a rabbi had even camped in the courtyard where his victims now stood in breathless sleep. And Shulamit refused to sleep in the temple without Rivka’s protection.

“There’s always the garden, I suppose,” suggested Tamar.

A pebble landed on the ground beside them, and all three women looked up into the dusk. Dragon was standing on the roof, in her horse form, and had kicked it down.

“We could sleep up there,” Shulamit suggested. “Then we wouldn’t be disturbing all the holy women.”

“An excellent solution,” said Tamar. “Come, I’ll show you the way to the staircase and bring you bedding.”

The roof of the temple was a flat surface dominated in the front by a large shallow basin. “Holy water,” Tamar indicated.

“Rainwater pools here,” Shulamit explained under her breath, no doubt noting Rivka’s confused expression, “and the sisters come and bless it. It’s a cache that protects the temple.”

“Don’t drink from it,” Tamar warned them. “Now, good night, my son, Your Majesty.” She nodded to both of them and walked slowly and carefully back down the staircase to her cell.

“Why didn’t she ask how the horse got up on the roof?”

Rivka shrugged. “Age? Or maybe she’s so enlightened that she’s learned that the world is a much stranger place than most of us realize.”

She unpacked some of their bedding, then noticed Dragon had transformed into her reptilian form. “You know what, Shula? You can use as much of the bedding as you want. I’m going to sleep against Dragon.”

“Really? That doesn’t look very comfortable.”

“It’s what I’m used to when fighting’s on the agenda. It’ll help me to wake up as a warrior.”

Shulamit nodded. “But won’t staying a dragon sap her strength?”

“It’s the flying that does that,” said Rivka, “not the form. Sometimes I think she prefers this form, but we attract too much attention with a grounded dragon, and she doesn’t like that.”

“How can you tell what she’s thinking?”

Rivka smiled sadly from one side of her mouth. “When you spend three years with one single creature as your only constant friend, you pick up on things.”

 

***

 

Shulamit lay on the bedding and wrapped her silk wrap around her shoulders as she gazed up at the stars. She was just about to lose herself in reverie, possibly about the young woman down there in the courtyard, when she heard Rivka singing. Her strong voice was now gentle, and she sent the melody placidly out into the night. “Jeweled stars, pearl stars, silver coins in olive jars... glittering deep within the dark, see them flicker, see them spark...”

Blood rushed into the queen’s cheeks. She joined in, tears spilling down her face. Her voice was choked and sounded like hell, but she sang anyway.

They made it through three verses in duet, during which Shulamit held herself together. Then the earthquakes of sobbing began, the type of crying during which nobody is beautiful. She hugged herself and curled up.

“Aba sang that to me to put me to sleep when I was a child,” she whispered into her silk wrap, which was now slimy with tears and saliva.

“May his memory be blessed,” said Rivka very quietly.

“I still can’t believe it, even though I’m queen and there’s a shrine and it’s been months. It doesn’t feel real. He was supposed to get old. His old nursemaid -- she was the one who told me he’d fallen off the elephant. I went to him, and he barely woke; they had him under such strong elixirs to ease his pain. But I knew he could sense me, and when I sang that song back to him, I could see tears in his eyes.”

Rivka took Shulamit into her arms and folded the little queen’s tear-sodden face against the muscled curve of her shoulder.

Shulamit continued. “The sun was so bright that last day -- just completely pouring into the room. The servants tried putting up curtains because he was too hot, but they wouldn’t stay up. It just glowed whiter and whiter until we had to squint to see, even though we were inside. The light got stronger, and he got weaker -- almost like he was becoming part of the sun.”

The queen was silent, reliving the moment after the incredible glaring whiteness relaxed its grip on the room, and everyone could see distinct shapes again. Curled up in a tight knot on the floor beside her father’s bed, her arms clasped firmly around her knees, she felt someone put a crown on her head. She tipped her head forward and let it slide down into her lap, where she hugged it while sobbing.

Rivka’s voice brought her back to the present. “You’re a smart young woman. He would be proud of you. I’m sure he was proud of you in life too.”

The corners of Shulamit’s mouth turned up in a heartbroken little smile. “Yeah, he was... he used to tease me about all the books I was reading and facts I’d rattle off from my lessons, but he meant it in a good way. He’d call me his little Princess Brainy.”

“That’s cute!” said Rivka. “What was he like? I never met him in person, only saw him from a distance.”

“He was so full of energy,” said Shulamit, pepping up a little as she went back to a happier past. “So many interests. Did you know he knew how to climb up the side of a sheer rock face?”

“No, I didn’t,” said Rivka, wide-eyed. “I’m impressed.”

“And he could speak four languages, and he’d been everywhere,” Shulamit continued. “He didn’t sleep as much as the rest of us. Sometimes he’d be busy late at night working on laws or listening to arguments in court cases, and have an entire meal in the middle of the night. If I was still up, I’d keep him company.”

“It’s good that you could spend so much time together.”

Shulamit nodded, shifting positions within Rivka’s embrace so she could wipe her face clean. “Everyone around me, when they were mourning him, it was so wonderful to be surrounded by people who were sad about the same thing I was because I wasn’t alone, but it was also jarring because they were all talking about him as king, not as a father. When we put his kippah into the museum, everyone was talking about how much money it was worth and the embroidery by some famous artist and how it was a national relic, and all this -- but I was just thinking of Shabbat, and seders, and -- and it didn’t mean any of those things to me. It meant lighting candles. It meant he’d hid the afikomen in the palace for me and joking with his advisors as he waited around for me to find it so he could give me a new book. National treasure? I--” She blinked away new tears, but this time the look on her face was one of indignation.

“Do you have anything of his that you carry around as a memento?” Rivka’s hand fidgeted with something beneath her helmet.

Shulamit grinned, that bizarre grin of hers that looked more like a grimace than a real smile. “Well, myself! I look like him. Everybody says so. Especially my eyebrows.”

“That’s perfect. I know you’ll carry on his legacy.”

Shulamit leaned her head back down against Rivka’s chest. “It hurts so much. When does this get better?”

“I wish it did,” said Rivka. “Instead, we get used to it. We live around it.” She paused. “The olive song’s special to me too. The man I loved is with me again when I sing it. Thoughts of him still bring me joy, even though they hurt too. I know that if I’m to live my life with a man at my side, it won’t be him. I’ve met many men as I fought in battles and guarded the rich -- valiant men, smart men, good, kind men. But I just never looked on them as a woman looks at a man -- I mean, as an ordinary woman who likes men -- even though I could see their good qualities. I don’t think I’m the type who falls in love very often. A man can be a good match, but that’s not enough to make him special to me that way...”

“I know the feeling you’re talking about,” said Shulamit, her face crinkling as she thought about the way Aviva had filled her with exhilaration just by being in the room. “He must have been wonderful, for a woman as amazing as you to have cared for him so deeply.” She pulled away from their hug and stretched her arms.

Rivka nestled against the dragon’s thick hide and closed her eyes. “We have a long way to go tomorrow. Maybe I’ll tell you all about him.”

Nearby, Shulamit pulled her lilac wrap more tightly around herself, sliding a small patch of the slippery fabric back and forth between her thumb and fingers. The repetitive motion comforted her, and she forced herself to concentrate on something other than the people she missed. The first thing that came to mind was Dragon, so she pretended that she was an artist and quantified each interesting feature, from her clawed and grasping hands to the horns on top of her head. Once distracted from her grief, she fell asleep quickly, for she was genuinely very tired.

 

***

 

The next morning, after eating breakfast and bidding Sister Tamar goodbye, the two women set out for the sorcerer’s hold. Dragon, who had been waiting outside the temple gates still in her reptile form, soared into a brilliant blue sky that promised better weather than their last day of travels. They sailed over the tropical landscape, banana thickets and palm trees clustered together, bathed in early sunlight.

“Want to try something fun?” Rivka asked.

“Okay,” said Shulamit, a little hesitantly.

“Trust me.” Rivka, confident in her strength and years of practice, tightened her thighs around the dragon’s torso and let go of her with her hands. She grabbed Shulamit’s hips, holding her firmly down to the animal’s backbone. “Hold your hands out into the air while we fly.”

Shulamit let out a raucous peal of pure joy. “It feels like it’s me who’s flying -- my arms are wings!” They passed by a noisy white waterfall, and its mist lightly kissed their cheeks in greeting. “Woooooo!”

Eventually, Shulamit put her arms down, and they relaxed into a more conventional riding posture. “Thank you so much. I don’t think I’ve ever been this awake.” She craned her head around slightly to look at Rivka, and her grin was broad and sparkling under the bright sun.

“Would you like to hear about the man I loved?” Rivka’s voice was gentle and intimate. She was pleased with herself for having made Shulamit so happy after last night’s tears. Empathy for their shared affliction had opened up her heart, and she had realized just before going to sleep that Shulamit was the first person in three years with whom she felt the impulse to share her story.

“Yes, I would.”

And as they sailed over the rocks and the trees, Rivka unfolded her life before her friend.