Chapter 11: Lighting the Candles

 

Rivka hadn’t spoken much since trailing off at the end of her story, and the final hour of the ride was mostly silent. Shulamit felt an awkwardness that was practically tangible; it was likely Rivka was withdrawing after spending most of the day speaking about her past. She remembered her own parallel incidents -- for example, those moments when she first told her ladies-in-waiting of her attraction toward other women -- when she was shy after revealing her heart and found it clumsy to return to ordinary discourse. So she tried not to take it personally.

But it made for a tense afternoon. She was awed at the painful events she had heard, but had little of value to say in response. Fortunately, at least the weather and the dragon’s stamina were both cooperating, and they arrived at a safe place to sleep without too much physical hardship.

“It’s still light,” said Rivka abruptly as she bustled around the rocks setting up their makeshift camp. “We should work on some of those self-defense techniques -- if you’re not fatigued from traveling.” She didn’t meet the queen’s eyes.

“No, I’m ready. Like this?” Shulamit took a stance on the rock as Rivka had shown her.

She tried her best to concentrate on the movements, and managed about a half an hour of work before she realized she had pushed herself beyond where her muscles wanted to go. “Rivka, I’m sorry. I need to stop and eat.”

“I’ll send Dragon to go hunt us some food,” said Rivka. “I saw some wild goats beyond the lake. That should give both of us more strength.”

“How will she know not to catch birds first? Aviva taught me that even cooking my meat in the same pan as fowl can contaminate my food and cause... problems... and I see ducks in the water, in the reeds.”

Rivka sighed, biting her lip. “I suppose I could ride with her and keep her to the goats. Do you feel safe waiting here for a few minutes by yourself?”

Shulamit weighed her options. After all she had been through, she still feared the assaults of unknown strangers. But she also had vivid, horrifying, humiliating memories of what would happen to her body if she ate anything tainted by the duck meat. Since it was something she’d experienced again and again, it rose up and took precedence. “I’ll wait here. I think I see mint growing by the lake; I’ll go collect some to season the goat.”

“Good idea. I noticed wild tangerines growing over that way too.” Rivka pointed.

Shulamit’s face brightened at the idea of unexpected fresh fruit. She hurried off toward the lake as Rivka hopped onboard her dragon’s back and leapt into the air.

Kneeling beside the lake gathering the choicest leaves from the wild mint plants into her lilac scarf brought back memories... scenes stored away close to her heart, wrapped in silk and scented with rose water.

 

***

 

With each new food Aviva’s experiments had cleared for Shulamit’s safe consumption, the princess grew stronger and healthier. No more was she racked by daily digestive calamities; she had the energy to frolic in the palace gardens and enjoy life again. During the process, the two girls had become constant companions, and as Shulamit perked up, Aviva began teaching her more about food preparation so that she could take charge of her own health more easily.

Aviva took her to the palace herb garden to teach her what all the herbs looked like. She plucked a handful of rippled green leaves and crushed them beneath Shulamit’s nose. The cold, fresh scent flowed forth. “Is it singing to you?”

“It’s mint!”

Aviva smiled in affirmation. “She smells cool because she keeps a secret part of herself always hidden away from the sun. She’s strong enough to remain cold even in the hottest weather. She has principles and she sticks to ’em.”

Shulamit giggled. “You always talk in poetry. Do you ever write anything down?”

A warm but slightly self-conscious smile spread over the cook’s face. “I never thought of it as poetry -- it just happens on its own when I talk. I get in a hurry to say what I’m feeling, and before I know it, I’ve said something goofy.”

“I’m never bored around you,” Shulamit observed. “Aviva--” Shulamit suddenly turned to face her and took one of her hands in both her own. She felt strength beneath the softness and warmth. “Why did you believe me? About being sick, I mean. When everyone else thinks it was in my head, or a ruse to look... well... princessy?”

“My mother’s been sickly most of my life, so I know about illness and helping those who are ailing,” Aviva explained. “When I was younger, I tended to her while my father moved mountains and reversed rivers all by himself. But now that I’m old enough I left home to go work, so I could replace the money she earned when she was a washerwoman. Aba’s a tailor, and even though he’d rather be out in the marketplace selling his creations or visiting clients, if he stays home to take care of Ima, he can still take in mending and receive customers there. It’s better for us all this way. Maybe someday we’ll even be able to afford surgery so she can walk again.”

It awed Shulamit that this young woman, not two years older than herself, was financially contributing to her family in such a significant way. Especially since she, as the crown princess, was living a completely antithetical life. She felt undeserving and grateful that someone as incredible as Aviva even wanted to talk to her.

 

***

 

Shulamit crushed the mint in her fingers, thinking about the relieving coolness who refused to compromise her ideas even in the face of something as powerful as the sun. She inhaled, and saw Aviva’s dark, smiling face, her friendly eyes, the luscious curves of her body radiating femininity from beneath her sleeveless tunic and loose-fitting trousers. She could even hear that quirky, peasant-accented voice spouting its outlandish poetry.

With a sigh, she quickly gathered up the rest of the mint they needed and brought it back to the campsite. Rivka had left a pouch for her to use to collect tangerines both for tonight and for the rest of their journey, so she brought that back with her as she walked along the lakeshore to the wild grove.

But her heart wasn’t finished replaying Aviva-infused memories. Her eyes were looking at fruit, picking the ones that were the most colorful and unblemished, but what she was in truth seeing was a scene from many months ago, when she had stolen away to Aviva’s kitchen late at night.

 

***

 

So much of that day was taken up by tutors, in their attempt to make up for time lost to digestive illness, that she had her fill neither of food nor of Aviva’s company. It was several hours past moonrise by the time she finally tripped lightly down the path to the small building where all her meals were now prepared. It was a fowl-free, wheat-free, and most importantly, judgment- and doubt-free little paradise where all the food was edible and Shulamit was always believed.

It was far later than she had ever appeared there, so she knew Aviva wouldn’t be expecting her. But what she herself wasn’t expecting was the sight that greeted her eyes when she slipped unnoticed through the doorway.

Aviva was busily preparing a meal, most likely a trial run of some new experiment for Shulamit. But she didn’t do so silently, and she wasn’t merely cooking.

Instead, she was singing at the top of her lungs, a vivacious working-class dance tune. She was also using the handles of her knives, spoons, and other implements as drumsticks, beating them against the stone tables in time with her song. She twirled around the room, all hips and elbows, as she grabbed ingredients, chopped them up, and even tossed them into the dish in time to her dancing. She didn’t know all the words, either -- sometimes she just sang nonsense syllables.

Finally, she noticed the princess standing there watching her. She stopped dancing, put her hands on her hips, and said, “So what?”

Shulamit just giggled.

“Okay, so you see I’ve hidden a whole plague of frogs in my kitchen. Sometimes they do the work for me while they chirp.” She paused to scoop up a handful of chopped herbs and toss it into the pot. “Well?”

“Well, what?”

“Now you know something embarrassing about me. So you should tell me something embarrassing about yourself. That way we’re even.”

“I like women the way men do,” Shulamit blurted out, before she knew what she was doing. Heat crept into her face.

Aviva studied her from across the room for a moment, her head cocked like a bird’s. Then she opened her mouth and began to sing again, and her feet began once again their dance. Only, this time, she held both of her hands out to Shulamit.

She didn’t say anything about what Shulamit had admitted, but as she drew the princess close into their dance, it was clear that she was anything but scared away.

A cast-iron pot boiled over and interrupted their first kiss. Aviva rushed over to attend to it while Shulamit stood still, memorizing every detail -- Aviva’s soft mouth that tasted of fennel seeds, her full bosom pressed against Shulamit’s own, those hands that made her feel so safe and well cared for. “Does the food agree with you?” asked Aviva, looking up from the stove with a wink.

Shulamit squeaked and then decided to nod instead of speaking. Embracing Aviva was like holding a huge bouquet of flowers in your arms, soft and glorious, with the scent overtaking you and pollen leaving yellow speckles across your nose.

“In my kitchen, there’s always more for you to sample...”

 

***

 

And then another, from months later:

Shulamit darted through the palace, slipping as silently as she could between rooms and courtyards. With nervous eyes she checked her path to make sure nobody was paying attention to her as she made her way toward Aviva’s kitchen house for their prearranged tryst. Her jaws worked away at the fennel seeds she was chewing to make sure she wouldn’t be repaying top-notch kisses with stale breath. Aviva kept saying she didn’t care too much about Shulamit’s ornaments, but the little princess didn’t care and had bedecked herself in the clothing she thought prettiest: delicate fabrics of pastel-pink and lilac.

She rounded a corner, and her heart leapt; Aviva was rushing to meet her. The two women met in the corridor and joined hands. “We can’t go back to my kitchen,” Aviva explained. “The head chef is in there hiding from her flock -- she was like a bag of tigers this morning and now she’s too embarrassed to go back in there.”

“But what’s she doing?”

“Baking,” said Aviva. “I know -- I’ll have to clean it all out again. I promise I’ll be thorough.”

“I wish there was a way to convince her I’m not just being picky!” Shulamit huffed. “Maybe I can help you clean when she finally leaves.”

“It’ll be like cleaning up for Passover.”

Noises at both ends of the corridor made Shulamit tense up and whip her head in both directions, flinging her braids over her shoulders. “Someone’s coming!”

“Quick! Come on!” Aviva grabbed her hand. There was a small door in the wall, leading into a cupboard, and Aviva pulled it open. Inside was a haphazard collection of rolled-up rugs, to be used in some of the palace hallways when the other rugs were dirty or a different color was required. The two girls could just fit inside if they folded their limbs, and Aviva pulled the door shut just as several courtiers entered the hallway.

They sounded as though they were arguing, but the door was thick and Shulamit couldn’t make out any words. She was too busy kissing Aviva, and moving as best she could in the cramped space to get her arms around her. It was easy to be overwhelmed by the sensation of Aviva’s lush body against her own, with her fleshy upper arms, large bosom, and generous hips.

Soon they were touching each other more intimately, and Shulamit moaned into the tender place on Aviva’s neck where she rested her head. Her left hand was full of one of Aviva’s breasts, the feel of which sent her brain spiraling into pinwheels of delight. “I tried looking in books to see why these make me so happy,” she commented. “Nobody knew.”

Aviva giggled at her. “You would.” Moans overtook her ability to speak as she ground herself harder against Shulamit’s other hand.

“It wasn’t a complete waste of time -- I did find some pretty interesting reading on how our bodies work.”

Aviva clenched her teeth, clearly trying to muffle herself, but the next groan escaped anyway, even stronger. “Is that why you’re -- Ahhh! Okay, you studied for sex. You are truly amazing.”

“The book said if I--” Shulamit altered the movement of her fingers slightly.

Aviva let out a noise like wind rustling through palm fronds before a storm. “Smart book. Good book. Gonna make... halvah... for the... book...ohh...”

Then Shulamit felt like a magician, the same way she did every time she’d achieved the seemingly miraculous feat of making Aviva climax. She made sure to continue what she’d been doing until Aviva calmed down, and then concentrated on the sensations of her own body until she followed her.

“We’re gonna have such backaches after being in here,” she commented, snuggling into Aviva’s warmth.

“We still have to work it off cleaning out my kitchen after we’ve got it back to ourselves!”

“Mmmm.” Shulamit inhaled deeply. The inside of the little cupboard smelled of woman, and she felt dizzyingly content.

 

***

 

Shulamit was so lost in the heat of these passionate memories that she gathered far more tangerines than she had intended. Not wanting to waste them, she carried them all back to the campsite and began juicing them into one of the drinking vessels.

It was getting darker, and the sun had started to paint the sky brilliant colors with its departure, so she was relieved to see her companion returning. Dragon clutched a slain goat in the claws of her back legs like an eagle holding a rabbit. “This will feed us for several days,” said Rivka. She was acting like herself again.

“What about Dragon? Or -- wait, she feeds as a horse. I’m confused.”

“I let her feed first.”

“That makes sense. I picked too many tangerines, so I’ve been juicing them. And here’s the mint.”

Rivka butchered the goat and set it up over the fire to cook. Then she stood up and gazed out over the lake at the sunset.

“It’s Shabbat,” Shulamit suddenly realized out loud.

Rivka muttered quietly in her own language in a cadence Shulamit took for counting out the days. “So it is. There’s our Shabbas candle...”

“Where?” Shulamit felt smart for noticing Rivka’s usage of the northern version of the word.

Rivka pointed at the sunset, a pink-and-gold marvel that spread across the far shore of the lake. “And the lake can be the wine.”

“We can say the wine blessing over the tangerine juice,” Shulamit suggested.

Rivka grinned. “That’s the idea.” Then a look of horror spread across her face. “You can’t eat challah!”

“I know. I miss it.”

“Never mind, I don’t know why I said that.” Rivka shook her head at her own bluntness.

Shulamit shrugged. “I miss sufganiyot more, especially at Chanukah when everyone has them at once. But Aviva used to fry me sweet plantains instead. I like the bits that get a little burnt the best.”

“What are sufganiyot?”

“Fried dough with sugar on top.”

“We fry potato pancakes for Chanukah.”

“That sounds good. I can eat potato,” said Shulamit. “We’d better start before the colors start fading. They’re so... they go away so quickly. Sometimes the prettiest part only lasts a minute.”

The two women sat down and covered their eyes to say a blessing, and then looked out over the beautiful sunset.

As they waited for the goat to cook, their talk turned to business. “What do you think it’s going to be like when we get to the sorcerer’s keep?” Shulamit asked.

“From what Tamar told me, it sounded like he’s actually a pretty big coward,” said Rivka, peeling a tangerine with her thumbs. “All the sleazy behavior toward women -- he tends to keep that in check when men are around. He was singing to one of them, once, and stopped right in the middle and refused to continue because a man showed up to deliver rice. And did you hear what she said about how paranoid he was? He even told some of the holy women bad things about himself so that he could ‘expose’ the truth as a lie -- preemptively, since it turned out that nobody had warned anyone at all.”

“I remember her saying that,” said Shulamit. “I bet someone cowardly, paranoid, and skilled in magic would protect himself with plenty of enchantments.”

Rivka nodded. “Exactly. So you’ve been thinking about it too.”

Shulamit nodded. “It’s keeping my mind off Aviva. The smell of the mint brought back... things.”

“I’m sorry about that,” said Rivka. “But thinking is good. I like the way your mind works. Back there in the inn, you really impressed me with the way you solved that crime.”

Shulamit smiled and pulled her knees up to her chest, hugging them. “That felt amazing,” she admitted, “once I knew I wasn’t going to die, of course!”

“Nobody said you can’t be a queen and solve crimes at the same time,” Rivka pointed out. “Wisdom and justice are traits that will earn the respect and trust of your people.”

“I wanted to solve a mystery back home once,” said Shulamit. “Money was stolen from my father’s treasury. Only a few people had keys, but he trusted them all. He wouldn’t let me ask questions, and he never did find out what happened.”

Rivka studied her with darkened eyes. “Does that have anything to do with the elephant?”

Shulamit shook her head quickly. “No, that was just a freak accident. He was pushing himself too hard -- not enough sleep -- working all day and then trying to spend time with me and his lady friends and hobbies, athletics... he was trying to do everything.” She sighed heavily. “Maybe he got all his living done fast, and if he’d have lived slower, he’d have lived longer.”

“Maybe,” said Rivka. “Or maybe a howdah is just a terrible place for an exhausted man of any age.”

“I feel safer on Dragon than up on an elephant now.”

“She’s a good girl.” Rivka smiled and patted the beast. “Oh, hey, the goat’s ready.”

They fed themselves as quickly as the hot meat would allow them. “Can we go back to practicing after dinner?” Rivka asked.

“On Shabbat?”

Rivka just raised one eyebrow.

“I guess you’re right.”

“Tomorrow afternoon we face our enemy,” Rivka reminded her. “I don’t want you should get killed.”

“I’ll concentrate twice as hard,” Shulamit announced proudly.