Chapter 16: Shabbat in Flames

 

“Blessed are You, Milady, Queen of the World...”

It was Shabbat, and those closest to the queen were seated as usual around the big wooden table waiting patiently for her to kick off the day of rest with the usual blessings. Moments ago, Aviva had brought her a firestick she’d lit at a nearby torch, and now she held its blazing end toward the two candles placed in front of her.

Kaveh leaned in closer to Aviva and demonstrated his lack of skill at whispering. “I know you said that your god must be bigger than male or female, but I’m still not used to the way she--”

From across the table there came a sharp “Shhh!”, and Kaveh flinched. Riv was glaring at him from beneath the dark-brown kippah that was somehow -- as if by magic -- taming the captain’s usual mop of wild golden hair. Shulamit was relieved to see him shut his mouth, and she resumed her prayer while he watched in silence.

Shulamit shut her eyes as she sank into the familiar rhythm of the blessing, and then withdrew further into herself for the silent portion of the prayer. She hoped Isaac and Tivon’s prolonged absence was a sign they had found the jeweler’s daughter and were negotiating with her, or even better that they stood now by her side as she pled with Jahandar to come to his senses.

In her secret heart where she stood naked before God, she abandoned herself to selfish prayer -- the mystery woman from Jahandar’s past was her only rescue from the unsavory choice between leaving her country in the care of strangers after her death, marrying a man who would inevitably demand her body, and making an enemy or possibly even starting a war. She couldn’t live with herself if she ended up starting a war or leaving her throne to the whims of fate just to avoid having to sleep with a man on a regular basis -- what kind of a queen would she be?

But could she do that to herself?

God, help!

She started when she opened her eyes. Behind the friendly, flickering light of the candles, she saw Isaac standing before her on the other side of the table.

“Isaac! Tivon!” she added, seeing the other man standing in the shadows. She noticed a change in the body language of both Rivka and her mother, and she was momentarily amused. But as she studied Isaac’s face for a clue to their adventures, she began to feel a weight in her stomach.

Isaac often sought to be mysterious, sharing only what he wanted to, and his face revealed nothing. But over the past few years, Shulamit had figured out that pride was also a powerful force within him, and she knew that if he had good news to tell her, his inscrutable expression would have been covered with a thin veneer of smug.

Instead, she saw nothing -- nothing at all. Not a good sign.

She found it hard to swallow. “Wh--what happened?” she stuttered softly.

“Bless the country, Queenling,” he prompted her sotto voce. In other words, she had duties -- not now.

As the parents in ordinary homes bless their children at their own Shabbat dinners, Queen Shulamit blessed the nation under her rule. Tonight, especially, she felt the weight of that surrogate motherhood.

Aviva poured out some wine, and Shulamit was able to stutter out a blessing over that as well, her mind on other things. Isaac sat beside her and tried his best to radiate a calming aura, but her jittery nerves were powerful even against his charisma.

Shulamit lifted Rivka’s hand and nodded at her as she did each week, and then the captain proceeded to perform the blessing over the bread. This nod was a ritual passing of the torch that helped the queen not to feel so left out of that part of Shabbat, although she still longed to reach out and grab a piece of the fluffy golden braid with everybody else, stomach cramps or no stomach cramps.

When dinner itself was finally on the table, Shulamit finally turned to Isaac and asked, “Can you please tell me? I’m too tense to eat. I have to know.”

Isaac paused a moment before speaking. “You were right about the jeweler’s daughter, but she’s not the woman from the poem.”

“What?”

“She and Jahandar had an affair back when he was a teenaged prince, like you thought, and you were right that her father was the one who took the bribe from King Omeed. My smart little malkeleh! But they ignored the deal and saw each other anyway, in secret, and what’s more -- they did lie together, years before the poem was written. Also, her chest is too small.”

Shulamit opened and closed her mouth like a fish.

Isaac, who had just carried a full-grown man a full day’s ride on his back, clearly didn’t have any of her reluctance to eat and attacked his plate with nearly as much ferocity as if he’d still been in dragon form.

“So, I was right,” she observed, “and it still did me no good.”

“I’m sorry, Queenling.” Isaac looked genuinely distressed. “I knew it would upset you terribly, so I stayed behind to spy on the king after I found out. I hoped he’d say, or do, something to give me a clue about his childhood love, so I turned lizard and spent hours in his palace. The only thing I found...” Here he lowered his voice. “...was worse news.”

“Worse? What do you mean, worse?” Shulamit began to play with her fingers nervously.

Isaac leaned his head toward hers and continued in a soft voice. “Late at night, the king sat in conference with his executioner.”

“I don’t like where this is going.” Shula lowered her head and rubbed her forehead.

“He wants to get rid of Farzin as soon as possible, but according to their religion, executions are forbidden during the Month of the Sun.”

“Right... We already knew that.”

“The executioner was summoned in case he had any ideas around the religious prohibition,” Isaac continued. “Originally, they planned to hang Farzin at dawn, as soon as the sun came up, so that the spectacle of his death would serve as an example to his followers and any others who want to act as he does. But technically, they’re allowed to kill him at sundown the night before -- their holidays are like our holidays, starting at sunset.”

“So he didn’t want to hang him at night because then nobody would be able to see? I really, really don’t like this man.”

“Exactly. But the executioner pointed out that there are ways of killing people that are still very, very visible at night.” Isaac’s face darkened. “Even if they’re far more cruel than the instant death of a neck broken by hanging.”

“What are you--?”

Then she noticed Isaac’s eyes were no longer on her but were staring to the front of her, at... the Shabbat candles.

“No. What? Really? That bastard!” Then she covered her mouth quickly, but Rivka wasn’t even listening, and Mitzi was engrossed in whatever Tivon was saying, as usual.

Kaveh, however, was -- somehow. Their efforts to hide the conversation from him hadn’t gone as planned. “What are you whispering about? Why is she staring at the candles? Why does he look like he just got a death sentence?”

Shulamit, panicking, remained silent. Isaac turned away from Kaveh. Their reticence to answer only made the prince more anxious. He sprang from his seat, attracting everyone’s attention. “Tell me! Has Farzin -- is he still alive?”

“He’s alive,” said Isaac gravely. “Your father’s just moved up the execution half a day.”

“You mean after nightfall? How can he do that? It’s at night! Nobody will see-- will see-- Oh, oh...” Kaveh trailed off as his eyes fell upon the candles. “No...no, he can’t! Not fire! Oh, my poor love! What pain!” Pale-faced and breathing oddly, he lurched forward. Several pairs of eyes watched the unsteady man warily, unsure if he was about to faint or vomit.

“That way he’ll be easier to see against the darkening sky,” Isaac explained to those on the other side of the table who were just catching up.

“How horrible!” Mitzi exclaimed, groping around on the tabletop vaguely for Tivon’s hand.

“Watch him!” someone shouted, just before Kaveh stumbled sideways and knocked roughly into the queen. Kaveh, wide-eyed, shaking, and clearly oblivious to his surroundings, began to scream. He stumbled out of the room, and Shulamit was close enough to the courtyard that she could hear him throwing up.

“Riv, please go help him.” Shulamit struggled to regain control of her own emotions, but all she wanted to do was cry.