PROLOGUE

I HAD HEARD of kingdoms far beyond the oasis that gives birth to life where none should be, kingdoms beyond the vast, barren sands of the Arabian deserts.

I had lived in one such kingdom beyond the great Red Sea, in a land called Egypt, where I was sold into slavery as a young child. I had dreamed of the kingdoms farther north, where it was said the Romans lived in opulence and splendor, reveling in the plunder of conquered lands; of the silk kingdoms beyond Mesopotamia, in the Far East where wonder and magic ruled.

But none of these kingdoms were real to me, Maviah, daughter of the great sheikh of the Banu Kalb tribe, which presided over Arabia’s northern sands. None were real to me because I, Maviah, was born into shame without the hope of honor.

It is said that there are four pillars of life in Arabia, without which all life in the desert would forever cease. The sands, for they are the earth and offer the water where it can be found. The camel, for it grants both milk and freedom. The tent, for it gives shelter from certain death. And the Bedouin, ruled by none, loyal to the death, passionate for life, masters of the harshest desert in which only the strongest can survive. In all the world, there are none more noble than the Bedu, for only the Bedu are truly free, living in the unforgiving tension of these pillars.

Yet these four are slaves to a fifth: the pillar of honor and shame.

And upon reflection I would say that there is no greater honor than being born with the blood of a man, no greater shame than being born with the blood of a woman. Indeed, born into shame, a woman may find honor only by bringing no shame to man.

Through blood are all bonds forged. Through blood is all shame avenged. Through blood is life passed on from father to son. In blood is all life contained, and yet a woman is powerless to contain her own. Thus she is born with shame.

Even so, the fullness of my shame was far greater than that of being born a woman.

Through no will of my own, I was also an illegitimate child, the seed of a dishonorable union between my father and a woman of the lowest tribe in the desert, the Banu Abysm, scavengers who crushed and consumed the bones of dead animals to survive in the wastelands.

Through no will of my own, my mother perished in childbirth.

Through no will of my own, my father sent me to Egypt in secret so that his shame could not be known, for it is said that a shame unrevealed is two-thirds forgiven.

Through no will of my own, I was made a slave in that far land.

Through no will of my own, I was returned to my father’s house when I gave birth to a son without a suitable husband. There, under his reluctant protection, I once again found myself in exile.

I was a Bedu who was not free, a woman forever unclean, a mother unworthy of a husband, an outcast imprisoned by those mighty pillars of the desert, subject of no kingdom but death.

But there came into that world a man who spoke of a different kingdom with words that defied all other kingdoms.

Some said that he was a prophet from their god. Some said that he was a mystic who spoke in riddles meant to infuriate the mind and quicken the heart, that he worked wonders to make his power evident. Some said that he was a Gnostic, though they were wrong. Some said that he was a messiah who came to set his people free. Still others, that he was a fanatical Zealot, a heretic, a man who’d seen too many deaths and too much suffering to remain sane.

But I came to know him as the Anointed One who would grant great power to those few who followed in his way.

My name is Maviah, daughter of Rami bin Malik.

His name was Yeshua.