CHAPTER 17

If given the chance, Jimmy could have stared at Tamar all afternoon—there was nothing about her that failed to please his eye, and her beauty was far greater than the sum of its parts. But almost as soon as the dance ended, Tamar disappeared into the shadows at the rear of the platform, and two female dancers quickly followed with the black robes she had shed.

“They will clothe her again,” the young scribe told him. “And then we’ll have the feast.”

“Why?”

Avishalom’s eyes crinkled. “Why the robes, or why the feast?”

“Both, I suppose.” Jimmy turned away from the stage as the dancers began anew; the ceremony had lost its appeal with the loss of its star.

The queen and her retinue joined the High Priest’s group and slowly they left the stage.

“The princess will wear her robes because she’s not queen yet, and because it is still forbidden to look upon her—the ceremony tonight was her first public appearance, and her last until she is crowned,” Avishalom explained. “And the feast is part of the ceremony, a chance for the Priests and the Scribe to share their riches with the poor. You will come, won’t you?”

“I’m invited?”

Avishalom chuckled softly, then murmured, “I’m not old yet, my friend. My wife and I are married but two years. I remember looking at her much as you looked…well, best not mention it. Come.” He stood and offered his arm to Ezra, who accepted with a nod of thanks. “Shall we go, then?”

Jimmy followed them down to the floor of the Forum, where servants had begun to clear the benches and bring out cushions. The Forum opened to a running meadow, well tended, and now dotted by circles of families, some small, most large, feasting with family and friends. Here and there, Jimmy saw fires in small pits specially built for such occasions.

The High Priest and the queen left to the Priest palaces followed by a large retinue of admirers and beggars.

Ezra’s family occupied the Forum proper.

As they arranged brightly colored rugs and started a fire in a makeshift grill, Jimmy noticed that a line of beggars had begun to form around them, snaking back toward the rear door. “Fucking rich,” he heard a short, blond man mutter. “Three onions, or I’ll eat my shoes.”

“Onions?” he asked, turning to Avishalom for an explanation as Ezra examined the cushions at their side of the room.

“Of course,” Avishalom replied, helping Ezra lower himself onto the largest pillow. “This is a day of great celebration—the Scribe must be generous, today of all days. Ah, there she is,” he added more softly, looking up in time to see Tamar, now sheathed in black once again, descend the staircase. The servant and beggars around her parted like the wake of a boat, all turning their heads, and even Avishalom averted his eyes.

Jimmy alone faced her.

Her eye-slit revealed a ghost of a smile.

As she approached the cushions, Avishalom pulled Jimmy down to the seat to Ezra’s left, then leaned toward his ear and whispered, “The man from whom I learned this tongue is no longer among us. He looked upon the queen far more than was wise.”

Jimmy stiffened at his words, suddenly interested in the package in Ezra’s hands. “What happened to him?”

“They started with his eyes,” Avishalom replied, then patted Jimmy on the back and stood. “Be prudent,” he added, and looked away while Tamar arranged herself on the cushion to Ezra’s right.

Ezra began to unwrap the bundle that had been placed in front of him, while on either side, his companions began to make subtle motions toward each other, leaning forward just enough to see around Ezra’s head, sliding ever closer to the Scribe. As he leaned forward to untie the last knot, Jimmy and Tamar could not take their eyes off each other above his back. The Scribe straightened up, blocking their view of each other and whispered, “Contain yourselves, you fools,” then smiled for the crowd and held up the cloth, upon which sat three large onions.

The assembled oohed admiringly, and Ezra pulled a knife from his bosom, then began to peel and dice the onions, going so far as to mime tears to make his watchers laugh.

Jimmy pulled his eyes from Tamar long enough to realize Avishalom had taken the cushion beside him, then whispered, “Okay, I’m confused. What’s the big deal with the onions?”

“I was indeed instructed to explain the value we place in onions and garlic,” said Avishalom. “As a matter of fact, an ancient sage by the name of NaChMan Bialik wrote a ballad explaining how it all started. One day, I may try to translate it to English. Would you help me?”

“Huh?” said Jimmy.

“Another time, then,” he smiled, chuckling to himself. “In the elder days, a stranger appeared among us, back when the Sambatyon could still be crossed. He was curious and polite, and he was invited to dine with the High Priest, though he had no gift for his host. Well, the meal they shared was bland and tasteless, and the High Priest was greatly embarrassed to have spread such a poor meal before the stranger. Seeing his displeasure, the stranger reached into his bag and pulled out an onion, the first that had ever been seen in this land. He cooked it and added it to their food, and the meal was transformed into the greatest that had ever been served in Sheba.

“The High Priest was so impressed that he declared the onion holy, abounding in taste and high in value, and lamented the fact that they had eaten it entirely. At this, the stranger pulled another onion from his bag, and he taught the High Priest how to cultivate more.

“The stranger had given his host an exceedingly fine gift, and the High Priest wished to reciprocate, but had no idea how he could match the gift of the onions. At this, the stranger asked for a few of the rocks of the land, the colorful ornamental stones. Now, that was a problem,” he continued, watching Ezra stir the cooking onions. “The Levites, who had accepted us into their land and among whom we dwelled, believed the land was a sacred place, and that removing the least of its stones was sacrilege. We embraced their way, as our forebears well knew how men in other lands fought and killed and destroyed for stones like ours—how they assigned great worth to worthless pebbles. But the High Priest reasoned that a man as wise as the stranger would know how to care for the stones properly, and because his gift had been so wonderful, the stranger was permitted to fill his bag with stones and return to his own land.

“Years passed, and the stranger’s brother journeyed to our land and presented himself to the High Priest. He offered another marvelous gift, a sack full of garlic bulbs. Once again, the High Priest was immensely grateful for this gift, declared the garlic holy and high in value, and he sought to repay the stranger for his kindness.”

“Another sack of precious worthless stones?” Jimmy interrupted.

“Oh, far better. The High Priest decided that such a present warranted the finest gift in our land: a sack full of onions.”

Avishalom saw the expression on Jimmy’s face and shook his head, laughing. “Truly, since time forgotten, the greatest treasures of Sheba have been our onions and garlic. It never ceases to amaze me that strangers to this land are obsessed with the paving stones. Stones!” he chuckled. “What can a stone do for you? Oh, they’re pretty enough as decoration, but that’s all a stone will ever be—just a piece of decoration, or perhaps a knife blade. But a single onion, in time, can produce an entire field of crops.”

Jimmy pondered this while Ezra began to ladle out pieces of onion to the beggars who passed before him. The old man beamed as he shared his food, and most guests nodded their thanks.

All, Jimmy noticed, except the short man with the blond hair, who only muttered, “Das Schwein,” and slunk away.

He would have continued to watch the man—and his two companions, who similarly took their onions to go—but Ezra tapped his shoulder and held the bowl in front of him. “Takest thou and eat,” he offered, and swiveled to position the bowl between Jimmy and Tamar. They reached for the onions simultaneously, and Jimmy smiled as their hands, perhaps intentionally, collided.

After the music and the singing and the dancing and many courses of different dishes, the food in front of Jimmy and Tamar was still not consumed, and their hands were still in the bowl, though they seldom made the trip to their mouths. Ezra leaned on attendants to help him stand up from his pillow. “It’s almost midnight,” he declared in Sheban, and a mischievous wink was unmistakable in his voice. Then he stretched his hand to Tamar and said, “Shall we take a stroll to the house, daughter?” It was not a question.

“Yes, Uncle,” said Tamar, wiping her hand on a cloth one of the servants had offered to her.

She stole a last glance at Jimmy, and Jimmy believed she was smiling, then she accepted her uncle’s arm. Avishalom detained Jimmy from following them. “It’s almost midnight,” he said to Jimmy.

“What’s so special about midnight?” asked Jimmy.

“Ha, we have a lot to learn,” answered Avishalom. “But first, at midnight, we’ll celebrate your friend’s wedding.”

Avishalom and the people who stayed behind to tidy up laughed to see Jimmy’s baffled reaction.

“It’s a great tradition in Sheba,” explained Avishalom while leading Jimmy in the opposite direction to where the Levites had deposited the cage holding Eugene. “On the day the future Queen of Sheba is introduced to the nation, many weddings are celebrated. It’s a great honor among our people. At midnight on that day, these weddings are consummated, and couples who are already married will try to conceive—it’s a great night indeed.”

Jimmy’s brow furrowed. “So…you’re telling me that tonight, the entire nation is busy fucking?”

“You’ll have to explain that verb to me later,” said Avishalom. “But we shouldn’t miss your friend’s wedding.”

“Eugene’s wedding!” Jimmy exclaimed.

“If your friend’s name is Eugene, then tonight is Eugene’s wedding,” answered Avishalom. “It’s also a great tradition that tonight, strangers are pardoned and accepted to dwell among us, and Sheban women are provided for wives.”

They walked in silence for a while. Jimmy wondered about Eugene’s fate and thought about when he would see Tamar next. He realized that he had not eaten much during the feast—his fingers had been entwined with Tamar’s, and he had been afraid and too excited to disengage them to eat.

He also needed his medicine. The night was bright with the full moon, and the Forum was washed in a silvery light. Beggars roamed the aisles, collecting leftovers from the day’s festivities, but other than their occasional footsteps, the Forum was silent and empty. When they reached the lonely corner in which Eugene’s cage had been abandoned, Avishalom said to Jimmy, “Go visit with your friend, I’ll direct the women to the cage,” and he disappeared, walking quickly into the shadows.

The Levite captors had long since departed, but Eugene could find no reason to cry for help. The beggars merely ignored him—better than the laughing crowd, but still ineffective. He sat with his back to the bars, his knees tucked to his chin, and drifted. At least they had fed him—quite well, truth be told, and his stomach was more satisfied than it had been in days—but the night was cooling, and the loincloth offered little protection.

Eugene had almost begun to doze when his cage began to rattle, and he jerked his head up in alarm, smacking the top of the cage as he did so.

“Eugene,” Jimmy whispered, dropping to a crouch. “Hey, Eugene, it’s me—it’s Jimmy, remember?”

“Jimmy!” he hissed. “Oh my God, Jimmy…you’ve got to get me out of here! What the hell took you so long?” he asked, his voice rising, but he stopped almost as quickly as he had begun when he spotted the same three beggars hovering around the cage. Then decided to ignore them and to concentrate on Jimmy.

They stared at each other through the bars, the one richly robed, the other exhausted and nearly naked.

“Sorry you didn’t make it,” Jimmy said.

“Make it!” Eugene cried, then remembered and lowered his voice. “They grabbed me as soon as I left the forest. They’re good, Jimmy. They can trace a snake in a mountain covered with tall grass. They took everything. Everything, Jimmy. Everything. My clothes, the backpack—they got the fucking diamonds, man.”

“What about the disc?”

Eugene glowered out at him. “What part of ‘everything’ did you not understand?”

“Shit,” Jimmy muttered, and pushed himself upright.

“Hey, don’t give me that,” said Eugene, struggling to keep an eye on Jimmy. “I did the best I could—and some help you were!”

“I’m not mad,” Jimmy replied through gritted teeth, then knelt before the cage and pulled Eugene close to him. “Listen, this place is like friggin’ Utopia, only they kill you if you screw up, and they’re not too concerned with humane punishment. But everything’s on that disc. We’ll be famous if we can get this place on the map. It…it’s like the land time forgot or something.” He sat back and nodded. “Understand?”

“Yeah,” said Eugene. “But let’s get one thing straight, kid: You totally fucked me over. You were my ticket back to the USA, you know? Look at me now!” he yelled. “Do you have any idea how much I lost? How much I had in a single pocket? A pocket? Jesus, I had a whole backpack full of diamonds!”

Jimmy flinched, and Eugene noticed. “What’s wrong with you?”

“They took my stuff, too,” Jimmy gasped, and hugged himself until the wave ended. “My pills. I haven’t had anything since morning, and I…I’m not feeling so great, man.”

“Shit,” he whispered. “Why’d they take your meds?”

“I don’t know,” said Jimmy, “but I need them.”

“Hey, look,” Eugene interrupted, “I found them once, I can find them again. Just get me out of this goddamned cage and I’ll tell you what to do. I know where they are.”

“Sure,” he replied, and lifted the lid.

Eugene stared at the swath of sky that had just materialized over him, then realized the cage was open and scrambled out. “How’d you do that?”

“It was unlocked,” Jimmy shrugged. “They don’t lock up people around here. Maim and kill, sure, but not imprison.”

“Yeah, except for the whole ‘no one leaves’ bit.” He stretched his legs, then reached back into the cage and pulled out a jar of wine. “The booze isn’t bad, though. Small mercies.”

Before he could uncap the jar, the short German stepped out of the shadows. “Where is it?”

“Where is what?” Eugene asked, surprised to hear English, though accented.

The other two men joined him, and the trio moved closer to the cage. “His medicine. Do you know where it is?”

“Maybe,” Eugene ventured. “Who’s asking?”

“Friends,” he continued. “You may call me Frederick. My associates,” he added, pointing to the men behind him, “Alexey and Broosh. We…” He paused, looked to see whether any Sheban was around, then chose his words carefully. “We share your problem.” Before Eugene could respond, Frederick leapt forward and pulled Eugene’s ear to his mouth. “We’re locked up like you and Baldy here. His medicine is in the place where they took our stuff. Guns. Do you know where our guns are? If we can get them, we’ll rule this place.”

One of the two white beggars whistled and Fredrick quickly retreated into the darkness.

Jimmy turned and saw what had shooed the beggars away: Avishalom was approaching with a beautiful woman on his arm, accompanied by another seven women. “My wife, Michal,” he smiled. “She asked if I could provide the explanations tonight, and I could hardly say no.”

Jimmy studied the women, none of whom resembled Tamar’s warriors. Each woman held out a beautifully embroidered robe. A few smiled coyly, while others merely lowered their eyes and turned their garments until the gold and silver threads caught the torchlight.

Michal spoke, and Avishalom turned to Eugene. “But first you have to wash.”

“First of what?” Eugene turned belligerent.

“Before your wedding,” replied Avishalom.

“Huh?”

The women laughed as the two Levites tending the cage appeared from the shadows, lifted Eugene and threw him into a marble basin full of water at the side of the gate.

“What the fuck,” Eugene screamed; the water was cold.

But he was no match to the two Levites. They scrub him, tore the loincloth off and Eugene struggled to cover himself. The women giggled. Then he was covered with a piece of cloth and delivered back to stand in front of the women by the cage.

Avishalom spoke, “We come with an offer of peace for you,” he began. “Choose a wife. Each of these women has a house of her own. Six have children, but none has a husband.”

Puzzled, Eugene looked at the young women before him, then back at Avishalom. “Seriously?”

“Of course. Choose whomever you like.”

“Huh,” he mumbled, and stared at each in turn. The women were all comely, olive skinned with dark hair and eyes, and when he finished his inspection, he turned back to Avishalom with a frown. “They’re all pretty.”

“Yes, they made themselves pretty for you.”

“Me?”

“Eugene, this is your night. Pick a wife,” said Jimmy.

“No help there, thanks,” Eugene muttered, and thought for a moment. “Okay, so which one is richest?”

“That,” said Avishalom, pointing to the most voluptuous of the seven women, “would be Me’acha. She inherited two fields of onions,” he explained.

“Onions?”

“Trust me,” Jimmy interrupted, “you want onions. She’s basically a millionaire.”

Eugene’s expression shifted, and when Michal pulled the woman out of the crowd, he broke into a wide smile. “Yeah, that’s what I’m talking about,” he grinned, and she looked demurely at her feet.

“Me’acha Bat Adomalik,” said Avishalom, making the introductions. “A wise choice.”

Me’acha extended her robe toward Eugene, but just as he reached out to accept it, he withdrew his hand and looked back at Avishalom. “Okay, what’s the catch?”

“Catch?” the scholar asked, brow furrowed.

“Yeah, catch. What’s the trick? I’ve never been all that lucky, bud—has she been married before?”

“Yes, once,” said Avishalom, after a brief conference with Michal. “She’s a widow.”

“What happened to him?”

“Executed for adultery.”

Eugene’s eyes widened and he jabbed his finger toward Me’acha. “What sort of idiot would cheat on her? She’s gorgeous!” His eyes narrowed again, and he asked, “So what drove him away, then?”

“We don’t know,” Avishalom shrugged, “but he found solace in the company of a sheep.”

Eugene’s face crinkled into a snarl. “A sheep.”

“Yes.”

“Shit, man,” he exclaimed, “that ain’t right. Fine—done deal,” he continued, and accepted the robe from Me’acha.

As she helped him into the robe, Michal led the other women away, and Jimmy tried to keep from laughing. “Well, Eugene,” he finally said, biting his lip as Eugene twirled to feel the silk against his bare skin, “you may have lost my bag, my credit cards, my passport, my ticket, and a zillion dollars’ worth of diamonds, but now you have a wife, a house, and two onion fields. Well done.”

“And three children,” Avishalom added, clapping Eugene on the back. “The Law holds that your marriage should be consummated on the first night.”

Eugene looked from him to Me’acha, who watched with an uncomprehending smile. “She’s fine with this?”

“She knows the Law.”

“Then hell, yes,” he beamed, and allowed Me’acha to lead him away.

“Wait!” Jimmy called after them until Me’acha, seemingly peeved, released Eugene’s hand. “My pills—where are they?” he whispered.

“Right, forgot about that,” said Eugene, and pulled him aside. “The fucking Levites took everything to a cave. I think they called it ‘Mamgorot,’ or something like that. See if anyone can show you the way, huh?” Beside him, Me’acha began to tug on his arm, and Eugene smiled helplessly. “I’m sorry, kid, it looks like I’ve got to go. Do you have your shots?”

“What part of ‘everything’ did you not understand?” he muttered, and watched as Me’acha dragged Eugene out of the Forum.

When they had departed, Jimmy grimaced and held his stomach, and Avishalom approached, concerned. “Are you ill?” he asked. “Did dinner not suit you?”

“It was fine,” Jimmy replied, and wiped the sweat off his forehead. “I need my medicine.”

“What sort of medicine?” Avishalom asked. “Can I be of…”

“Not your medicine,” he interrupted. “Mine. The maids who washed me…the bath…they took it.” Still clutching his stomach, he looked up and added, “Eugene says it may be somewhere called Mamgorot. Can you help me?”

Avishalom blanched, then took several steps back and vehemently shook his head. “No…no, I…I do not…I’m sorry,” he stuttered, grabbed his wife’s hand, and quickly led her away.

As Avishalom disappeared through an entrance, Frederick approached long enough to say, “Idiot! Never ask them about that place!” before he and his companions ran off in the opposite direction. “What are you trying to do?” he called, running for the back door. “Kill us all?”

But Jimmy had ceased to care. He was in pain.

The candlelight vigil had begun with the swim team, but had quickly spread throughout the student body. Seven days since Jimmy stood in the gym and told everyone about the great time he would have in California, his friends and classmates gathered back in the bleachers to comfort each other, as if their numbers alone would somehow conjure him back to Long Island.

Tima sat on the front row between his parents, who now spoke to each other as little as possible, and wished he could have taken the space between his mother and grandfather, which remained empty. He looked around the gym and saw his brother’s face reflected back to him in a dozen oversized photos: Jimmy’s class portrait, Jimmy and Tiffany sitting together on a chartered bus, Jimmy with three medals around his neck, his face split by his enormous grin.

The candle dripped onto his hand, but Tima made no sound. If no one noticed him, no one would yell.

When a man in a black suit approached the podium, however, he could hold in his curiosity no longer.

“Mommy,” he whispered, pulling on her sleeve, “does he know where Jimmy is?”

Linda sighed in exasperation as wax dripped onto her skirt. “Of course not,” she snapped. “Now be quiet and sit still!”

The man behind the podium adjusted his collar, then slipped a stole around his shoulders and clasped his hands. “Friends…family…loved ones,” he began, looking around the room. “I’m sure, if he were here right now, Jimmy would thank you for coming. Now, let us pray.”

Tima bowed his head, calling up Jimmy’s face, healthy and full, behind his eyes. It faded a moment later to Jimmy’s hospital face—the face that had scared him more than anything—and then to the sight of the TV van that had parked on their lawn that morning. But the van only reminded him of his parents’ latest fight, and so Tima opened his eyes and stared out at the posters of Jimmy, willing him to come home.