CHAPTER 22

Amnon lay on his stomach on the bluff overlooking the quarry where Tamar’s company swam. Peering out through the brush, his eyes fixed on the smaller pool where Tamar was swimming with her bald companion.

As if sensing his tension, Laban shook his head and whispered, “Not yet, my lord. They are still too cautious. Wait until they tire—if they’re sleeping, they’ll be much easier to surprise.”

“He’s touching my princess,” Amnon muttered in reply.

“Ignore him. The boy will be removed shortly.”

Amnon flipped over and sat up to look at his soldiers, who had tethered their horses a safe distance away and were waiting further down the slope, hidden from view by the swimmers. He slid down the hillside, then pushed himself to his feet, pulled himself to his full height, and planted his hands on his hips. “Alright, you dogs,” he muttered, waiting as his soldiers approached to catch his command. “They’re waiting for you. Take your pick, but remember—the princess is mine.”

One by one, the men began to smile, then reached for their swords.

The quarry was refreshing, but could only be withstood in small doses. Soon, Jimmy surrendered to the chill and crawled back onto the bank, and Tamar joined him, using her robe as a towel. She laughed as Jimmy tried to dry himself. “I did tell thee to remove thy clothing,” she smirked, wringing out her long hair.

Jimmy shivered, and Tamar extended her hand, “Come, there is a ledge exposed to the sun. We can dry there.”

“But wouldn’t it be away from your women?” he asked.

Tamar arched an eyebrow, and Jimmy shut up.

The ledge was only a short climb above their quarry, accessed by a narrow series of wind-worn handholds. Tamar nodded to her women as she began to climb. Jimmy joined her a moment later, and they sat beside each other, nearly touching, as Tamar sunned her legs and Jimmy tried to make his pants dry.

“Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?” he finally said, and Tamar looked away with a smile. “Seriously,” he insisted, “you’re incredible. I’ve never known anyone like you…hell, I’ve never been this close to a woman, but especially not someone like you…”

Tamar surprised him with a quick kiss on the cheek, then rested her head on his shoulder. “Surely there are beautiful women in thy land.”

“Sure,” said Jimmy, “but none of them would have anything to do with me.”

“Oh?” she asked, sitting up to smile at him. “And why not?”

He ran his hand over his smooth head and smiled sadly. “Cancer’s not very appealing, Tamar. I’ve been really sick.”

“But thou hast thy medicine now, so thou wilt be healed.”

He shook his head sadly. “The drugs, they only treat the symptoms. To heal, I need chemo,” he said, and his voice trailed off.

Tamar’s brow furrowed. “Chemo?”

“In a hospital. It’s painful, Tamar. It’s painful…” He shuddered at the memory and his eyes filled with tears of frustration. “I didn’t want to go through that again.”

She waited, watching his face work.

“I ran away,” said Jimmy. “My grandfather knew how much I suffered, and so helped me run away.”

Tamar shook her head in puzzlement. “But I understand thee not, why wouldst thou run from thy physicians if thou art…” She hesitated.

“Tamar, I need to be honest with you,” he said, turning to her and taking her hands. “I’m dying. My medicine might make the symptoms better, but it won’t heal me. This thing is eating me from the inside. To heal, to fight this thing, I need to go to a hospital. Ten cups of Isaiah Brew won’t heal me.”

“Isaiah Brew heals everything,” she whispered.

Jimmy felt his anger brewing. “I need to go to my hospital, Tamar, I don’t have long…” He fell silent and looked away.

Tamar was silent for a moment, her mouth a tight line, and then she repeated the mantra of the Law, almost crying: “You Shall Not Cross the Sambatyon.”

Which, Jimmy, understood was his death sentence.

They sat in silence, touching and not touching each other, only feeling the warmth of their bodies and faintly hearing the warriors frolicking in the water below.

After a while Jimmy, extricated himself from her grip and stared deep into her dark, troubled eyes. “But what about you, Tamar? Is this what you want? Another ten years, and then some damn priest will decide that it’s time for you to kill yourself?”

“The Law,” she said. “This is our Law, Jimmy.”

“The Law, the Law!” he cried in anger and frustration. “Fuck the Law!”

“Fuck?”

“Change the Law. You can amend the Law.”

“Is this the meaning of Fuck the Law?” she asked.

Jimmy stared at her for a long moment, “No, Tamar. The meaning maybe but not the language.”

She looked at him, not understanding his anger and the language. “We don’t change the Law,” she said simply and directly.

“Precisely,” he warmed up to the idea. “Let me explain,” he said and began to talk about the Constitution and Amendments and debate - when suddenly a great shout went up from the quarry, men and women yelling at once, and Tamar leapt out of Jimmy’s grasp. “Stay low!” she hissed, pushing him down on the ledge, and stood on the edge to see the source of the outcry.

Amnon and Laban stood together on the ridge, watching as the soldiers surrounded the quarry. Each man had gone heavily armed, sword either outstretched or at the ready, but their preparations seemed unnecessary, as Tamar’s women scrambled together in the middle of the lake, seemingly trying to either cover themselves or cling to each other. The men advanced, smiling at their fear, and, one by one, each pried a woman out of the water and carried her, naked and screaming for help, into the bushes.

“Pathetic,” Amnon laughed, but Laban shook his head.

“It’s a trap,” he muttered, “It’s a trap. Those women never scream. They didn’t cover themselves, they just let the men carry them. It’s a trap, my Lord.”

Amnon just watched as the first soldier left with a woman over his shoulder.

“Kill them! Kill them, you fools!” Laban bellowed at the soldiers. “It’s a trap!”

“Oh, relax,” said Amnon, cuffing him on the shoulder. “Let them have their fun. There’s no need for jealousy,” he remarked with a smirk. “It doesn’t suit you.”

Laban looked down at him in disbelief. “You think me that petty? You…stupid boy,” he shouted, prodding Amnon in the chest, “don’t you realize who they are?”

“They didn’t even try to fight,” Jimmy murmured, watching the last soldier disappear into the trees. “Why did they just give up?”

“They never give up,” said Tamar, tightening her belt. “And my sword remains with the horses. I must go. Stayest thou here, be safe.”

“What about you?” he cried. Hide here with me. We can reach the horses and—”

She turned to him with contempt in her eyes. “A queen does not hide, or flee,” she snapped, and dove into the quarry.

Amnon’s eyes flew open at the splash, his anger at Laban forgotten. “Tamar,” he whispered, pointing down at the quarry. “She’s there, she’s alone! Now’s my…”

Laban hit him in the head and grabbed his arms. “Don’t be an idiot,” he snarled, and pulled Amnon back from the edge. Forcing the boy to the ground, he muttered, “Wait and see if the men return.”

“If?” said Amnon, pushing Laban off of him. “What is this if?”

A man screamed in the woods below, and Laban’s lip curled into a snarl. “If. My lord.”

At the first scream, Jimmy had almost jumped down after Tamar, but then he realized that it came from the trees, and that Tamar was swimming quickly to the bank where the horses stood. By the time she reached the bank and pulled her sword free, more screams were echoing through the woods, and the first of Tamar’s warriors had returned, clad in her abductor’s armor and wielding his bloody sword. She nodded to the princess in passing, then washed the blade in the quarry as another pair of warriors in varying states of dress emerged.

Jimmy heard a man’s voice yelling from the top of the cliff, but couldn’t make out the words.

As the last of the warriors returned to join her companions and Tamar strapped on a borrowed breastplate, a platoon of the High Priest’s men ran toward the quarry, swords drawn and spears ready.

The warriors moved quickly, first creating a human wall around Tamar, then fanning out to meet their assailants.

Within moments, pools of red began to spread across the quarry, but more men continued to come.

“There,” said Amnon, though much of the bravado had left his voice after the first wave of soldiers was decimated by Tamar’s warriors. “There she is! She’s alone, I can…”

“You can’t,” Laban shouted.

At that, Amnon punched him in the stomach, smiling as Laban doubled over. “Remember your place,” he snapped, and took his place on the edge of the cliff. “Bring me the princess!” he bellowed, waving his arms to get his men’s attention. “The princess! Whatever it takes!”

Jimmy watched as another two platoons of soldiers joined the fray, and now the soldiers moved into a tight formation, like an armed battering ram. The warriors retreated into a circle around Tamar, the better to withstand the onslaught, but the ram continued to press forward, driving them back toward the quarry.

As he climbed down the ledge, Jimmy reached into the pocket of his robe and felt for the heavy weight. Yes, there it was. He hoped Tamar would forgive him, he thought, as he dove into the quarry. In a few perfect strokes, he reached the bank, lifted himself up, and joined the women around Tamar.

Tamar gritted her teeth and braced herself to fight. The women were strong, but tiring with the continued conflict, and Amnon’s soldiers had pulled out their secret weapon, a giant of a man with a sword twice the length of hers. The giant moved to the front of the ram and simply butted one of the warriors out of his way, then smiled down at Tamar. “Found you,” he said, and was about to knock her sword from her hands when Jimmy pushed through the gap in the circle and stood in front of Tamar.

“Run,” she panted, bracing herself for the blow.

“Not today,” he said, and pulled a pistol out of his robe.

“Jimmy, what…” Tamar began, but her words were cut off when he pulled the trigger.

The giant staggered, shocked at the impact, and fell back against the men behind him. Jimmy stepped forward and fired again, aiming for the giant’s head. It splashed open like a watermelon dropped from the second floor, and the soldiers scattered in terror as the giant’s blood splattered the ground.

The warriors, though startled at the alien sound, regrouped around Tamar as the soldiers ran.

“No,” whimpered Amnon. “No! No!”

Before he could work himself into a tantrum and draw the bald one’s attention, Laban scooped Amnon off the ground, threw him over his shoulder, and ran for the horses. The princess’s warriors were difficult enough, but not a challenge he wished to face when one of their number possessed a weapon that shot death with a sound.

“He’s Prince Solomon, my Lord,” he shouted as he ran, carrying Amnon. “He’s Prince Solomon.”

When the last of the soldiers had disappeared, Tamar sheathed her sword and spoke to the warriors, who turned and walked off to collect the wounded and close the eyes of the fallen. As they left, she whirled around to Jimmy with fire in her eyes. “What is that?” she demanded.

“A pistol,” he replied, keeping his voice low and even. “I told you I was no good with swords,” he added, expecting to be rewarded for saving her life once again.

She fought to keep her temper under control.

“From Mamgorot?” she hissed.

“It saved your life,” he interrupted.

“Thou hast broken our Law,” she snapped. “And thou hast broken my trust.” She stepped away from him and shook her head. “I should have killed thee in Mamgorot,” she said, and walked to her horse.

“Tamar…” he called after her, but before he could leave the quarry, a pair of Levites silently emerged from the trees. As one bent to collect the body of the giant, the other extended his hand to Jimmy.

Jimmy placed the pistol in the man’s palm, and the Levite tucked it away in his robe. Without a word, he helped his companion hoist the body, and they vanished as quickly as they had appeared.

Jimmy stared at the quarry, now polluted with blood and floating soldiers. He turned away with a shudder and returned to his horse, where he found his medicine pouch waiting in the grass. One of Tamar’s warriors held the horse’s reins, and the other extended her hand to help him into the saddle. “Prince Solomon,” she said in invitation, bowing her head.

He took her hand.

The shouting was bad, but Tima knew that the non-shouting was worse.

He hid at the top of the staircase, listening as his parents talked with Mrs. Kimbell, the police, and a dark man who had arrived in a long car with tinted windows and wore a gray suit. The man’s speech was accented, and although Tima hadn’t been able to understand his introduction, one of the police officers had mentioned the Ethiopian embassy.

“We are doing everything we can, Mrs. Paterson,” the man said, and Tima nodded, hoping it was true.

“Everything?” his mother non-shouted. “Everything? My child is alone, we have no idea where to find him, and his medicine is long gone by now. And you’re sitting here, telling me you’re doing everything you can do?”

Tima turned away from the stairs and looked out the hallway window. Yellow ribbons decorated mailboxes as far as he could see. One of the many news trucks had even tied a ribbon to its front antenna.