Exodus - Leon Uris [204]
Soon the plateau atop Mount Tabor rang with songs. They were the same songs that Kitty had heard the children sing at Gan Dafna. They told of the wonder of the water sprinklers that redeemed the land and they told of the beauty of the Galilee and Judea. They sang of how haunted and lovely was the Negev Desert and they sang the spirited marches of the old Guardsman and the Haganah and the Palmach. They sang a song that said that David the King still walked the land of Israel.
Joab sat cross-legged with his tambour before him. It was a clay drum with goatskin head. With his fingertips and the heels of his hand he beat a rhythm to a reed flute playing an ancient Hebraic melody. Several of the Oriental girls danced in the same slow, swaying, sensuous gyrations that must have been danced in the palace of Solomon.
With each new song and each new dance the party quickened.
“Jordana!” someone called. “We want Jordana!”
She got into the ring and a cheer went up. An accordion played a Hungarian folk tune and everyone clapped in beat and Jordana whirled around the edge of the ring pulling out partners for a wild czardas. One by one she danced her partners down, with her red hair flying wildly in her face, framed against the leaping fire. Faster the accordion played and faster the onlookers clapped until Jordana herself stopped in exhaustion.
A half dozen came to the center and started a hora, the dance of the Jewish peasants. The hora ring grew larger and larger until everyone was up and a second ring formed outside the first. Joab and Ari pulled Kitty into the circle. The circle moved in one direction, then stopped as the dancers made a sudden leap and changed directions.
They had been singing and dancing for four hours and there was no indication of slowing up. David and Jordana slipped away quietly to the Saracen castle and wandered through the rooms until the sounds of the music and the tambour nearly vanished. They came upon a tiny cell set in the Wall of the East Winds and now the sound of the wind from the Jezreel Valley was all that they could hear. David spread his blanket on the earth and they embraced and caressed and loved each other.
“David! David!” Jordana cried, “I love you so!”
The wind died and they could hear wild music.
“David ... David ... David ...” she whispered over and over as her lips pressed his neck ...
And David repeated her name over and over.
His hand felt for the smoothness of her body. She took the clothing from her to ease his way and they pressed against each other and she asked to be taken and they blended into one.
After their love, Jordana lay in his arms. His fingertips traced over her lips and her eyes and through her hair.
“Jordana.” His whisper thrilled her through her body and soul.
“Do you remember the first time, David?”
“Yes.”
“I am the rose of Sharon and the lily of the valleys....” she whispered. “For lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone; the flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land. “
It became so still that each could hear only the other’s uneven breathing and the other’s heart beating.
“Take us the foxes, the little foxes, that spoil the vines: for our vines have tender grapes. My beloved is mine and I am his. Oh, David ... tell me, tell me.”
David whispered with his lips touching her ear, “Behold thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair; thou hast doves’ eyes within thy locks ... thy lips are like a thread of scarlet ...”
She squeezed his hand that rested upon her breast and he kissed her breast ... “Thy two breasts are like two young roes that are twins, which feed among the lilies ...”
And he kissed her lips ... “And the roof of thy mouth like the best wine for my beloved, that goeth down sweetly,