The Dovekeepers - Alice Hoffman [120]
I asked my hostess to fetch a dish and some kindling. When she did so, I brought forth the myrrh Shirah had given me. Arieh was still dozing, so I laid him upon a small woven rug. Then I lighted the kindling with my flint. When the fire caught I told Channa what she must do. She would lean her head over the smoke and I would cover her in fabric so none could escape. She was to breathe deeply and keep the smoke inside her for as long as she could without taking another breath.
Channa recoiled, afraid she would choke to death on the fumes. She feared me, perhaps sensing the crimes I had committed. But I wasn’t there to do harm. I lifted Arieh back into my arms, and I hid the brand of my sin, slipping my hand inside the sleeping baby’s tunic, hoping I would not taint him merely by my touch.
“Breathe in and the way will be clear,” I promised.
Ben Ya’ir’s wife looked at me reproachfully, then did as I said. Though she didn’t trust me, she was desperate for air, willing to take the chance that the cure might be worse than the disease. She leaned forward, and I covered her head with a beautiful woven shawl. I sat watching as her shuddering gasps eased during the time she breathed in smoke. When the myrrh had burned to ash, I removed the fabric from her head. Channa drew a deep intake of air without any rasping. Her color had turned from sallow to rosy. The scent of myrrh clung to everything, a bitter fragrance in its purest form. We studied each other while the baby woke and happily began to play with a twig that had fallen from the kindling pile.
“I’ll talk to the guards about a visit,” Channa said thoughtfully. I had the impression, however, that her thoughts were truly on other matters. “I’ll do what I can for your slave.”
She led me back down the hall, past the orange light and the seven sisters on the wall. When I left she asked me for a promise to bring her more of the herb, so she would have access to the medicine should another attack begin. I said I would try my best to locate what she needed.
“I think you know where to find it,” she remarked.
She smiled grimly, clearly aware that I was not the one who possessed the knowledge regarding such remedies.
“Tell the witch I’m grateful,” she said.
YAEL WAS ALLOWED to visit the Man from the North, bringing a basket of food and a goatskin of water. She was instructed to speak to him through the door, but she had a glimpse of him when they unlocked the cell to shove the provisions inside. She saw that they had cut off his beard and his hair and had left whip marks on him with their ropes and chains.
“Go back to the palace,” Yael insisted after returning from this terrible visit. Her face was swollen with fury. “Talk to Ben Ya’ir’s wife again. Convince her to insist that the guards allow another visit. They’ll kill him soon enough. The least I can do is bring food and water, and see if I might heal his wounds.”
I said I’d have more luck with Ben Ya’ir’s wife if I took the baby with me.
Yael was cautious. In this way she was far wiser than I. “Why would she care about a baby whose name she doesn’t even know?”
“She’s lonely, friendless. There’s nothing to worry about. She’s taken a liking to him. Who can blame her?”
Yael accepted the compliment. She ran her hand over Arieh’s black hair and held him close. She could hardly bear to let him go, even for a few hours.
“It’s hard to say no to a face like his,” I reminded her.
“For an hour,” she said. “No more.”
The following day Yael watched over my grandsons while I went to Shirah for more of the breathing cure. Shirah and Aziza had already begun to cook their evening meal, but Shirah rose and went to her collection of herbs. This time she gave me both myrrh and frankincense—burned together they would be twice the remedy. Perhaps if the cure lasted longer, Channa would not ask for more. It was best to keep our distance from this woman, Shirah murmured.