The Dovekeepers - Alice Hoffman [169]
The footpath was treacherous for the careless. Dust rose into our faces, and the rocks slid out beneath our feet. I stayed to myself, Eran at my side, and let the other warriors interpret my demeanor as shyness. As we went along, several men applauded me for my willingness to set forth so soon after my wound. They praised Eran as well, saying that a man whose dog was loyal to him was one you wanted beside you in battle. I dipped my head in gratitude, giving thanks in silence. Whoever gives his true self away does so with words.
We were setting forth in the direction of Ein Gedi. West of that place there was said to be a band of travelers who had settled among the local people and had in their possession gold and gem-stones, oil and frankincense. On the mountain we were suffering from great poverty. When our walls fell down, we repaired them with mud and straw; when our lamps were without oil, we let them remain dark; when there was not enough wood, we used the waste of donkeys for our fires. We ate not stew or boiled meat but gruel, a thin mixture of barley flavored with the flesh of the few doves we had to spare for our meals. Our warriors had no choice but to take what they needed from villages and camps, so our people might live. It was no different than what I had done alongside Nahara’s father. This was our country, and we were its kings, and those who entered were wise to understand they were at our mercy.
We walked until we were tired, sleeping in the open. The night was brisk, and I was glad for the dog’s presence, for I lay beside him and he warmed me. I watched Amram from beneath the cover of my cloak and my armor, but I was careful not to reveal myself. I kept my head down so that he would not see the scar he thought was a teardrop. I used the tricks I’d perfected in Moab, going off alone to relieve myself, never shirking my duties, speaking rarely and, when I did, only in a dull voice. They all came to accept me as Adir.
As soon as I could, I went off to hunt. I shot a young ibex, and when the buck stumbled upon being struck by my arrow, I went to him and slit his throat so that his spirit might rise painlessly and with dignity. When I brought my kill back to camp, draped over my shoulders, Amram himself came to butcher the creature with me.
“You have good aim, little brother,” he said to me.
My heart was hitting against my chest. I was both afraid that he would know me and perhaps more frightened that he would not. I swallowed my words and nodded simply in reply. My hands shook because of his nearness to me, and my deceit. I felt at that moment I was so clearly a woman that I was announcing myself with every breath I took. But I was not recognized. He clapped me on the shoulder heartily and still did not feel how hard my heart was beating.
I couldn’t blame Amram for not recognizing me when I had taken such care to disguise myself. The old assassin had taught me that men never see what is right before their eyes. They look in corners and under rocks, but if you are standing in front of them, they will pass you by, believing you to be no more than an olive tree, a part of the landscape and nothing more. Bar Elhanan had learned this as he skulked through the courtyards of the Temple, searching out his enemies. Disappear into something, he instructed me. Become not what you are but what is around you. A stone, a shadow, one archer among many. Mice are unseen because they cloak themselves in the darkness so often that,