The Dovekeepers - Alice Hoffman [177]
I stood there much of the day, convinced my dream had been a pathway, a sign that God knew my sister still belonged to me and that we could never truly be parted. At twilight, the hour between worlds when one’s eyes can play tricks and it is easy to see what you wish to view rather than what is before you, I thought I spied Nahara. She was following the thin black goats as they searched in vain for tufts of grass on the sheer, rocky cliff. Below us, in their camp, the Romans would soon enough notice her as well if she went along the mountain while there was still light. Since the soldiers had made camp, the Essenes had not left their cave in daylight. But their provisions would last for only so long if no one came to their assistance. If they had no spring and no well, they would soon die of thirst.
Half of the doves had been taken from us, though my mother begged they be allowed to live. Instead, they had been used for meat. We had but a few baskets of their leavings to feed the earth, and the earth repaid us in kind for our lack of gratitude. In the orchards the leaves that unfurled were spotted; fruit came to us already withered. During our harvest, I gathered what I could for my sister. I could not look across the valley and watch her starve while we could still manage to feed ourselves, however meagerly. I packed dried beans and millet, a small jar of oil we had been allotted. I was willing to be a thief, as I had been willing to be a liar, and a pretender, and a murderer. But there was one offense I could not bring myself to commit. I, who had killed men and had tasted blood, could not bring myself to murder the doves we had tended. I went to Yael, to plead for her help, which she gave me without question.
Together we went to the dovecote. The pale moon watched over us and allowed us to slip through the plaza as nothing more than shadows. We went inside, then crouched upon the straw. I watched as Yael called the doves to her. She raised her hand up, and they were summoned. As each one came to her, Yael sat with it quietly, then broke its neck. She wept as she did so, such was her sacrifice on my behalf. Then she lay their limp bodies on her lap, stroking their feathers before she gave them to me.
She walked me back to my chambers, helping me carry the provisions I meant to bring to my sister. As I had helped her in her times of need, so she was now beside me. I would never have imagined that she who had once been my rival had become a sister to me. If anything, I had imagined she might become my sister through the laws of marriage. Amram and I had always planned to include her in the ceremony, but that time was over. The day after the little messenger girl told him I was ill, Amram came to our chambers and knocked upon the door. My mother was surprised that, as soon as I spied who the caller was, I slunk into the garden. I overheard him ask about my fever and heard her answer that it was my brother who had been ill, not I. Perhaps Amram had complained to his sister, for as we neared the barracks Yael murmured, “My brother says that he rarely sees you. He still wears the blue token.”
“That’s done in your honor.” I kept my eyes lowered. “Not mine.”
“Every man changes in war.”
From her tone I understood that she knew some part of her brother had been lost.
I DRESSED in my brother’s tunic and took a heavy pack upon my back, meant for my sister. Adir was still on his pallet because of his difficulty in walking. When he saw me dressed as him, he was amazed. He vowed he himself would think that I was Adir had he not known better. He hadn’t fully understood that he had managed to be a warrior though he still lay in a darkened corner of our chamber.
“They all believe I am you,” I admitted.
My brother accepted that I had taken his place and that I had honored his name. This was why the warriors left gifts of oil and myrrh at the door and why people came to offer their congratulations on the bravery of his deeds.
My brother lifted himself up on one elbow to study me. The dog stood beside me, a pack