The Dovekeepers - Alice Hoffman [179]
My brother, your dog was always at your side, as quiet as you were, with a silence he might well have learned from the leopard. When a battle was begun, he broke his silence and roared beside you, for he had no fear of blood or of metal or of death. He was your companion, and slept with you, whether you were alone or with the man who knew who you were, understanding why you set yourself apart under the stars. Though you were dutiful enough when you were needed, willing to carry the other warriors’ double-edged swords, their slingshots, their spears, you did not mingle among them.
When you slipped out of your tunic, you disappeared beneath the moon. You vanished into the air and rested there, between the worlds.
That was when I came to take your place.
I STOLE out the South Water Gate with the dog so that I might go to my sister. I had wrapped myself in shawls, for the chill would soon be upon us in the nights. I had brought my sister to life once and would do so again. No guard would stop me, for I was Adir the brave, named for the kings of his father’s people, and those posted at the gate merely nodded a greeting to a fellow warrior. My bow was strapped to my back. The dark had begun to stretch across the horizon. Fading light had turned the cliffs red in the distance. Larks and brilliant blue songbirds were crossing the sky, catching the gnats that swarmed in the evening. I made certain to tread carefully, for a single rock might cause the Romans to notice me. I needed to make the perilous climb to the cave of the Essenes.
I was so focused on the Roman camp, I never thought I might be followed. I wasn’t prepared when I was grabbed and pulled from the path. I wished I had the knife my father had given to me. In such close battle, my bow was pointless. I turned to fight, but the man who held me was unafraid, as angels and demons are said to be. I battled with him until he overcame me. Perhaps this was not a man at all but one of the seven wolves in my dreams. If so, my dream had prophesied my defeat. I wept at my own weakness. I, who had always been so fierce, gave myself up to him, expecting to be consumed by either light or flames.
I knew him when Eran lay down as though at his master’s feet. I saw my follower for who he was, the man who owned nothing but the ax he carried. He said he would accompany me, and if he fell from the cliff we climbed, then it was meant to be, for he yearned for death and had no choice but to court it. If Mal’ach ha-Mavet came to him, then what now came to pass was only what he had wished for all along.
I did not wish to put him at risk for the sake of my sister, but in battle you cannot tell another when it is his time to enter the World-to-Come, nor is it possible to keep any man in this world when he wishes to leave it behind. I couldn’t argue with the Man from the Valley, that was something a woman might do, and he had vowed to never be with a woman other than his wife. I was his comrade, and as such I must respect his desire. I could not cling to him, for that would show me to be a woman as well. I wore Adir’s tunic and carried his bow, therefore I must step aside.
We tied the dog to a thornbush, then went on, the sound of our breathing echoing. The new moon shone with a thin, fine light, but soon clouds moved across so we could slink through the dark. I didn’t need to see the Man from the Valley to know he was there, for we were connected by something stronger than sight, and like the king’s horses we did not stumble on the sheer cliff. I had half-imagined I might capture my sister, tie her with ropes, and carry her back to the fortress. But had I done so, she would have cried out, as she had called for her father when we left the Iron Mountain. Her shouts would have brought the Romans upon us, and I did not wish to be the cause of my sister’s death.
I knew I must let her cause that herself.
Once, as I stared into the dark, my foot slipped