The Dovekeepers - Alice Hoffman [65]
I set my thoughts on the pattern of the leaves of the willow as I looked for fallen branches, and on the smoothness of the bark as I inhaled its scent, so fresh and green. I gathered the kindling in the white scarf the Essenes had given me. I brushed away stray leaves. When I did, they looked like rain falling, or the tears on Ben Simon’s face when he saw the two sister-brides in the desert.
I brought the firewood to a cave where I wouldn’t be seen, slipping inside a crevice that split the rocks. Women were warned away from such places. There were wild beasts in among the rocks, and robbers, perhaps demons as well. The sky was glowing with fading light, and the cliffs were streaked pink and gold. I waited for nightfall. I breathed the way a leopard might, panting, still feeling heat between my legs where I bled. I felt alone, drawn deep inside my own silence.
When it came time and the sky was sifting into darkness, I made a fire between the cliffs, so the wisps of smoke wouldn’t be noticed by the watchmen who patrolled the walls. I slipped off my garments and folded them. I had brought along pomegranate oil, which I poured into my hands and rubbed into my hair and skin. I then threw the knot of my shorn hair onto the pile of burning willow twigs. The sharp odor of a part of myself set aflame sent a shiver through me.
I crouched among the rocks and ate the herbs I’d been given, even though they made my tongue swell. It was blessed thistle, and the taste was indeed sharp, leaving a gritty film inside my mouth. I could barely swallow. When I had consumed the leaves, I felt a shadow reach a hand inside me.
For what seemed a long time, I sat back on my heels and waited for the spell to begin. I watched stars drop down from the sky. I glimpsed the bright arc of the new moon. It was Rosh Chodesh, the new month of Nissan. In the plaza this night was being celebrated, for this had been God’s first commandment to Israel, that we should keep time by charting the new moon, for it meant the renewal of our people and was a reminder that there is light in the darkness. This was what it meant to be human, to know that time moved and all things changed.
I realized then that I needed to forgo silence, which had been my sword and my shield. That was the price I must pay. What protected me once, I now must cast away. It was my gift, but no more.
I began to pray. Amen Amen Selah. The spell wound around me as the dark spun into light. The stars dropped closer. I was afraid of what was about to happen once my true nature was revealed before the eyes of God. But what was to be was now beyond my will, in the hands of fate. I had eaten of the herbs, started the flame, said the prayer that opened my wounds and my heart, lifted my voice to the Almighty.
The fire’s roar sounded like the voice of the ghost. I had called to her, pleading for her to come to me as she had once bathed with me and brushed the ashes from my hair. The fire was so bright I shielded my eyes, but it burned brighter still. Something inside me broke apart and splintered. I made a sound I didn’t recognize as my own voice. I called out, pleading, and then my pleas were answered.
Sia was before me.
Her cloak was in tatters, her hair in knots, her arms were nothing more than bones. I could not bear to see the harm I’d done to her. I ran to the edge of the cliff to escape her. Stones shifted beneath my feet, and I could feel myself sliding. If I leapt I would fly to the desert floor below, a petal from a flame tree, a dove set free. But the ghost still would not let me be, even now. She would not release me to the death I wished for myself. She reached out, pulling me back from the edge. I fought her, but she refused to let go. When at last I had no choice, I wrapped my arms around her, my one and only friend. I gave myself to Sia.
When I begged for forgiveness, it