4.5 Stars
”We came like doves across the desert. In a time when there was nothing but death, we were grateful for anything, and most grateful of all when we awoke to another day.”
”We had been wandering for so long I forgot what it was like to live within walls or sleep through the night. In that time I lost all I might have possessed if Jerusalem had not fallen: a husband, a family, a future of my own. My girlhood disappeared in the desert. The person I’d once been vanished as I wrapped myself in white when the dust rose in clouds. We were nomads, leaving behind beds and belongings, rugs and brass pots. Now our house was the house of the desert, black at night, brutally white at noon.
“They say the truest beauty is in the harshest land and that God can be found there by those with open eyes.”
The stories of four different women eventually merge, as this begins in 70 CE, with the story of Yael – the daughter of Yosef bar Elhanan, an assassin associated with the Sicarii, a splinter group of the Jewish Zealots. Yael’s mother had died in giving birth to her, for which her father blames Yael. Still, when they flee Jerusalem after the destruction of the Temple, her father takes Yael with him, traveling with Jachim ben Simon, another assassin along with the members of his family.
”Everywhere I walked my fate walked with me, sewn to my feet with red thread. All that will ever be has already been written long before it happens.”
Revka is the wife of the Baker, and her story begins as her husband, a good and pious man, has left loaves in the oven and is off with the men while Revka is just beginning her day with her two grandsons, when their world is shattered.
”Blessed is He who spoke, and the world came into being. Just as creation began with words so, too, did our world come apart in silence. None of us spoke. The boys because they could not, my son-in-law because he would not, myself because there were no words worth speaking aloud. The world was broken, and there was only one road that remained, splayed open before us as if made of bones.”
”We had no choice but to go forward, as only emptiness was around us. The following day we did so. I had to leave that unmarked place, abandoning the last of my husband’s essence. I carried my loss as my burden; it weighed me down and made me slow. I could not keep peace with the tired donkeys who bleakly made their way. The boys ran back to me and grabbed my hands and urged me on. Because of them I continued, but God must have known it had crossed my mind to stay behind. I wanted to lie down beside the rocks and dream of the Baker, to call for him to come back to me, even if it meant giving up with world. Perhaps that was the sin I committed. I forgot that even the worst of lives is a treasure.”
Revka and Yael both arrive in Masada, a fortress set on a mountaintop. There they both come to work in the dovecote, collecting eggs and distributing the compost they gather. Among those in Masada are Shirah and her daughters, one of which is named Aziza, the other Nahara.
Aziza was a daughter cherished by her mother, and loved by a father figure that taught her how to protect herself, to be capable of fighting to defend herself, her sister and mother.
”But no matter how you might bow before others, my sister, the bond between us will last all eternity, until we meet again in a place where nothing can separate us, as it was on the night you were born, in your father’s tent, with my breath inside you and my life the thread that kept you in this world.”
The fourth story belongs to Shirah, where we learn of her youth as a beloved and privileged child, a daughter of a consort of the high priests, a woman who studies medicine, spells, and the powers of amulets and charms – a keshaphim, a woman tied to Shechinah, the feminine characteristic of God. A woman taught everything by her mother about this world, everything necessary to carrying into the World-to-Come. She knew the cure for a scorpion bite, that the “nectar of the spiky blue flower of the hyssop dabbed on the wrist would ward off evil, a woman who wore the tooth of a black dog around her neck for protection from wild beasts, reciting incantations when digging for the roots of henbane, a holy plant.
”Inside the locked box was a notebook of parchment upon which my mother had written the many secrets she had accumulated over the years. It was a recipe book for the human heart, for our people believe that all we know and all we have experience is contained there.”
”We were no different from the doves
above us.
We could not speak or cry, but when
there was
no choice we discovered we could fly. If
you
want a reason, take this: We yearned
for our
portion of the sky.”