Crown in the Stars (47 page)

“But without the weapons,” Awkawn sniffed.

Rab-Mawg whirled around, facing them. “You have other duties. Go get water, all of you. Be sure our robes are clean and start scrubbing the temple for the ceremonies. Awkawn, be sure the wine is set where it will remain cool. Ghez-ar, check the plants on the terrace; run some water from the cisterns down to the trees and shrubs before the day becomes too hot.”

The attendant-priests scattered like wrongdoers who’d been caught. Rab-Mawg frowned at Shoshannah again. “You will wear these ornaments whenever you come to the temple. We’ll have sandals made for you later, depending upon our Master Ra-Anan’s generosity.” He sounded bitter while speaking of Ra-Anan.

Ormah straightened, restless beside Shoshannah. The young magician-priest gave her a forbidding look, causing the maidservant to swallow nervously. Rab-Mawg eyed Shoshannah.

“For your lessons today, you’ll draw the signs in the stars that you studied most recently. Then I will show you the proper way to approach the altar of our Shemesh during a ceremony; you’ve been disrespectful coming and going through the temple.”

Shoshannah nodded, relieved. He hadn’t mentioned that she must learn any words or praises to his god. Perhaps she would escape that terrible duty for today. Feeling awkward in the gold cuffs and rings, she pressed out a soft tablet of clay, flattening it carefully. Now, holding a slender reed marker, Shoshannah closed her eyes, trying
to remember the last wretched nighttime lesson.
What were those patterns in the stars?

“Move, Perek!” Sharah’s voice echoed through the temple into the secluded area. “Go find your Master Ra-Anan and stay there!”

She sounds so angry
… Hearing Sharah’s swift footsteps, Shoshannah frantically tried to remove her rings, but she wasn’t quick enough. The Queen of the Heavens flung the full linen curtains apart and stormed into the secluded area, her pale eyes immediately flashing to her niece.

“What’s this?” Sharah demanded, slapping a hand toward Shoshannah’s head, snatching the gold band and thrusting it beneath the hostile Rab-Mawg’s nose. “I warned everyone that
she
is not to be honored in any way here! Particularly not with her mother’s status in this temple!”

“She’s bound to this temple by the same oath that binds you, Lady,” Rab-Mawg said angrily, leaning toward Sharah, clearly eager to quarrel with her. “If she doesn’t fulfill her mother’s oaths, then you must.”

“Who are you to tell me what I should do? You’re no one! You’re a miserable priest—and you won’t be that for much longer!” Sharah screeched, her hands flailing in uncontrolled fury.

Ormah was scuttling away, apparently bent on escape. Shoshannah was bent on the same thought, but the Queen of the Heavens pointed at her, screaming, “She’s leaving this place now—with me—and she won’t return!”

“That’s not for you to say!” Rab-Mawg snarled, putting his face directly in front of Sharah’s. She struck at him with the gold circlet she had snatched from Shoshannah’s head. The irate priest dashed the circlet away; it fell ringing against the stone floor, provoking Sharah further. She
clawed toward him. He grabbed her wrists and shoved her viciously, their confrontation becoming a violent struggle.

Alarmed, Shoshannah jumped up and retreated as the priest and the proud would-be Queen of the Heavens went sprawling into the linen curtains, shredding them down. The Lady Sharah was wild with rage, clawing, kicking, biting, becoming entangled in the curtains like a fish in a net. Rab-Mawg flung more fabric over her thrashing limbs, then dragged her away from his beloved temple area, toward the carved stone brazier. Sharah was screeching unintelligible threats against the priest. Equally maddened, he seized the stone brazier and bludgeoned her, ashes and dead coals falling like dark spattering rain. Sharah screamed horribly, desperately.

He’s killing her!
Panicked, Shoshannah turned to call for help. Adoniyram was behind her, watching, unmoving as a carving. “We must help her!” Shoshannah gasped. She glanced toward the Lady Sharah and Rab-Mawg again. Sharah was struggling feebly within the linen curtains now, her cries fading beneath the magician-priest’s frenzied blows. Shoshannah averted her gaze, horrified—the linen was deeply stained with blood.

Now Adoniyram moved, grabbing Shoshannah’s elbow and pulling her toward the temple door. “Hurry, or you might be next!”

She went with him, stumbling down the stairs, pleading, “We have to help her! Adoniyram…”

He seemed to not hear.

Twenty-Six

“YOU HAVE TO HELP HER—she’s your mother!” Shoshannah pleaded, breathless and frantic as Adoniyram rushed her down the steps.

“There was nothing I could do; you saw what happened.” Adoniyram looked upset, but he sounded unexpectedly reasonable. “It was stupid of her to quarrel with Rab-Mawg. I tried to warn her, but she never listens to anyone.”

But you could have saved her
, Shoshannah argued silently. Horrible as Sharah was, still she
was
his mother. “Perek and the others might have gone to help her.”

Adoniyram didn’t answer.

Shoshannah glanced up at him, trying to comprehend his feelings. He was frowning at the servants and guards in the temple yard below. Didn’t he care that his mother was probably dead? There had been so much blood on
the curtains… and Sharah’s awful cries… The memory made Shoshannah waver and stumble.

Adoniyram gripped her arm, dragging her from the steps. Loudly, he called to Sharah’s and Ra-Anan’s servants, “Get up there! Help my mother!”

The servants all stared, then bowed and ran up to the temple. Ormah had apparently gone to find Ra-Anan; Shoshannah didn’t see either of them. Adoniyram pulled her toward her horse. “Hurry. We have to get you out of here. If my mother is alive, she’ll insist upon killing Rab-Mawg and you.”

Knowing he was probably right—about this at least—Shoshannah dashed to her horse. Adoniyram helped her up, then swiftly bounded onto his own restless creature. Anxious, Shoshannah looked around for Kaleb. He always accompanied Adoniyram. Why wasn’t he here now?

Kal, what’s happened to you?
As Shoshannah envisioned the dreadful things that might have happened to Kaleb, Lord Kuwsh rode into the temple yard, accompanied by a number of guardsmen. He flung himself off his horse, glaring at Adoniyram.

“Where’s your mother?”

Adoniyram nodded toward the tower. “She and Rab-Mawg have quarreled.”

Followed by his guardsmen, Lord Kuwsh rushed up the stairs.

Adoniyram quickly leaned over and grabbed Shoshannah’s horse by its bridle. “Let’s go.”

Shoshannah stared at Adoniyram, dazed, wondering how he could be so calm. Her own terror was eating at her like some merciless predator shredding a living victim.
O Most High
… She pleaded for His help over and over in wordless, jumbled anguish.

Rab-Mawg set down the stone brazier, leaning upon it heavily, his head pounding, his rage fading as he gazed at the unmoving, linen-wrapped body before him. Had he killed their Queen of the Heavens? Agitated, he sought a life pulse in her wrist but found none.
I only wanted to subdue her… I was defending myself… She was insane …
Excuses filled his mind, balancing his fears. Adoniyram, the maidservant, and that girl, Shoshannah, had all witnessed the confrontation—they knew the truth. But they had all fled, leaving him to deal with the aftermath.
Traitor
, he thought of Adoniyram.
You don’t deserve my loyalty; you’ve deserted me for protecting myself and my temple
.

He was right. He would tell his accusers so. Even now, he heard rough footsteps scuffling inside his temple. Sharah’s and Ra-Anan’s servants surrounded him, their faces all alike, shocked and disbelieving. Standing, he lifted his chin defiantly.
Cowards, all of you!

“That was Kuwsh riding past us with his guards,” Shem told Annah as they sat in the merchant Tso’bebaw’s booth, their faces shielded with borrowed lengths of linen. “I have no doubt!”

“Should we go after him?” Annah asked reluctantly, distressed by her husband’s anger at Kuwsh’s gold-decked, power-flaunting pride.

His eyes very wide, dark, and kindling, Shem stood and offered Annah one long, work-hardened hand. Breathing a silent prayer heavenward, Annah drew the
linen across her face, covering all but her eyes. Then she accepted her husband’s hand.

Ezriy, son of the faithful Yabal and Meherah, started to his feet, but Shem refused the young man’s protection firmly, gratefully, clasping his shoulder. “Thank you, Ezriy, but you must stay here.”

The gentle merchant Tso’bebaw almost wept as they parted, whispering aloud, “Living Word, protect them! Spare all their lives…”

Throughout the morning, Meherah had been praying while she worked, as her dear Yabal had been praying. Surely Zekaryah and Keren would survive. There had been too much death.
O You who sees us, let it be enough
.

In her stately home, the Lady Achlai, wife of Lord Kuwsh, left her four youngest sons and daughters-in-law to finish their late, lingering morning meal. They were happy and laughing. She didn’t want to worry them with her tears. In her own room, she huddled down on a mat, weeping, longing for a compassionate and final end to her husband’s rage, his craving for vengeance. And, yes, for his ambition.
Forgive him! Forgive us
.