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Chapter 1 Arrom remembered hearing Shamda and the other shepherds’ voices. He remembered lifting his head from Arrah’s cheek and waking with her in his arms. But no matter how hard he tried, he could not remember what came before. All he knew for certain was that the villagers said he and Arrah were found wrapped around each other, like the first man and woman at the dawn of creation. Shamda and his sons told him that they did not see them lying together on the ground at first. Then a bright, blinding light startled them. They covered their eyes. After the light dimmed, Shamda and his sons saw him and Arrah for the first time. Despite this account of what happened, in their need to explain the mysterious, Shamda the other tribal elders were certain that he and Arrah were simply a married couple who were robbed and left for dead. But Arrom wasn’t convinced of that. If so, where were their people? Where was their home? He had searched in every direction each day from the first day they had awakened. There was no sign of any other tribes or civilization within one day’s walk. Also, Arrah was well past the marriageable age, so if they were married, she would have been his wife for quite some time. Where were their children? Was she barren? He didn’t think so, at least he hoped not. No woman who was as intoxicating as Arrah could be barren. It would be a crime against humanity the godess of fertility would never think, never dare to commit. Idly, he wondered whether she carried his child now. He looked across the candles at her, imagining her body full and round with a part of him growing inside of her. He felt a deep longing swell within him and his throat dried. She would be so radiant. Their children would be so beautiful. For a moment she turned to him as if she would say something, but changed her mind and focused her attention to the sewing she held in her hands. Arrom sighed. Another awkward silence loomed between them. Well, it was better than the bouts of bickering that had haunted their conversations since they were discovered in the woods. Arrom knew that she was as lost and confused as he, but she had this strange need to assert her opinion in every circumstance, and it baffled him. It was utterly illogical and it violated every law of convention. Somehow Arrom knew that the divine must have had a hand in their fate, and if that were the case, it was no reward to be stripped of shelter and all of their possessions. Perhaps the gods had changed Arrah’s personality to plague him, he wondered. He couldn’t imagine himself being so distracted by her beauty that he would marry her, failing to notice how contrary she was. Admittedly, he knew very little about himself, but one thing he did know was that he was a peaceful man. He actively sought it out, like a child chasing after a runaway puppy. Couldn’t she see that he was equally lost? That he was trying his best to find his way as well? They must have done something terrible to merit losing their histories, and somehow Arrom knew he was to blame. For four nights he had covertly watched Arrah move through their tent. She carried herself with an effortless grace, an inherent elegance. It was difficult to keep from joining her on her pallet, but he had sworn to himself that he would not go to her until she asked it of him, until he was certain that they were married to each other, until the awkward silences and disagreements turned to warm, affectionate conversation. But it was a strain. Every night after she fell asleep he would listen to her soft breathing across the tent from him. How he ached to touch her! It was all he could do to fight his raging desire for Arrah and to sleep peacefully so close to her. Unfortunately, it was clear that most of the men in the tribe felt the same desire for her, even though in front of the other women, they pretended to shun her strange need to be a leader among them. Of course, compared to the other women of the tribe, she was remarkably lovely. She looked nothing like them, except for her height. She was a tiny woman, with softly sculpted, delicate features and golden hair that glinted in the sunlight. Her eyes were greener than the grass on the plateaus and her body was lush and lithe at the same time. She was the very epitome of feminity in every detail, but she was equally defiant and wild which confused them. They had never encountered a woman like Arrah before. She was like the great hunting birds in the sky and the large predatory cats to the north that followed the tribe’s flock of sheep, in hopes of catching a wayward ewe. It was awe-inspiring to watch her restless energy from a distance, but as Arrom was well aware, tumultuous up close. In addition, Arrah was hopeless with women’s work. She was a disastrous cook. She didn’t know how to make soaps or medicines, weave fabric or sew garments, or how to find wild fruits, herbs, and vegetables. She had to be taught how to wash clothes in the river. It was as if she’d never done any of the daily work required for survival in her life. This was consistent with the condition of her skin. Her hands were soft and her face appeared untouched by the harsh conditions of a life lived primarily outdoors, like his, which led the tribal elders to believe that before the incident which left them without their memories or possessions, they had been very wealthy city-dwellers. But Arrom was not so sure. He didn’t have the mindset of a tradesman. Not that he believed he was raised to be a shepherd particularly, as he had tried to be helpful earlier that day, but he wasn’t very good at keeping track of the large herds belonging to Shamda and his sons. And while he knew how to do some of the things that Arrah did not, like cooking over a fire, basic sewing, and how to plant a garden, it was obvious that he had been born to a very different life. He loved to learn new things and he was often drawn away from the village by a strong desire to explore the mountains, valleys, and ruins around them. His hands were too soft for him to have been a warrior, scout, or hunter, so he deduced that he must have been some kind of scholar. When he presented this idea to Shamda, the elder told Arrom that he had heard stories in his youth of cities where priests of the gods pursued scriptural study and interpretation and presented their findings in parables to temple students and worshippers seeking a deeper connection to the divine. For some reason, this possibility rang true with him. But Shamda told him that priests were not wealthy enough to support a wife and a household of servants. That was when Arrom realized what had happened to them. Arrah must have been the wife of a wealthy merchant or someone who inherited their position of wealth and influence in their city, and Arrom must have defied the gods and seduced a married woman. It was the only explanation. Perhaps Arrom had killed her husband and stolen her away. Such a terrible crime would definitely bring down the wrath of the gods… Suddenly, Arrom was startled by the sound of fabric ripping. He looked over to see Arrah tearing the bottoms off one of the cerulean blue pairs of draw-string pants that Shamda had given to him. “What are you doing?” he demanded, as he shot up out of his seat. Arrah looked up at him and sighed, “Weren’t you listening? I’m stealing your pants. I’m tired of wearing these skirts. I’m always tripping over the edges.” “Well, if you wouldn’t walk so fast…” he began, but she cut him off. “And tomorrow I’m going to work with the shepherds in the fields. We need to start earning our way in the world, so that we can leave here. If we make an effort to help others in the village, they may let us take this tent and these rugs, clothes and candles for our journey. I want us to find the place where we came from…” Arrom shook his head. While a part of him secretly loved Arrah’s seemingly unwavering conviction that they belonged together, that somehow their fates were meshed, his pride couldn’t allow him to remain silent. If she was his woman, his wife, then he would be the one to take care of her, not the other way around. “I will go to with the shepherds tomorrow. You will stay here and try to learn how to do the things that the other women do.” Abruptly she dropped the second pair of pants she was tearing and stood, fisting her hands on her hips. “I’m not any good at those things. Besides, they’re boring. I’d much rather be in out in the open fields…” “Arrah, no. You can’t. You can’t bring this up again and you will certainly not tell anyone else about it. That’s final,” he asserted stubbornly and sat back down. “Final?” she cried. “Ohh… no. I really don’t think so. I’ll do what I want, when I want, and you will accept that or… or…” “Or what?” Arrom asked. “As long as you live in my tent, you will behave like the other women of the tribe. Your independence upsets the others. They don’t understand why you are so different and the elders have come to me and asked that I take steps to control your outlandish…” “My what?” she shouted. “The elders said you should… well, that’s just ridiculous. While you’ve been out wandering all over the ruins, everyone has been very nice to me. In fact, if you no longer want to share a tent with me, then I’m sure one of Shamda’s sons, Cemal or Gadil, will be more than happy to,” she stated firmly as she stormed toward the tent flaps and hurried outside. Before she reached the last tent in the village, Cemal’s tent, Arrom caught up with her. “Would you just… Get back here…” he whispered harshly as he grabbed her by the arm. “I wasn’t finished. You will not go to Cemal or Gadil or anyone else’s tent,” he directed as she turned to face him. “Don’t you understand what I’ve been saying? No one else would have you. You’re far too much trouble. Now come back with me and we’ll talk… maybe we can find a way to compromise…” Without warning, Arrah twisted her arm out of his grip and shoved at his chest, sending him flying backwards several feet. Stomping past a low wall, she stood over him and snarled, “While you have been away during the day, I’ve discovered something amazing, Arrom. There are other men in this village who want me.” For a moment, she turned back toward Cemal’s tent and began to pace, “Just today when he returned from hunting, Cemal saw me carrying four yokes of water. He was very impressed, so impressed that he said that if you and I were not happy as husband and wife, he would ask you to divorce me. He said that he would be honored to have me. He said that he would feel richly rewarded by the gods if I would consent to being his wife.” Pausing as Arrom regained his feet, she continued. “He assured me that I would bear him many strong sons and that…” “Fine,” Arrom sighed tiredly. “If a life with Cemal is what you want, then I’ll let you go. But no more carrying four insanely heavy yokes of water. Your desire to impress the others will be the death of you. Also, I think separating from me would be a dangerous denial of what is clearly the will of the gods, but if you think you would be happier… if that’s what you need…” Shrugging, he turned and walked back to the tent without another word. Arrah watched Arrom walk away from her, tears of frustration pressing behind her eyelids. But she held them back, as their shouting had drawn the attention of others. Unwilling to show weakness in front of the women who were peeking out of their tents along Arrom’s path of retreat, she straightened her shoulders and tensed her jaw. She watched as Arrom put more and more distance between them, as he ambled down the dusty, compacted dirt trail between the rows of tents set at an angled grid amongst the time-worn brick walls. She should have never told him about the yokes; although, they had been surprisingly easy to lift and she could have taken several more. She hadn’t meant for it to come out, but he had made her so angry. Why couldn’t he accept that she was just a little different from the other women in the village? Why couldn’t he appreciate that variety was a good thing? Now that he thought she was a show-off, he would never want to stay with her. She didn’t understand why that hurt so much. Why she felt so much better in his presence, as if he alone could beat back the nightmares and the sadness that clawed at her heart. Behind him, just beyond his hearing, she whispered, “What I need is you to want me enough to fight for me…” Previous Chapter Path From Heaven Menu Next Chapter |
