“You see,” Judah beamed, teeth white by the moonlight. “Not even the Thamud will follow us here.”
He was indeed the consummate optimist.
“We go,” Saba said.
“We go,” Judah echoed.
And so we went. Down at an angle, sliding and nearly falling as frequently as we had during the ascent. But at a much faster pace.
We followed a trough between the slopes and scaled the next dune at a lower point, but even so, my legs could hardly support me by the time we reached its crest. After consulting with Judah, who in turn consulted the stars, Saba led us along several lower dunes over which we could ride mounted.
Then we were confronted with another wall of sand, and once again we plowed our way up its face before sliding down the far side.
And so it went for another two hours before we reached a wide valley of sand. Judah pointed the way and we continued without a rest, mounted once again.
Our tired camels plodded abreast now, separated by ten paces each, too spent to keep up their complaining. A bitter cold had set in, so we wrapped our cloaks and scarves around our necks and arms.
Judah’s song, when he began to sing again, soothed me. Saba offered no opposition this time. Indeed, I was sure that I heard him hum a time or two. Judah sang to the stars, he sang to Raza, he sang to his god, he sang to all Bedu and all Jews.
Judah came to the end of a song and pulled his mount close to mine. For a while he rode without speaking, frequently glancing at the sky.
“Does my song comfort you, Maviah?”
His voice was tender and when I looked into his eyes, they were the same.
“Yes,” I said.
“All my life I have been singing, as do all Bedu. But not all with their hearts, I think.” He looked high again. “The day of redemption is coming. You will see, Maviah. The stars see it already.”
I followed his stare but imagined nothing of what the stars could see except three Bedu fleeing through a sea of sand.
“What do you think when you stare at the stars?” I asked.
“I am remembering my own tribe, where the wisest of men read them as easily as other Bedu read the sands.”
“Which tribe? May I ask?”
“You may speak to me as you will,” he said. And I knew then that Judah was rare among the Bedu. “I am from the Kokobanu tribe, north. The stars foretell all things, though their words are known only to few.”
I had heard only once of these distant Bedu who studied the stars. Surely they were a visionary people enamored with dreams and hope. Like Judah.
“And what do the stars say about our journey?” I asked.
“They say nothing about this journey. But they led the elders on a journey many years ago.” He spoke with great reverence. “A star led them to a new king, who will deliver his people from their oppression and slavery, as foretold by the prophets of God long ago.”
In the desert there is no end to folklore and talk of distant gods.
“Your people have seen this king?”
“Not as king. But the elders saw him and offered gifts. It is my hope that I too will see him.”
“You don’t speak of Herod?”
“God forbid! Herod is a jackal who betrays all Jews. I speak of the Anointed One, who will see Herod and Rome crushed!”
Saba broke his silence. “We go to Herod with the dagger of Varus for favor. Watch your tongue or he might take it from you.”
“Is Herod here in the sands to hear me?”
“If we reach Palestine, he will read the hatred in your eyes.”
“They will not read the eyes of Judah! I am far too clever.”
Clearly Judah had many hopes. But surely he wouldn’t betray my father for this other passion of his.
“He has a name, this king?” I asked.
“This is not spoken among my people, for fear his life would be threatened if he were exposed. At any rate, a true king needs only the name of God.”
“Then how will you find him?”
“The sun will rise with him, as with any king. His words will call all Jews out of oppression.” Judah used his hands to emphasize his words. “And also, I know where he was born. He is the seed of David, who was also a king.”
“So, then, perhaps your king will save us from our oppressors as well.”
“But of course! You must only worship him.”
Naturally, I thought. And offer him sacrifices or gifts.
“And will he restore honor to a woman sold into slavery?”
“Even as he led his people out of slavery long ago.”
“And will he give a mother her child back?”
This quieted him. After a moment he said, “Perhaps not. But I think he could give you many sons.”
The sand, for centuries unmoved save to drift back and forth on strong winds, continued to pass beneath us.