“The father of your son, where is he?” Judah asked.
I hesitated, because it was improper to speak of such things to men, even more to strangers. And yet I was in their charge, so I decided then to tell them whom they were escorting through the Nafud. In the wake of my son’s death, I no longer had anything to lose.
“You know that I was born to a defiled mother among the Abysm tribe.”
My boldness caught even Judah slightly off guard. When he spoke, his voice was gentle.
“Yes.”
“Rami sent me away to Egypt when I was an infant, where I was sold as a slave to a wealthy Roman household. My master traded in wares between Egypt and Rome.”
The camels plodded on.
“When I was eleven, he began to trade in fighters for the arenas. He purchased strong slaves and trained them to fight with sword and hammer and spear. Gladiators, some call these fighters. My son’s father was the strongest of them all. He was given the name Titus by the master. I knew him as Johnin of Persia.”
A soft whistle of wonder from Judah. Saba was watching me as well.
“Why did you not stay with your husband?” Judah asked.
“A slave isn’t permitted to marry,” I said. “In my eighteenth year we grew close in secret. But when I showed with child, our secret was discovered and the mistress became angry. She would have Johnin as her own.”
My companions remained silent.
“The master had always favored his best slaves and showed me mercy. But I had to leave. His wife could no longer tolerate either me or Johnin. He was sent to the north and I heard later that he perished in Rome. I was sent to another village, where I gave birth. When my son was old enough to travel, I was returned to Dumah with a caravan.”
They said nothing. If I’d been a man, colorful words of praise for my survival and brazen declarations of outrage at my enemies would by now be flowing.
“So now you know whom you risk your life for,” I said.
“We risk our lives for Rami’s blood,” Saba said. “And for his will.”
“Then serve Rami well,” I said. “Without him, I am nothing.”
When Judah finally spoke, there was a new heaviness in his voice.
“It is said that a woman is born into shame,” he said. “It is also said by some that a Jew is born the same. And yet there was once a Jew who came out of Egypt and set his people free.”
I did not know what he referred to, but I didn’t press.
He looked at me. “I think you are wrong, Maviah. You are Rami’s blood, yes, but more, you are his will. And as his will, you may return honor to your people.” He returned to staring ahead. “Even as the Messiah will restore the honor of all Jews.”
“I will return to avenge my son,” I said. “Rami has only heaped suffering on us both.”
I regretted my words the moment they left my mouth.
“Forgive me,” I said. “I speak too quickly.”
“As I said, to me, you may speak as you like,” Judah said. “I am Rami’s servant, and now he sends me home to the Holy Land. If I had not left my tribe and sworn myself to his service, I would still be in the deepest sands. We must both accept God’s will. You will see.”
It was typical Bedu fatalism.
“Tell her, Saba. It is best to accept.”
Saba answered hesitantly. “To accept, yes, though not as the will of any god. We are not his slaves. We are the slaves of those who rise over us.”
“And would you not crush those who rise over you?” Judah asked.
“To what end? So that they might rise again? There is no end to uprising and war.”
“And yet you swear vengeance for Rami,” Judah said.
“He is my master and has expressed his will. I gave myself in service to him and count myself his slave, and so I accept my duty.” In calling himself slave, Saba only honored Rami, for he was not owned by Rami as a lowly slave. Truly, he was sworn servant, not slave—Bedu used the term liberally. In fact, Saba was one of Rami’s most trusted warriors, commanding the largest raiding parties. “To desire more than service only breeds endless suffering.”
“Then I will suffer for my God and be his hand of vengeance against those who crush the Jews!” Judah said.
They went on, back and forth, my son’s death already long behind them. Such was the Bedu way in such a harsh land. And in this respect, they were both right: I must accept my fate.
Indeed, I found their argument amusing. In his own way, each was equally right, and they often said the same thing, though expressed very differently.
Coming to no agreement, Judah ended their banter.
“We disagree over little,” he finally said. “We agree on our charge, whether from man or God or both. Maviah possesses Rami’s dagger, and with it, the hope of honor for the Banu Kalb. For this charge I will offer my life.”