“And I,” Saba said.
In that moment I felt honored to be in their company.
Nothing more of my past was spoken of that night, but I was happy to have bared my heart and remained in their good graces. And when Judah began to sing again, I wished I knew the songs.
We traveled until we were all too exhausted to remain awake in the saddle, for both Judah and Saba had been in battle that day, and I had lost all my strength to grief. Still we passed the wide valley and several more dunes before Saba finally pulled up at the base of tall, jutting rocks and announced that we would sleep for a few hours.
“We will eat,” Judah announced, bounding to the sand.
Saba withdrew a skin and began to milk the she-camels. There was a bundle of wood and dried camel dung in one of the saddlebags, and Judah laid these down for a fire.
There was no tent to erect and I felt strange, watching a man work while I stood by. But Judah was far more practiced with limited supplies and there was little to do. Furthermore, he seemed pleased to serve, which too surprised me. He soon had a small fire burning and was preparing food.
I sat watching with both legs pulled to one side as he mixed flour and water in a pan and coaxed it into a thick dough. After forming six small cakes, he quickly seared each on a bed of hot coals, then covered them with sand and laid the red coals on top. In this way the clean desert sand made an oven that baked the bread quickly and without burning it. Once the cakes were cooked, he brushed away the grit.
“Tell me, Maviah,” he said, looking up at me with a smile. “When the Bedu serve food in the camp, who gets the largest portion?”
I hesitated.
“The guest.”
“And if there is no guest?”
“Then they cast lots.”
“Yes, each man hoping for the smallest portion so as to honor the others. Otherwise the men will fight, insisting they have been given too much food and refusing to eat, for fear they will dishonor the others. I saw once a Bedu throw down his guest’s tent in outrage when the guest insisted on eating the smaller portion without casting lots.”
And yet in a raid that same man might slit the throat of that same guest to relieve him of his camel, for the Bedu are a raiding people, free to take any man’s camel so long as it is taken by force and not stolen unseen, which is shameful.
Upon my returning from Egypt it was at first difficult for me to understand these conflicting ways, but I had come to see that a tenuous balance allowed for survival in the desert, for what was taken by force was also shared with honor, otherwise raiding would soon empty the sands of all living souls. As it was, there was only enough water in the desert to support the strongest.
“The Bedu are most noble,” I said.
“Then… shall we cast lots?”
I blinked, unnerved. “This is for men alone.”
“And you are Rami’s hand. Is he not a man?”
“I am not my father,” I protested.
He saw my discomfort and shrugged.
“Then we eat equal shares.”
We rolled dates into the baked bread, dipped our rolls into hot goat butter, and ravenously devoured them. Then we washed the tasty food down with a bowl of the frothing camel milk Saba had drawn.
I noted the way Judah looked at me with more than simple interest. He was either taking his charge eagerly or was as attentive to all women. Likely the former, unless Jews generally treated women with more regard than the Bedu did.
“Tea,” Judah proclaimed, retrieving the metal pot.
I wasn’t as attached to tea as Bedu who’d lived in the desert, so I told them I was satisfied.
Judah would have none of it. “No, Maviah! You must drink tea with us. It will make you strong and take away all of your sadness.”
Saba grunted, clearly skeptical. I could only assume he found Judah’s attentiveness to me unnecessary.
“Pay no attention to him,” Judah said. “In my charge you will drink tea. It will keep you healthy.”
So I waited as Judah prepared and then served the tea. It was very hot. And rather bland. But it seemed to bring great comfort to both of them, and I could not deny that it soothed my stomach.
We slept under the blankets at the rocks’ base that night.
When I woke, the sun was hot and Judah had already prepared tea and milk with bread. The camels were near, for there were no shrubs or grass on which to graze. We were alone in the camp.
“Where is Saba?”
“He studies the way behind,” Judah said. “Drink.” He handed me the milk. “Do not worry, Maviah. They will not find our tracks soon, and when they do, they will know they are too late. Our only enemy now is the Nafud. But have no fear. Saba can read the sands by day as well as I can read the stars by night. God will lead us. Now drink.”