The province of Israel hosts a public execution in its main square in front of the public hall as three women are put to death by stoning for adulterous affairs and a man is beheaded for the godless act of copulating with another of his gender. Crowds of Judean people congregate to see justice done in the name of God, some turning away from the sight and other participating in the throwing of stones. Around the execution, business continues as normal, the street sellers open for trade and the beggars seeking coin and aid. The only change to the normal pace of life are the sentences being carried out and the lack of street performers who find people less willing to witness and pay for their music and dance when a far more engrossing spectacle is available in the centre of the open square...
Just like every other morning the buzz of voices awakened her. As she blinked her eyes open to the morning air Arela could hear the sounds of her mother preparing breaking fast and the smell of food permeated the air. For a moment Arela just lay in her bed, taking in the buzz of voices outside the door. Then, a shout rang out from her mother towards one of the other children and Arela begrudgingly got out of bed. After getting dressed, Arela reached under her mattress and pulled out a sapphire blue bracelet. She pulled it up her arm until it rested securely just above her left elbow where no one could see it.
Stepping out of her room was stepping into chaos. Yardena was finished and the table already set but from the looks of the people in the house, today was not going to bring a quiet breakfast. Sure enough the meal was full of conversation and for the most part Arela ignored it. After all, the discussions were almost always the same. Repeats of yesterday’s passionate conversation on how exciting it was that Israel was hosting the Manheegs, an occasional jab against the soldiers, same old same old. It wasn’t until breakfast was almost over that she realized the topic had changed. Something about an event in the public hall? She only managed to catch a few sentences before the topic of discussion changed again and she lost interest.
The moment that Avariam stood up was the moment she stood up, making a beeline to the door of the house. She pretended not to hear Yardena’s demands to return and help clean up, quickly donning her mizpahath and slipping out the door. It wasn’t until she was out of sight of the house that Arela allowed her pace to slow. Alone, away from the chaos of her home she was greeted with the first orderly sounds of the day. A bird calling to its mate, the sound of her breath going in then out of her body and the pitter patter of her footsteps. In the distance a dog barked, reminding her that she was still just feet away from home. With that in mind she headed away, with the whole of the city to wander.
Remembering the line she had heard about the public hall that was where she headed first. If nothing else it would satisfy her curiosity and she found no reason not to at least check it out. Upon arriving the press of people made it difficult for Arela to see what was going on. After a moment of standing on her toes, trying to peer over the crowd’s heads confused as she could not hear any music she got a look at what was going on. A public execution. A shiver went through her spine but she forced herself to relax and turn to the woman beside her. "Excuse me? Do you know what those people have been accused of?" The answer caused a sharp intake of breath and her hand went up to touch her arm where underneath - she knew was her bracelet from Teris. "The women are adulteresses"
Her breath shallow, Arela wanted nothing more than to turn and run from the square and yet she was unable to look away. She watched with slight tremors going through her body as the first few stones were cast and slowly began to back away, her eyes still locked on the women. As she backed out of the crowd she ran backwards into some unknown person behind her. This was finally enough to break her gaze as she turned around to face the stranger. "I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to bump into you!"
Neena had been wandering. As was the primary occupation for her day time activities. She liked exercise, she liked exploring and she had no responsibilities, home or routine to be interrupted by such adventures. And so, wandering was her perfect every day option. She had been in Judea for perhaps a week or so now and she found it interesting but stifling. For a woman who was free in spirit, conviction, sexuality and just about any other options in life and naturally shunned the normal doctrines and life markers of others - such a marriage and commitment - Neena found the Judean principles and structure of life an intriguing concept but one that she knew she could never live within as anything more than a foreign traveller - an observer rather than a partaker. Their manner of living was just too confining.
There were two places within Israel - the first provincial city she had arrived at since leaving Egypt - that were usually full of people and great for being said observer. The main marketplace and the open square in front of the public hall. Both were open to traders and performers and were - aside from on the Sabbath - swarming with people. Today was no exception.
Upon reaching the main square before the public hall, Neena was surprised to find it even busier than normal. Not the tallest of people, she was faced with a closed in feeling and the view of several people's shoulder blades.
Frustrated, she moved and pushed to her right, knowing that there was a public well just to the side of the main hall's doorway. The well had a raised wall and if she could just reach it she would be able to -
Before she could get to her destination and stand upon the well's edge to get a better look at the open square and what the heck was going on, something shoved into Neena's left shoulder and she was knocked a little. She would have been fine - the knock wasn't hard - but in so tight a crowd, she had limited foot space, trod on the base of her own sandal and toppled over entirely.
Falling into someone who wasn't facing the right way and instinctively moved to avoid the falling person who collided with their back, Neena felt herself fall out the edge of the crowd and onto her rear, her toes sore where her sandal had torn and broken and her pride in the dirt.
When the girl who had knocked into her turned to see what she'd hit Neena saw the look of contrition on her face and offered up a friendly smile and a laugh, waving her hand to indicate it was no issue, despite the Bedoan curse that had slipped passed her lips as she had landed with a hard thump on the rocky ground.
"It's okay." She told the girl in, what she hoped was at least accurate, if accented, Hebrew. "I'm not hurt."
She had learnt early, when travelling, that it was best to show friendship and openness when your appearance was so decidedly different from those native to your current location. With dark skin, large shapely lips and a powerful figure - not to mention curly hair she had, today, pulled into a tufty knot on the top of her head - Neena was very clearly foreign to the Judean lands. And, in her experience, people were nervous around that which wasn't familiar to them. So, a smile tended to go a long way.
"Do you mind?" She asked, reaching up with a hand, bracing the other on the floor, ready to lift herself back up to standing, with the help of the girl, if she would permit it.
Maeri always loved when the Council of Elders met because that meant travel. Although her mothers were not officially allowed to attend the main meeting their family often went along to the city of the meeting anyway. Many business deals and casual relationships between families were established outside the meeting, and they wouldn’t want to miss out on those. Not that any of this was on Maeri’s mind. No for her, a meeting just meant that she got to see a new city, go to the market, buy new things, and make new friends.
This morning seemed to be a morning where everything went wrong, not that that was very unusual for Maeri. She had burned breakfast much to this dismay of her sister/cousin Nedevah who was forced to remake it when Talora claimed she wasn’t feeling well enough to make breakfast. Maeri highly doubted her eldest sister was actually sick. She had probably just spent too much time out partying and drinking wine as usual, but arguing with her wouldn’t get breakfast made. With Nedevah’s help, she had managed to set breakfast right. But then when she went to get dressed, she found a rip in her favorite mitpahath, and had to borrow one from Nedevah. Well it couldn’t be helped, she’d buy a new one at the market, or maybe two. She could never be too safe in case she ripped another one before she returned home. Nedevah’s mitpahath was thicker than Maeri would like, she always preferred thinner fabrics that let her show off her hair, one of the few things Maeri felt confident in, but it couldn’t be helped.
By the time Maeri had made it to the market, the whole place was buzzing with activity. There were so many people around that there had to be something going on. Perhaps there was some kind of performance going on. She always loved when they had performers come to these kinds of things. She pushed her way through the crowds to see what the excitement was for. She had almost reached a place where she could see what was going on when she realized that the energy of the crowd was angry and jeering instead of the fun and excitement she had hoped for. She spotted the main attraction through the crowd and instantly wished that she hadn’t. It was a stoning, and Maeri wanted nothing to do with it. They were always so sad. She understood that adulterous women had to be punished, but did it have to be so public? It ruined the entire day.
Maeri made her way back away from the jeering crowd, looking for a stall where she could find a mitpahath and where she wouldn’t have to think about the public executions.
As the sun rose over Israel, Hazael was grateful that he didn’t have to bother with the insanity that this family dared to call a morning routine. Having been roused just before dawn by the noise of his mothers moving around the house as they started the day’s work. Hazael had always been a light sleeper and something as simple as a snore from one of his brothers could easily wake him the middle of the night. As annoying as this could be, his inability to sleep in suited him well. After all, it was far easier for him to go and take care of his dogs during the early morning hours while the rest of his family did not need him. So, just as quickly as he rolled out of bed, he was already making his way outside to the small kennel space he had made to keep his beloved hounds safe during the night.
When he entered the kennel, he did not bother with putting up the makeshift gate he had made out of a few wood scraps after that unfortunate incident years ago where one of the puppies had managed to escape without him knowing. It was a safeguard designed to give him peace of mind, but it was hardly needed at this point in the year when there were no puppies for Hazael to worried about losing. However, he was sure to note that it would be changing soon with any luck as a dark-colored hound with a stunning coat warily approached him and nudged Hazael’s hand to the back of her neck, a clear signal that she was in need of a good back scratch. Hazael beamed slightly at this action and quickly obliged, knowing full well that this particular dog was one of the more aloof ones and normally never approached him like this. She did just come out of her heat though and Hazael had been caring for his hounds long enough to know that a change in behavior like this was normally a good sign. It truthfully brought some relief to him as this dog was one he had recently bought from some traders coming to Israel from lands afar. It had been difficult for him to find another dog that had a similar coat to hers, but he had managed it and with any luck, within a few weeks it would appear that there would be more of these “Afghan” hounds running about. If their coats were just a fraction as beautiful as their mother’s, well he would have no issue in finding good prices for them to add his family’s coffers.
With this good start to the day, Hazael quickly moved through his own routine of taking care of the dogs and tidying up the kennel. After all these years it had become akin to clockwork for him, so not a moment after he had finished the last task, he could hear his mother, Levana, stepping outside to call him to breakfast. He didn’t keep her waiting after stepping out of the makeshift shed and hurrying to make it to his place at the table before Yardena gave him an earful for spending the morning outside instead of helping with the others. Sliding into his usual spot next to his older brother Tiras, he could hear that a passionate discussion of politics had already begun between the older men in his family -- a topic of conversation that Hazael was smart enough not to partake in. It was no secret within the family that Avriam had lofty dreams of seeing himself and Tiras sit upon the Council and remove the soldiers from Israel once and for all. Just like his older sister, though unknowingly to him, it was an ambition that made Hazael uneasy to hear; though for entirely different reasons.
Luckily, though the events of the day seemed to dominate the conversation more heavily this morning, much to Hazael’s delight. Apparently, as his father had learned, there would be an execution that day in the market and he expected the boys of the family to attend. Levana, the gentle soul that she was, almost immediately spoke up in protest on behalf of her youngest child, Benaiah, who was only nine.
“He’s far too young Avri--” She had started to say before her husband raised a hand for silence before countering with the stern voice who Hazael rarely heard with positive emotion,
“No one is ever too young to learn what happens when they stray. It will be good for him.” He turned to smile at his youngest son, who shrunk a bit in his seat under his father’s gaze, color draining slightly from his face. Hazael hardly blamed him, it was never an easy thing to watch, but it was necessary. After all, these people had strayed far too greatly than the laws given to them. It was just a simple case of they had made their bed, so it was time to lie in it.
The rest of the meal’s conversation had been rather tedious and uneventful save for Arela rushing out the door the moment their father stood up. Yardena had called after her, but there was no stopping the eldest girl from doing what she wanted, unfortunately. That probably wouldn’t save her from the earful Yardena and Eliora, the youngest who hated doing Arela’s chores, would give her once they saw her again. In the meantime, the four boys were sent off to get ready for the day. His brother’s quickly disappeared into the household to do that, but as he had already been up, Hazael didn’t need to worry about such things. Instead, he made his way back towards the kennel, but his father’s booming voice instantly made him pause.
“You are not bringing any of those dogs.” The words had a hint of annoyance to them and the weak-willed Hazael didn’t dare disobey. After all, he did not have the boldness of his elder brother nor the sheer stubbornness of Arela. So, instead, he simply nodded and hurried towards the front door so that he might avoid incurring anymore of his father’s annoyances. He was worried though that he couldn’t bring Bracha, his beloved Saluki with him since he knew that he was not quite as klutzy at when she was at his side.
It just seems as if he would have to be extra careful not to trip while he was out that day.
It didn’t take long for the other boys to come outside and together, the five of them made their way from their house to the market. Even from several streets over, they could hear the noise filtering towards them. Hazael felt indifferent to it as his mind was far more concerned with ensuring that he did not fall and make a fool of himself. However, it didn’t fail to capture his attention how both Tiras seemed to glow under the noise of angry jeers and Benaiah seemed to cower a bit further. This didn’t surprise him all that much, but still, his heartstrings hurt a bit for his younger brother. When the boy’s footsteps slowed a bit, almost to hold off the inevitable, Hazael also slowed his pace to match his. This caused their father to turn slightly to see what was the hold-up, but he continued on just the same, confident in the knowledge that his boys were aware of the expectation that they would need to see the events.
Once the other men had traveled a bit further away, he brought Benaiah to a stop and bent down to reach his eye level. Then, Hazael reached into a pocket and pulled out a small bag of coins, some of the earnings he still had from the last litter he had raised. Benaiah was confused at what his brother was doing, but hardly complained when Haz shook a few small coins from the bag and pressed them into the small boy’s hand.
He offered his brother a soft smile as Haze gave him some veiled words of encouragement, “How about we get something sweet before we go find father?” The boy’s eyes lit up a bit as he was not yet trusted to carry pocket money of his own, so the promise of some figs or date honey was a rare treat that Benaiah didn’t get to enjoy often. Almost instantly he seemed more at ease as he nodded at the older boy. Hazael was glad to see this as he had been hoping that the promise of a dessert would be enough to spare him of some of his nervousness.
Perhaps it worked a little too well, as soon as the market came into view, Benaiah was already bounding off ahead of his brother, eager to find the first stall that offered the sweets he had been promised. Hazael tried to keep pace, but his own terrible eyesight meant that he very quickly lost sight of the young boy in the crowd that was quickly forming.
Having no hope of simply chasing after him, he had to bit his tongue in order to refrain from the colorful words bouncing around his head at that moment. Hazael quickly tried to weigh his options as to what he could do in order to both find his brother quickly and not make a scene or draw attention to his inability to see anything other than massive blobs of color. His mind, of course, went to how much easier this would have been if he had Bracha at his side as she could find the boy like he was one of her lost pups, but alas that was not going to be a choice. In fact, it seemed like the only thing he could do was stick close to the stalls and hope to find his brother practicing his haggling skills at one of them.
Sticking close to them, the nineteen-year-old moved as quickly as he could through the crowd, keeping both an eye out for any of the tables that would attract his brother’s attention and the little white blob that was Benaiah. However, as closely as he paid attention to anything that could resemble these objects, he completely failed to keep an eye out for any other things in his way.
Or unfortunately for him, other people.
Without realizing he was on a collision course, he accidentally bumped into someone at one of the stalls selling bright fabrics. Luckily for the both of them, it was more of a bump than anything else. Hazael stumbled back a bit and momentarily flailed as he struggled to catch his balance. It took him a moment, but once he was steady again on his feet, he glanced up at whoever it was he had managed to run into. He ducked his head a bit once he realized that it was a girl and he silently muttered a quiet prayer that any fathers or brothers that she might have had didn’t see what had happened. The last thing he needed this morning, after all, was an accusation of misconduct on top of everything else.
However, there didn’t seem to be any shouts, so after breathing a small sigh of relief, Hazael glanced her over in order to make sure that she hadn’t been hurt. “Sorry.” He said shortly, sticking to his normal habit of not saying much if he could help it, “Are you okay?” She seemed to be alright, but Hazael couldn’t know for sure.
In a moment though, his mind went back to his brother and knowing that perhaps this girl had better eyesight than him, it wouldn’t be wise to not seek her help while he had her attention, “Have you seen a boy that looks like me, but about ten? My brother ran off.” He was doubtful that she did happen to see the little boy, but then again it never hurt to ask.
Though, for a moment, it never crossed his mind that this girl might have her mind on other things than an overexcited boy. Little did he know, but Hazael had met this girl before and even though he couldn’t see her face and recognize her, there was nothing stopping her from recognizing him...
Neena of the Zaire,As she turned to see the woman she had bumped into, Arela was surprised to see dark skin and uncovered hair. The appearance of the woman alone made Arela curious of her origin and the accent that she spoke with just a moment later intensified the feeling. This new person was from other lands previously unheard of, it was fascinating to her. It could perhaps be guilt that made Arela’s eyes stare down at the woman on the ground below her. For she certainly still had that look upon her face but in reality it was the fascinating thought that this woman had been born somewhere she had never dreamed of existing. Her wide eyes didn’t move from the woman as a hand was extended, didn’t move even as she spoke. "Of course! It is my fault that you’re down there after all," and as Arela helped pull the woman up to her feet her eyes still stared, fascinated.
There would be no hiding of her stare now. It was painfully obvious that Arela was fascinated by the other woman. It was so much easier to focus on her than on the crowd behind… Could she be from Egypt? Maybe. It was so much easier to focus on this interesting new person. Arela shook her head, she was staring. She replaced her look of wonder with a smile, adjusting her Mizpahath simply because it was something to do. In her experience an open smile went a long way in convincing others you meant no harm.
"Sorry about that, I tend to do it when I’m curious." She tried to speak more clearly now that she knew that the one she was speaking to was not a native Hebrew speaker. She knew it helped her when Teris spoke clearly and didn’t rush in his words and she knew it helped him as well. Unfortunately Arela wasn’t very good at speaking slowly so clearly usually had to suffice.
She had returned to the world and its woes as the jeers of the crowd behind they reached her ears once again. Instinctively her hand went up to her arm and her face paled. "Idiot" she whispered to herself, she should’ve known that anything her father seemed excited about would be terrible. Not to mention that she had come straight to the Public Hall so now she was alone. It may be better that she hadn’t arrived with Teris but she wasn’t sure which was worse. The thought of being alone here terrified her. But with a glance at the woman in front of her Arela realized that she didn’t have to be alone here. It was in her best interest to stay with this new person and learn everything she could.
Once her attention returned to the woman however she realized that all was not quite right with her. A flap had gotten loose from one of her shoes! "Oh no! I am so sorry, when I bumped into you one of the flaps must have broken!" They were still quite close to the crowd so trying to fix it here wasn’t an option, "Here, let me help you to the side where we can try to fix that." Holding the woman’s arm Arela led her away from the crowd to a raised wall where they could safely sit.
It turned out - as Neena had already worked out on her own - that the girl who had knocked into her was entirely sweet and the bump a complete accident. If it hadn't been for her expressions and look of surprised guilt giving her away, Neena would have been convinced all over again by her instant acceptance of blame, as she reached forward to help Neena to her feet.
The girl was incredibly slim and delicate looking in her features - hard to tell physicality wise with her swaths of clothing and headdress - but she was stronger than she looked. Plus, Neena had powerful legs from using them almost a hundred percent of the time. Ergo, she only needed the smallest of momentums to get moving upwards, for her legs to find purchase beneath her and get her the rest of the way up. The young girl's thin and pale little hand gave her that.
Once back on her feet, Neena busied herself with dusting down her backside and legs. She had noticed, in the few days she had been in Judea that she was stared at a lot. More than she ever had been in Egypt - despite her colouring clearly being foreign - or in the few ports of Greece she had visited - where everything about her was exotic to the natives. In Judea she was stared at significantly more; including with more judgement. It hadn't taken long for Neena to realise that this was due to both her physical appearance - Bedoa was a long way from Judea - but also her choice of attire. Dressed in a tunic that revealed her legs (all the way up to a few inches past her knees) and arms - not to mention the lack of headdress - Neena looked almost naked compared to the other women of the kingdom. Wild too, given her nappy hair and rough skin tone.
In short, it was unsurprising that the girl in front of her carried on as all her peers did and stared at Neena as she got to her feet. A clear foreigner walking around in full flout of a culture’s traditions did that to people.
Neena's saving grace, she was sure, was the fact that she looked so clearly foreign. With dark skin and large features compared to the dainty looking Judeans, it was incredibly clear that she belonged to neither their society nor their faith. Which meant she wasn't outright told off for her transgressions. She had noted women of Judean heritage being criticised or chastised by complete strangers for not following a satisfactory aesthetic or behaviour.
Neena might have gotten a serious number of looks as she moved around town but she had never been outright spoken to or degraded for her breaks to their social norms. She was, after all, simply a poor, misguided foreigner.
When the young girl had the curious compassion and thoughtfulness of mind to apologise for her stares - something that was continued without question or contrition but others - Neena smiled brightly and naturally in response.
"No problem." She told the girl in Hebrew, her natural instinct to wave a hand and offer up "hey, no worries at all!" falling short based on her knowledge of Judean vocabulary. She would just have to hope her smile made the phrase as casual as she intended it.
When the girl turned away for a moment, mumbled something to herself that sounded like a chastisement and took a second to turn back to her, Neena assessed the damage to her clothing (none) and to her shoe (minimal but significant) by dusting down her outfit and wiggling her foot in its broken sandal. As the Judean girl looked back, the movement clearly attracted her attention and she was immediately all contrite helpfulness, insisting that the two of them headed over to where Neena could repair the damage.
At least, that was what Neena assumed was happening. In her desire to help, the girl had spoken a little faster than Neena was used to and she picked up the general gist of the phrases rather than the technical meaning.
"Thanks." Neena offered, as they headed quickly between the slightly more sporadic crowd on the outskirt edges of the courtyard and found a half wall on which Neena could perch, lift her foot and take up the sandal. She let her now bare foot dangle down towards the floor a silver toe ring wrapped around her second toe.
Frowning, Neena looked closer at the sandal and realised that one of the leather thongs had simple been pulled free of the base. There was no damage besides a slight expansion of the hole it had been secured through - where the knot had been pulled free, forcing the leather to make room. Neena simply busied about feeding the leather piece back through the hole and tying a larger knot at the bottom of the sandal. The shoes were rudimentary at best but they did the job.
"So..." Neena mused, looking up and out at the crowd, her eyes narrowed against the bright sunshine. "What's going on here?" She asked the girl, jerking her head up towards the jeering congregation, unsure what was happening at its centre.
Arela knew she wasn’t strong but this woman made her feel even weaker than usual, after all the woman was full of strength and muscle. This awareness appeared strongly while helping the woman up and soon realized that it wasn’t herself doing the heavy lifting. The thought only embedded itself further as Arela helped the woman to a half-wall.
Fixing things wasn’t her strong point she usually took them apart so she breathed a sigh of relief when the woman began to fix her own shoe as Arela knew that she wouldn’t be able to help although she would’ve tried if necessary. It would’ve been a disaster but it would’ve been an attempt at least. Thankfully the woman appeared to know what she was doing.
As the woman fixed her sandal, Arela was left to her own thoughts which were mostly taken up by her new acquaintance as she attempted to shut out the crowd behind her. She took advantage of the woman’s distraction and Arela gazed curiously, trying to fix her in memory. From the woman’s dark skin to her uncovered hair to the jewelry she wore. All of it made Arela curious to know more.
When the woman looked up from her shoe she would find a quickly sheepish Arela gazing curiously at her once more. The woman’s question however replaced Arela’s sheepish look with one more akin to disgust as she reached up once again to her left arm, feeling the beads of her bracelet underneath her clothing, drawing comfort from it. "Executions. Three woman and a man." Her voice was no longer full of energy and her explanation was short and to the point. After a few seconds spent feeling the bracelet on her arm she added - as if to convince herself, quoting her father, "They broke the law, they deserve what they get."
Wanting to move on to lighter conversation, Arela smiled and opened her mouth to ask about the jewelry the woman wore and stopped herself, realizing that she didn’t even know this woman’s name. "I’m Arela. I just noticed that I’ve been calling you 'woman' this whole time we’ve been talking so it might be nice to call you by your name." Arela spoke airily, trying to lighten the mood after the previous exchange, and waited for the woman to give her name in response - wanting answers to her many questions but knowing from experience that rushing into the questions wasn’t the way to get truthful answers.
Neena was a skilled people reader. If she wasn’t, she wouldn't have survived very long through her times on the streets. She needed to be able to read when someone was likely to part with their money for a little trickery or show, or if they were likely to report her to authorities. She had to know how involved someone was in a conversation and whether they would notice her pilfering the apple from the cart behind them. She had to be able to tell someone natural disposition: calm, violent, gullible, watchful... from just their outward appearance, to know whether they would be friend or foe to herself and the way she lived her life.
So, when the girl who later identified herself as Arela commented on the executions that were happening in the middle of the square, her tone of voice was hard for a woman of Neena's inter-personal skills not to notice. So... the young girl was less enthused by the idea of the executions than the people around her. Neena took a moment to wonder why as she focused on her shoe. Was the girl just soft in disposition and hated violence full stop? Did she only specifically hate the death penalty? Was she a woman who had committed the sins of the accused and just hadn't been caught yet, taking their eventual justice and punishment to heart?
Either way, it was clear from the way she then introduced herself to Neena and turned the topic onto introductions, that Arela was far more intent on being interested in her than on the legal retribution. So, Neena decided to humour her for now.
She smiled brightly up at the girl, as if totally unperturbed by the death that was happening the other side of the crowd (which, in fact, she was) and engaged with her on the topic of her choice.
"Did you?" She asked the girl in regards to the comment about her being referred to as woman. In all honesty, the Hebrew had gone in one ear and out the other so fast, she had barely had the time to roughly translate the meaning, let along wonder as to the nouns or pronouns the girl was using for her. "My Hebrew is basic. So, I'm not offended." She told the girl with a slight shrug of apology. "I'm Neena."
Having fixed her shoe and push her foot back into it, Neena could have stood up but was interested to talk to the curious girl that kept staring at her. Pulling her feet up, Neena perched herself on the wall, her legs crossed, knees out and her floaty tunic dipping inwards to keep her modesty but her pose severely unlady-like within the Judean culture. Holding onto her crossed ankles and bouncing her knees a little in casual fidgeting, Neena caught the girl staring again and smiled.
"You're staring." Neena told the girl, but her tone was amused rather than reproachful. "What do you want to know?" For she could tell that the young girl was burning with questions. She had met her type before - secluded, repressed and exposed to only a narrow sliver of what the world had to offer. Neena's way of living was often a beacon of curiosity for them and Neena was always happy to chat and talk with strangers. She lived to meeting new people and engaging with the world...
Maeri browsed around the market looking for a plain colored but sheer mitpahath to replace the one she had torn that morning. As much as she looked, she didn’t seem to be finding what she wanted. It seemed that since she had last purchased a mitpahath, bright colors had come into fashion. Maeri couldn’t imagine drawing attention to herself in that way, she usually tried to stay unobtrusive, and yet somehow she always seemed to find herself drawing attention. She only wished that she had her sister Nedevah’s grace, she never seemed to get into any trouble. As much as Maeri tried, it seemed like trouble always seemed to find her. Today she was hoping she could just blend into the crowd, get the mitpahath she wanted, enjoy any festivities to be had and keep from making a fool of herself.
Maeri was browsing at a stall that was selling an array of brightly colored mitpahath. She was trying to decide if maybe the deep blue that the man was selling might not attract so much attention after all. As she was considering whether or not the sheer garment might become her or not, she was jostled aside by the force of a man colliding with her, knocking her off balance and to the ground. She quickly jumped up, apologizing reflexively. Usually, these things were her fault. Perhaps she had been standing too far out in the way of the passersby as she stood contemplating her choice. But she found the man was apologizing himself, so perhaps she hadn’t been in the wrong this time. As she looked up she recognized him, Hazael who had given her her beloved Rayla. She hadn’t been able to bring Rayla to the market today, she tended to get very excited by crowds, and Maeri had wanted to be able to enjoy the day without having to mind the dog.
After checking that she was alright, he continued quickly on to mention that he was looking for his brother, a boy of about ten. She hoped he wasn’t alone and afraid. clearly, she’d have to help here. ”Hazael, you lost your brother?” she questioned worriedly, not realizing that he had not recognized her. ”Of course I’ll help look for him,” Maeri replied answering a question that he hadn’t asked. She hadn’t spotted the boy before. She had been too busy thinking about the new head covering she was going to buy. Still, she knew she needed to help Hazael look for his missing brother.
He’d been here prior to the crowd, and was in the thick of it now. With both his brothers and his father there, the four of them stood in their own little cluster, none of them frothing with the same rage and intensity as those around them. Because this sort of behavior was not permissible in any fashion, nor was it in the remotest sense right, Amiti did not feel particularly bad that these women and this man were going to be executed. Clearly they had placed themselves outside of both the law and of their own morals. Women were weak creatures and unable to help themselves from their own selfishness. This man should have known better than to have been ensnared in such vulgar sin. The very thought of a man kissing another of his gender made his stomach turn.
Rocks were being passed around and several were thrust into his hands as well as his father’s and brothers’ hands. It was decided that if you were part of the crowd? You were part of the execution. He closed his eyes, feeling the weight of the stones in his hands. While he did not overly like women on the whole, it wasn’t like he especially hated them either. It was just a matter of not trusting their motives and this sort of thing only solidified his view that they were weak, malleable creatures who could not be trusted with their own desires or self interests. It was a shame but if these women were not dealt with decisively and harshly, then others would follow their poor example.
The man’s behavior? Inexcusable. He should know better. That, Amiti felt no compassion for.
He watched as the man was led to where the crowd would have the best view of his punishment and did not flinch when the sword was brought down, ending the man in one quick stroke. It was then time to cast the stones. This was when the whole crowd grew restless and people began shouting. One by one, men and women both lobbed stones in the direction of the women accused and judged. He threw his stones until he ran out but he didn’t pick any more up. His family did the same and, since they had cast their ‘vote’ as it were, they worked themselves out of the crowd and back into the marketplace.
Though this sort of thing was acceptable, and necessary, he still felt a bit disquieted in his spirit. Death was deserved but it was still a solemn business and he didn’t feel right to be happy about someone’s choices that led to this. It was best to exercise quiet, internal reflection in such times. And so he kept his face a mask of no expression as he and his family moved through the marketplace, looking first at two women, one foreign, speaking together, and then at the other side, where a young man and a young woman were conversing.
Amarrisa could not fully recall how she had come to be here, near the front of the crowd, a small stone pressed into her hand. Had she been given the option, she would certainly not chosen to be here. As she stared in horror, her face carefully blank, she met eyes with the man accused, and felt a sort of sick kinship. He was her. Caught and now being punished for revealing who he loved. He was what and where she could so easily be. Her stomach turned and tied in knots, her thoughts turned to the events had proceeded these.
Abba had informed the family they were going to the council meeting this time. It was not unusual for him to attend of course, but it was unusual for the whole family to go. He said he wanted Cain and Caleb to start playing a more active role, to sit and listen and learn. And it was with that knowing, cunning, planning smile of his that he nodded to Amarissa and noted there might be some other fine men there at the meeting. Perhaps mingling in the city they would happen to see her and take a liking to her. Unless she was planning to go into matchmaking or some such calling. She had assured him she was not. And so it was decided. The family would travel to the province of Israel together.
They had arrived the night before, visited with far flung cousins and friends. It had been a surprisingly relaxed evening in truth and Amarissa had found herself even laughing and teasing with her fellow women. The dancing had been fun and while most were bummed out that they couldn't dance with the men, at least not officially, Amarissa felt a slight satisfaction that her enjoyment was not tainted so. Perhaps it was the wine, but for once she felt a little less terrified at her truth. She didn't act on it of course, but she did let herself be a bit more free with her dancing and teasing. Nothing that would draw suspicion from any but the most prudish of families but more than she had previously allowed herself.
She closed her eyes now, remembering the feelings of joy, attraction and even arousal that she had felt last night. How she wished she could burn those memories now. She had been right. It was better to hide it, deny it. Anything but acknowledge who and what she was. Even just to herself. A freak. A monster. A sinful creature.
Amarissa could not look away as the sword was raised. She saw a peace on the man's face. Terror yes, but peace. Release. Realization that he had acted on his love and he would never have to hide that again. She saw the sword lower and visibly shuttered as his head rolled away, her eyes squeezed shut.
When she opened them again she saw the women huddled, well, two of them. One stared at her accusers with a righteous indignation. Amarissa wondered for a moment if she was even guilty or if her enemies had merely found a way to off her. Amarissa once more became aware of the stone in her hand, she knew these women would die, and for the most part it was not wholly unjust that they did. Still she wondered how many of those throwing stones were so innocent themselves. As the stones began to fall on the women, Amarissa made it seem she had thrown her stone as well but then inconspicuously turned and made her way out of the crowd, dropping it beneath the cover of her dress so that it fell beneath her feet unnoticed by anyone around until they perhaps came upon it.
She was making her way out of the crowd when she looked up and found herself just a few strides away from Amiti of Tzephaniah himself. She did not intentionally meet his eyes but she may have on accident. Quickly she dipped her head out of respect and looked instead toward the two young women and the young man speaking with another young woman. A new wave of sadness fell over her as she noticed how little the death of these four individuals seemed to impact the people around her. Her face remained stony despite the despair she felt, her fears preventing outwards displays of her anguish at this tragedy and waste of life.
One second, he was walking in the midst of the crowd, his brothers flanking him and his father walking a little ahead, the next minute they were all shoved backward in a confusion of bodies and shouting. Shiloh was the one to notice first that their father’s money purse was missing. Then two brown blurs of yapping dogs chased after the thief, followed immediately by Amiti and Thaddeus. Shiloh stayed to help their father pick himself up off the ground, steadying him. Because of the amount of people, the tangle and upheaval, Tzephania had been in danger of being crushed, on accident, underfoot.
Amiti and Thaddeus tore after the man and his dogs, only for Thaddeus to accidentally slam into Amarissa. The two of them were sent sprawling, which Amiti only narrowly avoided, until a massive man, as tall as he was broad bumbled backwards, catching Amiti off guard, and causing the two of them to fall onto the pile that was his brother and the woman of their acquaintance.
The tangle of limbs, yelling, fighting for air under the man’s enormous weight, and also of Thaddeus practically clawing his way to freedom to take off after the thief, left Amiti on top of Amarissa, and the enormous, blubberous man on top of him. Amiti was totally unconcerned with his public appearance at this point and wholly sure that he was going to be suffocated. “For the love of all that is holy, man, get off!” he shouted.
The fat man lolled off to the side. Amiti gasped for air and raised up a little to stare down at Amarissa. He blinked for a second, having forgotten she was there, but obviously he’d been crushed against her and not the cobblestones. That would account for him not being too badly squished, but he couldn’t imagine that she was anything less than scandalized. He knew he was.
“Here,” he offered his hand to her. “Allow me to assist you.” He threw a scathing glare to the man still struggling to get up off the street, but others were seeing to him. They were all still being jostled this way and that by the crowds attempting to leave the site of the stoning, which meant that this girl didn’t have too much of a choice and if she hesitated, he didn't give her one. Hauling her to her feet, he moved the two of them forcibly to the side, out of the crush of bodies.
From here, he couldn’t see his youngest brother, or his father, and only the Lord knew where Thaddeus had disappeared to.
Amarissa was considering the ease at which those around her seemed to accept the death of four of their fellow citizens with only their labeled transgressions separating them when Thaddeus slammed into her, quite literally bringing her back to the present and meeting the cobblestone below.
There was mumbled apologies as they both tried to struggle to their feet and Thaddeus attempted to right himself so he could continue his chase she presumed but that plan, if it had been his plan was soon compromised as Amarissa soon found herself at the bottom of a dog pile of men that seemed to include not only Thaddeus once more but now also Amiti and one overly large stranger that may have been a shopkeeper who ran a small treat stand Amarissa frequented whenever she was in Israel. A rare occurrence before this trip.
Amarissa thought of these things in an attempt to not entirely panic at the sheer weight pressing down on her from the weight of nearly four men. She could barely breathe and in truth her eyes were squeezed shut just waiting for it to be over. Could she have rolled into a fetal position she would have but with Amiti landing just so as to flatten her, all she could do was hold still until she felt the pile move and shake and slowly weight begin to dissipate. Voices were muffled and as weight moved up slightly off her chest, instinct kicked in and she inhaled quite rapidly, her eyes flying open and finding them staring right into Amiti’s.
“Lord Amiti!” she breathed out with a shocked breathe as she came to realize just who was pressing down onto her body. She had had vague awareness of who was in the pile but in truth had not been fully aware of the order.
‘My his eyes are such a lovely dark brown’ Amarissa found herself thinking before she fully processed everything. Amiti and his family were strict followers of the Torah. Their family’s were not on the best of terms. What if he claimed she had done something to put them in this position? What if he..
Her thoughts were cut off as he rolled himself off and offered her his hand to help her up. She blinked and then nodded, taking his assistance and praising Yahweh that he wasn’t making any snide remarks about her clumsiness or absent minded nature causing this whole thing. He had changed some it seemed since she was a girl. Or perhaps her memories merely twisted the memories into sharper words than they had been.
As he shuffled her away from the crowd a bit and began semi frantically, for him anyway, looking around, Amarissa began checking her own coin purse and belongings to be sure nothing had been lost. She bit her lip slightly and knew she should thank him but her interactions with him as a teenager had been less than cordial. She wondered if he remembered.
“Tha..Thank you, I’m so sorry for being in the way” she said quietly, still visibly shaken from the ordeal, her thoughts on the executions temporarily chased from her mind. “How are you? What happened?” she blurted then as she tried to straighten her clothing and regain some sense of decorum. Her hands quickly finding her mitpahath and covering her hair modestly once more.