Eden Page 16
Eden’s ears perked up. The faint sounds came from behind the stone door. Eden went to the rock where her master lay and began to smell keenly around the edge. Several of the women cried out and drove Eden from the sealed entrance to the cave, as if it were a place no dog should touch or even sniff.
Maryam beckoned Eden back to the safety of her arms.
“Never mind them,” the woman whispered in Eden’s soft ear. “Half of them expect nothing and the other half are too fearful to hope for more.”
Eden nuzzled the woman’s throat and looked into her eyes. Maryam was neither angry nor afraid. And her eyes suddenly brightened, for the faint sound of the littlest lamb’s bell drifted up from the dell.
In a few moments, the bell grew louder. The littlest lamb pranced onto the ledge and Samson plodded solidly up soon after. The old man had returned, bringing more firewood and more water in the same water skins. They sloshed against the donkey’s strong neck. After unloading Samson as he had the day before, the old man found his spot near the stone door on the narrow ledge and sat.
A new man followed the first. A younger man, and like the elder one, a silent type and laden down with sacks. He rested the sacks at his feet and joined the old one, sitting on a bit of stony edge that didn’t seem wide enough to hold either man. But neither of them stirred, not even to draw their cloaks about them as the wind swept up from the dell tugging shawls across every woman’s face. Neither man seeming cold nor tired in any way, just curiously hopeful and expectant.
The heavy scent of baked bread, dried fruits and burnt meat seeped from the sacks, flowing along the ground like fragrant smoke. Everyone knew what the sacks held—food—yet no one made a move to paw through them. As if they were not to be plundered yet, not yet. This was not the time to eat.
For her part, Eden had no appetite and she looked at the faces of the women sitting there. No gleam of hunger, just the brick of sadness, the rusty hook of fear. But as for Maryam sheltering Eden in her arms, the woman looked at the dog with cool certainty. Maryam knew something the others did not, and stared hard at the cave, through the very rock. As if the woman could move the stone door with her will alone.
The sun began to set again. How it moved across the heavens so quickly, Eden could not explain. One moment it stood high overhead, then the next it slid toward the horizon, reddening the sky. The wood and kindling Samson had lugged from below were built into a fire. Yet this time for some reason it did not drive away the chill, and the silence of the women grew until it covered the ledge like a heavy weight.
In the dead of night, Eden opened her eyes. That sound again came from behind the door stone. And she could smell that familiar scent.
Her master.
Not musty like the robe on which she and Maryam curled, but strong and vibrant. The scent of life struggled out from under the stone. And from where they sat on the uncomfortable ledge the two silent men, the younger and the old, stared at Eden. Each one seemed to smile, with that same cool certainty the dog had seen in the Maryam’s eyes earlier that day.
The faint voice on the wind grew more distinct in Eden’s sharp ears, the murmurs behind the stone door grew louder, the scent of her master growing stronger than she ever recalled. Eden couldn’t stand it any longer.
She couldn’t stand it—
Eden ran to the great door stone and stood on her hind legs.
Paws up, scratching, scratching. Master, I hear you. Master, I’m here! He’s in there, let him out! Let him out!
Several of the women cried out in anger, rushing from their places to drive Eden away from the forbidden stone, to strike her. But the two strangers, the younger and the older strangers, stared with eyes that seemed to flash … strong, silent eyes. The women froze in place, squatting where they crouched.
Maryam gently took the dog from the face of the stone, bringing Eden back with her to their place on the pad.
“I know,” she whispered in the dog’s soft ear. “I felt him too. I feel him now.”
And Eden realized what Maryam really meant, that these two days’ waiting felt like such a long, long time, but this too had passed somehow. And now they stood at the end of a journey and the beginning of a new one.
Eden settled down once more, her head resting in Maryam’s lap. The littlest lamb’s bell tinkled softly as she curled up by Samson. The donkey stood stoically in the dark, not even swishing his tail. The last thing the dog saw that second night as her eyes fluttered closed was the two men, the younger and old, sitting on the narrow ridge of stone by the flat face of the covered cave. They seemed to shimmer in the dark, as if inner candles lit them, or distant lightning flickered from within. A glow that made her feel safe even as she slept.
And as she slept Eden dreamed. She could see herself nestled in Maryam’s arms. Nearby, the two men, the younger and the old, rose from their uncomfortable strip of stone. They went to the face of the tomb and gently rolled the door stone away. And the great stone moved at their slightest touch and the entrance was unsealed.
And as she looked inside, the younger walked into the open grave, while the older stood by the open doorway. Eden tried to peer inside the tomb, through the mouth of the low cave, even tried to rise as she had tried before, to force her way in, but in her dream she couldn’t move from Maryam’s arms.
The dog could smell the scent of her master, so strong now it filled her head as it never had before. The scent of polished leather and of clean clothes and washed skin, she could smell the scent of fragrant oil and of apricots, of oranges and honey dripping from the comb. Eden could smell the scent of green grass and warm dry straw, of falling water over rocks and pine needles in shady woods like angels’ breath in the very air.
The younger man within the tomb knelt where Eden could see him, while the older stood guard at the open hole. Eden felt as though they were about to speak, to say something about what was happening, and finally Eden crawled from the nest of the woman’s arms—
And she woke.
Dawn had come again.
Sunlight poured into the open mouth of an empty tomb.
The strange men were gone, and the women rushed to touch the stone door and feel about the edges of the cave’s mouth. There were cries of dismay and amazement. The empty tomb moaned quietly as though knowing it would never be filled.
Samson poked his long gray nose at the opening as there was no room for him to enter, but the littlest lamb trotted in and out, then ran right up to Eden and Maryam.
“He’s near, I know he’s near. Can you feel him? He’s almost here!”
Eden didn’t know what to say. The dog left the comfort of Maryam’s arms and went through the cave’s mouth. The emptiness yawned at her, and one of the women folded her master’s winding cloth, wrapping it tighter and tighter, as if to keep the essence of the man from escaping the shroud.
But the winding cloth meant nothing to Eden, and all the scent she smelled before had now gone. Vanished. And she stood in a dry, empty cave.
Only the sacks of food remained. Loaves and fishes and meat partly spilled upon the ground, waiting for any to take. And the women broke the bread, passing the food between them.
Maryam rose from the shoulder of the stone where she had sat for two days.
Slowly she approached the cave and knelt to look inside. All who saw the empty cave paid her little mind, until she began to weep quiet tears. But then they paid her mind as she began to speak in a quiet voice. Talking, speaking as it were to the air, as she once had talked to flies. Talking to the empty tomb, “Where have they put him? Do you know? Tell me. If you know, tell me.”
But no one answered. And Maryam fell silent once more.
Eden left the cave and went to Samson and the littlest lamb.
“The men you carried wood and water for are gone,” she told them. “You belong to no one again. And our master is gone. There is no one here. But as the littlest lamb says, I feel him close too. Let us search for him, at least this day.”
/> Without a word Maryam rose from the empty hole in the side of the rock. She straightened her robe and skirt, silently bid the women farewell with a wave of her hand, then silently walked from the ledge until it broadened to a path. Where Maryam was heading none of the animals knew. But they knew they wanted to follow her, even if she led them nowhere.
Only a few steps up the path they caught the woman and fell in line. And what struck the dog, the donkey and lamb was that all the mice in the fields had appeared again. They stood upon every rocky outcropping, along the stony path, beside every tree. Thousands upon thousands lined either side of the way upon which they tread.
And not only the mice, but the fox himself had reappeared.
Explaining as they passed:
“Last night I found a hole to sleep in and woke to find these mice upon my threshold. Perhaps I shall hunger for mice and rats again, but now I hunger for other things. At least for today. At least for now.”
At the next turning the crowds of silent mice parted in awe at the sight of the companions—the woman, the dog, the donkey and the lamb—while the fox trotted along, keeping a safe distance but keeping up all the same.
Maryam reached the low wall of a tended garden. Nothing to be planted yet, for it was much too early, yet this was the time to turn the soil and the Gardener stood behind the low wall, planting his wooden spade in the dirt and turning it over. Clod after clod, so it might take spring air and soak up the sun’s light.
Maryam paused for a moment to stare at the Gardener; tears sprang to her eyes again and she let them flow. But to Eden the scent of the Gardener told her everything: polished leather, clean clothes and washed skin, of green grass, warm dry straw and the scent of apricots. She smelled the scent of oranges too and nearby a cluster of bees hovered about their comb in the open trunk of an old olive tree. Samson stopped in his tracks with the littlest lamb. While the fox found the shadow of the olive tree to watch and wait and listen.
Eden jumped over the stone wall, stepping in the Gardener’s dirt, and ran to greet him. But the Gardener held up a hand and the dog halted a few footfalls away.
“Why do thou weep?” the Gardener asked Maryam, across the stone wall. “Who do thou seek?”
And the woman, wiping the tears from her face with the back of her hand implored the man, “Sir, if you have borne him here, tell me where he lies and I will carry him away.”
The sun climbed from the horizon’s hill and the animals could see the dew upon the ground. And every mouse in the field was drinking from each drop that lay on rock or a fallen leaf. Eden saw the Gardener smile and she crouched on the soft dirt. The dog knew him now.
And Maryam knew him too, as ever she had. The woman reached out across the wall to touch him once more. Imploring him to come to her, or at least let her come to him. But their master did not go to her or to Eden either. He planted the gardening spade in the earth, letting it stand upright. And the littlest lamb paced back and forth before the low stone wall and under Samson’s legs in terrible frustration. For she too wished to go to him. Pacing back and forth and bleating, come, Samson, jump the wall, you can do that, jump the wall and go to him!
“I cannot move from here,” Samson told the littlest lamb. “Don’t ask me why, but I cannot. That garden is not to be trampled. Some day we may enter. But not today.”
The littlest lamb still fretted, skipping back and forth.
A sparrow flew in from the old olive tree and landed on the low stone wall. The sparrow hopped up and down in front of the lamb’s pink nose and chirped.
“See here now,” said the sparrow. “You needn’t fret. His eye is on you too.”
And with that a sudden calm descended. The mice in the field sighed as one and the fox drowsily blinked his eyes. Eden sniffed the broken dirt and it smelled clean and hopeful. And she knew the time had not yet come to touch her master, for he stood between heaven and earth. That time would come later. Later she would sit by his side, she would play with him and he would pet once more, but not today. Today there was a road ahead.
Eden could see the road now, very clearly winding on ahead. It crossed every threshold and led into every home.
“All right,” the littlest lamb sighed at last, and stopped her pacing. “All right, I can wait. I can wait.”
Maryam bent to look closer at the top of the garden wall. Amongst the stonework that made the wall, two small stones sat by themselves. A black stone and a white.
Eden sniffed them, just two stones. Ah, you could always tell if they had traveled in a purse or in pocket. You could always tell if they had rubbed together for a long, long time—but these two stones had not. Neither showed their insides; they were fresh and untouched as if born from the earth this very day. Maryam smiled. She picked up the stones and weighed them in her hand. The Gardener smiled and Maryam understood. These were her two stones, her very own. She bid their master farewell. Farewell for now.
The woman left the garden wall and walked on ahead. There was purpose in her stride and no weariness and she knew where she was going. To find the companions, to find every traveler who may have seen the man, but first to the house where the companions were in hiding. They should hide behind closed doors no longer. They had work to do as well.
The animals left the Gardener behind the garden wall and once more trotted to catch up. Maryam was glad to see them and put her arm over Samson’s neck as they walked along.
“Where shall we go now?” the donkey asked.
Eden ran on ahead. “Everywhere,” she barked.
“Who shall we tell?” asked the littlest lamb.
“Everyone!” Eden said.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2016 by Keith Korman
Illustrations Copyright © 2016 Lisa Paris
ISBN: 978-1-5040-3508-8
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