Mountain of Full Moons Read online

  MOUNTAIN of

  FULL MOONS

  Copyright © 2020, Irene Kessler

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, digital scanning, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, please address She Writes Press.

  Published 2020

  Printed in the United States of America

  ISBN: 978-1-63152-860-6

  ISBN: 978-1-63152-861-3

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2019911277

  For information, address:

  She Writes Press

  1569 Solano Ave #546

  Berkeley, CA 94707

  She Writes Press is a division of SparkPoint Studio, LLC.

  Interior design by Tabitha Lahr

  All company and/or product names may be trade names, logos, trademarks, and/or registered trademarks and are the property of their respective owners.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  This book is dedicated to my family who supported me from

  beginning to end. Your love gave me the courage to keep going.

  CHAPTER ONE

  I dare not move. The hut is dark but I can still feel my mother’s black eyes glaring at me. The sun is not yet up over the horizon in this Land of Canaan and my father, my Abba, is waiting and must be angry. The men need to make fresh mudbricks for the huts and I promised to bring a basket for them to collect the chaff. Instead, I am forced to sit here and listen to my Ima and her usual long list of complaints. I know them by heart. I sweep the floor, but it is not clean. I am never there to grind the flour and it is not done properly. Even animals will not eat the flatbreads I make, and I do not wear my shawl when I should. The truth is my parents want to keep me from playing my harp and singing. Did they give me grandmother’s harp to stare at? A harp is made to be played and a voice must sing.

  My mother is finishing her morning tirade. This daybreak is not much different from any other, but before the sun disappears, my life may never be the same.

  It seems like forever before the sun is into its final descent. My last chore is the flour and it is done. If I do not hurry, my parents will send me to help gather the animals. I am disobeying, but the Council of Elder’s meeting is about me. I must attend. The meetings are forbidden to women, but I must hear their decision. It is about my future.

  Which hand will the council cut off? A picture of my arm, bloody at the wrist, makes me ill. That cannot be their choice. Can it? I am not a thief. The queasiness in my stomach makes my insides quiver. My legs do not want to hold me up. The ends of my curls go into my mouth. Ima is furious if I chew my hair. She says, “A goat in the field looks better than you.”

  I climb the rise and hurry to my shrubs. Then rid myself of the shawl. I hate wearing it. The bushes are mine because no other female dares to eavesdrop on the men’s meetings. My favorite spot is not far from here. From there, I gaze down at the thirty-one beehive-shaped huts of my village and a long-ago memory returns. I was young and tried in vain to use all my fingers and toes to count their number. I could not. My parents always tell me how stupid I am.

  The faraway noise of men’s voices sends me back to my shrubs. With the shawl under my head, I nestle into the leaves. This gathering will begin soon. My family does not know the many times I listened to other meetings.

  The period between light and dark began a while ago and the council fire is already lit. The whole village is aware the flames burn for me. Warm for the season in this northern part of Palestine, the air is overladen with the harsh odor of red-hot wood. The atmosphere is heavy, not with rain, but with judgment. The sun heads to its rest, and the stars will soon come out of hiding.

  On my knees, I pull the branches aside. The greenery wobbles from my shaking hands. The chief invited the village men to express their concerns. They form the usual half-circle. Those men believe that if they touch me their teeth will fall out, that I consult with dark spirits, that I indulge in conjuring and trickery.

  Will the punishment be about talking to the women? Why do men become fearful when we speak up? The first council meeting was at five seasons of growth. My family was shunned, but soon after the council relented. Change is coming.

  “Sandalphon, my guide, why are you not here?”

  “Do not worry, I am always here to help.”

  Banishment alone in the wilderness is terrifying.

  The council members make a second half-circle behind the villagers. Abba might be late. Work must come first. The din of men’s voices grows louder as the Chief of Council nears the circle. His frame is massive and his tunic is the single one draped over the left shoulder and decorated with red and blue threads. His long black hair is fixed in place with a matching cap.

  The chief rings the bell. “May I have silence?”

  His face is stern. A biting cold comes over me. The villagers relate tales of his compassion, but those piercing black eyes are frightening. The gold pendant around his neck sends out flashes of light in the declining sun. His cover is held together with a clasp made of gilt and precious stones. His right thumb lays on top of the clasp.

  “Come to order.” He rings again. The mantle he pushes to one side is held on his shoulders with a large red thorn. He sits near the ceremonial bell. “We gather to decide the fate of Galina Bat Shamgar, daughter of Shamgar, who named herself Elisha. We met many times about her. She is now almost thirteen—a woman—and unmarried.”

  How many times do I have to tell him I did not name myself?

  He rings the bell and bows his head in welcome to my abba’s arrival. The men laugh at my father and taunt him for his failure to control me. Abba’s answer is to pull on his beard.

  My father’s hair used to be brown like mine, and we both have red streaks—Abba in his beard and mine in my curls. We also have the same brown eyes. I am happy to be like him and not like my ima. Abba stares at the men until they make room. He may not take part and only attends to hear the complaints against me.

  The men argue, and the chief stands. “Silence. We have already considered banishing her.” A new member of the community yells out, “Get rid of her. She is making trouble between my wife and me.”

  Not trouble. Truth.

  The chief turns toward him. “Thank you, I am aware of that.” His eyes are on the assembly. “We will come to an agreement or the decision will be mine. Does anyone from the community wish to offer an opinion?”

  A harsh liquid comes into my mouth and makes my throat burn. For a moment air is hard to take in.

  “Yes, chief.” The black of Gerah’s beard is streaked with white. It is the longest of all the village men and still does not cover his big belly. I am glad he is the first; he is the one villager who is kind to me.

  “Chief, I cannot solve this dilemma. Galina’s behaviors have not changed.”

  “Yes, yes,” the men yell out. “We agree.”

  Gerah pulls his shoulders back and smiles at them. “I recognize that Galina should not speak to our women as she does. She also talks to the air as if someone is there. But the fact is, she did not one sinful thing.” The men use both hands to bang their disagreement on the ground. “She did not one evil deed. That should be considered.” The men bang again.

  The chief nods. “I am in agreement.”

  Gera
h scowls at the ground. “Her name is another problem. What man would marry a woman with a male’s name?” The men bob their heads.

  The chief stands and paces. “I had the same thought.”

  Our neighbor, Qayin, comes into view as he stands. The flames from the fire seem to lick at his face.

  “Yes, Qayin.”

  My hands turn to fists. This man collects gossip and uses what he can gather to make others believe he is shrewd. Qayin’s heart matches his pitiful stature. He gives my father an arrogant stare. Abba’s shoulders straighten and he refuses to lower his head.

  “You are mindful we are neighbors, and I observe this family’s behavior.” He walks around the half-circle keeping his chest held high, tapping on it with his right hand, and gazing into the eyes of each man. “Therefore, my information must be considered.” The men snicker.

  He also spies on everyone, including both his wives. His brother died and Qayin took his sister-in-law as a second wife. Ahlai is a fine and sensitive woman near to my age. We often chat and I grew to enjoy her company. Her face changes when Qayin approaches. She told me that after his first wife’s death, he began beating her until she could not walk. I would run away before I let a man do that.

  “Yes, yes, Qayin.” The chief sits and leans his head on his hand. “What is your point?”

  “Galina is strange, different.” He holds up his right hand and points toward Gerah. “Talking to the air means she is crazy.” He turns back to the chief. “Galina watches each move I make, and I fear she will set a spell on my family.”

  The chief stands. “In all this time, she did not do so.”

  Qayin’s nose flares and his lips tighten. “Her Ima beats her because she terrorizes the children telling them her guide will make their legs fall off if they are mean to her.”

  The children love me. I play with them. My father’s face turns red and his jaw moves like the time he chewed meat that was not cooked through.

  The chief is irritated. “You stated this many times. She is not evil.”

  Qayin flies into a rage. “Is that true? She bewitches our wives. Galina told my wife to demand I do not beat her. She told my daughter that a man cannot tell her what to do. She claims women are as strong and as clever as we are. Her curls show red like fire and escape her shawl as if the devil wants them for its own. She brought unusual herbs to my wife and claimed they were for cooking. My first wife died of poison. I suspected Galina then.”

  I bury my fists into my cheeks to keep from screaming.

  The chief stands, his black eyes examining the circle. “Qayin, we do not know why your wife died. You are right. Talking to the women is a noteworthy problem we will address.” He turns to the council. “Remember, the former chief met with Galina when she was young and declared she was not dangerous. He found no evil intent. We judged a child’s mind, and we forgave her. Were we too lenient?” He raises his hand to ward off replies, then shakes his head.

  Qayin jumps up. “If she continues our huts will become places of opposition. The village will be overrun with hate and anger. If she is not banished, there will be no peace.”

  “You made your point. I will meet with the council to consider your contributions.”

  “Cut out her tongue and throw her out,” Qayin demands.

  “Please do not take my tongue.” The words escape my mouth.

  “Galina. Get yourself in front of me without delay.” His voice is harsh. I scramble down. “Where is your shawl?”

  “I am sorry, my lord, in my haste to obey I left it up the slope.”

  He signals with his head for someone to fetch it. “You eavesdropped and ignored the edict declaring women do not attend these meetings. This rashness will not bode well for the judgment.”

  I grab the shawl the council member hands me and place it over my head. My skin feels like insects crawl all over. “I ask for your understanding, but my lord, it is not fair for me to not know what is said.”

  The chief stands up to his full height and moves closer. “How dare you? Who do you think you are? Do you make the laws? Silence yourself.” His gold pendant shakes so close to my face I tremble. “You caused those dearest to you to be shunned. Must I now banish them?”

  That pains me and makes me angry. “How do you punish my family?” I point toward Abba. “That is justice?” Abba’s mouth is agape at my insolence. I take a step back and turn away. What did I do? I am so foolish.

  The chief rings the bell. “By the next half-moon, there will be a final answer.”

  All the men turn to stare at me. I straighten my back to stand as tall as this small frame allows. I want to disappear into the sky. My pleading eyes are fixed on Abba. Please forgive me, is the message they send. My father glares at me, his brow furrowed, as if to shout, You are finished. You are lost to us.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Without a glance back I run, not knowing where to go. There is only one place where I feel safe. I rush to the fields where my brother is tending the flock. The love Nathan gives to the animals, to nature, to everything, brings a smile and allows the fear and sadness to be forgotten for a moment. The older sheep have been trimmed, and his shearing tool is tucked in the rope around his middle. He is the one person who knows my heart.

  “Nathan! Nathan!” A lamb scurries away in time for me to fly into his arms. The eyes that gaze into mine are brown softened with yellow flecks. I drop my head onto his chest. His strong hands hold me tight.

  “They have banished you?” His tone is warm but does not veil his concern.

  There is no control of my tears. “I would rather be banished than hurt but pray they will let me stay. Their decision will come by the half moon.” He lets go of me and I turn away. “They want to cut out my tongue.” I turn back. “Please assure me they will not. I listened to their meeting from up the rise. When they said that about my tongue, I begged them not to hurt me and revealed my hiding place.”

  Nathan reaches for my hand. “Will you ever learn to keep quiet?”

  “Do not be disappointed,” I plead. I tell him all that happened at the council meeting.

  “Perhaps they will shun you. They did it before.”

  He lets go of my hand and stands waiting. “The tongue was Qayin’s idea.”

  “No one else would say such a thing.”

  I move closer. “Pray they will relent and let me stay.” I wait for reassurance. He remains silent. “Abba sat stone faced and never said a word.”

  “He does the best he can.”

  “You always protect him. He did not try.” I turn aside to wipe the tears.

  “He could not. He would be asked to leave the village. Can I help? What will you do until the decision?”

  “Wait and live through the torment. What else is there to do?” I slip to the ground. “How will I make a life on my own?” With my arms fastened around my legs, I rock like a child.

  “You are aware the Council takes their time. They do not wish to make mistakes.”

  I turn to face him. “If banishment is their decision, must I go?” “You will have no other choice.” He glances toward the animals. “You still cannot be sure of the outcome, but something else is disturbing you.”

  “I also told the chief that it was not fair I could not listen and defend myself. Then I ran from the Council.”

  “You have never changed, never tried to make our lives easier. After you stood in front of the Council many times, one might expect you to understand how they work. Our parents let you know what you must do, and you refuse to listen. You know that this had to come to an end.”

  “Now you sound like Abba.” I get up. “What does the future hold?” I reach for a handful of hair.

  Nathan shakes his head. “Stop. If Ima finds out you are chewing again she will be furious.” Tears run down my face. “I am sorry if I yelled. Sorry I could not help. Our parents do not understand why you will not change.” He grins. “Neither do I.” He shrugs his shoulders. “They fear what else you might d
o. I do not. You changed your name to Elisha and I trusted your sureness. They did not. But our parents agree you mean no harm.”

  “You are the one person who has faith in me.” I take his cheek in my hand. “You are right. They will never accept I am not wicked.”

  We walk a few steps toward the hut. “Dear sister, you are not like the rest of us.”

  “Am I so different? I laugh and cry like others. I want love as all do.”

  He stops. “What will you do until the decision?”

  I take his hand. “The only thing I can do. Carry on.” A single lamb stands in knee-length grass far away from the herd. Why did her clan abandon her? She voices a pitiful bleat.

  Nathan hears the call and his attention is on her. “And afterward?”

  My brother is a bit older than me and taller than Abba. As a boy, he saved me from pranks and ridicule and now he is a young man. “Pray I will live and come home. Hope I will be shown the right end.”

  “I also pray all will be well.”

  “The way cannot be eased. I may not survive.”

  Nathan takes me in his arms and holds me until the trembling stops. “I should get to the stray lamb.” He returns to the animals, and I turn toward home.

  Nathan said the outcome is not sure. My insides announce it is settled. I want to run away and not hear my parent’s harsh words, but I must go to our hut. If I do not help with the evening meal, my mother will be irate and her coughing will start again.

  The sun has almost finished its descent. The smell of herbs reaches my nostrils. Our women are at their fires making the lentil stew. The same aromas were in the air when the tribal elders decided I was not like the other children and the demons inside made me do evil things.

  Walking back toward the hut, I try to soothe myself. A few moments with my harp would help even if Ima punishes me with the stick. I remember when Abba gave me the harp long ago. He explained about the body being hollow so it is light enough for females. He thinks we are not as strong as men. Plucking a string made from dried and twisted sheep intestines makes a musical tone. That never ceases to astonish me. I hope the animals are not killed for harps to sing.