Free Word Fulfilled, The by Bruce Judisch

whisper. “I’m glad you are pleased.”
    Jamin returned to his work. Guilt over his evasion was eased by the fact that he had told his uncle the truth. The common bond within the Jewish community in Nineveh warmed Jamin’s heart. The consideration families displayed toward each other had caught his attention, so what he told his uncle was true. It was attractive. Of course, he didn’t reveal the whole truth behind why he wanted to stay, but Jamin could rationalize his decision to withhold information about the girl due to the hurt and confusion it would cause his beloved aunt and uncle. It wasn’t deceit; it was protection.
    That’s what it was. Protection.
     
    Lll
    Jamin trudged to market, the reed basket slung over his shoulder. The sun, although past its zenith, hung high overhead, as if to delay its glide to the western horizon. He wiped his brow as he passed the Mishkal Gate, then glanced toward the Temple of Ishtar. He veered by habit toward the path behind Nabu’s temple, but then he paused. There was little point in sneaking. The ishtaritu initiates would not be out, and, even if they were, it was clear from the girl’s words and the naditu’s ugly look that his hiding place had been compromised.
    His mind flashed back to the night he had raced down this same road in his haste to find the caravan. He perked at the unexpected thrill of the escapade—and the fear that being discovered had brought into his otherwise mundane life. Then he grimaced at the memory of his disastrous encounter with the young girl. He remembered little of the trudge home, other than the misery that shrouded his mind as darkly as the night enveloped his body. What would happen the next time he saw her, when she saw him? An ache filled his heart—a strange blend of warring emotions that would only be eased at the next encounter, however it might turn out.
    There would be no chance of spotting the girl along the road behind Nabu’s temple, though, even if she were out. The other alternative was bold. He could pass in front of Isthar’s temple, like he did the first time he saw her. It was a way to reassert his right to be there, not having to skulk behind pagan statues. This was a public byway, after all. He could use it anytime he wanted.
    So he would.
    Jamin turned onto the main route through the temple square. He kept his head bowed to the road, but his gaze flicked to the edifice of Ishtar’s temple as he passed. He noted movement between the columns. Several figures loitered in the shade of the portico. Two of them leaned out from the porch and peered down the road in the direction he traveled. One wore the blue tunic of the naditu and the other a pastel of a qadishtu . He surreptitiously scanned the groups of women, but none of them wore the pure white tunics of the ishtaritu . Jamin returned his gaze to the road ahead and wondered why he had bothered to divert through the square. What was he trying to prove? And to whom was he trying to prove it?
    As he reached the end of the steps, a movement by the last column caught his eye and he glanced up. She was leaning against the smooth white column, her ebony hair flowing over the back of—her light blue tunic! A naditu? She was no longer a lay maiden who awaited her ceremonial consummation, but a permanent priestess in the Temple of Ishtar.
    How could this be?
    Jamin stopped midstride. He dropped the basket from his shoulder and stared up at her, oblivious to the attention it drew from the other priestesses and passersby. The girl took no notice. She kept her gaze at her feet. For the longest time, Jamin stood immobilized by the horror of the pagan blue defiling the object of his desire. The next moment—he was not sure exactly when—her eyes were on him. Her face betrayed no expression, much like the first time she caught him staring at her. This time Jamin did not redden with embarrassment and drop his head. He reddened with despair. And anger.
    The two locked eyes, and