Sogdiam is also losing his temper, is he?â Lilah took him by the shoulders, drew him to her and pressed her lips to his brow. âForgive me, Sogdiam,â she whispered. âItâs a bad day. Ezraâs angry, Axatriaâs angry, youâre angry and I . . .â Sobs rose in her throat. She hugged Sogdiam tighter, not so much to comfort him as to reassure herself. âOf course I see you, my Sogdiam. Of course I thank you.â She kissed his eyelids. Sogdiam did not reply,and dared not put his arm round her waist. He stood stiffly, breathing in gasps and shaking all over.
Lilah pushed him away gently. There was still so much mistrust in his eyes, she was reminded of a wild animal that could never be truly tamed. âSmile.â
His lips stretched into a grimace that was not a smile but betrayed the depth of the affection he felt for her and his hunger for love.
Lilah took his chin and forced him to look at her. âYouâll never be my husband, Sogdiam,â she said quietly, âbecause Iâm too old for you. But Iâll often regret that. And I know that weâll always be friends.â
They remained like that until Sogdiam, with a gleam in his eyes now, seemed convinced that Lilah was not joking. Then he freed himself. âItâs all right,â he said. âThere isnât much spilt milk. Iâll wipe it up.â
With a knot in her stomach, and surprised at the strength of her own feelings, Lilah watched him go about his work, cleaning and putting away the flat stone, the containers and the utensils. He was a serious and loyal young man, braver and more determined than most boys of his age in the upper town.
âI wasnât inspecting your work, Sogdiam,â she said. âIâm well aware you do far more than Ezra asks of you. I was just surprised by how empty the baskets are. Ezra eats nothing, and Master Baruch hasthe appetite of a bird, yet thereâs almost nothing left of the barley and the dried vegetables that Axatria and I brought you last time. There must have been at least four or five
minas
of each. I find it hard to believe you ate the rest. And thereâs no reason to throw it away.â
Sogdiam did not reply immediately. âWe donât throw it,â he admitted at last. âWe give it away.â
âYou give it away?â
âIt was Ezraâs idea.â
âWhat do you mean?â
Once again, Sogdiam took his time replying. He looked into the oven, where the biscuits were darkening. For some time now, the room had been filled with the sweet smell of barley, but neither had noticed.
âYour biscuits are turning brown,â he said.
âLord Almighty!â Hurriedly Lilah seized a long wooden spatula and a thick serge cloth. She bent down to the oven, screwing up her eyes against the heat, skilfully prised the biscuits loose with the spatula, without breaking them, and collected them in the cloth. She stood up again, breathing hard, face bathed in sweat. âOne moment more and theyâd have burned.â
âThe herb tea must be ready, too,â Sogdiam said, and he took the pitcher out of the oven.
Lilah placed the steaming golden biscuits on aplatter of woven palms, then added a few dates and the pot of milk. She looked at Sogdiam, who was filtering the tea into a large bowl. âWhat do you mean, you give away the food?â
Sogdiam looked at her reproachfully. As reluctantly as if he were about to betray a secret, he pointed his chin at the courtyard. âThree or four moons ago, a woman from the
zorifes
came here. She was moaning so loudly you could have heard her in the upper town. We gave her a little barley.â He stopped, and smiled. âWait.â He bent over the oven and took a small earthenware dish with a lid from beneath the ashes. âA surprise for Master Baruch,â he announced, lifting the lid with a cloth and waiting for Lilahâs