Land of the Lost Tribe

Land of the Lost Tribe

A novel

Hannah Ross

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are entirely the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, persons, or anything else is entirely coincidental.

No part of this book may be used, reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any manner by any means, known or unknown, without express written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Copyright © 2017 by Hannah Ross

All rights reserved.

ISBN-10: 1981415440

ISBN-13: 978-1981415441

Cover design by Odile Stamanne

Introduction

Sometime around the end of the 9th century A.D., a dark-skinned traveler calling himself Eldad ha-Dani caused quite a stir in the Jewish world of that time. Traveling around many Jewish communities, he demonstrated a proficiency of the Hebrew language and holy texts, and told of a great, rich and powerful Hebrew kingdom far to the south.

Many modern scholars identify Eldad’s Hebrew people with the Beta Israel of Ethiopia – an ancient Jewish community whose origins remain shrouded in mystery to this very day. Prominent rabbinical authorities consider them as belonging to the tribe of Dan. The Beta Israel used to have a kingdom of their own, which gradually fell into decline, and they became a persecuted Jewish minority in the heart of Africa, up until the time that the community was transplanted to Israel.

Land of the Lost Tribe is a speculative historical novel, the goal of which is to bring Eldad ha-Dani and his contemporaries to life. His story, as told here, is furnished with many particulars which might or might not have happened, and I have allowed myself some leeway with the historical accuracy and timeline (in particular, the period in which Queen Judith lived); but the core of it, that of Jewish people all over the world looking out to Jerusalem disregarding space and time, and being ready to sacrifice anything to preserve their identity, rings true throughout the course of Jewish history, ancient and modern.

Chapter 1

The sun had not yet risen, but the reflection of the dawn sky colored the waters of Lake Tana golden. Not far from the grassy bank, his trousers rolled up and his legs knee-deep in the chill water, a young man stood with a spear in his hand, poised and waiting.

His keen eyes peered into the clear water, searching, scanning for movement. A school of fish passed very near his feet, but these were small game. He was looking for something more substantial. He made himself stand very still. The lake was full of fish; all he needed was a little patience.

Something large and silvery slid by. The movement underneath the water’s surface was so subtle that it might have been missed by anybody, but not by him. He had had too much experience, being born and bred on the lake. His spear darted forward, lightning-fast, and a moment later reappeared above surface, a flapping fish impaled on it. The young man smiled in satisfaction. It was a nice tilapia, and no doubt his mother would appreciate this contribution to the family breakfast.

At this very moment, the rising sun finally appeared above the jagged mountain peaks surrounding Lake Tana. The sky broke forth in all the glory of pink and gold and purple. The young man turned his face upward and closed his eyes, as if in prayer. He had seen eighteen summers, and his fanciful mind has often taken flight with tales of lands far away, but he could not conceive of a place more beautiful than the mountains of Simien, where his ancestors had lived for many generations.

Except, perhaps, the Promised Land – the land which God himself had given to the children of Israel, his forefathers, and where he or his descendants would someday return. Yet this was only an abstract thought. The land of Israel gleamed in his imagination shimmering and golden, but he could not actually picture it as a place where people lived, and ate, and slept, and went about their business. It was a magical place, removed from this world.

He shook his head. Daydreaming was all fine and well, but it was breakfast-time, and the family would be waiting for him. He hoisted his spear on his shoulder, with the silvery tilapia held up like a banner. His bare feet stepped softly on the dewy grass as he began walking in the direction of the village.

Their house stood at the edge of the settlement, closer to the lake than any other one. It was a circular hut made of compact straw bales and sealed outside and out with a thick layer of reddish-brown burnt clay. The pointed roof was thatched. Not every house in the village could boast of a window, but theirs did, and as of now the shutters were wide open. The door as well. His mother, Tamar, a tall and stately woman, was waiting for him on the doorstep. She waved when she saw him.

There you are, Eldad. I thought you had gone to the lake. That’s a nice catch.

I was lucky, he said, handing his mother the fish.

You must have been up well before dawn, or I would surely have heard you go out.

Yes – the sky was inky black, but I opened the shutters a crack, and the air was so cool and vibrant. One can hardly sleep when the morning promises to be so glorious.

"You are hungry, aren’t you? Come into the house – there’s injera and some cheese. You can grab a bite while I cook this fish and we wait for your father to join us."

Wait didn’t mean that his father was still in bed, of course; Eldad knew better than that. His father, the revered Kes Mahli, a spiritual leader of the community, was an exceedingly pious man who spent almost every spare moment praying or learning the holy texts. For this purpose he had built a separate tiny hut, apart from the main family house, where he retired away from the noise and clamor of his children. This religious diligence, and removal from most worldly affairs, was known and respected by everyone in the village, including members of the congregation who would normally go to the Kes to complain about their neighbors and try to win him to their side. The villagers had too much respect for Mahli to bother him with trifles, and did their best to resolve minor conflicts on their own.

Eldad was hungry, however. His rumbling stomach gave him a loud reminder of his having been up for hours without tasting a morsel of food. He went to the small outdoor washing-basin, scrubbed his hands clean, and walked into the hut. A platter was laid on the woven grass mat, loaded with hot, freshly baked injera – fermented flatbread made from the teff grain – and a bowl of soft white goat-cheese. Eldad took a piece of flatbread, scooped up a generous measure of cheese with it, recited a short blessing and began to chew.

A few minutes later, when he walked out again, he saw that his mother had already cleaned the tilapia, made a neat small outdoor fire and was roasting the fish on a spit. She basted it with oil, herbs and a pinch of salt, a precious ingredient in their inland area. She also wrapped some eggs in leaves and buried them in the ashes, a little away from the fire.

The food will soon be ready. Now, where have your brothers got to? I thought Yosef and Shlomo would finish feeding the animals by now. I didn’t ask them to milk, you know – I’d rather do that myself.

Where is Mulualem? asked Eldad. His only sister could usually be seen around the house at this hour, darting to and fro and giving a very good illusion of being in three places at once.

In the House of the Unclean, said Tamar, lowering her voice, as befits when talking of a delicate subject.

Oh. We won’t see her for a week at least, then. Poor Mulualem.

Don’t say that, Eldad. I am quite glad she finally has her womanly cycles, you know. For a girl of twelve, and as well-grown as she is, it was high time. Now we can think of a suitable match for her.

It won’t be easy in her case. She is hard to please.

I wouldn't say so. It's just that her mind flutters like a butterfly – all young girls are like that, his mother said indulgently. Ah, there you are, boys!

Yosef and Shlomo came forward, dirty-handed and smiling. Little Ephraim trailed behind them, proudly carrying a basket of eggs.

Thank you, son. Mind you don’t break them, now. Well, boys, go and wash your hands – wait, Ephraim, give this basket to me and run along and tell your father breakfast is ready.

The charred skin of the tilapia became bubbly and crispy; a pleasant aroma spread around the cooking-fire. Using tongs, Tamar removed the roast eggs from the ashes, placed them in a wooden bowl and gave them to Shlomo to carry inside.

Soon Eldad’s father appeared, in his simple white robes of a Kes, quite plain and clean – embroidered robes were reserved for special occasions. He purified his hands with lake water from a large hung-up skin and slipped off his shoes as he walked into the house. The family followed him and settled down on the grass mats around the central platter. Kes Mahli tore off a piece of injera, closed his eyes, intoned a blessing and tasted his first morsel of the day. After carefully chewing and swallowing, he dispelled his solemn expression and looked upon his family with a smile.

Blessed be your hands, wife, for preparing this food. Blessed be your hands, Eldad, for catching this fish. Blessings upon you, boys, for tending to the animals today. And blessings upon the head of Mulualem, though she isn’t with us at this moment. May God grant her fertility and a good husband and many healthy children.

Amen, intoned the family, and the meal was allowed to begin in earnest. Goat cheese was scooped up with pieces of injera, and roast eggs were shelled, revealing a pleasant brown color. Chunks of fish were stripped off the bones, dripping with juice and succulent. Fragrant herb tea was poured into clay cups and savored, its flowery and grassy smell permeating the small cabin.

Wife, Mahli said after they have all finished eating, wrap some food in leaves and take it to Mulualem. I know the other women cook in the Blood House, but she mustn’t think her family has forgotten about her.

This was like Kes Mahli – kind and considerate to even the minute needs of everyone around him. Tamar inclined her head in appreciation. Yes, husband.

Mahli got up. Eldad thought he would turn to go at once, back to the little hut where he had peace and quiet to meditate and pray and learn. Mahli never spent too much time in the main house, except for Saturdays. But to Eldad’s surprise, his father laid a hand on his shoulder and said, Walk with me, son.

Eldad was surprised, but it was not the custom to question the words of one’s father. Obediently, he got up and followed Mahli down the path that led to the little hut. It was a circular, grass-roofed structure quite similar to the main house in shape and, though so much smaller, it too had a window to let in sunlight and ease the perusal of holy texts.

Mahli’s hut was sparsely furnished. There was a grass mat on the floor, a clay water-jug and a cup and, except for the case that held the scrolls of holy text, this constituted the whole interior. The wooden case was large, however, lovingly carved and polished, and Eldad knew it to contain many writings in Hebrew and in the holy tongue of Ge’ez – a language he had taken some pains to learn but, to his father’s chagrin, did not study with sufficient diligence. He knew enough to read from the holy book of Orit, the Torah written in Ge’ez, but he couldn’t hope to match his father’s fluency, not without more strenous application than he was willing to submit to.

The two men sat down upon the grass mat, facing each other. Eldad, with some concern, noted that his father’s expression became darker, sterner, more serious. What is it, Abba? he asked.

I have received notice, Kes Mahli said, from the city of Simien. Your cousin Yefet got back from there yesterday and came to see me at once. He brought me some very disturbing news. My son, he had met Christian preachers at the streets of Simien, spreading their heresy unpunished.

Eldad was startled. Ever since the kings of Aksum converted to Christianity five hundred years ago, there has been bitter strife between them and the Beta Israel, who had retreated into the highlands and formed their own kingdom. There has mostly been a ceasefire for the past couple of generations, but no love existed between the descendants of the Hebrew people and the adherents of Jesu. The Beta Israel considered Christians unclean – eating food prepared by them was forbidden, as was going into their houses. King Gideon expressed a more lenient attitude in the past years, however. After the death of his first wife, which occurred two years previously, he had gone so far as to marry a Christian Aksumite princess who converted to the Hebrew faith. This was a clever political move which laid the groundwork for a peace treaty, but Kes Mahli, though not daring to publicly voice his disapproval, was highly concerned about the ulterior motives of the Christians in providing such a wife for the king. The arrival of Christian preachers in Simien confirmed his worst fears.

It is that woman, he went on, shaking his head. "She has steered King Gideon away from the righteous path, like Jezebel had done with King Ahab. You know how it had ended, son – in the destruction of the kingdom of Israel. This will end in our destruction, now, if we don’t take care to put a stop to it."

But are you certain, Abba? Eldad ventured to ask. This doesn’t make sense. How dare Christians openly preach in Simien? I can’t believe it would be tolerated.

Not openly, according to Yefet. They feed their poisonous ideas into the minds of people subtly, imbibing them with such notions that would ultimately cause them to abandon the true faith. They don’t dare to show the cross, but they twist and warp the holy scriptures until people are convinced that black is white and that the sun rises in the West and sets in the East.

This matter should be investigated.

Indeed, son. And here is where you come into the picture. I want you to go to Simien and find out how much of this is true. If you can, see King Gideon and speak for him in my name – you will know what to say, I trust.

Eldad was not displeased at the prospect of going to Simien, a glorious city he had only seen a few times. Certainly, Abba, if you wish it. But will you not come with me? The king is a lot likely to listen to you than to me.

No, son. I couldn’t possibly leave the congregation. I will write a letter to the king, and you will deliver it – it should suffice.

Eldad didn’t argue, though he knew the village could probably spare Kes Mahli for a few days. His father disliked the noise and bustle of Simien, however. Venerated as he was, and coming from such a respected family – tracing his heritage in an unbroken male line all the way to Dan, son of Jacob – Mahli could have resided in Simien with much comfort and luxury, serving at court, but he preferred a quiet life in a small lake village where he could study and pray without distraction.

You will leave tomorrow, Mahli said, and take Yosef with you. This way, you two can watch out for each other. It won’t do any harm, and might do a great deal of good, to have another pair of keen eyes in Simien. Now let’s get back, son.

Back? Eldad was surprised. After the morning meal, his father usually retreated to his study and prayer house until dinner.

I forgot something I wanted to speak to your mother about. I have received a letter from my cousin Dan; you remember him, surely, though you were but a child when he last visited us. He has a son about Yosef’s age, and he has offered him for Mulualem.

Eldad was struck. Something in him refused to recognize the fact that Mulualem, that little sister he used to toss into the air and sail ships in puddles with, was now on the brink of becoming a woman and leaving her family to form a household of her own. Isn’t Mulu a little too young? I’m not sure she will welcome the idea of marriage so soon.

I will not force her, surely. If your mother has no objections, I plan to invite my cousin and his son for a visit. Then I can observe how your sister reacts to this boy. If she seems to dislike him, I will wriggle out of the offer, even at the cost of offending Dan. But if the two take to each other, I don’t see why they shouldn’t be married – either right away or after a betrothal of a certain length, to let Mulualem get used to the idea.

As they got out of the little hut, Eldad saw his cousin, Abaynesh, pass by with a water jug balanced on her head.

Good morning, she said with a shy but ingratiating smile.

Good morning, said Eldad. Abaynesh was two or three years younger than him, and they used to play together as children, but she was all of a woman now, lithe and graceful and with a dancing step that made many of the young men in the village turn and gape. Friendship was no longer possible between the cousins, as young people were expected to be exceedingly guarded in the company of the opposite sex, but something of the lingering warmth of a childhood attachment still remained.

A good and blessed morning to you, child, said Mahli with a ceremonious nod, steering his son away. Once the girl and her jug were out of sight, he turned to Eldad and said, You had better make up your mind, son. Either go to the girl’s father and bespeak her, or stop making calf eyes at her.

Calf eyes? spluttered Eldad. I did not make calf eyes! I only said ‘good morning’. One can say ‘good morning’ to one’s cousin, isn’t that so?

Mahli smiled and shook his head. "Don’t take this too much to heart, Eldad. I confess, it would give me great joy to see you settle down, and Abaynesh is a very good girl – but you need not feel obliged to marry her, even if she does seem to be rather partial to you."

Eldad could not deny this. In the past months he was sometimes visited by stray thoughts about Abaynesh – her sparkling eyes, hidden under long eyelashes; her light step and the curve of her lips… several times he was on the point of going to her father and asking for her to be given him in marriage. He knew it was the proper and sensible thing to do, and he knew – without being modest – that it would make Abaynesh extremely happy. But something stopped him. He was uncertain – or, at least, he did not possess the kind of certainty that would prompt him to speak the decisive word.

His father’s face grew serious again. He stopped in the middle of the path leading back to the village center and gripped Eldad’s shoulder.

I trust you to be my eyes and ears in Simien, Eldad. There can be no real trust between the Beta Israel and those others. Once they sought to destroy us by flame and iron, but now they will not settle for anything less than annexing our souls to their heretical faith. I need to know what they are up to and how real this threat is. It is of utmost importance. Our heritage cannot be risked – especially if we are, as some suspect, the only remnants of the twelve tribes of Israel.

Eldad suppressed a notch of despair provoked by his father’s words. It was true that the mountain kingdom of Simien was isolated and hard to access, and the Beta Israel lived there almost completely detached – though it was a comfortable detachment - from the rest of the world. But he never imagined his people to be completely alone under the sun. Surely beyond desert and sea some of their brethren still existed.

"Do not talk so, Abba. Without the tribe of Judah, who shall be king of Israel when the time of redemption comes? And without the tribe of Levi, who would tend the Great Temple of Jerusalem? Surely the Cohanim must be there even now, as we speak, offering sacrifices to the Lord and chanting prayers that rise up to heavens."

Yes, yes, Mahli hastened to say. Sometimes I am too desponding. I know that. It is hard to imagine Jerusalem when one has never seen it. It is so far to the north that we never get any news of it. Be that as it may, son – I am a Kes. It is my duty to worry about the Beta Israel, and to warn King Gideon if need be. I shall write the letter to him as soon as I have spoken to your mother.

By this time, Yosef and Shlomo were busy plowing the family fields. Little Ephraim sat outside the house with his mother, helping her shell beans. Eldad, with his parents’ hearty approval, proposed taking his fishing gear to the lake again, to try and catch some more fish. On his way, however, he made a circuit to reach the Blood House, where all the women who were unclean with their moon’s blood or after childbirth were congregated. He could not come too near, or he would run the risk of becoming unclean himself, but he stopped near the palisade that surrounded the hut, hoping to catch a glimpse of Mulualem. Sure enough, he saw his sister lounging in one of the distant corners, lonely and bored-looking.

Mulu! he called. She turned at the sound of his voice, and her eyes lit up with surprise and gladness. Though he had three brothers with whom he had always been on excellent friendly terms, a special bond existed between Eldad and his only sister. He missed her presence and anticipated the lively, carefree atmosphere that would be restored to the family home once Mulualem had waited out her seven unclean days and dipped into the purifying waters of Lake Tana.

Eldad! She got closer to the palisade. How glad I am you came! The women are all inside, cooking and gossiping, but I’m so tired of their prattle. I wish Abaynesh were here. It is not half so dull with her around.

I saw Abaynesh earlier, Eldad informed her.

"Did you? Did she give you any message for me? Wait, I need not ask. As if she would ever think of me when you’re around," Mulualem concluded with a mischievous grin.

It wasn’t like that – I only saw her in passing. Abba was with me. We were talking of something important. And, in a few swift phrases, Eldad conveyed the essence of his conversation with their father earlier this morning. Mahli had not mentioned any need for secrecy; rather, he probably wanted as many people as possible to be warned about the danger of the missionaries. But these troubling news paled in Mulualem’s eyes compared with the exciting notion of her two elder brothers making a journey.

Simien! she said wistfully. "Why, how I wish I could go! I’ve never been there in my life, you know. But I’ve heard tales – people say the whole city is gilded in gold and smells of flowers."

Eldad laughed. Fanciful stories, Mulu. The city is built of clay bricks and thatch and smells of cattle dung – but it is a fine place, no doubt. I hope Abba will consent to you going sometime – or, at least, maybe your future husband will.

Husband? his sister echoed, forgetting all about Simien for a moment.

Apparently, our uncle Dan has offered his son for you. What do you say to that? I don’t remember our cousin too well, but he should be a fine lad. How would you like to marry him?

Mulualem wrinkled her pretty little nose. I will not marry just now, she declared. "Marrying means becoming like Ima. There’s nothing wrong with that, and I know it will happen eventually, but it’s too soon."

Well, it is your choice. Abba is not the kind of man to force his daughter into marriage. Certainly you can let the village boys pine after you for another year or two. Eldad wasn’t exaggerating to please his sister, either – Mulualem was one of the prettiest girls in the village. She had the same coffee-brown skin and tight curls as all the Beta Israel, but there was something exotic about the upward tilt of her liquid dark-brown eyes. She promised to become a great beauty.

A plaintive call sounded from inside the Blood Hut, summoning Mulualem to share her meal with the other women. Reluctantly, she waved goodbye to her brother.

I won’t see you before you go to Simien, Eldad. Enjoy your journey and take notice of anything interesting. I will want to hear all about it when you return.

Luck favored Eldad with a few more large and fat fish that day, and when he came home followed by the golden slanting rays of the afternoon sun, his mother clapped her hands joyously and told Shlomo to run to Grandma’s house and invite her to share the evening meal with her children, as Eldad was fortunate enough to catch her favorite kind of fish. The old woman responded to the invitation with great readiness and trotted over with an energetic step, leaning but slightly on her grandson’s arm.

Grandma’s real name was Mulualem – her son’s only daughter was named after her – but everyone has called her Sati for at least a generation. Though she had seven living children who were all more than ready to offer their mother a place under their roof, Sati preferred to dwell in her own neat little hut at the edge of the village. There she brewed tonics and potions and medicines which were known far and wide for their efficacy, and distributed them to her visitors with careful instructions to cure every ailment from stomachache to low spirits.

The family congregated around the center of the woven grass mat, where Tamar had placed the evening meal – the platter of injera left over from the morning, the steaming pot of thick watt – a stew of lentils, beans and onions – and the herb-crusted fish roast in a stone oven and giving off a delicious smell.

Taste some of this fish, Sati, said Tamar, offering her mother-in-law a chunk of flaky white meat served on a piece of injera. Eldad caught it, and I hope I did it justice.

Indeed, daughter, Sati said, chewing eagerly. Despite being at least seventy (though this was pure speculation – Sati had never revealed her actual age), she still had all her teeth. If Eldad takes to fishing every day, your old mother might be tempted to share your hearth more often.

We’d be more than happy if that were so, Ima, said Mahli, but we’ll have to do without Eldad and Yosef for the next couple of days. They are going to Simien.

The years have not robbed Sati of her natural curiosity. Once the reason for this unexpected trip was asked for and given, she remained silent and thoughtful for a few minutes, sipping from her cup of light beer, the home-brewed tella made of fermented teff grains. It was very mild, with a pleasantly sour taste and smoky flavor. I do not wonder, Sati finally said, that the worshippers of the Crucifix have come to Simien at last. It was always only a matter of time. We are vulnerable, though King Gideon does not like to think so, nor did his father before him.

We are vulnerable because we are alone, Ima. When the Northern Kingdom of Israel collapsed, the people of Dan, Gad and Asher fled south through the lands of Nub and Cush, to seek refuge in these lush and hospitable plains. What became of the others, though? This is a mystery I would pay dearly to uncover. For all we know, little remains of the other Israelite tribes.

This cannot be true, contradicted Sati. Many years ago, when you were just a child, Mahli, we used to get some scattered accounts of Israelite tribes living across the Narrow Sea. The passage to the sea has become dangerous in the past twenty years or so, however, and travelers rarely dare to go that way anymore.

I would, Mahli said, firing up all of a sudden. No risk would be too great to obtain news of our brethren in foreign lands!

Sati raised her eyebrows. Would you, son? Why, you won’t stir from your place even to go to Simien, and prefer to send the boys instead.

"We don’t