A son announces not just a presence, but a dynasty. Not just a woman but a matriarch
Galilee, 1535
A flick of her wrists and the faintest tug on the reins. Slight pressure on the horse’s flanks. The horse slows and Leonora is filled with satisfaction: it has been carefully trained by the Arabian dealer. Behind her, the rumble of hooves on soil slows and quiets. The horses whinny and pant. Leonora motions to their guide.
“How far now?” she asks.
The man cups his hand over his eyes to shade them from the glare of the spring sun.
“We should be there by nightfall,” he says.
She nods. Nightfall. So they will enter Tzfat in a blaze of torches. She will change out of her traveling cloak and don a cloak of purple velvet. Yes, that will be satisfactory.
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