Eden Read Online Free PDF Page A

air—the world appearing upside down, as though people walked standing on their heads.
    But that did not change the scents of coming and going, one from the Tanner’s shed, two from the Oil Seller’s row of jars, three from the Carders heavy with the aroma of wool wax as they lugged large roles of yarn to the dyers.
    As the afternoon shadows crawled up the plaster walls and the passersby dwindled to a few foot pads, Eden rose to make her rounds of the village, poking her nose into every doorway, looking in on every family and shop. She would pause to listen to the women gossip at the village well where she learned all there was to learn: Ah, the barber’s wife left him, gone back to her sister’s again. And did you see that young hussy, that Rachel making eyes at the olive merchant’s son and every other man in the street? The rabbi will have something to say about that—
    Finally her rounds ended at the racks of dried-fish sellers on the edge of town, where she watched the weary men herd their flocks home from the fields and orchards. The sheep in their pens mostly talked among themselves, while the shepherds’ mongrels were too busy overseeing them to pay her much mind. The shepherds’ dogs dismissing her: “ Village dog ,” they snuffed. “Lays around licking her paws all day.”
    Ah, what did those mutts know? All they did was talk to sheep.
    On cool evenings families gathered on their flat roofs sharing food and chatting with their neighbors. The square houses were so close, many ran planks and bridges between the roofs so people could cross without having to go down into the stifling dusty streets. The carpenter’s family had built many of these plank bridges between the houses and was often called upon to repair the boards as they loosened and spread.
    When the sun set, the village children delighted in running like wild things from house to house along the gangways. And the mothers were forever shouting at them to “slow down, be careful, don’t run!” as they bounded from roof to roof. At that time of day Eden came alive, barking at the children, Don’t run! Listen to your mothers! Don’t run!
    But children never listen, so Eden followed, nipping at their heels to keep them on the straight and narrow planks. And the children chirruped and laughed but never fell.
    In the spring when all the men tilled the fields Eden left her place under the shop’s awning and followed the young carpenter and his father into the fields. There she oversaw the work of the seasons as the men sowed the rows and the flocks wandered in search of early grass … at dusk, finally leading the young master and his father home for the family meal.
    At harvest time she helped the men glean and gather the sheaves. During the rainy winter months, Eden sat on her hind legs on the shop’s stone doorstep as the street turned to mud.
    From the very first, Eden had always understood her master was not like the other men of the village. For unlike the village dogs she always slept in the house instead of with the other animals in a shed or in the street. Her bed was a warm, dry pile of shavings in a corner of the shop, and Eden always had food to eat, for her family shared alike. A clay bowl of water sat by the door—the first vessel in the house to be filled from the village well each day.
    From her own safe corner of the shop she watched the young master year in and year out, working his trade. The carpenter’s son patiently measured and cut, sanded and planed, fitting piece by piece as he slowly grew from youth to manhood and Eden grew with him. From young pup to wise old dog.… Some winter days her young man left his father’s shop to wander alone and Eden followed, walking the hills and pastures under cloudy winds, never more than three steps behind or three ahead. Those times she slept when he slept, woke when he woke, sheltered in the same cloak