by Beth Shriver
“This venture will help fulfill both our needs. The people of your village will grow financially while Josiah’s armies will be rebuilt.” The two men embraced as Stephen came out from saying goodbye to Vita.
Hadar rubbed the back of his neck. “Enan, I have thought about what you have shared with us about the Savior.” Enan noticed this was the first time Hadar hadn’t referred to the Savior as only Enan’s, but as The Savior. “I want to know more.” He paused again, and Enan waited.
He wanted to rush in with words of advice, but he held his tongue, as he had learned from his father. “I fear for my lasting life and my daughter’s, and I feel Jesus might fill me in a way my beliefs can’t.”
Enan waited again, and when he was sure Hadar was ready he said what little he felt he had to offer. “I have written more stories that I never told. These are the accounts written by the disciples of their time with Jesus. I have given them to Efraim. He has shown great promise in his faith, and I have shared more with him than any other here. Go to him and learn together. This is the best way to gain the knowledge you need to grow a spiritual life with the Lord. Worship together with song and break bread together. Shine, so others will want what you have.” Enan stopped so as not to overwhelm him, but was bursting with joy for his new brother Hadar.
“I will pray for you, Hadar, and all of your people.” They embraced and said their goodbyes. With a simple wave, they were gone, once again on a journey through the desert sands. Only this time, they were going home.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Abraham watched as Sarah stuck her tongue to her cheek and closed one eye, peering down at the marble she was about to flick with her thumb. He smiled as the marble trunked into another and sent it flying outside the circle of yarn.
“Well done. Now you are one ahead of me. I have to strike two to win.” Abraham sized up the remaining marbles within the circle and picked two. He flicked the marble between them and struck them both at their sides. One went flying past the boundary, and the other moved only a short distance and stopped.
“You didn’t beat me, Papa!” Her eyes shone with excitement. “That is the first time you haven’t beaten me.”
She hugged him and glanced at her mother. Ruth was smiling as she folded a blanket and grabbed another from the pile on the table. “Mother, did you see? See all my marbles!” She pointed to her treasure on the floor.
Ruth responded with an amazed grin and counted them. “My, you have eight, just as your father does.” She gave Abraham a wry grin as Sarah leapt up to tell her brother. “I thought you said you would never let her win, that she had to earn it.”
Abraham picked up the marbles and dropped them in a small, brown cloth bag. “She didn’t win.” His eyes flashed up to meet hers momentarily. “We tied.”
Ruth grinned as Sarah came running out and grabbed the bag from Abraham and gathered the yarn from the floor. “I’m going to teach Daniel to play. Don’t you think he is old enough now, Papa?” She asked with hand on her hip, long brown hair flowing down her back.
He gazed into her deep brown eyes and felt he would agree to anything she ever asked of him. “Well, yes, and you would be a great one to teach him.”
She grinned modestly and made a small snort. “Thank you, Papa.” She reached forward and gave him a loud kiss to his cheek and ran off, giving instructions to her brother before she even left the room.
A knock at the door brought Abraham to his feet. As he opened the door and saw Tirzah’s ashen face, his heart fell. She must surely have word of Enan.
“Tirzah, what’s upsetting you?” He took her by the hand and led her into the room near the fire. Ruth stopped her folding and came over.
She took her hand, and asked as Abraham had. “What is it, Tirzah?” Abraham saw the look on his wife’s face and knew she was thinking what he was.
“I don’t mean to alarm you. I have heard nothing specifically of Enan, but I have heard that most soldiers died in Lamed and Alef.” She dropped her head to gather herself and continued, “I hate to admit my weakness, but I fear Enan is one of the dead.” She spoke softly as if ashamed.
Ruth stroked her hand as Abraham spoke. “We cannot give up hope dear Tirzah. I have heard just as many were taken alive as had died. We must not think he was one of the latter.”
Tirzah shook her head, distraught as the tears began to flow. “No, no. I know he is.”
Abraham interrupted her, not wanting to fathom what he knew could be possible. “We cannot let ourselves think that way.”
Tirzah continued to rant and started to rock herself as she spoke. “He is not coming back. I know, I know.”
Ruth’s face contorted as she stopped stroking Tirzah’s hand. “Tirzah…” She lifted Tirzah’s chin to look her in the eyes. “…what has made you so upset?”
Abraham thought of Nethan. The word was that most had not lived, but Abraham could see only one reason to tell Tirzah this, and had made every effort for her not to hear the gossip in the village. But he couldn’t keep her from Nethan. Tirzah had sheltered herself from most everyone but his family and her own, and him. No matter how Abraham insisted he keep his distance from her, Nethan persisted.
“It is in my dreams. I have had dreams that he dies in battle, and with him gone for so long, and the losses continue to grow each time I hear of them…” She put her hands to her face then lowered them and gazed into the faces of her dear friends.
“I’m sorry. I just need to know. I cannot wait any more. Can you find out, Abraham?”
Abraham’s upper lip twitched in frustration, angry that she had heard of the death count as well. “I don’t know. I can try to ask again to see if there is any new information.” He studied her face. “It’s not like you to fear the worst. You are stronger than this, Tirzah. Did you speak with Nethan today?”
Tirzah nodded. “Yes, why?” Her brow furrowed in question.
Abraham put his hands on his knees and let out a loud breath through his nose, his brown eyes gleaming. “Because I don’t trust him.”
Tirzah’s eyes flashed to Abraham. Abraham wondered what made her react this way and watched as an expression of sadness came over her.
Ruth snapped her head around to him, frowning, then looked back to Tirzah. Abraham lowered his head, letting out another sigh. “If you will excuse me, I’d like to take an evening walk.”
Tirzah smiled at him and took his hand. “I’m sorry for my sad state.” She turned away for a moment. “God help me.” She whispered to herself more than to Abraham. “You’re right to think the best.”
She dropped his hand, but her gaze remained unwavering. “I’ll find it in me to hope that he will return.”
Abraham kissed her and then his wife on the cheek and opened the cellar door. He walked slowly past his home. Although it was in better condition than most, it had been stripped bare, and what was not wanted was broken and left in disarray on the floors. The soldiers had made little effort to find those hidden but made their way through the village pillaging and destroying whatever they came across.
Abraham’s step quickened when he reached the road as his mission became clearer and clearer in his mind. He made his way to the village arch. It was once beautifully sculptured and served as a barricade with large, thick wooden doors that now lay in splinters because of battering rams and large stones by catapult.
Making his way to the soldiers’ tents not far from the village entrance, Abraham found the soldiers to be on alert. The usual song of a lyre or game of dice was replaced with the sharpening of swords and refurbishing of supplies, readying themselves into quick formation if needed. A soldier passed by, and Abraham was surprised that he didn’t know him, as most of them were from the village.
Not knowing his name, Abraham tapped his arm to stop him. “Do you know of Nethan Lemnias, commander of the second maniple?” The soldier gave no expression, only pointed in the opposite direction. “One can usually find him in his tent.”
Curious, A
braham questioned the soldier. “What do you know of him?”
The soldier shrugged. “He keeps to himself.” He stopped to study Abraham’s friendly, round face and continued, “I’m not in his regiment, but I hear from those that are, he is strict and unforgiving.”
Abraham tilted his head. “Isn’t that common for commanders?”
The soldier considered this and answered. “Yes, but also that he doesn’t mingle with others, keeps to himself unless forced otherwise.” Abraham grunted as he absorbed this. He nodded his thanks to the young man and walked on, increasingly puzzled by the unfamiliarity of this man who was once his friend.
Approaching Nethan’s tent, he took a deep breath to calm himself. He knew he was the reason Tirzah had become so upset. He had put up with Nethan’s manipulations of her long enough. Without announcement, he lifted the flap to the brown, dusty tent and entered.
Nethan startled slightly and stood. “Abraham, what a surprise,” he said with loathing. The room was furnished only with a table, two chairs, and a pallet. Nethan set down his cup of wine and sat back in his wooden chair. He gestured for Abraham to sit, but Abraham shook his head and stood where he was.
“Tirzah, came to us tonight. She was extremely upset. She has it in her head that Enan is dead.” He paced as he spoke.
Nethan gave a sardonic grin. “She has reason to believe so. We are at war, Abraham. The battles have long been over, and he has not returned—”
Abraham interrupted, “Many have not come home and could very well still be alive. Why do you torment her with the worst possibility when you do not know?”
Nethan seemed to enjoy watching Abraham pace like a cornered animal, a smile creeping across his full lips. “And why shouldn’t we prepare her for what could be, and most likely is?”
Abraham stopped and closed in on him. “You wish him dead so you can have Tirzah for yourself. Have you no loyalty? Don’t you know Enan still considers you his friend?”
Nethan slowly lifted his chin, looking at Abraham with dull, irreverent eyes. “A dead man has no friends.”
Abraham boiled at his words and lunged at him, swinging. Nethan blocked blow after blow. Using brute force, he drove his fist into Abraham’s jaw, sending Abraham down on one knee with a hand to his face.
He glared at Nethan and with all the strength he could muster and came at him again. Abraham rammed the full weight of his powerful body into Nethan and watched him fly back into the table, breaking it in two. Nethan fell to the dirt floor but quickly regained his feet. The look in his eyes showed a window into his hatred, causing Abraham to pause at the depth of it. Seizing the advantage, Nethan rolled and caught Abraham’s leg, bringing him down, and then gripped Abraham’s head.
“With a hard jerk, I could break your neck, Dear Friend. Go away and stay away, for next time I will not be so kind as to let you walk away with your head attached to your spine.”
The anger in Nethan shocked Abraham and awakened him to the level of Nethan’s fury. Knowing he couldn’t fight this rage, he pulled away and stood, Nethan standing with him.
“Don’t be so glum, Abraham. At least she will have a man alive and well to love her instead of mourning a dead man who once loved her.”
Disgusted by his mocking and disrespect, Abraham couldn’t help but have the last word. “All of this behind his back while he lived, and now you tread on his unbeating heart.”
Abraham walked away, rubbing his jaw but feeling a greater pain in his own heart.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Sand.
In their shoes, in their robes, stinging their eyes, and in the spit from their mouths. They tried to stay in the valleys and shade of the golden mounds, but mounting the high places and meeting the scorching wind was inevitable.
Enan turned back to Stephen, his shoulders slumped and covered with sand. They had long ago stopped brushing it off. The golden grains had become a part of them. Enan pulled Legend to a stop and studied the position of the sun. They had adjusted their travel time to night and tried to sleep for a few hours during the day. Predators were out at either time. Reptiles prowled in the sunlight, and insects scurried through the sand and the sky at night. The vultures wheeled overhead, constantly hunting.
Stephen slowed next to Enan. “We should keep moving for a while longer.” Enan did not argue. Stephen was not as strong as Enan. His injuries were more severe and were not completely healed. His determination to be in Zayin was not as great as Enan’s, either. Enan respected Stephen’s judgment about when to stop and start their travels.
When they came to a rocky mountainside, Enan finally stopped and waited for Stephen. “The shade is good here.” Stephen scanned the ground. “And there is plant life.” Enan dismounted and walked to the prickly plants. He took a small knife and dug up the plant, revealing the long tap roots. He dug up another and handed it to Stephen. They sucked the moisture from them, and Enan dug up two more. They had adapted to small amounts of water—replenishing only when necessary, never overindulging, which would only upset the low balance their bodies had come to need. Their flasks still held water for the long miles where there was no plant or bulbs.
Setting up camp took very little. Each rolled out a mat to sleep on and a blanket to protect himself from the sand-filled winds. They had learned to set a warning trap in case of lizards or snakes, which doubled as a way to hunt them for food.
Using bread as bait, they set a lure under a rock that was propped up with a stick. The bread usually enticed some sort of animal during their slumber. Many times, the creature only caused the trap to fall and escaped, but there were a few times they had lizard or tortoise for their meal due to the rock hitting an unsuspecting creature.
Both men pulled out their remaining staples and rationed them according to how many more days they anticipated being in the desert.
Stephen nibbled on an almond. “When I feel the heat and sting of the sand, I think of Moses wandering through the desert. I wonder how he and our ancestors withstood the hardships and any of them made it to their destination alive.”
“Their perseverance most definitely encouraged the generations to come.” Enan studied Stephen’s dry, sun-scorched face, covered with a sketchy beard. He knew he looked the same, but had not seen a glimpse of himself in so many days he could only wonder. “They also had manna.” He grinned.
“You hear of criminals who escape to the desert, as well as those who are possessed and are cast out.” Stephen stared at the sandy mountainside showing bits of sharp rock. “They learned to survive here. So will we.”
“Are you beginning to wonder about your fate, my friend?”
Stephen smiled weakly. “No, I know we will make it.” His eyes met Enan’s. “I’d just like to know when.”
Enan nodded. “If we had been in a better state when we traveled to Vita’s village, we might have a clearer understanding of when we will return.” Enan held his gaze. “But we will return.”
Stephen nodded and took a bite of fig. “Do you think of Vita?”
Enan smiled. “I think of everything I’ve ever known.”
“There is much time to think. I have gone all the way back to my childhood memories.” He studied Enan. “What do you think Tirzah is doing now?”
Enan glanced at the sand that had covered his feet. “In my naïve mind, I would like to think the enemy never entered Zayin and she is safe.” He looked up at the fiery, red sun blazing at him. “But I doubt that is true.”
“But you also think of Vita.” Stephen laid his arm over his leg and waited for an answer.
“Yes, but my memories of her become as distant as Samech.” Enan thought of the small village he had come to know, and the faces flashed before him, then he envisioned Vita. Her tanned skin and emerald eyes bore into him. He replaced it with Tirzah as she looked the last day they spent together when they strolled down the market area and he’d bought her some plump, fresh figs.
He stared at the wrinkled, dry fig he held in his
hand that only a moment ago had seemed like a delicacy. Now it appeared as it truly was—a dried-up piece of fruit. He stuffed it in his mouth and chewed, wishing for a bit of water to wash it down.
They settled in to sleep, placing their mats close to the hillside in hope the shade would last long enough to give them a few hours of rest. Both fell asleep quickly due to exhaustion, unaware of a humming noise. The sound grew into a deafening drone that shook Stephen and Enan from their slumber.
Enan instinctively put up his arms to shield his face as a glittering cloud approached, so large it blocked out the sun. The swarm of locusts descended upon them and everything around, stripping every bit of vegetation in its path; cutting, razing and destroying.
They covered themselves with their thin blankets, defenseless against the huge mass of insects. The locusts crawled under their blankets and into their clothing, crept through their hair, and wriggled into their bags. The horses danced in place with no place to get out of reach of the infuriating creatures, whinnying and rearing in helpless desperation.
Enan rolled into a ball and fought the losing battle of trying to keep the creeping bugs off him. He heard Stephen yell and the sound of him wrestling against the locusts.
After several minutes of torture, the drumming noise started to fade and dissipated as quickly as it began. Enan pulled back his blanket and glanced over at Stephen. He was caught up in his blanket, batting at the six-legged vermin.
When Enan stood, a dozen locusts fell from his body. He grabbed at his tunic and pulled it off, and then slapped at the remaining few who stubbornly clung to this chest and back. When he had finally rid himself of them, he watched as Stephen struggled to do the same.
“Ahh!” Stephen yelled as he pulled off his tunic in disgust. “Will they ever be gone?” He kicked sand at a mass of them on the ground.
Enan put his hands on his hips. “It seems we have something new for dinner.” He watched the locusts crawl over each other.