The Walls of Arad

by Carole Towriss

  “She escaped. And I found her.”

  He pinched his brows together. “Found her?”

  Miriam looked over his shoulder. “In the broom bushes. She had learned to gather manna as soon as it appeared before anyone else came out, then she just hid out all day at the north spring. That lasted for a week or so. She’s been with me since.”

  He sucked in a deep breath, then let it out slowly, trying to understand everything she had just said.

  “There’s more to the story, I’m sure. I don’t know how she got here alone, or out of the city. But that’s all she’s told me so far, all she will say.”

  “But how can I marry someone who does not worship Yahweh? It is forbidden.”

  Miriam smiled. “Ah, but she does.”

  “How can that possibly be?”

  “A man there taught her about Yahweh. He worked in the palace, which was next to the temple and somehow he found her. I don’t know how he knew the things he knew, but he told her many of the stories of our people. She knows about Egypt, the escape, Joseph, Moses.” She raised a brow. “Still, she has no sense of family, of marriage. Of real love. She knows little of our laws. She doesn’t trust anyone but me, and that’s only after many months with me.”

  “Then how do I get her to trust me? If she ever agrees to meet me?”

  “You’ll have to earn her trust. Be very gentle. Go slowly.” Miriam laid her hand on his arm. “Show her that you are truly interested in her. Listen when she talks, never be in a hurry around her, look at her, ask questions, answer hers, never be dismissive. I think you can figure it out. For now, just sit and talk to everyone else. And smile.”

  Arisha peered through the narrow slit between the tent flaps at the man Miriam spoke to. He was older than she expected. Or maybe he just looked older. Why wasn’t he married? He was tall and his shoulders were broad. He slipped off his cloak and handed it to Miriam. The huge muscles on his upper arms showed under his short-sleeved tunic as he moved and sank to the ground. If he ever got angry …

  Miriam strategically placed him so Arisha could see his features, but so he wasn’t on the far side of the fire. He had a kind face.

  Aaron passed the plate of manna cakes to Zadok. “Still getting harassed by the others for not taking part in the training exercises?”

  “Yes. Marah’s father has a great deal of influence.”

  Moses touched Zadok’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about what Marah’s father says. Those who love you know the truth. And soon enough, so will everyone else.”

  Zadok remained silent.

  Joshua took the manna. “I’ve seen him fight. He’ll be ready when we need him. And you mustn’t forget it was his uncle Kamose who trained me in the first place.”

  “Great-uncle,” corrected Zadok.

  Moses nodded. “That’s true, but the best of soldiers lose their edge without practice.”

  “He cannot be a warrior and shepherd at the same time. I need his full concentration if we are to have a flock ready by the time we enter Canaan.” Aaron’s glance shifted from Joshua to Moses and back.

  Joshua raised his hands. “I’m not arguing. So, Zadok, how is the flock? Ready for lambing to begin?”

  “I already had the first two. Both at night, of course.”

  “Can’t have you getting too much rest.”

  Zadok laughed.

  Arisha studied him as he sat before the fire in front of her tent. His low, soft voice soothed her, and his easy laugh delighted her. What would it be like if he were sitting at their fire, their tent?

  She could only begin to wonder.

  Zadok ran his fingers along the tent ropes, checked the knots to make sure they were good and tight.

  Jacob hovered. “You’ve eaten the evening meal with her and Miriam every night for a week.”

  “Yes, I have.” He wasn’t going to give him any more information than that.

  “So are you going to ask for her?”

  “It’s not that simple, Jacob."

  “Why not? You want her; Miriam wants you to have her.”

  Zadok swallowed and counted to five. “Who says I want her? Besides, I have to earn her trust first.”

  “Her trust? Why does she need to trust you? What’s not to trust about you?”

  And that is why Miriam came to me, and not to one of the hundreds of thousands of other young men in Israel.

  Arisha needed someone who saw more than a pretty girl who would make a good wife, who would give him many strong sons, and be easy to live with.

  Zadok rounded the corner of the tent. “Leave it alone, Jacob.”

  “Fine. Then why are you here instead of with her, anyway? Tired of her already?” Jacob laughed.

  Zadok turned from the tent to face his brother-in-law. “She said I should spend the Sabbath with my family.”

  Zivah peeked her head around the tent. “She said what?”

  Zadok folded his arms across his chest. “She wanted me to spend the Sabbath with you.” Though the wisdom of that idea was now lost on him.

  Zivah’s face brightened. “I like her.” She jerked her head toward the front. “Food’s ready.”

  Zadok took his place next to his mother, who put her arm around him and dropped a kiss on his cheek. “Hello, Imma.”

  On his other side sat his niece and nephew, Josiah and Adira. With Jacob’s dark curly hair and Zivah’s olive skin, the children were beautiful. Adira would have men standing in line asking to marry her. Thank Yahweh that wouldn’t be for many, many years.

  Plates of manna and cups of milk made their way around the circle. Zivah helped her daughters balance their plates on their laps.

  “When do you bring her here, habibi?” Imma turned her pointed gaze on him.

  “Sometime when Jacob is not around.”

  Jacob jerked his head up from his food. “What? That’s not fair!”

  Zivah touched Jacob’s shoulder. “You can be somewhat … abrasive, husband. A bit much to take for someone new.”

  He bumped her shoulder with his. “You don’t seem to have any problem with me.”

  Zadok laughed. “Because she’s just like you.”

  Zivah glared at him. “Very funny.”

  “In fact, maybe you shouldn’t be here, either.”

  She tossed a manna cake at Zadok’s head, but he stuck out his hand and caught it.

  “Nice catch.” Jacob nodded approval.

  “Imma, I’m done. Can we go now?” Adira, the youngest, looked at her mother with wide, pleading eyes. “I want to go play in the water.”

  “Is Josiah finished?”

  “Almost.” The child spoke through a mouthful of manna.

  Adira stood and wrapped her arms around Zivah, placing a slobbery kiss on her mouth. Zivah giggled and used her sleeve to dry her face.

  Zadok concentrated on his food. He’d avoided marriage—and relationships in general—for so long. After spending a week with Arisha, was he ready to admit he missed it? Longed for it?

  “I think I’ll take the girls to the river, then.” Zivah collected the plates and rose.

  “Leave the plates, Zivah. I’ll get them. Take Jacob with you.”

  Zivah glanced from Imma to Zadok to Jacob and back to Imma, who raised her brows. His imma wanted to talk to him. Again. How old was he?

  Imma waited until they were out of sight, then handed him a bowl of dates. “So, habibi. Now you’ve met her, spent time with her. Tell me about Arisha.”

  Before he could answer her, his abba strode up to the fire pit. “I’m sorry I am so late. I was helping a young family expand their tent. A baby is coming soon.” He reached for Zadok. “My son, welcome home. It’s been a long while since you’ve eaten with us.”

  Zadok rose and embraced his father. “Good evening, Abba.” He sat and waited as Imma served his father the remaining manna cakes.

  “Thank you, Adi.”

  She turned her flashing brown eyes on him. “Now. Arisha?”

  What to sa
y first? His mind suddenly went mushy. Abba’s laughter penetrated the haze.

  “Ahmose! Hush!” His mother glared at Abba, who continued to chuckle.

  “Well, she’s beautiful. She’s very quiet—doesn’t talk much. She’s been talking more lately, the more time I spend with her.”

  “Are you ready to try this again?”

  The old pain threatened to overtake him. He shuddered and shoved it deep in his mind. “I don’t know. Miriam says Yahweh told her to do this. Wants me to do this.”

  “But you are still wary?”

  He nodded.

  Abba set his plate aside and leaned near. “Arisha knows who and what you are already. There will be no sudden changes, no surprises.”

  Did she know? Everything? He needed to make sure Arisha knew right now what she’d be getting into if she married him.

  Which was still a big “if.”

  Because he’d never let anyone do that to him again.

  Three

  9th Day of Adar

  DANEL stood at the window in his workroom, high in the outside wall of the fortified city of Arad. The southernmost city in Canaan wasn’t the biggest. In fact, it was quite small compared to some. Hazor was almost twenty times bigger. But Arad was well protected and prosperous. Sitting on the crossroads of two trade routes, Arad boasted the best of everything and wanted for nothing.

  He scanned the fields below him. The wheat was ripening nicely and the second crop of barley had been sown. The scent of apricots, peaches, and plums wafted up. Ten years ago, he had commanded that the fruit trees be planted under these walls, not so close as to be helpful in breaching them, but near enough to allow the fragrance to fill the rooms. One of his best decisions as wazir.

  How far he had come since his time as the cook’s son! But growing up in this palace had taught him all of its secrets, and in many ways he was even more effective than those who were handed the job from the fathers and their fathers’ fathers. Then suddenly the wazir at that time was left with no sons, no grandsons, no nephews or even cousins, and the principles of Yahweh Danel had sought so desperately to learn had shown the king he could trust Danel more than anyone else. That Yahweh could take the son of an Egyptian trader and make him the highest ranking man not in the royal family still amazed him every day.

  He glanced at the retreating sun, then at the water clock in the corner of his spacious room. It was almost time for the evening meal. He descended the steps from the floor of sleeping rooms to the kitchen on the ground floor, his knees creaking.

  “Ishat! How goes it today?” A young girl called to him as he entered the room. Always warm due to constant fires, and bright because of the many windows, the kitchen held fond memories for him.

  He kissed the girl on the cheek, causing a pink glow to appear.

  “How many times have I asked you not to distract my help, old man?” A gray-haired woman smacked him on the rear, laughing.

  He laughed with her. “I'm sorry, Sisa. Is his food ready?”

  “Of course. Poisoned as always.”

  “You do realize your husband eats it first.”

  “Why do you think I poison it?” She smirked, and Ishat giggled.

  A portly man with a balding head and ruddy cheeks entered the kitchen from steps leading down to a room underground. While Mepec tasted the food and wine, Danel thought through what he had accomplished today, and what remained for tomorrow.

  Food supplies had been obtained. That shipment of cedar should have arrived by now. Perhaps he should send messengers out along the road to meet up with them. A delegation from Hazor was due the day after tomorrow; he needed to make certain the rooms were readied. The troublemaker in the kitchen had been reassigned to the prison detail—that should be a deterrent to any other agitators.

  The kitchen—a pang pierced his heart. Ever since his mother died, the king trusted no one to cook his meals, leading him to compel a servant—at the moment Sisa’s husband—to taste everything before he ate it.

  Mepec arranged the king’s golden cup and plate on a tray, and followed Danel down the hall to the throne room. Stepping through an archway, they entered a large room with a single throne against the far wall. They passed hand-smoothed wooden beams that supported a high ceiling, and the stone of Baal in the center of the room. The orange light of day’s end poured into the room through the windows set high in a western wall.

  The ruler slumped in his gilded chair, tapping his fingers on the adorned arm. He held his staff even though no visitors were present, nor were any expected.

  Danel silently took his place next to the king, at his right elbow.

  Mepec set the tray on a pedestal next to the throne. “Your meal, my king.” He stepped back and waited by the door.

  “I assume it’s safe, since he’s still here.” He shoved his staff at Danel, who took it. “So far, anyway.”

  Danel took the staff, bowed and backed away from the throne, remaining at hand should the monarch need him.

  The aging King Keret of Arad ate in silence for a while. He looked older than his sixty-two years. He wore his gray hair cut just below his ears, as was the custom in Canaan, but it was quite thin. Probably from worry—he’d spent most of his adult life loudly wondering when the Israelites and their unstoppable God would return to Canaan. The first couple years, especially, he sent patrols south every other month to check on them, devised and revised battle plans, counseled with nearby rulers. He’d never believed Kamose—the one person he’d captured—when he said they wouldn’t be coming for forty years, and it nearly drove Keret insane waiting for an attack. Even as a boy Danel had seen him grow twenty years older in just two.

  Pouting, Keret raised his hands.

  Danel removed the tray and placed it on the pedestal.

  “I still miss your mother’s cooking, even after twelve years.” He took a long drink of wine. “Are the apricots ripe yet?”

  “No, and you can’t have any even when they are. You know that, yet you ask every season. And you try to eat them every time.”

  “It’s just a little red patch on my face—”

  “Your tongue swelled up and you almost choked to death.”

  “Which one of us is king?”

  “Which one of us wants to be dead?”

  “No other ruler lets his wazir talk to him like this. Why do I keep you?”

  “Because you couldn’t find anyone who takes better care of you or your kingdom than I do.”

  He laughed. “You’re right.”

  Danel signaled to the servant, who gathered the king’s dishes and prepared to return to the kitchen.

  “How long has it been?” The sovereign spoke without looking up.

  Danel turned back. “From the day they left Egypt, 38 years and 11 months.”

  “It’s getting closer.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Thank you for keeping track.”

  Danel bowed low. “You are most welcome, my king.”

  Keret pounded the end of his staff on the floor. “Inform the commander to begin recruiting additional men over the next year. And tell the captain of the guard to double the number of bodyguards at my door.”

  "Yes, Keret."

  “Make sure the walls are secure, the reservoir full at all times. Stock enough food to last two months.”

  “Already done.”

  Keret smiled. “Of course it is. That is why I made you my wazir.”

  Danel nodded and left the throne room. The day’s work done, he had one last job to do before he could go home. Down another long hall, to the last office on the left. He rapped on the door.

  “Enter.”

  The huge wooden door swung wide. Danel stuck his head in. A man a few years older than Danel, dressed in soldier’s garb, sat at a desk in the sparsely furnished room, putting marks on a sheet of papyrus. His broad frame dwarfed the desk and the chair. He wore his reddish hair loose, and longer than most. Danel waited until he finished, then cleared his throat. T
he man looked up and smiled broadly. “Danel, what are you doing down here?”

  “I came to see you, Aqhat.”

  It was decided.

  Zadok told Arisha they were going for a walk around camp, but he was taking her to the pasture. Full of sheep. Animals he found to be calm, trusting, and playful, but which most people thought of as smelly, dirty, and unclean. No one would rather be a shepherd than a warrior. If she had anything against shepherds, or anything else she disliked about him for that matter, he was going to find out now. He would dump her right in the middle of his life, and if she didn’t like it, at least he would know before things went any further.

  Which probably meant this would be the last time he would ever see her.

  He arrived at Miriam’s tent. Arisha's back was to him while she talked to Miriam. Her light brown hair tumbled down her back. He couldn’t help but notice her soft curves, even under her loose-fitting tunic. She looked over her shoulder and gave him a quick smile, and his breath hitched.

  Miriam stepped toward him and handed him Arisha's cloak. Obviously he had Miriam’s permission to keep her out until close to sundown.

  “Take care of her.” She put her hand on his arm, and he got the distinct impression she wasn't talking about just this afternoon.

  They strolled through camp to the pasture. Laughing children darted in front of them, and a gentle breeze blew through the rows of tents. At the meals during the last few weeks, Miriam, Aaron or someone else usually helped carry the conversation. Now he didn’t know what to talk about. He fidgeted with his hands, and resisted the urge to cross his arms over his chest just to keep them still.

  After a mostly quiet walk, they arrived at the rock wall and its gate. He reached down and wiggled the long stick wedged into a niche on each side until it loosened, and then removed it. He straightened and waited for her to walk through.

  She tilted her head. “Why is it so hard to get the stick out?”

  Zadok’s cheeks heated. “Uh, we usually just jump over the wall.”

  Arisha laughed. The unexpected cheerful sound sent a shiver through him. Her eyes lit up, and her wide, bright smile revealed dimples.