The Walls of Arad

by Carole Towriss

  “A couple of my lambs got hurt and I had to take care of their wounds.”

  “How do you do that?”

  “I rub oil on them.” He entwined Arisha's fingers in his as they strolled toward the water. He scanned the flock, then stiffened. “One’s missing.”

  “What? How do you know? You didn’t even count them.”

  “I just know. Leah isn’t here. She’s probably cast again. She’s getting too old and too heavy.”

  “Cast?”

  “Come. I’ll explain later.”

  He pulled her along behind him as he jogged toward a copse of trees on the east edge of the spring. He dropped her hand and ran for the ewe near the water’s edge.

  Zadok straddled Leah and grunted as he grasped handfuls of wool, tugging her onto her feet. She baaaed and wobbled, and he kept one hand on the wool and wrapped the other around her belly, holding her tightly. He bent so his knees hugged her shoulders, and whispered into her ear. What could he be saying? She swayed against one leg then the other, finally gaining her balance. He patted her neck and straightened. “Good girl. Now go on.”

  The ewe ambled off toward the rest of the flock, wobbling only once.

  He looked over at Arisha and smiled, then frowned. She realized she was staring at him, mouth open. “What’s wrong?”

  She blinked several times. “Nothing. You were so gentle with her. It was amazing to watch you. You say she does it often, but you acted like it was the first time.”

  “Well, I really need to shear her. It’s not her fault. Her coat’s too heavy, and she’s getting unsteady on her feet at her age. If she lies down, sometimes her center of balance gets shifted and she can’t get up, that’s all. I have to help her.”

  “What did you say to her?”

  “I just reminded her she was safe, that I was there to take care of her. Just things to make her feel better. I hope.” He chuckled. “I know she doesn’t really understand my words, but I think hearing my voice calms her.”

  Arisha smiled, remembering the times she’d laid her head on his chest, heard his heart beat, and his voice rumble under her ear. Felt strength and care melt from his body into hers. “I know how she feels.”

  He placed his hands on her waist. “I’d love to take care of you too, if you’ll let me.” He gazed at her with those soft brown eyes, the ones that seemed to see even the things she didn’t want him to see. He drew her closer, kissed her temple. His lips moved to her cheekbone, then to her jaw, then he buried his face in her hair. His warm breath slid over her neck as his arms encircled her, pulling her tight against his chest.

  Her stomach did somersaults and her legs turned to mush. Certainly the only thing holding her up—besides Zadok—was the two fistfuls of his tunic she had somehow grasped.

  She let go of the cloth she clutched below his shoulders and slid her hands to his waist.

  Zadok lifted his face from her neck, sliding his mouth almost to the edge of hers, where he placed a featherlight kiss. Then he straightened.

  She tried to think past the fog in her mind and the heat racing through her body.

  No matter what she intended, what she wanted, it was settled now. He had her heart and there was nothing she could do about it.

  Ten

  16th day of Ziv

  THE LATE MORNING sun kissed Arisha’s skin as it climbed higher in the sky toward its apex. A breeze rippled the water, sunlight skipping over it like stones. The songbirds in the palms above sang noisily as they chased each other through the brilliant, long green leaves.

  She traced circles in the sand, remembering yesterday morning. What had she let happen? Zadok had stolen her heart, the one thing she vowed she wouldn’t allow. All her life, whenever she began to trust, whenever she began to feel close to someone, she’d been either sent away or left behind. Somehow separated. Her mother. The priestesses. Danel.

  Even Miriam.

  Whether intentional or not, somehow or another she ended up alone.

  If she allowed herself to love Zadok, it would only happen again.

  She needed to take her heart back and lock it up, keep it safely away.

  But how could she do that? Because when he held her, whispered in her ear … when she felt his strength surround her like a warm cloak …

  A gentle trilling off to her left pulled her thoughts away. She glanced at the broom bush beside her. The same pair of Laughing Doves still had their nest there. She studied the birds as the male opened his mouth wide, and the squawking babies dipped their tiny black bills into his and sucked out the food he spit up for them. The mother searched for seeds on the ground beneath them, her soft purple head and neck bobbing up and down with each bite. When Arisha lifted her gaze again to the sloppy but apparently secure nest, she noticed that there were two more shiny white eggs under the father.

  Amazing.

  She rose and ambled along the edges of the water. She first plucked the plump, broad leaves from the mint plants, then searched for the deep purple flowers of the sage. She pulled the leaves underneath until she had a bulging handful of each, then plodded back to the tent.

  Adi sat with Zivah in front of her tent. Arisha set the leaves aside and slapped the sand from her hands before she joined them. “Zivah, are you feeling well? You look a little pale.”

  Zivah smiled weakly and placed her hand on her belly. “I’m … I’m expecting a baby. I’m fine, just a little tired.”

  “Zivah, that’s wonderful!”

  She winced. “I’ve known a couple months, but I just told Jacob two weeks ago. He’s very excited.”

  “Why did you wait so long to tell him?”

  “I … I was worried. I wanted to be sure the pregnancy … would last.”

  Adi rubbed Zivah’s back. “Why did you think it wouldn’t?”

  “It felt different. Not like the others.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “We argued. He wants to go to Edom with Joshua. I told him I didn’t want him to.”

  Adi slipped an arm around her shoulder. “Why don’t you want him to go?”

  “I’m afraid.”

  Arisha blinked. Zivah? Afraid?

  Adi pulled her closer. “Of what? Losing the baby? Or losing Jacob?”

  Zivah brushed a tear from her cheek. “Both.” She slumped into Adi and let the tears fall.

  Arisha cleared her throat. “Why don’t Zadok and I take Adira and Josiah for the afternoon? You can get some rest. We’ll take them to the stream to eat and play in the water.”

  Zivah smiled and nodded.

  Adi patted her shoulder. “Why don’t you go lie down right now?”

  Zivah opened her mouth, but Adi raised her hand.

  “Go, now.”

  Zivah rose and ducked inside her tent.

  Arisha waited until she disappeared. “Is she always so stubborn?”

  Adi chuckled. “Yes. But it is her strength. Most of the time.”

  Arisha grabbed the bundles of leaves and carefully spread them out to dry on a long cloth lying in front of the tent.

  “More tea leaves? You just brought some yesterday.” Adi asked.

  “Those were chamomile. These are mint and sage. I want to make sure we have enough to last the winter.”

  “You do know you don’t have to earn your way into the family, don’t you?” Adi’s voice was soft.

  She sat back on her heels. “Old habits, I guess. Part of it is from living as a servant most of my life. But I guess I do want to do nice things … ”

  “You can certainly do them if you want to. But not because you think they’ll make us love you more. Nothing can do that, habibti.” She squeezed her shoulder and stepped inside the tent.

  She would try. She longed for the kind of assurance Zadok and his family had, the closeness. She had a taste of it now, and she didn’t want to lose it.

  Zadok and Arisha held Adira’s hands as they strolled toward the river east of camp. He’d rather hold Arisha's hand, but …

  They lifted the girl up and
swung her back and forth while she giggled with delight.

  “Again! Again!” The little girl laughed.

  Josiah ran ahead and leaped over the log.

  “Don’t go in the water yet. We’re going to eat first.” Zadok dropped Adira’s hand and jogged after him. They didn’t need muddy feet all over the blanket while they ate.

  Arisha stepped over the fallen date palm and settled herself on the sand, thankful for Yahweh’s cloud now that spring had fully arrived and the afternoons were heating up, even on the oasis. She untied a knot in a deep red cloth and spread it out, revealing manna cakes and dates.

  The boys sat and Josiah grabbed for a cake, but Zadok grasped his wrist in mid-air. The child crossed his arms and pouted. “You are not a hyena, grappling over fallen prey.” Zadok said. “There will always be food.”

  Arisha handed the children each a cake. Then she reached for a skin of goat’s milk and poured some into cups.

  Zadok leaned back against the log next to Arisha. His arm brushed against hers. The scent of mint lingered on her fingers when she handed him milk. She must have crushed some for tea earlier.

  For several moments, the only sounds were the running water of the river, and children noisily smacking manna and slurping milk.

  Zadok grinned over the children’s heads at Arisha. Her eyes twinkled back at him.

  “Look at the lizard!” Adira bounced on her knees and pointed the at the log behind Arisha.

  Arisha squealed and jumped away, nearly landing in Zadok’s lap. Her back rested against his side, his arm stretched out along the log beside her. “Make sure your shadow doesn’t fall on him or he’ll run away,” he warned the children, as they knelt on either side of the chameleon. They fixed their attention on the reptile, fascinated by its long tongue darting out to catch insects.

  Zadok dropped his arm and slipped it around Arisha's waist, scooting backwards on the sand and pulling her with him. She settled against him and rested her head against his shoulder.

  Adira reached for the chameleon’s tail and it skittered away.

  “Adira! You chased it away!”

  “I don’t care. It was getting boring.” She hopped up and skipped off toward the water, Josiah behind her.

  Arisha pulled away from Zadok and sat back against the log, still near him, but not against him, not snuggled into him. His heart ached for more contact.

  His niece and nephew played, and he struggled to pay attention, keep an eye on them. Keep his mind off the beautiful woman beside him.

  Adira ran up with one hand hidden behind her.

  Arisha giggled and reared back as Adira shoved a bunch of wilted red anemones into Arisha's nose. She gently pushed the girl’s hand away.

  “Don’t they smell pretty?” Adira sniffed the flowers herself and grinned.

  “Yes, they do. Just like you.” Arisha pulled her into her lap, and the girl laughed as Arisha tickled her, held her close for a moment, then set her down in the sand next to her.

  Josiah ambled up with a bug in his hand. “Look what I found.” He stuck his hand in his sister’s face.

  “Eeeww. Get that away! Aunt Arisha, make him stop!”

  Arisha's breath caught at the word aunt.

  Josiah apparently caught it, too. He grabbed Adira’s hand and pulled her away. “She’s not our aunt.”

  Danel stared out the window of his workroom at the fruit trees below. The breeze lifted a sweet fragrance to him, but today it didn’t bring him any joy.

  He pounded his fist on the window frame. How had he lost Mika? He’d tried so hard to erase the memory of Mika’s father. Maybe too hard. Kirtu was a hard and violent man, and he’d beaten sweet Shiba more than once. Of course Mika was too young to remember that. And Shiba had only told him the good things about his father, not wanting him to inherit her own bitterness.

  Oh, how Danel missed Shiba. She had her mother’s eyes, his own strength, and had somehow managed to hold on to a hopeful outlook throughout her marriage to that prideful man. The blessing in it all was that she had come to worship Yahweh because of her ordeal, and He had given her a wonderful man for her second husband. She was finally happy, until …

  And now Danel saw her face every time he looked at Izabel.

  His stomach churned. He leaned his palms against the windowsill and dropped his head. Yahweh, why? Why is this happening?

  Mika thought his father was a great military hero, and now he wanted to follow in his footsteps.

  Danel had to stop him. If Yahweh wouldn’t do it, he would. He turned on his heel and strode to the door, grabbing the handle and yanking it open. He headed down the hall but before he took many steps, Aqhat rounded the corner.

  Danel stopped short. “I was just coming to see you.”

  Aqhat nodded, took a deep breath. “I thought you might. I didn’t want to have that conversation down in my office, so I came up here.”

  Danel noticed Mepac in the hallway and signaled him. “Could you have Sisa prepare us a tray and bring it up, please?”

  “Right away.” The servant hurried away.

  They entered and Danel walked to the window, tried to calm his breathing and slow his heart rate before he spoke. It didn’t work.

  He whirled around to face his friend. “Why did you let him join the army? How could you do that to me?”

  Aqhat took a step back, arms spread. “Let him join? How was I supposed to keep him away? His father was an officer. If he completes the training and passes the test, he is guaranteed a commission. He knows this. You and I know this. I cannot stop him.”

  “You should have found a way!” Danel’s voice rose. “If you were truly my friend, you would have. You know what his father was like. You know how important it is to me to keep—”

  A knock sounded.

  Danel shot his gaze to the door. He closed his eyes a moment, regretting his shouting. He walked to the door and opened it to greet Mepac, who stood with widened eyes, holding a tray of sliced fruit, roasted beef and fresh bread in one hand, and a pitcher of juice in the other. Danel scrubbed his hand down his face. “I’m sorry. Please come in.” He stepped aside and motioned to a table in the center of the room.

  Mepac stepped wide of Danel and set the refreshments on the table, his eyes never meeting Danel’s, then backed out of the room.

  Aqhat took two long strides toward Danel, shaking his head slowly. “Danel, what is going on here? I’ve known you since you were a child, and I’ve never heard you raise your voice like this. Certainly not to me.”

  Danel sank into a chair at the table and dropped his head onto his fists. He sat silently for several moments while he tried to sort out the whirlwind of conflicting thoughts chasing one another inside his head. He raised his gaze to Aqhat, who stood calmly before him, waiting. “I am sorry, my dear friend. I guess the fear just overtook me.”

  “Fear of what?”

  “Losing Mika.”

  “Why would you lose him if he joins the army? I can do many things to protect—”

  “It’s not just that.” Danel blew out a long breath. He stood and poured a cup of pomegranate juice for Aqhat, then water for himself. He carried it to the window and stared out over the trees bursting with ripe fruit, then turned around and leaned against the window sill. “There’s a girl.”

  Aqhat chuckled. “There’s always a girl. He’s eighteen.”

  “I know, but I really don’t trust her. She has this way of … of changing him, getting him to do anything she wants him to, and not just in the way all women can make men do things to impress a woman. And her family. He doesn’t want to wait to finish his schooling with me. He wants power and position now.” He paused, the muscles in his neck and shoulders tightening, aching. “And he now says he sees no difference between Yahweh and the Canaanite gods.”

  “Ooohhh.” Aqhat frowned. “No wonder you’re so agitated.”

  “I don’t know what to do.”

  Aqhat placed his cup beside the platter and paced,
as was his habit when pondering strategy. “Well, let’s think this through. If you let him join, what happens?”

  “He sees me as respecting him. Spends less time with her. But is exposed to the Canaanite gods more.”

  “True, but he can’t get married for a while, at least until his training is complete. He wants to earn his commission to impress her family, no?”

  “Yes.”

  “And he spends more time with me.” Aqhat grinned.

  Danel laughed. “Poor boy.”

  “And if you try to stop him, what will happen?”

  “He’ll become angry at me, maybe leave the house—maybe marry her just to get away.”

  “And then you have lost all influence over him.”

  Danel nodded, closing his eyes. As much as he hated it, Aqhat was right.

  “Let’s go for a walk.” Zadok reached for Arisha's hand.

  “I have to help clean up.” She gestured toward the dishes from the evening meal.

  “Go ahead. Zivah and I will take care of it.” Adi shooed her away. “Go with Zadok.”

  Zadok grabbed Arisha's hand and pulled her down the row of tents toward the pasture. The sun was slowly setting, and the sky was a beautiful collage of oranges, pinks and golds.

  “I love coming out here at sunset,” he said.

  “Sunset’s always been my favorite time of day.”

  Zadok stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulled her into his chest. “Why?”

  “Sometimes it was just because I’d made it through another day.” She shrugged. “Other times I was thankful it had been a relatively peaceful day.”

  “And today?”

  “Today was a good day.”

  “Only good?” He nuzzled her neck.

  She giggled. “Very good.”

  “I saw you flinch when Josiah said you weren’t his aunt.”

  She shifted uncomfortably.

  He placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. “Was that because you don’t want to be his aunt … or because you do?” He tucked her hair behind her ear, left his hand there.

  She didn’t flinch. Instead, she closed her eyes and leaned into his touch.