The Walls of Arad

by Carole Towriss

  Lukii looked around, shifted from one foot to the other.

  Danel turned back to the vendor, a man about his age with a well-worn tunic, stringy hair falling over his eyes, and a young boy assisting him. “Two plates, please.”

  The pudgy man smiled at the order, several rotting teeth peeking from behind thin lips. He piled steaming hot roast beef onto two pottery plates, added two rounds of bread to each, and handed them to Danel.

  Danel held up a finger. “One moment. He reached into the bag tied onto his belt and pulled out four coins, then handed them to the man. “Thank you.”

  The man examined the payment, and the boy held out a handful of smaller coins.

  Danel shook his head. “It’s yours.”

  The child smiled, almost laughing. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Danel picked up the plates and looked to the spot where they had stood moments ago. No Lukii. He glanced around. Did Lukii leave, after Danel had bought his meal? No, there he was. He had moved to a shady spot off the main path, under a tree. Almost behind it.

  Danel handed him a plate, chuckling. “I thought you were playing the child’s hiding game for a moment there.”

  Lukii laughed weakly. He stuffed his food in his mouth.

  “Slow down. Are you in a rush?”

  “Umm, my wife is waiting for me.”

  “A few moments more or less won’t matter. You’ll get a stomachache if you keep eating that fast.”

  Lukii slowed, but not by much.

  “This is very good. The meat is so tender. They must have cooked it very slowly all day.”

  Lukii nodded.

  Danel bit into his bread. Still warm. Either he was very hungry, or the food was extra good.

  “Lukii! There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you!”

  Danel jerked his head up, searched for the voice calling Lukii. A female voice. When he found it, his heart sank.

  A young girl with a deep purple sash sauntered up to Lukii, a soldier’s cloak in her hand. “You forgot this when you left my room. Your head must have been elsewhere.” She wiggled her brows at him. “Who’s your friend?” She tilted her head at Danel. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him at feast before.”

  “You never will, either.” Lukii took his cloak. “Thanks for bringing me this.”

  “Don’t wait so long next time.” She batted her lashes at him, then spun and sashayed away.

  “Lukii?”

  Lukii closed his eyes.

  “Lukii, who was that?”

  The soldier remained silent.

  “Was that what I think it was?”

  Lukii raised his gaze. “I had to. I just had to. My wife, she’s so very distraught. I didn’t know what else to do.”

  “But visiting a prostitute?”

  “They promise fertility! My wife begged me to. I didn’t have a choice!”

  “You always have a choice.” Danel fought to keep from raising his voice.

  “That’s easy for you to say! You have a child. Grandchildren. Lots of coin. The king’s ear. What do I have? Nothing! I am tired of nothing, and I will do whatever I have to to change that!” He threw his plate to the ground, shattering it, and stalked off.

  Whatever I have to? What did that mean?

  Lukii knew their secret. And he could reveal it. He could destroy Danel. And Yasha, and Aqhat…

  Danel’s stomach churned and his throat constricted. The meat he’d just swallowed climbed back up his throat. He ducked behind the tree just in time.

  Seventeen

  DUST KICKING UP IN THE east sent a wave of tension through the tribes on the east side of camp. They were used to traders’ caravans far to the northwest, but to the east?

  “It’s the mission to Bozrah. They’ve returned!” Farther down the row, a young boy ran between the tents shouting.

  As word spread, mothers and wives gathered on the sand beyond the edge of camp to welcome their men home. Six days was a long time, for a first mission at least. Once in Canaan, the battles would be far longer, but as of yet no one was used to anything except for drills that lasted only a day. Every man was safely in his tent by nightfall.

  Zadok carried Adira, walking beside Zivah and Josiah.

  “Do you think they’ll all be back?”

  Zadok was unaccustomed to seeing worry in his sister’s eyes. She was always so strong, so bold. “Of course. This was only a trip to ask permission. If the king said no, they were to return, not start a war with them.” He wrapped his arm around her. “He’ll be back. Don’t worry.”

  She smiled weakly.

  The company of weary soldiers grew closer. Once individual figures became distinguishable, children and women rushed to greet their loved ones.

  Adira squirmed out of Zadok’s arms and hopped to the ground, chasing after Josiah. “Abba! Abba!”

  Zivah waited quietly.

  “You’re not going to him?”

  “I won’t get anywhere near him until the children have finished.” She laughed.

  In just a few moments, Jacob trudged near. Disheveled and sweaty, he set Adira on the sand and reached for Zivah, who nearly fell into his embrace.

  When he released her, he placed a kiss on her cheek and stepped back, one arm still at her waist.

  “You look horrible.” Zadok chuckled as he took Jacob’s pack from him. “Nice and pink.”

  “Thanks.” Jacob grinned. “Six days in full sun will do that.”

  “I think he looks wonderful.” Zivah laid her head on his shoulder, and Jacob kissed her temple.

  “What did they say?” Zadok asked.

  Jacob shook his head. “It did not go well. At all. It was … bad. You can talk to Joshua.” He looked over his shoulder at the older man striding into camp behind him. “I’m going home.” He steered Zivah away from Zadok and lumbered on, his children skipping beside them.

  Joshua was surrounded by men from camp, including leaders from each tribe, seeking information from the mission. He raised a hand for attention. “The king of Edom has refused to grant us permission to cross his land.”

  Loud grumbling and shouts of disbelief shot up from the still-gathering crowd.

  Joshua held up his hand again. “We will have to go south, around the Arabah, to avoid crossing their land. It will take much longer, but it is our only choice.”

  More angry cries, louder than before. Some of the men suggested using force against their distant cousins.

  “Right now, we need you to encourage your people, not stir them up.” Joshua spoke over the voices raised in dissension. “We will have enough battles to fight in Canaan. We don’t need any with Edom, and we certainly don’t need any in camp. Yahweh will tell us when we are to go forward.” He looked toward the sky. “We move when the cloud moves.”

  The crowd dissolved, leaving Joshua alone with his grandsons.

  Eliel noticed Marah waiting and bolted for her.

  Moses appeared at Zadok’s side. “Another delay. But after forty years, a week or two is not so bad.” He grinned.

  Zadok folded his arms and looked out toward Edom.

  “You wish you could have gone.”

  It was a statement, not a question.

  “I do. I should have.”

  Moses’s brows quirked. “Why? To prove to everyone you are not a coward?”

  “Just to do my part! That is our whole purpose, to take the land we have been given.”

  “True, but that is not your only purpose. We all have many tasks given to us by Yahweh. And right now, you have one that is more important.”

  “I know, the sheep.” Zadok refrained from sighing audibly.

  “I was thinking of something a little more important than that.”

  He blinked. “Arisha?” How could his wife be a task?

  “Miriam asked you to marry her, to care for her, so Yahweh could heal her heart. She believed, as do I, that was Yahweh’s will for you. So for this time, right now, that is what you focus on,
taking care of her. Perhaps the sheep were only to prepare you for that. To give you the gentle heart you needed.”

  Once again, Moses’s words had turned his thinking upside-down.

  “And don’t worry about fighting for Israel. Now is not your time, but your time will come soon enough.”

  19th day of Tammuz

  Danel closed the heavy wooden door behind him as he eased into Aqhat’s office. “How are you today?”

  Aqhat looked up briefly from his position along the side wall. Leaning on his fists, he studied several parchments spread out across a long table. “Hungry. I hate fast days.”

  Danel chuckled. “Well, Baal’s dying. You can’t possibly eat. It would be disrespectful.”

  Aqhat grunted. “No, disrespectful is a stone idol making me go hungry all day. I thought about finding some bread in the kitchen last night to hide in here. But they’d already thrown it all out. Perfectly good food, wasted. I hate that.”

  “You should be used to it by now.”

  “It’s so pointless. The rains will return whether or not we mourn him enough to bring him back.” He returned to his parchments.

  “You’ve got almost three more weeks of this. Better save your frustration. Besides, you can eat as soon as the sun goes down.”

  Sobering, Danel pulled a chair from the corner to face Aqhat and lowered himself onto it. He cleared his throat. “I have bad news. Last week at the festival, I saw Lukii. I believe he had already completed his guard duty.”

  Aqhat pulled himself up to his full height. He frowned, remembering that day as he walked toward his desk. “Yes. He seemed to be quite preoccupied that day. How was he when you saw him?”

  Danel sucked in a deep breath, rubbed his hand over his face. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. When I saw him, he had just left one of the priestesses.”

  Aqhat dropped into his chair. “No…”

  Danel nodded wearily.

  “And you saw him?”

  “I was there when she brought him his cloak. He’d left it in her room.”

  “So he knows you saw him.”

  “Yes.”

  Aqhat shook his head. “What do you think he’ll do?”

  “I don’t know. It’s been almost a week, and no one has said anything so far, but …”

  “What did you say to him?”

  “I didn’t raise my voice, tried to be understanding. He said his wife was beside herself with grief over not having a baby, and begged him to go.” Danel thought back to his own struggle. He could still remember the indescribable pain, relive the driving force that seemed to define their existence, recall the numberless nights Yasha cried herself to sleep. “She’s desperate, perhaps not thinking clearly.”

  Aqhat sighed. “He’s learned nothing.” An awkward silence filled the room. “What do we do if he goes to the king?” When he faced Danel again, his eyes were filled with worry, maybe even fear. It was a look Danel had never seen on Aqhat, not even when he was facing his fiercest battles.

  Aqhat knew the answer. It was clear he needed to hear Danel say it.

  Yahweh, help us. Danel rose. “You will do whatever the king tells you to do, without revealing yourself. If he tells you to arrest me, you’ll do it. You’ll put me in a cell, you’ll put me in that cell, you’ll execute me if ordered to. But unless Lukii does, you will not reveal your faith because Yasha and Zibqet, and the children, not to mention the other believers, will need you. Then more than ever.”

  The muscle in Aqhat’s jaw jumped. He swallowed as if he’d eaten a piece of leather, and finally managed a nod. Standing, then rounding the desk, he grabbed Danel in a strong embrace. “You are the best friend I have ever had.” His voice was husky with emotion. When he released Danel, his face was again like stone.

  Danel grabbed his shoulder. “We’ve been in this together ever since we helped Kamose escape. We’ve always known it would come to this point, sooner or later. Frankly, I’m surprised we both made it all forty years.”

  “Almost.”

  Danel grinned. “Almost.”

  “Let’s not talk like it’s over yet, yes?”

  “All right. We’ll just wait, and see what happens.”

  “And pray. Hard.”

  Danel walked down the hallway and up the stairs to his workroom, concentrating on, counting each step he took. He passed three soldiers and two kitchen workers, each of whom greeted him, but Danel barely noticed them and did not reply. He simply kept putting one foot in front of the other, counting. Right, left, right, left. Twenty-three, twenty-four. Right, left, right, left … Ninety-eight, ninety-nine…

  He reached his room and pulled the key from the folds of his belt. His hand shook as he attempted to fit it into the slot. The metal bounced against the edges, clanging and banging. Settle down, Danel. Someone might hear and ask him what was wrong. He took a deep breath, tried once more, unlocked his door, entered, closed it behind him, and collapsed.

  He had made it sound so easy to Aqhat. Arrest me. Put me in a cell. Put me in that cell. The cell where the worst prisoners were held, where Kamose was held for over a month, where he would have died had not Danel and Aqhat helped him. Danel was probably about the same age Kamose was when he was held there, but he was not nearly as strong. Kamose was a professional soldier, like Aqhat. Not a glorified manager. Danel would never last.

  But Aqhat would do it. Not only because he was a good officer who would do as he was told, but because his life depended on it, and the lives of their families, and other followers of Yahweh.

  And now those lives hung in the balance, because Lukii knew everyone, and if he wanted to, he could betray them all.

  28th day of Tammuz

  Arisha poured water into a pot and placed it carefully on the rocks. She poked at the embers and leaned down, her ear next to the ground, to blow on the red-gray pieces of wood. Gentle whooshes and a few strategic pokes brought the flames back to life, and she sat back on her heels. She grabbed the manna pot next to the fire and shook it. Same as every other day—just enough left for one meal for two people. She smiled. Zadok would be home soon, and they would share the evening meal. He would tell her everything that had happened at the pasture since she had seen him at midday, and she would tell him every outrageous thing Josiah said and every adorable thing Adira did at the river this afternoon. They would marvel at the colors of the sunset and go to sleep. It was exactly the same every night.

  And she loved every minute of it. Craved it.

  Bubbles appeared around the edges of the water. She reached for the jar and removed the lid. As she tipped it to dump out the manna, a loud sound rent the air. Her ears shut out everything else as the ram’s horn blasts resounded throughout the camp. Her stomach clenched.

  An assembly. One … two … Two long blasts of the ram’s horn meant only the leaders. She closed her eyes. Please no… One more loud burst of noise made its way through the camp and snaked down her body. Three blasts of the shofar called everyone. The last time all Israel had gathered was to bury Miriam.

  She took a deep, slow breath. Nothing could be worse than that. Right?

  She sat by the fire, jar still in hand, unable to move, staring, unseeing. What now?

  Adi strolled up, a pouting Adira in hand. Zivah followed close behind, scolding Josiah for teasing his sister. “Are you going to the assembly?” Adi tilted her head, studying the boiling water, and the pot of manna in Arisha's hand.

  Arisha's gaze darted left and right. She glanced behind her. No Zadok. He was still with his sheep.

  His stupid sheep. Now, when she needed him.

  Her cheeks heated. That wasn’t fair to Zadok. How could he have possibly known Moses would call everyone to assembly? She reached to set aside the water and put away the manna. She tossed sand over the fire. Maybe Adi wouldn’t notice her reddened face.

  At least she wasn’t alone—she had Adi and Zivah. And maybe it was for the best. If Zadok were here he would surely see her unrest, but the c
hildren would help her conceal it. Their constant chattering and meandering would draw the women’s attention, allow her to hide her unreasonable fears. Her sudden cherished memories of Miriam. Ridiculous imaginings of what could come next.

  She followed silently as they strolled through Judah and Issachar, past the big spring, then angled toward the empty expanse outside camp, north of the tents of Dan and Naphtali. After finding a spot where they could see Moses, they waited for the crowd to settle. Arisha stood behind the others, her heart pounding in her ears. She fisted her hands to keep from rubbing her scar. Change was almost never good. This probably wouldn’t be good, either.

  Moses ascended a small rise. The low hills around them made a perfect amphitheater, allowing his voice to carry to everyone. He raised his hands, waited for absolute quiet. The silence fell on Arisha like a weight, threatening to choke off her air. He just stood there. Why wouldn’t he speak?

  She opened her mouth, tried to draw in a breath, but her lungs would not expand. Her hands went to her chest, clawing at her tunic, at the air around her.

  Zivah turned and frowned, but before she could say anything, Moses began.

  “Yahweh has spoken …”

  Arisha tried to ignore the pounding in her head. But then Moses delivered Yahweh’s message, and her world collapsed.

  Arisha stood alone on the expanse of sand north of camp. The setting sun threw long, misshapen shadows across the sand in the distance. The ominous gray shapes crawling over and around the mounds of earth emphasized their uneven contours, making them appear even more formidable. After Moses had spoken, everyone else had returned to their tents for the evening meal, hearts as light as the manna that fell around them each day.

  Not Arisha. Her chest felt like a band encircled it and squeezed tight. Her vision blurred and her body was unbelievably heavy. She couldn’t move. An Egyptian owl flew over her head. His wings made no sound, but his baleful screech burrowed into her ears, making her wince.

  Tear down her home? That's what Moses wanted? Just when she was finally getting comfortable, finally trusting her world could be like everyone else's, it was being ripped apart again.