The Walls of Arad

by Carole Towriss

  “Away where?”

  “Who knows. Canaan, probably. There’s nowhere else.”

  “Canaan.” Ahmose whispered. “That could be anywhere.”

  Moses’s words sprang to mind. “She has strength hidden deep inside. She needs to know that. She needs to know you know that.”

  Strength? That didn’t begin to cover it. She would need that and so much more.

  So would he.

  Yahweh, help.

  The fire was big and bright enough to keep them warm but Arisha couldn’t sleep. Without Yahweh’s cloud, the air had a bitter chill at night. Or was that just her fear?

  Jonah and Micah and the others made sure to surround her at all times, and despite the circumstances, she felt relatively safe. She’d made this trip once before, going south, in a caravan of camels. She figured it would take two days of hard walking to reach Arad going the same way. Her feet were already sore and they’d traveled only a short way, just enough to be sure to be out of sight of camp.

  And then…? Who knew what would happen once the temple priestesses received word she’d been found.

  Let alone the king.

  “You have been our dwelling place throughout all generations.”

  If that is what had to happen, Yahweh would still be her dwelling place.

  Wouldn’t He? Could He dwell in the temple of a false god?

  If she lived that long.

  Tears began to flow, but she wiped them away. That wouldn’t help now. What she needed was some sleep. No matter what, tomorrow would be a very long day.

  3rd day of Elul

  The huge gates before them swung open and the little band of prisoners was paraded through the city of Arad just as night began to fall. Thank Yahweh. Another night in the desert would have been ... she didn’t want to think about it. The shepherds slept next to her but the soldiers were becoming bolder.

  Arisha couldn’t see much over the heads of the shepherds—and soldiers—surrounding her, but that didn’t bother her. She no longer belonged there.

  They were shoved through a few more gates and into a part of the city she was unfamiliar with. The floor was dirt, and high wooden walls comprised two sides of the enclosure, big enough for them to spread out a little.

  “Where are we?” Jonah, always by her side, scanned their surroundings.

  “I don’t know what this is.” She shrugged. “That’s the palace, though, and that wall”—she pointed north—“is an outside wall. South of the palace is the temple.”

  The captain left another in charge and left. Moments later, a door from the palace slammed open and an older, angry warrior, with reddish hair stormed out, followed by the captain, scurrying to keep up. The taller one had to be his superior by the way he was shouting. “Whatever possessed you to capture them and bring them here? Were those in any way your orders?”

  “They saw us. We had to bring them. They had moved much farther north than they were last time.”

  “Where were they?”

  “Near the mountain peak about halfway between their old camp and here.”

  The older man surveyed the group. His gaze landed on Arisha and his eyes grew wide. “You brought a girl here?” He turned on the captain.

  “Commander, I had no choice!”

  “If they saw you then you got far too close! You were not following the procedures I gave you.” He glanced at Arisha and back at the leader. “A girl? What am I supposed to do with her?” The commander paced for several moments.

  Jonah wrapped his arm around Arisha and leaned near. “Pretend you’re my wife. It might protect you,” he whispered.

  “Do not let them know I am Canaanite.”

  “Of course.”

  The commander faced the hostages. “Who’s in charge?” He held up one finger. “One person.”

  Jonah stepped forward.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Jonah.” He pointed to himself and then to her. “And this is my wife Ar—”

  “Ariel.” She interrupted. Her name would surely give her away.

  “Ariel,” he repeated.

  “Very good.” The commander stepped back. He looked down on the patrol captain. “You, wait in my office.” He pointed to three others. “You. Take them inside. Find a servant and tell him to get them to a room large enough for all of them to let them rest and clean up. Then you’re dismissed. The rest of you, to the barracks.” He looked over the group once again, rubbing his hand down his face. “I’ll go tell the king.”

  4th day of Elul

  Danel raced down the narrow hallway, the sound of sandals pounding the tile floor hard behind him. His lungs burned and his thighs ached, his heart threatened to beat out of his chest.

  Fear clouded his mind as he neared the end of the hall. Right or left? Which way? He stopped, looked right, then left. He couldn’t remember. Rough hands grabbed him from behind. His tunic chafed at his neck … he was choking… thrown to the floor.

  Danel sat straight up in bed, breathing hard, sweat dripping down his forehead. He wiped it away with the back of his hand.

  A nightmare. That’s all it was.

  He lay back. Yahweh, calm me. He continued praying, for himself, for Yasha, for Aqhat and his family, for the other believers, until he fell into a peaceful slumber.

  A touch on his arm jerked him from sleep. He clambered away from the unwelcome contact, against the wall, into the corner of the darkened room.

  “Danel, it’s just me. Calm down.” Aqhat backed away, hands in the air.

  Danel blinked until his eyes adjusted to the light, and his mind adjusted to the reality of his situation. The door stood wide open, allowing the sunlight that streamed into the hallway to flood the room. His gaze scanned the cell and calm returned. “I’m sorry. I’m a little tense, I guess.”

  “Understandable. I have good news, though.”

  Still fighting through the fog in his brain, Danel swung his legs over the side of the bed. Good news? Did he say good news?

  “Keret has ordered you released.”

  “Released? Why?” Not that he wasn’t thrilled, but was there an ulterior motive?

  “The patrol last night captured some Israelites. Keret wants you to talk to them.”

  Danel stood and stretched, his muscles aching from too many nights on a too small, too hard bed. “Me? Why?”

  “You know the Israelites better. And mostly, he doesn’t want to do it.”

  Danel scoffed. “Of course.”

  Aqhat looked him over from head to bare feet. “You can’t see him like that. I have some fresh clothes being sent in. Are you hungry?”

  His stomach rumbled. When had he last eaten a whole meal, not just nibbled on what was sent to him? “I am now. What time is it?”

  “Early morning.” A rap sounded on the door. Aqhat opened it, allowing one servant to deliver a bowl of water, a brush, and a fresh tunic, and another a plate of bread and cheese and a cup of juice. The soldier held up the tunic, chuckling.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “I was just remembering I did this same thing almost forty years ago for Kamose. Except I wasn’t cleaning him up to let him go home.”

  “Oh?” Danel glanced at the tunic. A little short, but it would do.

  Aqhat grinned. “I was bringing Donatiya to him.”

  Visions of a very well-endowed and scantily clad girl popped into Danel’s mind. “I remember her.”

  “Of course you do. She made herself known to every male over ten years of age in the city. Anyway, Keret thought she might be able to use her … assets … to persuade Kamose to give him the information he wanted.”

  Danel removed his tunic, then dunked the cloth in the water and wrung it out. “I take it she didn’t get very far with him?”

  “Of course not.”

  “I wonder what happened to her.”

  “She married one of the army captains. She had six babies and got fat.”

  Danel dropped the cloth into the bowl,
splashing himself. “You’re kidding!”

  The soldier smirked. “Yes, I’m kidding. I have no idea what happened to her. Now hurry.”

  Danel rolled his eyes.

  Aqhat gestured toward the clothing. “Get cleaned up and dressed. The king is waiting.”

  After brushing his hair, Danel slipped the clean clothes over his head.

  “Here. Eat.” Aqhat handed Danel a piece of cheese.

  “Where are they?”

  “So far, in a room. Keret wants them to think they’re guests.”

  “That’s good.” Danel exhaled a long breath and picked up the cheese, biting off a large piece. “What do you know about the captives?”

  “Not much. I haven’t met them yet. There are eleven, and they’re fairly young. Shepherds, I think. I don’t know what they can tell us.”

  “What if they don’t know anything?”

  Aqhat lifted a shoulder. “I don’t know. Keret won’t like it, but it’s a very real possibility. They don’t look much like soldiers. The one that appears to be the leader is named Jonah, and, get this, there’s a girl.”

  “A girl?”

  Aqhat nodded. “What was her name? Ariel, I think.” He tipped his head toward the bread. “Grab that and let’s go.”

  “They often use young men—and girls—to care for the sheep.” Danel finished his bread on the way, playing out numerous scenarios in his head. What if they didn’t know anything? What if they knew everything? Would Keret launch an attack? What would Yahweh do in return?

  At the door of the throne room, he hesitated.

  Keret sat on his throne, looking younger than he had in years. He wore his robe, held his scepter straight. His freshly polished crown rested proudly atop his head.

  “Danel, enter.” He smiled broadly as he extended a hand.

  Danel stepped to the center of the room and dropped to one knee.

  “Rise, my friend. It’s good to see you.””

  It is?

  “I know you don’t believe me, but it is.” Keret descended from the dais and stood an arm’s length from Danel. “And today I need you. I need your skill and your wisdom. In return, I grant you your freedom.”

  “For good, or do I go back when I am done with this task?”

  “For good.”

  Danel dipped his head. “Thank you. I am forever indebted to you, my king.”

  “For good, that is, as long as you do as I ask. Now, go to the captives. Find out their plans. And this time, I want the truth, and I want it fast. Or you will lose your freedom, permanently, and this time it won’t be to a holding cell.”

  Twenty-one

  DANEL KNOCKED BEFORE ENTERING THE room where the hostages were held. He pushed the door open quickly, remembering the fear he’d felt when Aqhat had slowly slipped inside. Doubtless Aqhat had meant not to startle him, but all it had done was allow the fear to build up.

  This room was much nicer than the one Danel had just been released from. One of the guest rooms used for visitors, it was comprised of a sitting room with a long table flanked by benches, and a sleeping area in the back with several beds, complete with wool-stuffed mattresses.

  He held the door for the servant who entered behind him, carrying a platter of food he’d brought from the kitchen—good food, not prisoner food. The king had made it clear the men were hostages, not prisoners, but Danel wanted them to be certain they would be treated well.

  Though for how long, who knew?

  “Good morning. I am the king’s wazir.” At least I think I still am. He nodded to the servant who set the food, bowls, cups and pitchers on a table, then scurried out, shutting the door behind them.

  The wide-eyed young men backed against the far wall stood as straight as the statues that lined the hallways.

  Danel gestured to the table in the center of the room. “Please, come sit and eat. I know you must be hungry. It’s a long trek from your camp.”

  One of the younger ones gasped, his barely bearded jaw hanging open.

  Did he frighten them? Or were they just in such bad shape? They looked ready to drop. He glanced at their bloodied feet, scraped shins and ripped tunics. They’d been pushed hard on the walk to Arad. Had they been fed when they arrived last night? Had they been fed at all during their trip? Danel pulled the tray closer and filled cups with pomegranate juice. He gestured toward the benches, then sat down himself and waited. “I thought there was also a young woman.”

  One of the Israelites stepped forward cautiously and sat. “Ariel is resting.”

  The others joined him.

  “I’m the wazir,” he repeated. “The king has sent me to welcome you.” And interrogate you. He filled the bowls with Ishat’s stew and passed them out along with bread. He pointed to the platter of goat cheese and grapes.

  They gobbled the food quickly, and Danel poked his head outside to send a servant for more.

  “Thank you.” The youngest one croaked out his words, his voice hoarse.

  “You’re quite welcome.”

  “Why are we here? Were we on your land? We did not mean to trespass, we will not—” The words tumbled from the oldest of the group.

  “Hold it, hold it.” Danel held up his hands. They had no idea? What did the soldiers say to them? “What were you told?”

  “Nothing. They just dragged us away from our sheep and to your city. We asked, but they said nothing.”

  Danel nodded. “I’m sorry. Others before now could have spoken to you.” He exhaled forcefully. “You are being held hostage.”

  A taller but more slender Israelite, younger perhaps, jumped up, knocking back his chair. “What? Hostage? Why?” His face was red, his hands flailed in the air.

  “Micah!” The oldest yanked on Micah’s arm.

  “Good. You’re Micah. And who are you?”

  “I’m Jonah. We are shepherds.”

  “You are Israelites.”

  Jonah stopped in the middle of a bite of cheese. “What difference does that make?”

  “That is why you are here.” Danel stood and paced. “The king has kept an eye on your people for forty years now. Well, almost forty years. He has been waiting for you to attack ever since the spies came through here. For the last several months, he has been sending out patrols to check on your movements. They noted your mission east—”

  “To Edom.” Jonah whispered.

  “To Edom?” repeated Danel.

  “That was only a mission to ask the Edomites if we could cross their land.”

  “Successful?”

  “They said no.”

  “Too bad. That would have solved a great many problems.”

  “It would?”

  “Yes, then you wouldn’t be coming north, coming here. Anyway, you did come north, and our patrols captured you three. Now the king wants you questioned.”

  Micah jumped up again. “We came north to bury our High Priest!”

  “Micah …” Jonah pulled him down once again.

  Danel sat again. “You came to bury your priest?”

  Jonah leaned forward. “Aaron, our high priest, went up to the summit of Mt. Hor with Moses and his son, and did not come down. He went to be with Yahweh.”

  “And his son is the new high priest?”

  They nodded.

  “You are not preparing to march on Arad?”

  “We are heading south around Edom,” Jonah said.

  A rap sounded at the door. Danel opened it and stepped aside to allow Mepac and two others to enter, carrying trays laden with fresh bread, bowls of fruit and pitchers of water. “Well, I am not sure what Keret plans to do with you. He says he only wants information, but that’s what he said the last time.” He chucked dryly. “And look how that turned out,” he mumbled to himself.

  He picked up a loaf of bread and ripped a piece off, wandering toward the window.

  “Danel.”

  He turned as the servant called to him.

  “Sisa said if you need anything more to let her know.
” He shut the door behind him as he slipped out.

  From the other side of the room, another door slammed hard against the wall and a figure stood still in the doorway. She pushed her headcloth back and let it fall around her shoulders.

  His breath caught. Could it be … no … why??

  Could this get any worse?

  The sun was just peaking over the eastern mountaintops, Yahweh’s fiery cloud dimming as the sky brightened. Zadok dragged himself from his mat, then bent to untwist the bushes that were tied together to create the gate, trying hard to keep his mind from the one thing that dominated his every thought, his every breath.

  It was the third day Arisha had been gone.

  The sheep baaed their way out of the fold, stretching their legs, bumping into each other in their haste. Shika trotted over and stood before him.

  Zadok shrugged into his cloak and bent to pick up his staff.

  The lamb bleated at him.

  “Shika, not today.”

  She looked at him, bleated again.

  He sighed. “I know. I haven’t played with you for days. But not today. Just walk with me, all right?” He headed for the front of the flock and set out to find today’s grass.

  Later as the sheep were grazed contentedly, someone called his name. He stilled at the unwelcome voice. Marah. He straightened and turned, willing himself to show no emotion.

  Her face seemed … different. Softer. Her hair was in a simple braid. She stood with her hands clasped in front of her. Eliel waited behind her, off to the side.

  What was happening?

  “I would like to help, and I would like to apologize.”

  What?

  “I have treated you, and Arisha, and your whole family quite shamefully.” She dipped her head, then raised it, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. “I am very sorry. I had no right to say the things I said to you.”

  Zadok bit his lip to keep from laughing. Was this a joke?

  “Eliel … helped me realize … a lot of things. So I would like to help you care for your sheep while we wait for Arisha and the others to come back.”