The Walls of Arad

by Carole Towriss

  He had barely tied the knot when yet another soldier approached. For what felt like a lifetime, but what was surely only a few moments, they blocked one another’s blows. When the enemy drew back to swing his blade from side to another, Zadok saw his chance. He ducked low and let the weapon slice the air above him. As the enemy stood twisting to the side, slightly off balance, Zadok rose, stepping forward, and jabbed his blade deep into his belly. The Canaanite fell face down into his own blood.

  Over the clanging of clashing swords and daggers, the sound of sandals against stone caught Zadok’s attention. He looked up.

  From beyond the palace came more soldiers.

  This was not going to end soon.

  Twenty-four

  IF ARISHA HAD ANY FOOD in her stomach, it would have come up. Since it was barely dawn, her belly was empty. That didn’t stop the nausea.

  “No! Let her go!” Danel lunged at the soldier. It did little good.

  Twice as big as Danel, he flicked him off like a bug, knocking him to the ground. “Do you realize how much she’s worth? What the king would pay to have her back? I intend to collect a hefty reward for returning the king’s virgin to him.” He laughed uproariously.

  His arm snaked around her neck, holding her fast against his chest. His other arm pointed a sword straight at Danel.

  “She’s married now!”

  “I’m sure that doesn’t matter for what he has in mind.” He turned and backed down the hall.

  Her sandals scraped the tile floor as he dragged her. His body stench assaulted her nose, and she clawed at his arms with her nails.

  Danel scrambled to his feet, but he was now too far behind to do much good. She watched the emotion play on his face, deciding what to do. Stay and fight? Go get help?

  He spun and raced back out the door.

  Her abductor turned around, marched faster. She kicked and squirmed, making it as difficult as possible, but couldn’t slow him down much. Soon he reached his destination. With no guards at the door, he kicked it open and barged in.

  This must be the king’s chambers. An enormous high ceilinged sitting room, full of stone gods on pedestals and cushions on the floor. Tapestries on the walls. Four of the king’s personal guards flanking a double cedar door to the right drew their swords and lunged at the warrior.

  He halted. “No! I bring the king a gift! I will present to him the escaped consort of last year.” He removed his arm and shoved her forward.

  She hit the floor, landing hard. Pain radiated from her knees and hands through the rest of her body. She sucked in several deep breaths until a pair of sandals appeared in her vision.

  “Stand up!”

  She slowly rose and stood. Silent. Looking straight ahead.

  If he killed her, he killed her. Even if he kept her here, this would not be her home.

  Yahweh is my dwelling place.

  The bodyguards studied the warrior. After several moments they must have deemed him trustworthy, and one knocked on the door, then entered the royal bedchamber,

  Time dragged on. The king was old. It must take some time for him to waken and dress.

  Finally the door creaked open and the king appeared. He neared Arisha. A smile appeared.

  Blood pounded in her ears. Her mouth was dry. Yahweh, help me.

  “Ah, yes. I remember you.” His voice made her skin crawl. “I remember the day I picked you out. Your beautiful eyes, your skin. And I remember when I came to claim you, you had disappeared. I was forced to settle for someone less beautiful than you.” He ran a wrinkled finger down her cheek, onto her neck.

  “They told me you must have died out there alone. They said no one could have survived the desert.”

  Obviously they were wrong. And I had help. But I will never tell you that.

  “How did you survive? Make it to the Israelite camp?”

  She remained silent.

  “You need to answer me!” The king roared. “How did—”

  The chamber doors burst open, and Danel’s grandson—Mika? Is that what he called him?—ran in.

  The soldier stopped several strides from her. “I knew she was here.” He cast a quick glance at the other soldier. “Excellent job, Magon.”

  “Thank you, Mika.”

  He bowed to his monarch. “I am Mika. I am the leader of the newest company in your army. I am the one who realized who she was, and had her brought to you.”

  “Mika. You are Danel’s grandson?”

  “I am.”

  “I knew your father. Tell me—do you worship Yahweh as your father does?”

  Mika thrust his chest out. “I worship the gods of my father. I had her brought to you to prove that our gods are and always will be more powerful. She thought she could escape her fate, but Asherah has brought her back.”

  “And Asherah will reward you well. As will I.” The king grabbed her arm and dragged her into his bedroom.

  Heart racing, palms sweating, Danel slammed into the doors and stumbled into the courtyard. He surveyed the frantic scene before him, searching for Zadok, Joshua, Caleb. Anyone.

  Although the battle seemed to be winding down—the Israelites had brought more than twice as many men as Arad had soldiers—pockets of combat still remained. He found Joshua and Caleb standing on a stack of boxes dragged from the market, studying the scene, looking for weaknesses, sending extra men to help where needed. He raced to them.

  “I was taking Arisha to a safe place.” He spit out his words between labored breaths. “I was overpowered by one of Mika’s men and now he has taken her to the king. You must go help her.”

  “Where? Come show us!” Joshua jumped down and headed for the palace.

  “Let me catch my breath. Back the way we came. The big hallway to the left. You’ll find it. I won’t be much help anyway.” Haven’t been so far.

  Danel trudged to the wall. He rested his hands on his knees and closed his eyes, tried to swallow the lump in his throat. The one thing he thought he could do to help, and he had completely failed.

  Did he even send help in time to save her?

  Doubtful.

  Yahweh, please don’t let my incompetence cost Arisha her life. Or anything else.

  His breath and heart beat finally under control, if not his shame, Danel looked up. Into the angry eyes of his grandson.

  The battle now winding down, Zadok sprinted through the halls, looking for Arisha and Danel. Where would Danel have put her? A room? A storage closet? The palace complex was filled with so many places to hide a girl. He might never find her.

  He’d just have to wait, and trust the old man—and Yahweh—to keep her safe until the battle was over. He turned on his heel to return to the courtyard and nearly ran into Caleb. “Wh-What are you doing in here?”

  Caleb mouth twisted. “Later. Follow us.”

  Zadok didn’t want to think about why they might be here. The pieces started falling into place in his mind. The possibilities were all too ugly. He followed them just a few steps before they all took a left turn and bolted down a wide tiled hallway. The ornate doors at the end stood open.

  Four bodyguards lined the entrance to yet another set of doors.

  Zadok halted as if he’d slammed into a stone wall.

  His stomach threatened to come up to his throat.

  His wife was in the king’s bedchamber, and four armed guards stood in the way.

  Arisha backed away from the gray-haired sovereign, searching for anything she could use as a weapon if needed. The man was quite old and not too steady on his feet. Surely she could outrun him, if she could get out of the room. But those doors looked so heavy … and there were still the guards.

  “Why do you fight it? Asherah has decreed that you return, and here you are. And at exactly the right time. Ordinarily I would wait for the full moon to celebrate the marriage of Baal and Anat with you, to ensure our city’s fertility for the coming season, but since you are no longer a virgin anyway, I see no point, do you?”

&nbs
p; How could he laugh and leer at the same time? His face was twisted into a gruesome shape.

  She backed further away, bumping into the bed.

  “Yes, that’s it. Into bed with you. I’m sure you have never slept anywhere so luxurious, have you? Might make the night almost bearable, hmmm?”

  That laugh again.

  He slipped his robe off his bony shoulders and let it drop to the floor. His tunic followed. Thank Yahweh he kept his loincloth on. So far.

  He climbed onto the bed. “Lie down.”

  She backed away on her elbows.

  Her heart beat double-time and her stomach churned.

  He came nearer. Still nearer. “Take off your clothes.”

  “Why don’t you come closer first?” She smiled sweetly at him, and beckoned him with her finger.

  He raised his brows, but he crawled closer.

  She wiggled her finger, and he straddled her, his arms on either side of her. She lifted her chin as if to kiss him, and at the same time pulled her knee up hard into his groin.

  The king fell to the side, his hands between his legs, rolling back and forth. She feared he would cry out, but he was in too much pain to utter a sound.

  Arisha grabbed a pottery vase next to the bed. She slammed it hard into his skull. He stilled instantly. Pieces of the jar clinked as they tumbled onto the floor.

  She held her hands over her mouth, watching his chest for movement. Was he dead? Had she killed the king? When she saw a shallow breath, she jumped off the bed and ran to the door. She yanked on the golden ring in the center, but either she was too short to gain enough leverage, or the door was just too heavy.

  She lay her head against the wood. Now what? Just wait until he wakes up? In an even fouler mood? And do it all again? Or would the guards burst in first?

  Either way, things did not look good.

  But now was not the time to lose hope. She had made it this far. She would keep going. No matter what.

  Danel stood backed against a wall before Mika, his sword useless on the ground at his feet.

  His eyes spewed hatred. “I just came from the king’s chambers. That girl you helped escape—yes, I know it was you who helped her—has been returned to the king, where she belongs. Had you left things as they were, she would have simply participated in the marriage ceremony of Baal with the king and been returned to the temple. Now, who knows what he will do with her? So you see what your God has done for you? Nothing!"

  Danel’s heart sank. Not only had he lost Mika, long ago, now he had condemned Arisha to death. How had he gotten it all so wrong? “Mika, why are you so angry? Angry at Yahweh? Angry at me? All I have ever done is love you."

  "Lies! You have kept me from my father's legacy, tried to keep me from fulfilling his dream for me, from becoming a great soldier like he was."

  "True, your father was a great soldier. He would have been commander, I have no doubt, had he not been killed in battle. But do you know why he was killed?"

  "He was fending off too many attackers at once. Everyone knows that."

  "That is the story your mother told you. But it is only part of the truth. The truth is he disobeyed orders, and took his company into the enemy's camp before Arad's army was ready. The enemy overpowered them, and our army had to go in earlier than was planned. A great many lives were lost because he sought glory for himself."

  Mika's eyes narrowed. "I don't believe you."

  "If we survive this, you can ask anyone my age. They can help you separate truth from legend."

  Mika brandished his short sword. He moved closer, placing it under Danel's chin. "I will survive. You, I'm not sure about."

  Danel took shallow breaths with Mika's forearm against his chest. "The other truth is, you are far more like your father than I ever realized. He acted more like a soldier at home than a father, a husband. He often took out his frustrations on your mother. I finally lost count of the bruises she showed up with."

  "You are lying again." Some of the bluster had gone from his voice, but he did not move the blade from Danel's throat.

  "Let him go." Aqhat appeared over Mika's shoulder.

  Danel would have breathed a sigh of relief if his chest could move.

  "No." Mika did not take his gaze off Danel.

  "Mika, don't make me do something I don't want to. I have loved you since you were born, but Danel has been my closest friend for more than twice that long.”

  “Mika, please.”

  "No," the younger man repeated.

  Aqhat grabbed the arm holding the weapon and pulled Mika off Danel.

  Mika swiped at Aqhat, but Aqhat backed away.

  Danel watched the knife-play with increasing horror, still unable to breathe even though Mika no longer compressed his lungs.

  Aqhat cut Mika's arm, barely. "Mika, stop now."

  "No." Mika lunged for the commander, his sword slicing deep into Aqhat's leg. Crimson blood spewed onto his leg, his sandals, the street.

  Still, Aqhat held back.

  Mika once more dove for Aqhat, aiming for the man’s heart. Aqhat blocked the move, knocking his arm skyward. Mika struck again and again. The two were locked in struggle for what felt like an eternity to Danel.

  Aqhat finally aimed for Mika, his knife plunging into his chest.

  Danel’s grandson collapsed onto the stone. His chest stilled.

  Danel slid down the wall, silent sobs racking his body.

  Aqhat came to him, grabbed him under the arms, and half carried, half dragged him to a doorway around the corner where he could remain unseen. He set him on the ground, propped against the wall.

  Danel pulled his knees to his chest and dropped his head onto his arms.

  "I'm sorry …"

  Danel looked up to see Aqhat's tortured face, staring into nothing.

  "I had no choice,” he whispered, as he ripped a piece of his tunic and tied it around his wound.

  Danel nodded. "I know. It’s not your fault. He made his choices, long ago."

  Armed guards or not, Zadok couldn’t simply stand there and do nothing. There were four Canaanites, three Israelites. Not quite even, but …

  He unsheathed his sword.

  A huge soldier came toward him, growling. Apparently deciding he was the weakest, another joined him. Let him come to you. When the first came close enough, he moved his sword over his left shoulder as if to swing wide, left to right. Instead, he slipped the weapon to his left hand, and brought it down sharply on the leg of the soldier on the left, going for his thigh as far to the back as possible. He must have hit the right place, because the soldier dropped at Zadok’s feet, unable to stand.

  The other guard slashed at Zadok. Searing pain sliced through his right arm, and blood flowed down from his bicep and dripped off his elbow. He dropped his sword, and the guard kicked it away.

  Anger, fear for Arisha, pain, all combined within him, and he fought back with his dagger, Kamose’s dagger, in his left hand, aiming for the soldier's chest. The Canaanite returned the attack, but Zadok sidestepped and avoided further injury, while driving his blade into his opponent at the same time. The studded dagger was sharp enough to cut through the leather breastplate. Blood spurted from the wound. The enemy stumbled. Zadok stepped behind him, grabbed his head, and slit his throat.

  Joshua and Caleb had dispatched their guards, and the three rushed at the door.

  Arisha sat huddled in the corner, cradling a metal vase.

  Another pottery vase, or pieces of it, lay scattered near the bed.

  Along with a stunned monarch.

  Zadok rushed to Arisha and pulled her into his arms.

  Caleb and Joshua looked from Arisha, to the king, to the broken pottery, and back.

  “What happened?” asked Caleb.

  “I didn’t want to be his consort.” She shrugged.

  Caleb stared, wide-eyed. Joshua started laughing.

  Caleb went to the bed and examined the king. He caught Zadok’s gaze and motioned with his sword to
the king and then the door.

  Zadok steered her from the room with his left arm. She didn’t need to see Caleb finish the king.

  In the sitting room, she stepped away from him and eyed his wounds. “You’re dripping blood!”

  He glanced down at his side. The blood had seeped through again. His arm still bled as well. “I’m sorry.”

  “You don’t have to apologize. You came for me. Again.”

  “I told you. I will always come for you.”

  Though if it were in his power, she’d never leave his side again.

  Danel sat in the courtyard, his head numb, his heart feeling like it had been ripped from his chest.

  The only home he had ever known, his precious Arad, had been destroyed. The king he had served since he but a prince, killed.

  Yes, they asked for it. They attacked Israel for no reason. Refused to acknowledge Yahweh. Continued to sacrifice and perform outrageously wicked acts of so-called worship to a stone idol.

  And now the city was gone, without the loss of a single Israelite. Israel had promised to destroy the city if Yahweh gave them back their hostages. And they did.

  Yet none of that hurt as much as losing Mika. He had lost Mika long ago. But to be threatened by him, to see the look in his eyes, to know Mika would kill him, gladly, to gain power and prestige…

  He wiped a tear away. Nothing could change any of it now.

  He still had Yasha, and Duni and Izabel. Aqhat and his family were safe as well. The children were happily riding on the shoulders of some of the men in the town center. What remained of it. Their light spirits and the children's giggling brought some relief to his tattered soul.

  A bloodied Aqhat sat beside him. He didn't speak, but stared ahead.

  "I'm all right, Aqhat. Truly, I do not blame you."

  "I cannot tell you how much it hurt to do that. I would have given anything…" His voice was strained.

  "I know. I wish you didn't have to. But it is finally over. Forty years of waiting, and we both made it through, my friend. There were times, in these last weeks, when I wasn't sure."

  Aqhat finally turned his head and caught Danel's gaze for the first time since that horrible moment. "Yes, it's over. Time to begin again."