Watching Seesya and his twirling blade, Deborah’s sense of relief and optimism began to fade. Why was he staying in the courtyard? Had he not succeeded in breaking Sallan’s will and forcing him to reveal the secret? Wasn’t he eager for a hot bath? For clean sheets on a comfortable bed?
Trying to guess what was on Seesya’s mind was difficult, because she could never think the way he did, free of moral boundaries, unburdened by empathy for other people and, most incomprehensibly, unafraid of Yahweh’s wrath. What evil plans lurked inside his dark mind?
She looked at Judge Zifron, who ultimately controlled Seesya’s actions, either with explicit orders or by the default of silence. Did he know?
The judge sat back in his large armchair, his hands resting on his belly, fingers interwoven, and listened to Sallan explain how to make the Reinforcing Liquid. His expression showed neither satisfaction nor impatience, as if this whole episode were but a routine bump on his path to more riches and power.
Deborah recalled something Sallan had once said: “Powerful rulers and men of great wealth do not make decisions based on what’s fair and just. When a situation comes up, they look at all the facts, figure out what they can use for their advantage, and come up with solutions that promote three things: their safety, their fortune, and their power.”
She tried to put herself in Judge Zifron’s shoes, as big as those shoes might be. He needed the secret formula for his fortune, but what about his safety and power? The facts were that Sallan, a mere slave, had refused the judge’s order to reveal a secret, withstood torture to the point of mocking his master, and surrendered only after Seesya stooped to brutalizing an innocent boy. Sallan, Deborah realized, had made the judge look weak, diminishing people’s fear and respect for him. Sallan’s resistance made Judge Zifron less powerful and less safe. The only way to recover that power and respect was to punish Sallan severely.
The judge’s strategy now became clear to Deborah. He would have to cause Sallan to talk, using a combination of promises and pain, but there was no way he would let a defiant slave go free. The fearsome reputation of Judge Zifron and his son depended on it. That’s why Seesya had stayed—he was waiting for Sallan to finish telling them how to make the Reinforcing Liquid!
She had to let Kassite know before it was too late.
Leaning close to Antippet, Deborah whispered, “Punch Patrees really hard!”
He looked at her as if she had gone mad. “Punch Patrees? Why?”
Patrees heard it and turned to them.
“Punch him,” she said. “Do it!”
Antippet shook his head, but Patrees didn’t hesitate and threw the first punch. Antippet hit him back, and they began to wrestle. Everyone in the courtyard turned to look, including the group around Sallan. Seesya said something, and Judge Zifron laughed. The soldiers and attendants around the courtyard joined the laughter.
Deborah didn’t watch the scuffle, but stared at Kassite. She touched her mouth. He got up slowly and walked over. Deborah noticed that he was hiding his limp with a stiff, straight-backed gait.
The Edomite men quieted down and lined up at attention, including Deborah.
“What is this behavior?” Kassite glared at the men. “We are guests here!”
Antippet glanced at Deborah. “Borah told us—”
“It’s not over,” Deborah whispered without moving her lips. “They’re going to kill Sallan.”
Kassite looked at her lips. “What did you say?”
She stepped closer to him, keeping her voice low. “They will kill him.”
His eyebrows creased, changing his expression to one of doubt and disapproval.
“He challenged them,” she said. “They have to kill him.”
“Execute a dying man?”
“They had no problem torturing him.”
Kassite nodded. “He who assumes the worst about his opponent wins the conquest.”
“We have to attack first. We’ll have surprise on our side—”
“Do nothing without my explicit order.”
Before she could argue further, Kassite walked back across the courtyard and sat down by the judge. “I should whip them more often,” he said, shaking his head. “Worse than donkeys.”
The judge laughed and motioned to Sallan to continue talking.
When Sallan finished, the scribe wrote down the last item on the list of ingredients and handed the parchment to Judge Zifron.
“Well done.” The judge put down the parchment. “Bring us refreshments!”
His attendants sprang into action: some went to the kitchen, others to add wood to the fire and bring a barrel of wine. A few women appeared with bowls of fruit and cakes, as if they had waited out of sight for a signal. They knelt, holding forth the bowls before Judge Zifron, Kassite, and Seesya, who sat down in a large chair that a servant had also brought for him.
Deborah watched with relief as Seesya’s soldiers cleared the blades from the table while he bit into a red apple and chewed with great relish. Sallan’s boy-servants reappeared, one wearing a bandage around his head. They lifted the chair and carried Sallan to the basket factory. Kassite glanced at Deborah and smiled briefly. She felt foolish for having staged the fight between Patrees and Antippet. Didn’t men panic sometimes? She hoped he wouldn’t interpret the episode as an indication of her failing to acquire a man’s character. In all fairness, she had proposed a proactive, aggressive course of action, hadn’t she?
As Sallan and the boys were about to disappear into the basket factory, Seesya yelled, “Wait a minute!”
The crowded courtyard quieted down.
Signaling to his soldiers, Seesya said, “Take the slave and his two boys down to the gatehouse, chop off their heads, and stick them on poles.”
Sallan looked at Judge Zifron. “You promised me that I could die in peace, that you’ll throw a funeral for me with—”
“Shut up!” Seesya threw the half-eaten apple, hitting Sallan’s chest. “Take him!”
“I made an offer.” Judge Zifron picked a dry date from a bowl and bit into it, chewing while talking. “And I would have honored it, but you didn’t accept my offer, did you? My son had to inflict pain on you and your servant to pressure you into obedience. Now you’ll pay the price of insubordination.”
The soldiers grabbed Sallan and the two boys and led them to the exit.
Deborah couldn’t breathe. She stared at Kassite, waiting for him to make a move, but he didn’t even look at what was happening. He peered into a bowl of sliced pomegranates and selected a piece, which he examined with keen interest while the soldiers took Sallan and the two boys out of the courtyard. She started moving forward to draw Kassite’s attention, but he glanced at her, shook his head slightly, and returned to nibbling the pomegranate slice.
“Justice must be seen,” Judge Zifron said. “Even when it’s unpleasant.”
“It is our burden.” Kassite nibbled at the pomegranate slice. “This is delicious.”
The women and servants reappeared as if they had been waiting for a signal and rushed to set the table with cloth and dishes, followed by jugs of wine, loaves of bread, and plates of meat. Deborah heard a familiar voice and turned to see Vardit issuing instructions at the kitchen door. Before Deborah looked away, their eyes met.
Vardit stopped talking.
Deborah turned away and held her breath.
Vardit resumed instructing the workers.
Relieved, Deborah exhaled. The look in Vardit’s eyes had suggested a vague recognition, yet the disguise must have worked or Vardit would have rushed over to check whether her eyes had tricked her, or her missing daughter-in-law had suddenly reappeared in the form of an Edomite soldier.
Still busy with the pomegranate slice, Kassite beckoned one of his servants, who brought Qoz over and placed a plate of food before it.
Seesya stepped closer and peered at the copper effigy. “Are his eyes open or closed?”
Judge Zifron hushed him.
�
��We thank Qoz,” Kassite said, “our god, supreme master of the world, for the food he deigns to share with us, as well as for the opportunity to witness the wisdom and justice of our Hebrew friends. May Qoz keep us safe until we reach our home in Edom and make sacrifices at the temple.”
“I’ve heard about your sacrifices.” Seesya laughed. “A traveler told me that your king keeps a giant copper god that wields a very sharp pitchfork, like this little one here, and you people impale a pretty girl on it once in a while.”
“It is a thunderbolt,” Kassite said. “Not a pitchfork.”
“Thunderbolt, pitchfork, what’s the difference?”
“That’s enough,” Judge Zifron said, smiling apologetically. “Please excuse my son’s youthful impoliteness.”
“Fortunately, ignorance may be cured by learning. Here is the difference, young man.” Kassite looked at Seesya. “A pitchfork might be used for impaling girls, or hay, but a thunderbolt in the hands of our mighty Qoz controls light and darkness, whips up storms and rainfall, and delivers blessings and curses. And when insulted by thoughtless men,” Kassite concluded, his voice rising, “Qoz might use his thunderbolt to strike with deadly force!”
The sharp rebuke brought silence to the courtyard, and everyone paused to watch.
“Go ahead, Son.” Judge Zifron stood up. “Apologize to our guest.”
“No insult was intended.” Seesya touched the sharp points of Qoz’s three-pronged thunderbolt. “I was only curious about the sacrifices. No girls for your god, then?”
“I did not say that.” Kassite took another slice of pomegranate and nibbled on it. “There is no impaling, but on special occasions, when the king wishes to express the highest form of gratitude to Qoz, an offering is made of a beautiful girl, free of blemish and vice, who rejoices at being selected for such great honor.”
Seesya rubbed his hands, grinning. “How’s this offering done? Sword? Fire?”
Judge Zifron sat down. “Let’s eat.”
“I’m only asking,” Seesya said, “because I’d like to offer a certain girl as a gift to your god.”
Kassite turned to him. “Who might that be?”
Holding her breath, Deborah knew what was coming.
Seesya dropped back into his chair and grabbed a jug of wine. “My runaway wife.”
“Is she beautiful?”
“My mother thinks so.” Seesya drank directly from the jug.
“Your mother is right,” Judge Zifron said. “The orphan girl is quite fetching in a foreign, exotic manner.”
“She makes me sick.” Seesya slammed down the jug and spat on the ground. “As soon as I catch her, which won’t take much longer, I’ll send her with your next caravan, and you can give her to your mighty Qoz—impaled, speared, gutted, or burned, whatever your king fancies, doesn’t matter to me.”
Deborah felt her face flush, but she had more immediate worries. The soldiers were halfway down to the gatehouse by now, and Kassite had done nothing to save Sallan. It was up to her, she decided, and started moving toward the exit from the courtyard.
As he put down the piece of pomegranate, Kassite glanced casually at the parchment. “Your scribe writes beautifully.”
“Thank you.” Judge Zifron held it up. “I employ only the best.”
“But the list is incomplete.”
Deborah paused and listened.
“What?” Seesya got up and snatched the parchment from his father’s hand. “How do you know?”
Judge Zifron held out his hand. “Give it back to me, Son, and sit down.”
Seesya handed the parchment to his father and sat at the edge of his seat.
“Perhaps I am wrong,” Kassite said. “It has been many years since I helped make the secret liquid, and I do not remember everything precisely, but I do remember at least two ingredients that are missing from this list.”
“Which ingredients?” Seesya got up again. “Tell us!”
“I cannot tell you.”
“Why not?”
“Because the same sacrosanct oath binds me, too.” Kassite smiled. “You are not going to slice off my finger, are you?”
“Prince Antipartis!” Judge Zifron feigned horror. “You are our guest!”
Seesya was already on the move. He ran to the back of the courtyard, where the horses were tied near the stable, untied a great white stallion, and took off across the courtyard, causing several servants to drop bowls and trays.
Everyone remained quiet as the sound of hooves faded down the street. Deborah realized she had never seen a white horse before, free of even a single patch of black or brown. The beast must have been priceless, and she wondered whether Seesya’s new sword had come from the same unlucky owner, who had probably lost those precious possessions together with his life.
Chapter 18
They heard the drumming of hooves approach the house, and Seesya rode into the courtyard. He jumped off and handed the reins to a servant. “They’re coming back,” he said.
“To life!” Judge Zifron raised his wine goblet.
Kassite smiled. “To life!”
Seesya grabbed the wine jug and gulped directly from it.
“That’s a magnificent horse,” Kassite said, his eyes following the white stallion as it was taken to the stable at the back of the courtyard. “Egyptian?”
“What else?” Seesya slammed the jug down on the table.
“That lying slave,” Judge Zifron said. “After all the luxuries I’ve allowed him, that’s how he pays me back—insubordination and lies. I should have remembered the old saying: Showing kindness to a slave is like putting a worm into an apple.”
“I’ll make him eat his own rotten flesh.” Seesya made a slurping sound with his lips, making his soldiers laugh.
“Revenge can be very satisfying,” Kassite said. “Even when its cost is excessive.”
The judge looked at him. “But he’ll reveal the secret first.”
“How would you know if he is lying again?”
Seesya pointed at Kassite. “You’ll tell us.”
“Help you uncover our people’s most precious secret? I have done too much already.”
“We must have it,” the judge said. “Without the Reinforcing Liquid, our basket business would collapse.”
After a long pause, Kassite said, “If you are willing to forgo revenge, there could be a safer approach.”
“There’s nothing wrong with our approach,” Seesya said. “Pain is the best extractor of information.”
“Young man,” Kassite said, “in this situation, pain will achieve nothing.”
“You want to bet?”
“That would be imprudent. If you lose, the greatest source of your father’s wealth will be lost with it. The only safe path is to convince your slave to reveal the truth of his own free will.”
“Prince Antipartis is correct,” the judge said. “The risk is too great. We should not harm Sallan any more.”
Seesya stepped forward, drew his sword, and planted the point in the ground. “Father, let me do it my way!”
Judge Zifron waved his hand. “I’ve made my decision. No more violence.”
“A wise decision,” Kassite said. “I can see now why your people made you a judge over them.”
The judge nodded with a smile.
“Among your many slaves, do you have an Edomite slave of reasonable intelligence?”
“Why?”
“An Edomite man may reveal the secret formula to another descendent of Esau, providing the recipient takes an oath of secrecy, as well.”
“I don’t like it,” Seesya said. “We’ll be beholden to yet another filthy slave.”
“A valid concern,” Kassite said. “You can always buy a new Edomite slave and make sure he also swears to secrecy and learns the formula from the first one.”
“Go, Son,” Judge Zifron said. “Ask the warden for our best Edomite slave and bring him here.”
Seesya sheathed his sword and left.
; Moments later, the soldiers entered the courtyard with Sallan and the two boy-servants. The injured one was bleeding through the bandages. He wobbled, almost fell down, and one of the soldiers grabbed him roughly. Two other soldiers supported Sallan, whose face was as white as bed linen. They put him in a chair facing the judge and Kassite. The boys sat on the ground.
Seesya returned with a man in a sleeveless long shirt and bare feet, not older than twenty, who immediately knelt before Judge Zifron. He had the reddish furry look of the Edomite men, with short light hair, and a frightened expression.
“Stand up,” Judge Zifron said. “What’s your name?”
“Sahir.”
“Are you from Edom?”
Sahir nodded.
“This is my guest, Prince Antipartis, who came from your country. Do what he tells you to do, or you will be punished.” The judge turned to Kassite. “Go ahead, Prince.”
Deborah edged closer to hear.
“Other than my plans to buy and sell many sturdy baskets,” Kassite said, “I am free of any personal interest here.”
“Greed,” Sallan said quietly, “is the most potent personal interest.”
Judge Zifron glared at him.
“There is no offense in the truth,” Kassite said. “Greed is indeed a strong motivation for any industrious man. I am not ashamed of it. And how about you, slave? What is your motivation?”
Sallan glanced at the two boy-servants. “To see my homeland once more before I die.”
“And silver? Or gold?” Kassite’s tone was mocking. “What else do you wish to extort from your master in exchange for the correct formula?”
“Nothing,” Sallan said, “for I cannot reveal the formula to my master. My soul’s eternal damnation is worth more than any silver or gold.”
“But you could reveal it to another Edomite man who swears to secrecy, right?”
“Yes.”
“And what would you demand in return?”
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