Until the Mountains Fall

by Connilyn Cossette

  I shook my head. “I am not worth—”

  He interrupted. “Did you give yourself to this man of your own volition?”

  “I—” Blinking my eyes, I tried to once again pull the hazy memories of that night into clarity. “I don’t think so. There were . . . bruises on my body, and my tunic was torn.” My skin flushed. “I think perhaps I tried to defend myself, but I remember very little.”

  Fury gathered in the eyes he lifted over my shoulder and his chest heaved, as if he were holding back a cry of rage. “May Yahweh’s judgment fall heavy upon him.”

  “I should have left that rooftop, should have refused the wine—”

  “There is no excuse for any man to do such a thing, Rivkah, especially a Hebrew under the Torah. From what we learned from Yoash and Kefa, the wine likely contained poppy juice as well, which would have made you even more compliant. He knew what he was doing, and from the rumors in Laish, he’d done it before.”

  My stomach curdled at the thought that any other woman had suffered from such a thing, but at the same time knowing that I’d not been the only one to fall prey to his schemes eased the ever-present sting of self-blame.

  He peered down at me. “Has there ever been another . . . ?”

  I shook my head with vehemence. “No. I never considered marriage, even after I realized I was with child.”

  “Then I hold nothing against you. You’ve suffered too much of your own condemnation, I would imagine. It is time for us to move forward—together—and stop flogging ourselves for whatever lays behind.”

  He took my face in his hands, his thumbs stroking my cheekbones. He pressed another gentle kiss to my lips. “It doesn’t matter what Samil’s contract says. You are mine. And I am yours, forever.”

  “Forgive me,” I whispered as I slid my arms around his waist and pressed my tearstained cheek against his chest, praying that he understood that the plea encompassed every one of my many sins against him. He held me close, stroking my back and murmuring merciful assurances I did not deserve as I allowed the sorrow to finally pour free.

  “Isn’t this precious” came a voice from nearby. My blood stilled and then turned to ice. Dilara moved into view, her hands braced on her hips and a feline smile curved across her crimson lips.

  She wrinkled her nose in wicked delight. “Won’t my husband be thrilled to discover what the two of you have been up to while the rest of the villa is in a panic over some army?”

  CHAPTER

  thirty-four

  “After all I have done for you, this is how you repay me?”

  I stood in front of my master, head bowed and pulse fluttering in my throat. Dilara had wasted no time in running to Samil after finding Malakhi and me in the garden, but it had been a long while before I was summoned.

  Wondering how I could possibly stave off my master’s fury, I’d sat in paralyzed panic on my pallet, clutching the bag of gold and silver left behind in the confusion after Malakhi had been escorted from the villa at Dilara’s loud and vehement insistence. The sight of the man I’d too late realized that I loved being dragged through the gates, his impassioned pleas for an audience with our master roundly ignored, refused to leave my mind. Would it be the last time I ever saw him?

  Samil paced the room. “I have given you unfettered access to my business dealings. I have given you freedoms far beyond what any other servant in this household enjoys, other than Estebaal. Your son has been welcomed at my own table!”

  “Yes, my lord, and I am grateful for it. If not for your generosity, we would have been destitute.”

  “And yet not grateful enough to be truthful.” His glare speared me. “You have been given the utmost respect in this house, Rivkah. You know as well as I do that most masters would have had you in their beds. I have not laid a hand on you. I have boasted of your skills and treated you no differently than I would have a man in your position. Better, in fact.”

  “All of this is true. You have been most kind.”

  “And yet you brought a spy into my house!”

  My head reared back. “Malakhi is not a spy.” At least not in the sense Samil thought him to be.

  “Then why hide your connections to him? Was he sent by Hanoch in Golan? Have you been trading secrets to my rival?”

  “No! I would not break your confidences, my lord.”

  “Why else would you sneak around in my garden with your lover? Dilara says she suspects you’ve been meeting him there for weeks. Do you accuse my wife of lying?”

  “No, my lord. I did meet with Malakhi, but it was only so he could deliver something to me.” I touched the leather pouch that now hung around my neck, still awed by its weight. “There is silver inside, and some gold jewelry as well.”

  His brows arched as his eyes followed my gesture. “Gold? My secrets are worth so much to Hanoch?”

  “It is not from Hanoch, nor any other tradesman, my lord. The offering was sent by my father.”

  “Your father? I thought your people were dead.”

  “I allowed you to believe that so you would be willing to take me on as your scribe.”

  “So you lied from the start,” he said, his eyes narrowed.

  “Only to protect my child, my lord.”

  He peered at me, curiosity edging out fury in his gaze. “Did your father set you out of his home when he discovered you were with child? Is Amit your lover’s son? Is that why he’s been lurking around my home?”

  “Malakhi is not my lover. He is my betrothed.”

  Samil’s face wrinkled in confusion. It would profit me nothing to hide my past any longer, so I took a deep breath and laid it all before him, leaving only a few of the more shameful details out of my story. “When it was made known that I was in this city, my father sent Malakhi to find me. But I swear to you, upon my own child, that I told him I would keep my word to you and would not leave until the end of my indenture.”

  Samil frowned. “Then why the bag of treasure?”

  “Malakhi’s father sent one of his men here with the purpose of paying off my indenture contract and also to warn Edrei of the coming Aramean invasion.”

  He brushed a dismissive hand through the air. “We will be fine. I have been assured by the elders that they will surrender peacefully. I’ve done plenty of business with the Arameans, and I have you and Estebaal to translate any necessary negotiations. We may have to pay tribute to Kushan, but he won’t raise a finger against us.”

  I was shocked by his cavalier attitude. “There are thousands marching toward us. They will burn the city. Kill all of us. I have to get my son out before its too late! All of us need to go, your family as well. Malakhi says he knows a way—”

  “No. We stay. And your contract is not up for negotiation.”

  “Please, my lord. It may not seem so after what Dilara saw, but I have been loyal to you for nearly five years. You have my eternal gratitude. But Amit is everything to me. I must protect my boy. I could not bear to see him slaughtered.” I slipped the strap over my head and held the bag out to him, my hands trembling. “This is enough to purchase the remainder of my contract ten times over, perhaps more. I beg you to release me so I can return to my home and save my son’s life.”

  Samil’s eyes flared and went to the purse. I could see that he was gauging its weight and perhaps calculating its value in the uncanny way he guessed weights in the market without even handling the items. My only hope was that his lust for wealth would outweigh his desire for my skills.

  “Please. My father has not known where I was for five years. He has grieved all this time, thinking I was likely dead. If there is any mercy in you, I beg of you to free me so I can go home and make amends for my sins against my family.”

  He regarded me for a few long moments and then strode across the room to take the treasure from my hands. Untying the purse strings, he peered inside and made a noise of approval. Hope fluttered at the gates of my heart as he placed the bag on the table with a metallic jangle. Please, Yahweh. I
f you hear me at all, soften Samil’s heart.

  “All right. If you are so very determined to leave, then I will take this in lieu of the reminder of your contract.”

  My knees wobbled and tears burned my eyes. “Truly? You will let me go?”

  “You have been a good scribe. I don’t know how I will ever replace you, but perhaps if this city changes allegiance I would be better off with an Aramean to tend my business connections anyhow.”

  Relief flooded into every part of me. “Thank you, my lord. Thank you.”

  “You are welcome to write up the agreement today and be on your way before the guards close up the gates.”

  I clutched my hands to my chest. “Won’t you reconsider leaving Edrei? You and your family would be far safer in Golan, or even farther south.”

  “I spent ten years building this business, Rivkah. And the last three making this villa worthy of an Egyptian vizier. I will not give up my property so easily.”

  I bowed my head. “Yes, my lord.”

  “Go on, then,” he said, patting the bag that had bought my freedom. “You’ll want to be on your way before dark, I assume.”

  “I have learned much here, my lord. Although my own foolishness brought me to Edrei, I have found satisfaction in working for you and will never forget the kindnesses you extended to me and my son.”

  His smile was tight, but he nodded acceptance of my gratitude. I turned to leave the room, my mind whirling and a new song bubbling up in my heart. Free! I was free!

  “Oh—Rivkah,” he said. “Before you go, I’d like to show you something.”

  I turned back to find him near the window. He gestured for me to join him. Confused, I did so, but as I stood beside him I saw nothing of note, except a large number of servants scurrying about, doing all they could to secure food and water to prepare for the siege, and the group of children playing at one end of the courtyard. I wondered how many of them would survive the upcoming onslaught. Would Ana be safe? Would Estebaal protect her? Perhaps I ought to ask Malakhi to explain the system of tunnels and caves to him before we left so he could hide her and the rest of Samil’s family in case his plan to appease the Arameans failed.

  “Look at our sons,” said Samil, pointing toward Amit and Bensam with a note of pride. “They have become wonderful friends, haven’t they?”

  My heart panged with regret. Amit would be devastated to leave his friend. Perhaps going with Malakhi would soothe a bit of the hurt though, and I knew my boy would be thrilled with his many cousins. The place where I’d grown up had become my own elusive version of the Garden of Eden during these last years I’d been away. I longed to walk in the orchards with my son, show him the groves his father tended, let him run free, climb trees, and chase after the lambs and goats in the fields around the city.

  “You can be sure that Amit will be well cared for. I will have him moved to the room with Bensam and the other children. He will want for nothing.”

  His words scattered in a thousand directions inside my head, none of them fitting together. “My lord?”

  “Perhaps in a few more years he too will be ready to be a scribe. Wouldn’t that be lovely? To take up the place his mother left? He’s a smart boy, Rivkah. You’ve done well with him. And I know he already can read many letters. He’s shown me.”

  My vision blurred. “But . . . no. Amit will be with me.”

  “Oh. No, my dear. You gave birth while you were contracted as my slave. He belongs to me. Our agreement was only for your release. Not his.”

  Did the Torah say that? Surely not. Although Samil rarely kept the true letter of the law. “But . . . but I was with child when I came to you! He is my son!”

  Samil lowered his brow and clucked his tongue. “Oh, now I don’t believe the elders would see it that way. Who is to say he is not my child anyhow? As I said, most masters would have not have hesitated to exert their rights, lawfully or not. And the timing of his birth could be . . . shall we say . . . altered?”

  Horror eddied in my bones. Half of the elders in Edrei owed Samil for loans he’d extended to them. They would undoubtedly rule in his favor, and I would have no recourse. My response was as weak as my position. “No. You can’t have my son.”

  “Oh, I will do what I please, my dear.” He reached out to slip an arm around me and pulled me to his side with a grin that chilled me to the core. I shuddered, my teeth chattering. He lifted a finger to gesture toward Estebaal, who was in the courtyard, not five paces from where Amit and Bensam knelt in the dirt, drawing with sticks. “And if you try anything foolish . . .” The lack of emotion in his voice was more menacing that any explosive threat could ever be. “Well, I’m certain you know what my bodyguard is capable of.”

  “What do you want?” I choked out, feeling as though every drop of blood had pooled into my feet. “I’ll do anything.”

  He smiled, petting the length of my hair as if I were his own daughter. “I am certain we can come to an understanding.”

  CHAPTER

  thirty-five

  Malakhi

  I’d paced the room for hours after I’d been dragged from the villa, hoping that Baz would arrive soon so we could plot Rivkah’s rescue. When finally a knock sounded, I hurried to open the door. But instead of my father’s enormous friend at the threshold, it was Estebaal, his mouth set in a grim line.

  “Just could not stay away, could you?” he said. He shook his head, his expression chagrined, as if I’d disappointed him somehow, which was ridiculous since he and I had exchanged no more than a few words in the many weeks I’d worked for Samil. “I’d hoped you could rein yourself in, knowing what the master would do.”

  “She is my betrothed. By law she was mine long before she came here.”

  “Quiet,” he said, with a wary glance around the inn courtyard. Then he pressed a meaty palm against the center of my chest and pushed me backward. Stunned by the odd command, I retreated a few steps as he shut the door behind him and then leaned back against it. “Your woman has been kind to me. Far kinder than most of you Hebrews. And it is only for her sake that your jawbone is not in pieces already.”

  “So you’ve been sent to deal with me?”

  He nodded. “And to extract the information Samil desires.”

  “What does he want to know?”

  “Who are you and what do you want with Rivkah?”

  Having no reason to hide anything from him, I told Estebaal the truth. He listened in silence, arms folded across his massive chest.

  “He won’t let her go,” he said. “No amount of gold or silver would make him release her. He hinted months ago that even when her contract was fulfilled he had no intention of letting her walk away.”

  How would he circumvent the Torah command that she go free to go in the seventh year?

  “Rivkah has been a key part of why Samil is as wealthy as he is,” Estebaal continued. “He would no more let her go than he would me, even if I desired so.”

  I’d seen the ring in his ear, the mark that made it clear Estebaal was not only a lifelong slave, but that he’d chosen to submit himself to that position by having an awl driven through his earlobe at the doorpost of his master’s house. A Hebrew tradition that the Aramean had chosen to submit to.

  “You have this city living in terror of you, Estebaal. You could likely walk right out of the gates and no one would raise a finger to stop you. What keeps you here?”

  “Samil saved me,” he said. “I was ten years old and he found me half alive, living in the charred shell of what used to be my home after a rival tribe attacked, the bodies of my family rotting around me. He’d been on his very first trading run to Damascus. He took me in, treated me more like a son than a slave.”

  “And so you maim, destroy, and murder for him?”

  He shrugged. “I owe him everything.”

  “Will he hurt her?” I asked, my bones going cold as I considered the savagery of the man.

  “Not physically.”

  “What
does that mean?”

  “She’s not your concern anymore. You should have kept your hands to yourself. You will not be allowed back inside the villa walls. Once we are done here, it would be best if you took yourself out those gates before they close and go back to wherever you came from. You’ll only do her more damage if you stay.”

  “There is an army coming,” I said. “Thousands are making their way south, and the advance force is nearly here. She and Amit are not safe. No one is. Isn’t your master planning to flee anyhow?”

  “Samil believes he’s made enough contacts with the Arameans to negotiate his safety in case the city falls. He’s dined in the home of the very king who sent the forces in the first place. And of course, he has me to speak for him. Rivkah and her son will be as safe as anyone in the villa. I’ll watch over them. I promise you.”

  For such a brilliant tradesman and master negotiator, Samil was a fool. He and his family would burn along with the rest of the city once the gates were breached. I’d heard the stories of Kushan, and there was a reason we Hebrews called him the King of Double Wickedness. I had to find a way to get my family out of this city. Baz would help me, I was certain, and there were few warriors fiercer than him.

  Estebaal stepped forward. “I need to get back to the villa and report to Samil. You can either take what you’ve earned without a struggle, or I can apologize later to Rivkah for making it harder on you than it had to be. What is your choice?”

  I heaved a sigh, knowing that even with all my training, Estebaal was at a distinct advantage. Not only did he far outweigh me, I’d seen him sparring with another of Samil’s bodyguards from the roof one day and had been shocked at his speed and agility. “Would you at least avoid my right arm and eye? I’m finally getting some use out of both of them and would rather not be set back months of recovery time.”

  “I’ll do my best.” He cracked the knuckles on one hand as he approached. “Shield that pretty face.”