CHAPTER
thirty-six
I swiped at my bloodied face with the grimy scrap of linen Baz had begged from the innkeeper. The mercenary Moabite had, of course, demanded a fee for such a “luxury.”
“Looks like you’ve been run over by a chariot. Again,” Baz quipped, chuckling at his own jest.
“The man certainly knows how to conduct a beating.” I moved an arm to support my torso, my bruised ribs screaming. Toki licked my hand, her large yellow eyes following my every twitch. She’d been stationed at my side since she and her master had discovered me facedown on the dirt floor shortly after Estebaal had left. I scrubbed between her ears, grateful for a distraction from the throbbing pain in my torso and jaw.
“I thought you said he went easy on you for Rivkah’s sake.”
“Apparently, in Estebaal’s opinion, this was going easy.” Groaning from the effort, I forced myself to sit up. I could not take time to wallow in the pain. Rivkah needed me. “What did you learn from the elders? Do they actually plan to capitulate like Estebaal says?”
“A bigger pack of fools I’ve yet to meet.” He shook his shaggy head in disbelief. “I recommended that they give the people enough time to evacuate the city and head for Golan or somewhere else, but they have announced that the gates will close tomorrow at midday. They insist they have plenty of stores to withstand a siege and assured the people that the gates will hold. I suspect it is only a means to placate everyone until they hand over the city to our enemies.”
“Samil may be advising them in this. Estebaal said his master seems intent on staying. Thinks he can negotiate with the Arameans.”
Baz cursed the man for his arrogance. “Kushan doesn’t negotiate. He means to take control of our territories. We are not the only spies who keep a close watch on the enemy. He knows we are divided and means to use those fractures against us. It is no coincidence that he is striking in the midst of this uproar over Laish. Even if the elders get on their faces and stretch out their necks for his sandals to tread, this city will burn, and its inhabitants, especially the women and children, will suffer unspeakable horrors.”
My protective instincts roared to life at the thought of my woman and the child I loved as my own anywhere near such atrocities. I twisted to retrieve the dagger Baz had brought me from beneath my pallet but could not restrain a gasp when a wave of pain clenched my side.
“You aren’t going anywhere right now, boy,” he said, frowning in displeasure as I tried again to reach the weapon and failed with a furious growl.
“I won’t leave them here.” I gritted my teeth against both the ache and my frustration. “Even if by some miracle Rivkah and Amit survive this invasion, I don’t believe Estebaal’s claim that Samil won’t harm her. He demands absolute loyalty and offers no second chances.”
Baz scrubbed at his grizzled jaw with a deep sigh. “I can try to get in. But it’ll be risky getting both her and the boy out without notice.”
“There are guards at all the gates and a few stationed near the villa, but if you climb into the garden behind the sanctuary, Rivkah’s chamber is easy to find—”
A quiet knock halted my instructions. Toki leapt up to snuffle at the crack beneath the door, a low growl building in her throat. Baz slipped his knife from his belt. “Your friend coming back to finish you off?”
“Possibly. Perhaps Samil decided it was best to eliminate me altogether.”
Baz nudged his dog aside with a knee. She complied but stood at attention, her tail twitching and her luminous eyes on her master as he slowly opened the door.
It was not Estebaal standing at the threshold, but Rivkah, with Amit’s little hand gripped in her own, both of them wide-eyed at the sight of Baz and his dog. Rivkah’s gaze swept from my father’s friend to me, and with a small cry, her hand went to her mouth. Pushing past Baz, she rushed toward my pallet and knelt down. “Malakhi! What did he do?” Toki whined, likely wondering whether I was under attack.
“I am fine,” I said, hoping both females would be placated by my casual tone. “Baz says nothing is broken.”
The dog settled, but Rivkah wasn’t fooled. She gingerly placed her palm on my right cheek, her gaze moving from injury to injury. “I cannot believe he did this to you,” she murmured as tears gathered in her eyes. The sight of her worrying over me should not cause such bone-deep satisfaction, but it did. I’d spent so long dreaming of the day when she’d care about me like this that the furrow between her brows made me feel like crowing with victory.
“Does Samil know you left the villa?” I asked.
Her hand dropped from my face, her lips pinching tight. “Yes. He gave me permission to come.”
“Why?” That made no sense after sending his bodyguard to pummel me.
Her mouth trembled, and she reached for Amit, who’d been standing near the foot of my pallet, his attention divided between me and Toki, who’d now relaxed and lay two paces from the boy’s sandals, chin on her paws.
Rivkah pulled Amit close, wrapping her arm around his waist. “Little lamb,” she said, lifting a note of false happiness into her voice as she gestured across the small room. “I want you to meet Baz.”
Shrinking against his mother, the boy’s eyes went round as he stared at the hulking man near the door. “He’s bigger than Estebaal,” he whispered.
“He is.” She gave him a little smile. “Baz knew your father too.”
“Truly?” His jaw dropped open.
“I did,” Baz said. “I watched him and your uncle there”—he pointed to me—“grow from tiny sprouts into boys about your age, and then into men.”
“My uncle?” Amit’s incredulous gaze traveled back and forth from me to his mother.
I wondered if she’d be upset that Baz had revealed my identity, but instead she nodded. “Yes, my lamb. Malakhi is your father’s younger brother. They were two years apart. And Baz is a close friend of your grandfather, Darek.”
Although I was thrilled she was finally telling Amit the truth about his heritage, foreboding whispered in my ear. Something had changed drastically for her to suddenly be so forthcoming.
“I have a grandfather?”
“Indeed you do,” said Baz. “And he is the commander of a group of men who spy past enemy lines to make sure our people are protected.”
Amit’s face was the portrait of wonder, all fear of the giant man seemingly wiped away by the declaration of such heroics. “Is that your dog?” he asked.
“Yes, it is.” Baz knelt down and snapped his fingers at the animal, who immediately jumped up and rushed to his side. “This is Toki. Would you like to pet her?”
After asking permission of his mother, the boy sidled closer, and after only a brief hesitation had his little hands deep in her thick fur, chattering away at Baz as if he’d known him his entire life. My father’s friend answered every question in the same deep, patient tone with which he’d answered Gidal’s and my questions when we were boys. Rivkah watched the interaction, her expression so troubled that I longed to pull her close and demand answers, but I would not press while Amit was in the room.
Baz must have sensed the need for a few moments of privacy. “Why don’t you and I go find Toki something to eat? I’ll tell you about the time your grandfather and I had to swim across the Tigris to escape a group of women who mistook us for thieves.”
Amit ran to Rivkah, his big brown eyes pleading with her. “May I?”
“Of course. I’ve known Baz since I was a little girl too,” she said, giving the big man a meaningful glance over his head. “I trust him with my life . . . and with yours.” Her lips trembled as kissed her son’s forehead. “My sweet boy,” she murmured. “You know how much I love you, don’t you? I would never leave you with anyone who would do you harm.”
The cryptic words caused unease to creep up my spine, as did the smile that came nowhere near her eyes. “Toki does look very hungry. You and Baz had better find her something to eat, and I’ll stay and talk with
Malakhi.”
Amit complied but looked back over his shoulder twice as he followed Baz out of the door, his hand on the curve of Toki’s back. It seemed Gidal’s son was just as perceptive as he had been; he too knew something was very wrong.
The moment the door closed behind the three of them, Rivkah crumpled, her face in her hands, her shoulders jerking with silent sobs. Caring nothing for the burst of pain in my ribs, I slid off the pallet and pulled her into my arms, her anguish spearing me completely through.
“Rivkah. My love. Tell me.” I kissed her hair as she clung to me, her face buried in my chest and her body trembling. “Did he hurt you?”
She dragged in a heaving breath. “No. But you have to take Amit. Now. Tonight.”
“What?”
“He must go with you and Baz. Take him to Kedesh. Away from the Arameans.” Another sob heaved from her lips. “I won’t watch him die, Malakhi. I won’t.”
“Shhh.” I tightened my grip around her, pulling her close. “We are all leaving tonight. Baz was headed to you when you knocked at the door. He knows the tunnel that will lead us out of Edrei. We will be safe at home before the army arrives.”
She shook her head back and forth against my chest. “No. I cannot go.”
My body jerked from the shock of her statement. “Of course you are coming with us. Amit needs you.”
“I kept him safe for as long as I could,” she said. “And now you will. I trust you. I should have trusted you five years ago.” Her body trembled. “I was so wrong. Please tell my father I was childish and desperate and just . . . so very wrong.”
I pulled back to look into her face. “Rivkah, you are not making any sense.”
Her eyes were swollen and red, her entire body wracked by shivers. She peered back at me with such sorrow that I felt its echo at the center of my being. “You have to leave me.”
“Never.” My response was fierce as I placed my hands on her face and drew her to me. “Never,” I repeated against her lips and then kissed away her ridiculous statement. Immediately inebriated by her nearness, I slid my fingers into her sleek black hair and took my time in claiming her mouth. She yielded to me and pressed closer, her arms slipping around my neck.
I broke the kiss and murmured her name, moving my lips along the line of her jaw and losing myself in the intoxicating scent of her skin. “I won’t be parted from you again. We marry the day we return to Kedesh.”
Her body went stiff. “I am not returning.”
I slid my hand up one side of her neck and pressed another kiss to her lips. “Of course you are, as soon as Baz and Amit return—” I stopped speaking when my palm met the curve of her ear, my breath catching. With my heart thudding against my rib cage, I pulled back her hair to stare at the metal ring embedded in her earlobe.
“No,” I gasped, my mind spinning with rationalizations for why Rivkah had a hole in her ear, still red and swollen from the piercing. One just like Estebaal’s. “What did you do?”
She untangled herself from my embrace and jumped to her feet. “What I had to. It was this or my son.”
Too shocked to care about my ribs, I stood. “What do you mean?”
“Samil took the bag and gave me my freedom, but he said I could not take Amit. He said my boy was his property and that the elders would do nothing to refute his rights of ownership.” Her eyes fluttered as her chest heaved. “I . . . I had to, Malakhi. It was the only thing I could do to ensure his freedom.”
“You let Samil pierce your ear at the doorpost? Bound yourself to him?”
She nodded her head, her eyes dropping to the floor. “He let me bring Amit to you, but Estebaal is outside, with three other well-armed guards, watching the inn and waiting for me.” She dragged in a grief-laden breath, her amber eyes glossy with despair. “You must leave now, go to the tunnel. Before Samil changes his mind. Please. Save Amit. For Gidal’s sake. Go.”
Paralyzed by shock and anguish over the irrevocable vow she’d taken to enslave herself for life, I stood staring at her, as much impressed by her astounding courage as I was devastated by the reality of what she was asking of me. She’d been mine for less than a day and now she wanted me to take her son and leave her behind?
The door swung open and Toki bounded inside, Amit close behind, laughing at the way the dog’s tail whisked against his face. Baz followed, his expression grave as he took in the strained silence in the room.
Rivkah winced, a tremble going through her as she turned toward Amit, her lips pulled into a pained smile. “You are going to stay with Malakhi and Baz tonight, my lamb. They have a wonderful adventure planned. A secret tunnel to explore.” Her voice was raspy and everything false.
Amit read right though it, his smile immediately wiped away. “No, Ima. I’m coming with you.”
Crouching, she swept his hair back from his face and looked into his eyes. “Not right now, sweet boy. I have to return to my work. Your uncle and Baz will take good care of you, just like Ana does when I go on a trading run.”
“But I want to be with you, Ima.” His words came out on a whine, his arms going around his mother’s neck.
Rivkah squeezed her eyes tight, then looked up at me, imploring. “I have to go,” she said. “Or Estebaal and his men will come for me. . . .”
After the emotionless way he’d beaten me, I feared Estebaal might terrify Amit by bursting in to collect Rivkah. The boy would likely never recover from the sight of his mother being dragged away into the night. So I braced myself for doing what I must by pulling a breath into a chest that refused to fully expand.
“Baz and Toki will show us the way,” I said, doing my best to work a note of excitement into my voice, even though my mouth tasted of bile. “It’ll be just like when my abba goes spying on the enemy.”
Amit clung to Rivkah, rightly disbelieving my lies. “No. I don’t want to go.”
Rivkah stood and disentangled herself from Amit, pressing him toward me. “I have to go, little lamb. Have courage.”
He cried out and bucked against her outstretched hands, grasping for her. She sobbed my name as a plea and pushed him toward me. Although my own searing-hot tears obscured my vision, I caught him up in my arms, holding the weeping, writhing little boy tightly to my chest as his mother fled the room, giving her own life for his.
CHAPTER
thirty-seven
Rivkah
19 Tishri
Anataliah led the way through what used to be the market but now housed the multitude who’d taken shelter behind the thick gates of Edrei. Instead of the brisk trade that had characterized this place only a few days before, the main plaza was now crammed with a restless and terror-stricken crowd. Infant wails mixed with the lowing of crudely penned livestock and the constant murmur of men and women discussing rumors of the ruthless army that was steadily making its way toward us.
Each horror I overheard as I stumbled along behind my friend was more gruesome than the last, making me profoundly grateful that I’d ripped out my own heart and sent it with Malakhi. The Aramean king seemed to take pleasure in the prolonged suffering of those who stood against him, and children were in no way exempt from the tortures he used to subjugate his enemies. If the elders of this city did not pay tribute to the invaders, it would be a mercy for all inside these walls to burn. Yes, I’d made the right decision in sending my son away with warriors who would gladly give their lives to deliver him to safety.
If only the image of my boy’s precious face contorted in panic and the sound of his confused wail as I ran from the inn would stop slamming into me hour after hour. The hollow in my chest would likely never stop bleeding. Please, Yahweh, please was the only prayer my grief-addled mind could compose for the past three days.
“Rivkah.” Ana tugged at my elbow, bringing me back to my senses. In my haze, I’d slowed to nearly a standstill. “We have to hurry,” she said, pairing her urgency with another yank on my arm. “Shabbat is nearly over, and I’ll be expected back in the kitchen
to serve the meal.”
I gave in to her coaxing without argument. I’d already forgotten where we were going, but I truly did not care. Until Ana had badgered me to come with her on some errand across the city, I’d been taking advantage of the unexpected day of rest Samil had given me, spending Shabbat curled on our pallet, breathing in the remnants of Amit’s little-boy scent on the blankets, my arms wrapped tightly across my chest in a failed attempt to cover the gaping hole there.
The maze of makeshift tents strung between wagons reminded me that today should have begun the fourth day of Sukkot, but instead of feasting in beautifully decorated sukkahs, the people of Edrei were living out an unwitting, ghastly imitation of our ancestors’ flight from Egypt.
Near the edge of the plaza, I caught sight of two boys walking hand-in-hand, twins with unruly dark curls that I recognized. I pulled Ana to a stop. “Those are my friend Nessa’s sons. I should speak with her.”
“We don’t have time.” Ana tossed an anxious glance over her shoulder.
“I must make sure she and the children are safe,” I said, already veering off to follow the boys into an alleyway between two shops, knowing Ana would follow.
Clogged with yet more people taking refuge within the narrow space, the alley turned sharply to the right before emptying into a small courtyard off the back of a two-story home. Nessa’s twins raced through the gate and up the stairway to the flat roof. I followed, curious why boys a few months younger than Amit would be allowed to wander through the glutted marketplace alone. Cresting the last stair with Ana two steps behind, I soon discovered why.
Nessa was seated in the corner of the roof, her babe at her breast and her head resting against the stone parapet, exhaustion evident in the deep shadows beneath her closed eyes. At least today her skin was free of bruises, as far as I could see. The twins had already claimed another corner of the small, secluded area and were devouring the figs they’d more than likely stolen, juice tracking down their chins and their wary eyes on me. As for her husband, he lay on his back in the only patch of shade available, fast asleep.
Until the Mountains Fall Page 26