Kneeling down by Nessa’s side, I grazed a palm over her forearm, hoping to wake her without disturbing the baby or the worthless man a few paces away. Her eyelids fluttered open immediately, likely having only been resting her weary eyes as the little one suckled. She regarded me impassively, as one would a stranger, without a shred of emotion moving over her features.
“Are they here?” she asked, detached, as if it were not an army bent on annihilation barreling toward us. A whisper of guilt moved through me. My child was safe, while hers were directly in the path of atrocities the likes of which I could only imagine.
“No,” I said. “But runners brought news this morning that it won’t be much longer.” Although Samil had assured me that the elders planned to surrender fully and offer up tribute, envoys had yet to arrive with terms from the Arameans, and every hour they tarried stoked my fears higher and higher. Perhaps Kushan had no intention to offer such terms to Edrei.
I said none of this to Nessa, instead choosing to do anything I could to conjure even a spark of emotion in her dead eyes. “My master is convinced that Edrei will fall peaceably. You may very well be back safely in your home again within the week. Although we’ll be under the rule of the Arameans, at least we will live.”
“It doesn’t matter anyhow,” she said, and her apathy wounded me. I had the irrational urge to shake my friend into a reaction until she raged over the fear that a merciless army might slaughter her babies. Now I understood why as a boy Malakhi had been so determined to goad me into a flash of emotion after my mother died.
I cast a glance toward her husband. “Why is he here? I thought all able-bodied men were called to arms.”
Her mouth contorted. “They were. Why do you think we are hiding up here like a nest of rats?”
Not only was he a monster, he was a coward as well. Fury surged through my limbs. “Come with us,” I whispered. “I’ll find someplace to hide you all. Let’s go now, while he is sleeping, and he’ll never know where you’ve gone. I refuse to leave you behind.” Perhaps I could sneak them into our chamber. It would be uncomfortable with six of us jammed into the little room, but it was better than staying out here in the elements. And if she was willing to come now, she may finally yield to my pleas to flee for good. She was not enslaved here. She could go home.
“I can’t, Rivkah. This is my lot.”
“No, don’t say that. Do you remember the man . . . the boy that I was betrothed to? Malakhi? He came for me. He was here to bring a message from my father, begging me to return.”
She huffed a scornful breath through her nose. “It must be nice to have a father who cares.”
“But you don’t understand. Malakhi said your father was distraught when he discovered us missing. He risked coming into Kedesh, with Yoash and Kefa, and practically threatened to tear down the inn stone by stone if they were hiding you inside.”
Nessa’s jaw had slackened as I spoke.
“He went with them to search. Put aside his long-held bitterness against their family on the chance that they would find you. A father who does not care would not do such things.”
Her eyes fluttered, the barest sheen of tears glossing her dark brown eyes. Finally! A hint of emotion!
I clasped her hand in mine, a surge of conviction rising in me. “There is still hope. If there is a way for you to return home, then we must believe that Yahweh will reveal it.” Surprisingly, my own words inspired something hopeful in me as well, a whisper of assurance that Amit was safe in the palm of the Almighty. It was a tiny drop in a bottomless cistern of grief, but it was welcome nonetheless.
She slid her finger over the round cheek of her baby, a gentle touch that caused the infant to sigh in her milk-induced sleep. For as rash and headstrong as she’d been five years ago, and in spite of all the suffering she’d endured within that time, Nessa obviously loved her children.
“Come with us,” I said. “There’s no time to waste.”
“My woman isn’t going anywhere with you” came a caustic voice behind me, the words squelching the fragile sprout of hope I’d been nurturing for the last few moments. “And I’ll thank you to leave us now.”
I glared over my shoulder at the man for whom Nessa had given everything up, including me. His handsome visage did nothing to distract from the rottenness in his soul. I’d only had that one interaction with him, when he attempted to use my desperation to his own sordid advantage, but I’d never forgotten the way his green eyes had slithered over me. “Your wife and children are in a precarious position here,” I said. “I’ll find them shelter while you go do your duty.”
He scoffed and called me a foul name, then stood to his feet and crossed the rooftop to loom over me. “Leave,” he said, the word coming out with the stench of stale wine. Ana let out a little squeak and shuffled backward. The twins huddled in the corner, their sticky faces pale with terror. My stomach turned over as I wondered how many times these children had witnessed scenes like this one.
Before I could make sense of the movement, Nessa’s husband had been swung around and lifted nearly off his feet by the neck of his tunic, his face nearly level with Estebaal’s. Samil’s guard spoke low, the words almost polite in their effortless delivery. “Touch either of them and you die.”
Of course Samil had sent Estebaal to follow me. He’d made it abundantly clear that the trust he’d once had in me had been erased by my association with Malakhi. What he did not understand was that I would not go back on my word to him, no matter how much I longed to be with my boy. I’d broken too many vows in my lifetime—at least in this I would be faithful. Only Samil’s death, or my own, could free me from the prison I’d built with my own hands. But in this moment, as Nessa’s husband rasped a strangled plea, I was thankful for my master’s mistrust.
Clutching her now-wailing daughter to her shoulder, Nessa stood to her feet, her eyes darting back and forth between her husband and Estebaal. “Call off your dog, Rivkah. My place is here.”
Silently I pleaded with her to make the right choice this time, but she returned my plaintive stare with a shake of her head. “Five years is a long time,” she said. “I know my father. Even if there was ever any love in his heart, it’s passed into oblivion. We stay.”
CHAPTER
thirty-eight
Malakhi
28 Tishri
Dagger in hand, I crouched near the entrance of my hiding place in Baz’s tunnel, listening to the approaching footsteps and rationing my breaths. This cave reeked of waste and rot seeping down from above, which, when mixed with the dankness of an underground chamber that had not been used for years, made every breath for the last two weeks down here a practice in controlling the instinct to gag. At least the stench of the inn had been limited to one corner and offset by a window, the sole miserly airhole in the ceiling of this small cavern offered little in the way of fresh air and only a feeble shaft of light.
Although I’d heard a few echoes of voices down here in the past few days, likely others taking refuge within this maze below ground, it wasn’t until now that I’d heard the shuffle of feet approaching my hiding place. Whoever was making their way upward through the hand-hewn passages toward me was not alone.
Baz and I had worked hard to disguise the entrance with brush, but perhaps instead of a full-out assault on the gates, the Arameans had heard about the tunnels and meant to use them to infiltrate the city from below. If so, I may be the first line of defense—and therefore the first casualty. My body taut, I prepared for both, cursing my inability to reach Rivkah and praying that if I died now, Yahweh would guard her.
The distinct snuffle of an animal and the scratch of claws upon stone reached my ears three heartbeats before I realized the truth. A brown-and-white muzzle pushed into my cave with a little yip of joy. Toki wiggled around me, licking my face. Laughing, I fended off the assault with both arms.
Baz’s booming voice echoed off the walls. “Where are you, girl?”
“We’re here,�
� I answered for her, emerging from my hiding place.
Baz’s familiar form came around a corner, his bearded face marked with dirt and split by an enormous grin. “Found the mole!” he called out, and then to my surprise, my father, Eitan, and his friend Chaim, the captain of the guard in Kedesh, appeared behind him.
“What are you all doing here?” I asked, incredulous.
“What else? We’re here to get you and your woman out of Edrei,” said Baz.
“Where is Amit?”
His grin widened all the more. “With Moriyah.”
Sending Amit on to Kedesh with Baz had been almost as gut-wrenching as watching Rivkah tear herself open and lie down on the altar for her son. But I could not leave her. And every time I doubted that I’d done the right thing, I’d held the image in my mind of my mother gathering yet another chick beneath her capable wings. The confirmation that he was exactly where he was meant to be inspired a warm swell of gratitude.
My father gripped me by the shoulders. “Son,” he said, a world of relief and affection contained within the word. “Thank you for sending Amit to us. He is . . . he is so much like Gidal.”
“What is the plan?” asked Eitan, without even a hint of censure for my insistence on rescuing the woman who’d once dashed me to pieces. His unwavering support infused me with a rush of confidence. He handed me a bundle that, when unrolled, was revealed to be my armor and my best sword.
“I’ve been waiting for the fighting to begin so I could sneak over the villa wall during the uproar,” I said as I slipped the bronze-scaled leather breastplate over my head. “Samil’s guards are well acquainted with me, so I certainly can’t go strolling through the gates in plain sight.”
“We’ll create a diversion,” said Baz. “Shouldn’t be too difficult in the chaos. We’ll be out in plenty of time to join the battle.”
“You’ve brought men with you, then?” I asked my father.
“We have.”
“How many?” I asked.
“Not enough,” he replied, his expression grim. “And it was a struggle to even round up the ones we did.”
“But the other tribes are coming?”
“We’ve sent word to all Israel.” He frowned, disgust thick in his tone. “But so far only Gad and Reuben, along with as many as we could gather from Naftali, have answered the call to aid Manasseh.”
“There aren’t even that many from Manasseh’s tribe on the west of the Jordan willing to stand up for their brethren,” said Baz with a sneer.
“How much time do we have?” I asked.
“A few hours at most,” said Eitan. “They struck before the sun arose and have nearly made it through our defenses at the foot of the hill already. They’ll be up the road and at the gates all too soon.
“We have to get her. Now.”
Toki jumped to her feet, padding a few paces back the way they’d come, the hair on her neck bristling and a growl emanating from her throat.
All five of us were instantly armed and alert. A scattering of stones and a shuffle announced yet another pair of sandals approaching. My father and I met eyes, a silent accord forming between us. I gestured for Baz, Eitan, and Chaim to shrink back against the sides of the cave, and my father and I each took our places in the shadows on either side of the tunnel.
A dark-haired, bearded man came into sight, illuminated by the meager light from one of the air shafts. My father reached for him, his dagger to the man’s throat. The man did not struggle but stood with his palms up.
My father growled and pushed him backward. “Raviv. What are you doing here?”
“My daughter is here,” he stated. My father must have sent word to Raviv about her situation after Baz returned to Kedesh with Amit. “I saw the four of you sneaking out of camp well before dawn and assumed you knew a way inside. Just as you won’t leave your son here alone, neither will I leave Nessa.”
My father stared at the brother who’d caused him so much pain over the last twenty-five years with a mixture of frustration and sympathy. “All right. First we find Rivkah, since we already know where she is. And then you and I will search out Nessa together. I have no less desire to see that my niece and her children are safe.”
Raviv pursed his lips, then nodded—a pact between estranged brothers, born of desperation but rooted in mutual understanding. Both men would do anything for those they loved.
CHAPTER
thirty-nine
Rivkah
Ana and I had been ordered to stay in our room, like two trembling mice awaiting an army of lions. Samil had sent his own envoy to the Arameans yesterday with a message written in my hand, declaring the city’s willingness to submit and pay tribute to Kushan. The man had returned without a head, my crumpled message still clutched in his fist.
And yet Samil still insisted that all would be well, that Estebaal would somehow ensure our safety. But from the clamor of battle being waged not far from the gates, it would not be long before the Arameans crashed through. Samil’s arrogance would be his downfall, and that of everyone within his villa. His wives, his children, his slaves. We would all die.
“I used to dream,” said Ana, “that some kind man, another slave in this household perhaps, would ask for my hand in marriage. But I am glad that my dream never came to pass.” Little did Ana know how close her fantasies were to reality, except of all the things I could say about Estebaal, kindness was not included among them.
“Why are you glad?”
“Because I don’t know that I would have had the courage to do what you did, Rivkah, sending Amit away like that. I couldn’t have done it if I had my own children.”
Pain lanced through my body, as did the image of my boy, screaming for me, fighting against Malakhi’s secure hold. “You could have. Because a mother will lay her life down for her child every time, or she is not worthy to be called a mother at all. Amit is safe. He is loved. That is all that matters to me.”
Ana slipped her arms around me, and we sat together on the pallet, dry-eyed, waiting for the death that would soon be plowing through the gates.
Commotion floated through the window, shouts and calls for help. Perhaps the elders had thrown open the gates to the invaders already, hoping to stave off wholesale slaughter by capitulation. In my bones I knew it would all be futile. The people of Edrei were no more than pebbles on the path to war. Those not hauled off to slavery would be eliminated to make room for his men. If Kushan meant to take on the tribes of Israel, this city would be the perfect place to station his army and stage his invasion.
“Do you hear that?” Ana slid free of my grip, pulled the stool to the window, and peeked over the sill. A gasp slipped past her lips. “The sanctuary is burning!”
I joined Ana on the stool, both of us perched precariously on the rickety seat, watching in fascination as a number of guards and male servants ran by, eager to help. Perhaps it was a welcome distraction from the reality that was closing in upon us moment by moment.
Another set of sandals approached, the sound coming from the kitchen courtyard, and then without warning, our side door burst open, the wooden latch flying across the room and causing both of us to tumble off the stool into a confused heap.
I sat on the ground, dazed at the sight of the silver-eyed man I’d never thought to see again in this lifetime, along with the gleaming bronze sword in his grip. “How are you here?”
“I told you I won’t be parted from you,” Malakhi said. “Five years was long enough. I’ve been in a cave below the city.”
A little sigh broke from Ana’s lips at Malakhi’s declaration, but I could only focus on one thing. “Amit?”
“With my mother.”
My eyes dropped closed, an ocean of relief swallowing me whole. “Thank you,” I whispered.
“We have to go. Now.”
Startled into action by the urgency in his tone, I crawled across the floor to my pallet. There was only one thing I could not leave behind. I slid my hand beneath our bed and g
rabbed the mahogany box, still wrapped in the ketubah. But just as I gripped the treasure to my chest, Samil strode through the door, Estebaal close behind him.
With a hand over her mouth, Ana flattened herself against the wall as our master took in the scene in front of him. “You burned my sanctuary,” he said to Malakhi. “My wives are not pleased.”
“It will all burn, Samil,” Malakhi responded. “You must get them out of this place.”
My master shook his head. “Estebaal will make sure we are safe. He is one of them. Besides, I’ve never lost a negotiation. Rivkah of all people knows this.” It was true that Samil was the master of commerce, but this was a bad bargain, and from the desperation on his face he knew it.
“Estebaal, give me your dagger,” he said. Was I the only one who heard the tremor in his voice?
When his bodyguard hesitated, he spat the order again, eyes wild. After flicking a glance of apology at me, Estebaal slipped an iron blade from its sheath and handed it over. But instead of attacking Malakhi or going after me, Samil stepped to the side, grabbed Ana’s wrist, and yanked her close to his body, one arm around her waist and the dagger beneath her chin.
My heart seized. “Please, Samil. Let her go. She is innocent.”
“You thought you’d bargained away your only treasure, my dear. But this one is almost as precious to you as your Amit, isn’t she?” He pressed the tip of the knife into her skin and blood trickled down her neck as she shuddered in his grip. “Tell your lover to surrender or she dies. I won’t lose my scribe, especially now that the Arameans are taking the city. I need your language skills. I need your pen. You are my property.” He jerked his chin toward my pierced ear. “Just like Estebaal, you vowed to remain faithful until death.”
The madness in his eyes made it clear that Ana’s life breath was meaningless. His wealth, his survival, surmounted all. I lifted my palms in surrender. From the moment I awoke covered in pig filth I’d known that all was lost, that I’d never return to my father’s house. At least my precious boy was safe.
Until the Mountains Fall Page 27