“Do you trust God to act on Benjamin’s behalf?”
Did she? After all the suffering that had befallen Eliab’s people?
“Yes.” Her affirmation wavered.
“Then you alone must talk with the elders of Ephraim and Manasseh, for your eyes have been opened to the truth.”
“Alone?” Surely God’s messenger could do this better.
“I could.”
Her mouth fell open. He knew her thoughts.
“You, daughter of Heriah, have a heritage in Ephraim, and now you have a family in Benjamin. Speak to your father and the elders from Shiloh. Show them the forgiveness that reigns in your heart. Share your hope for a future. Tell them what you have told me.”
Pressure pulsed behind her eyes. She knew the stubbornness of her father and of her people. And by the messenger’s anchored stance, he did not seem swayed to accompany her.
“What if I have need of you?” She cleared the emotion from her throat. “How do I summon your help?”
The angel came and bent down, bathing her in shade. “With a prayer. Just like you have always done. The Most High will answer.” He rose and touched a hand to his hip. “When you are most afraid, listen for the shofar.”
“The horn is of little comfort when no one heeds its call.” She blinked under his assessment. “My lord.”
“This time, I will blow it and God will act.”
“Praise be to the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.” She backed away in a crawl, feeling with her foot until she reached the edge.
“Toda raba,” she said before racing down the landscape and knocking a few golems to an early death.
When her feet hit the road, she sprinted toward Cuzbi, who held out a hooded cloak the color of aged wine.
Cuzbi opened the sleeve. “Sister, you are trembling.”
“I almost fell. What a silly fright I have. Do not worry. I can still ride.” Her words stumbled upon each other. Did she even make sense?
Jael handed her a dyed-mustard belt.
“Where is your escort?” Hamul asked. “My mount is ready, as is your donkey.”
Fluttering her hand toward the road, she said, “He is waiting up ahead.” Not a total lie. The messenger did sit upon the cliff.
With a boost from Jael, she perched on Hamul’s horse and took command of the reins.
Hamul’s face crinkled like a raisin. “How is the man known? I do not remember who is spying from the cliff.”
“I do not know his name. We will thank him later.”
She kicked Hamul’s horse into a gallop.
“Where is the other?” Hamul bellowed.
She did not look back, but she slowed her mount when she reached the flatlands, not wanting the soldiers to think her a threat. Without a helmet, a slinger’s stone could crush her skull.
Someone had to ride out and speak some sense into this wild assembly. Unfortunately, she did not think it would be her, unaccompanied, with no fighting men in her wake. But she had the assurance of God’s messenger.
Do what is right and good in the Lord’s sight, so that it may go well with you.
She repeated the scripture over and over. She did not need to take over the Promised Land—she just needed to ask her tribesmen to return home without their daughters and without a bride price.
Do it. For Eliab, Cuzbi, and Jael.
A wafting scent of sweat-drenched bodies baked by the sun sent her stomach into spasms. She swaddled her cloak about her face and veered nearer to where she had seen Eliab enter the lines of men. Hamul’s mount pranced onward as if he knew he belonged at the front of the field.
As she neared the camps, a path formed for her to pass. She pulled on the reins, keeping her mount a few yards from the gathering. She was aware that the access they granted could close in around her, leaving her defenseless.
I can do this.
Breathing through her mouth, she ignored the stench wafting to her nostrils. She dug deep for a commanding voice that would carry beyond the first few rows of fighters. Sitting tall, she cleared her throat, removed the hood of her cloak, and raised her right arm.
“I come in the name of Hamul, elder of Judah, seeker of peace. Judah stands with Benjamin. Hamul requests a meeting of the tribal elders to put an end to this siege.”
“’Tis a woman,” someone shouted.
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
“Where are your leaders?” she called. “What of the elder who came before me?”
A bare-chested man approached. He wore no robe as a sign of honor, but his body spoke of the readiness to fight, for the muscles he displayed could only come from the rigor of training. He held a long spear. This was no walking stick.
“Where is Judah?” the fighter chastised. “The Benjamite deceives about his strength in number. Am I to pay heed to a Judahite’s concubine? Where is Hamul?”
Who was this man to hurl insults? She clenched the leather reins.
“My elder waits on the road with divisions of men.” She made it sound as if warriors from all of Judah’s cities readied to charge out. “You have seen a portion of his men from the east.” She flipped her hand like a queen dismissing a servant.
“Hah. What do we care about a few hill dwellers? We joined with Ephraim to bring justice to this wrongdoing.”
How could this man boast in the face of annihilation? Had the tribes not seen enough death from their battles with Benjamin? Did he want more bloodshed? Hardheaded fool.
“There are more Judahites on the road and in the hills. Many more.” Her voice faltered like her assurance.
Her war-scarred adversary laughed. Others joined in.
Scrambling to her knees for height, she trusted Hamul’s horse to hold steady.
“Why would I lie when Ephraim is in danger? I am the daughter of Heriah, an Ephraimite, taken from the feast.” Her heart rallied against the fists she held to her breast. “Shall I let Judah spill my people’s blood? I have lost two brothers to war and I will not lose another. We have suffered enough. Let the elders settle this matter. That is all I ask.”
“Then let Judah’s elders show themselves.” He motioned toward some men. “Any captive that speaks for Judah speaks for Benjamin and is a traitor to me and my legions.”
A mob of men approached her mount.
She refused to be dragged down in a crowd of angry warriors from Manasseh. God was with her.
What had Eliab instructed when they were attacked by the Moabites? Stay upright. Kick. Use the reins as a whip. Oh, how she wished he was sitting behind her. His parting at sunrise seemed like days.
A soldier reached for her ankle.
Furious, she snapped the reins back and forth as though she were harvesting wheat. Leather grazed the horse’s withers. He reared in displeasure. Grabbing hold of the mane left her distracted and undefended.
A man plucked her from her perch, but he did not catch her fall. Her spine struck the ground. Air rushed from her lungs. She elbowed and kicked anyone who dared to grab her cloak, willing to share the pain that radiated across her back. Hands clawed at her limbs like dogs on raw meat.
“Stop at once.”
Father? She welcomed the familiar voice of reason.
“I am Heriah, and that girl is my daughter.”
Her father stood above her with Nadab, her brother, at his side.
Scrambling into his arms, she held him fast, breathing in the memories of home, of vineyards, sour wine, and security. She had prayed for this moment and it had come to pass. She no longer clung to him for escape, but for reason. She pulled from his embrace.
“Father, please listen to me. Judah waits in the hills. They request a council of elders.” Taking hold of her brother’s hand, she kissed it. “We cannot lose another. You are father’s only heir.”
Nadab drew back. “You are filthy. What have they done to you to make you speak such drivel?”
“We must stop a war.” Had he not seen enough death? Spinning around, she beseeched
the crowd. “How can we love the Lord and kill our own people? What is the harm in a council? Can we not talk among ourselves?” At the peak of her vocal range, she called for the elders of Ephraim.
Nadab tried to shush her summons. “She has been tortured by the Benjamites. My sister is mad.” He grabbed hold of her arm. “Look for yourselves at this sorcery.”
She slipped from her cloak and stood in her clay-stained robe. “I am not possessed. Seek out Judah’s leaders. It is all I ask.”
Zicri ben Ithamar, an elder of her tribe, stepped from behind the gawking soldiers.
Thank You, Lord.
“What is this outburst? First, we have the Benjamite, and now one of our own?”
Naomi bowed low. “Elder, the leaders of Judah request a meeting to hear your grievances and to restore unity among our tribes.”
The spear-toting warrior strode toward her with the crazed eyes of a killer.
“This is a distraction, a ploy by Benjamin to gain time. Judah has not shown themselves. And they are not known to be cowards. Why would they hide behind this whore?”
“Silence yourself. She is my daughter,” Heriah shouted.
“And what is she worth when she is groveling for the men who defiled her?”
“Enough,” Zicri said. He consulted robed men Naomi did not recognize. Were they elders of Manasseh? These same unarmed men dispersed through the crowd.
Zicri came and stood before her.
She bowed, knees trembling, and stared, blinking into the elder’s bearded face.
“You speak for Judah now, do you? How did our brothers to the south know we camped around the city?”
Her body became as light as a bed sheet blowing in the wind, but she did not look away from the elder she had known since birth. She had gone to Judah, not as a traitor to her people, but as a daughter, and as a sister, and as a woman wanting to end the bloodshed, not to bring it forth.
“I went—”
“See.” The warrior readied his spear. “She brought an army against us.”
Her father stepped forward, sword drawn.
Zicri demanded the soldier lower his weapon. “Let us hear the girl.”
“I went to spare my father the loss of another son.” Her throat tightened as grief overwhelmed her conscience. “I went because I saw a goodness in the men of Benjamin. I saw a respect for the Law and our prophets and I did not want them to be wiped from this land. How can the sons of Joseph slay the sons of his only brother, Benjamin? How?” The force of her question burned her throat. Her tongue tasted like salty bile.
“Her alliance is not with Ephraim or Manasseh,” the spearman jeered.
“She has been mistreated.” Her father stationed himself at her side.
Her father’s defense buoyed her strength. She rose and leaned into his side for support.
The robed elders of Manasseh jostled through the onlookers and returned to the small arena formed by Zicri, his kin, and her family. One of the elders pushed Eliab forward.
Eliab was alive. Selah. Her shoulders sagged with relief, but her spirit soared.
Standing defiant with a swollen eye and torn robe, the son of Berek cast a glance at every man that mattered. He fixed her with a look that begged her to stay safe.
Every muscle in her arms tightened. An ache ricocheted through her heart. How could they mistreat a leader of a tribe? One who came in the name of Judah and Benjamin?
Zicri marched her toward Eliab. “Did this man take you to Judah to speak on Benjamin’s behalf?”
The assembly hushed.
Eliab’s gaze held no fear. His brown eyes possessed a quiet strength. She glanced toward Gibeah. Did Berek know his son was dangerously close to being sacrificed for trying to save the city? How many Benjamites and their wives waited in terror for their fate to be known? She scanned the far-off hills. Was there an army to come to her rescue? An angel army? An army of golems?
“Are you deaf? Answer my question.” Zicri shook her shoulder.
Eliab flinched. “Speak the truth, Naomi.”
A rush of heat flamed across her skin. Her father stood so tall, so proud. She raised her eyes to the heavens and squinted at the thick rays of light shining around the city as if no clouds blocked the sun. A warm fullness overcame her soul. Do what is right and good in the Lord’s sight, so that it may go well with you.
Back straight, brushing off dust from her sleeve, she readied to speak the truth. “This man did not take me to Judah. I asked to accompany him. I went to speak on behalf of the daughters of Shiloh who wish to remain with their Benjamite husbands.”
A loud roar filled her ears as her father tore his tunic.
Her brother advanced with knife drawn. “You desire a Benjamite?”
Not wanting to become a widow before she became a wife, she slipped her father’s blade from his belt, evaded her brother’s grasp, and lunged into Eliab’s waiting arms.
Then, and only then, did a mighty shofar blast resound from the hill to the heavens.
26
The sound of the shofar filled the camps of fighting men with a haunting howl. Naomi’s hand trembled as she held her father’s blade in front of her and Eliab. Her palms were as slick as stones submerged along the Jordan. She slashed the sword back and forth lest someone slap it from her hand. Eliab’s arm grew taut around her waist.
What sort of army was the messenger bringing into the valley? God’s army? An angel army? Or an army of mud men?
Warriors readied their weapons. The men of Ephraim and Manasseh scrambled into position. Battle lines formed. Bur her father stood idle and unarmed. His face was drawn like he had worked a full day in the fields.
She choked back the emotion damming her throat and concentrated on saving her people from a slaughter. All of her people. Benjamites, Ephraimites, and all the descendants of Jacob.
Zicri edged closer to Eliab, staying out of reach of the sway of her sword tip. “Sheath that blade and speak of Judah’s plans. What do you know of this siege?”
“Now you believe our petition?” Eliab held her arm steady, but he did not lower their weapon. “Did we not warn of Judah’s assembly and ask that a council be held?”
A young soldier ran toward Zicri. “Leader,” he gasped. “Divisions of men are coming from the east, west, and even more from the south.”
Finally, Onan had shown himself. But who did Hamul bring? Had the messenger of God breathed life into the golems?
Calling for his mount, Zicri turned to address her husband. “You two will come with me and my fellow elders.”
“Not without the animals we rode into camp.” Eliab did not budge, but he lowered their sword. “I am an elder from the tribe of Benjamin. My position and my people deserve your respect, as does my wife.”
Eliab placed his hand on her shoulder, and as much as she wanted to take comfort in his show of affection, she could not grasp his hand in front of her father.
Zicri pointed at Nadab. “Find their horses. Has your sister not brought me enough trouble? She rallied Judah to defend her lover.”
Naomi’s cheeks grew hot. Had she not tried to save Ephraim from bloodshed?
Sliding his hand down her back, Eliab gave her a slight push toward her father. Even though Eliab escorted her, her feet barely moved, as if they were sunken in Hamul’s mud pit. Would her father retaliate against Eliab? Against her? He had no weapon at the moment, but he could call on family for revenge.
She could barely meet her father’s scowl. They had become like foreigners to each other.
Eliab stood broad-shouldered at her side. “I cannot ask for your daughter’s hand, Heriah, nor can you give her to me.” His voice cracked as if he were a suitor capable of being cast off. “I never meant to cause your household harm. I sought a way around an oath, for a way to have an heir.” Eliab held out Heriah’s sword. “This belongs to you. I am not a thief.”
Her heart cinched so tight she thought it would burst. “Forgive us, Father.”
; Her brother, flanked by two harvesters from Shiloh, emerged from the mass of fighting men with two mounts for her and Eliab.
“Come along,” Zicri snapped. “We need to lead the men.”
Zicri, the leader she had known since birth, barked commands from his lips instead of the soothing words of wisdom she remembered. Her muscles tensed. Was she not the same girl he counseled in Shiloh?
Eliab took hold of her hand. “My wife will ride with me. Give Hamul’s mount to Heriah.”
Gratitude flowed from her heart, down her arm, and into the squeeze she gave her husband’s grasp.
With a click of his tongue, Zicri said, “He is a laborer. I have witnessed his family’s field work for years.”
“He is my father-in-law.” Eliab ignored the elder’s protest and mounted his horse. She took her place behind him.
Heriah hesitated to sit atop a horse emblazoned with Judah’s emblems.
“Join us, Father. Is it not your right to hear the reasoning behind the raid?”
Her father nodded. “I will ride at an elder’s request.” He mounted without a glance toward his tribal elder—Zicri—or his son.
Nadab strode away, armed and ready for a fight. She had gone to Judah to prevent deaths, especially within her own family, and if it took every last breath, she would keep Nadab and her father safe.
She, Eliab, and her father rode with Zicri to where the other elders of Ephraim and Manasseh waited. They passed lines of men, row after row, who threw in their lot with the tribal leaders.
Naomi squinted at the flatlands surrounding Gibeah, into what was once again a desert battleground. She had never seen fighting men facing off for war. Her soul shivered to think this is what her brothers beheld before they died. She shook the vision from her head. God was among them and He was a just God.
Finally, Onan had arrived to aid Isa’s divisions. The city was flanked from the east to the west by men from the tribes of Ephraim and Manasseh, but their armies were a small sparrow compared to the mass of men flowing from the Camel Road and fanning out in front of the cliffs. Two new riders led the impressive show of strength.
Building Benjamin Page 16