The Warrior's Vow

by Christina Rich

  They were a part of him. They were home.

  Even the hand cradled in his palm gave him a sense of home. It reminded him of the nights when his mother sat beside his bed reciting stories from their ancestors. But the palm resting in his did not have the same callused feel from days running a household. This hand was smooth, soft. The fingers twined with his were long and graceful.

  “Abigail?” He opened his lids with a groan as the bright daylight greeted him. A white canopy fluttered in the breeze. He lay on a soft mat of wool. He turned his head. Abigail reclined against pillows, her eyes closed. Besides the tiny mark next to her right eye, her olive complexion was without flaw. It was much lighter than his. Most likely from her lack of days spent in the sun. It suited her, however, suited the color of her exotic green eyes.

  She did not have the freckles his sister, Lydia, sported, nor did fine lines crease at the corners of her eyes. Her linen veil, dusty from their travels, hung lopsided, revealing a wealth of her cedar-colored tresses. His fingers itched to touch the fine silkiness once again.

  He pressed up on his elbows, the pads of his fingers remaining in hers. He reached up with his free hand and smoothed her hair from her shoulders. Her eyes snapped open.

  “Jesse?”

  He smiled.

  “You are awake?”

  “Aye.”

  She pulled her hand from his and he immediately regretted the loss of her touch. She poured water into a goblet. “You must be thirsty.”

  “That I am.” However, it was not water he thirsted for, but the simplicity of holding her hand. All these years he’d been looking for his sense of purpose. Melchiah taught the law, Isa was content living at Manna with his wife and children. Ari had been a guardian to Joash, and Jesse...well, he wandered. Did as he was bade and wandered. Never before had he felt a sense of rightness that all was as it should be. Until now. However, he had not a clue what that rightness was. All he knew was it was tied to her.

  She pressed a cool cloth to the wound on his head, and then drew the damp linen along his brow. “Dara says the coldness should lessen the swelling. She left to retrieve more honey. Once she cleans your wounds she’ll slather them again. I’m surprised your people allowed Dara to touch you when they have their own healer.”

  “Abigail, do I make you nervous?”

  Her lashes brushed against her cheeks. “Why...why would you make me nervous?”

  “You are chattering like my younger sister does when she is overly nervous. Do I make you nervous?”

  “No... Yes. A little.”

  “What has changed?”

  “Noth... Your family. They watch me closely. They watch you closely. I feel like a meaty bone being eyed by a pack of wild dogs.”

  Jesse laughed. “They have that effect, don’t they?” He sat up. His ribs ached but did not hurt as much as they had. He rubbed his hand over the bandages.

  “Your brother wrapped them tighter. Dara did what she could, but I fear her strength was not enough.”

  “She did well, as did you.”

  She dipped her chin and stared at her folded hands resting in her lap. “My thanks.”

  “Abigail, you have no reason to fear my people. They are my family and fiercely protective, but they will cause you no harm. Not as long as I am around.”

  She lifted her gaze to his. “I did not mean to imply they would, Jesse. You must understand, outside the servants, Bilhah, Dara, Micah and the twins, I have had very little dealings with people. I am learning to discern their actions. I do not think your people wish me here.”

  “Do you blame them, Abigail?”

  Wrinkles formed between her eyebrows. “I do not know, Jesse.”

  “You seek the truth. These people have been scarred by your mother and your father. Some have lost loved ones, others have wept because their altars to God have been demolished. They have not been free to worship God as they choose, but have been told they must bow to wood, clay and bronze. Things made and destroyed by man’s hand.”

  He swiped the tear from her cheek. “As much as you do not trust them, they do not trust you, but they are willing to try, and they will respect my vow to protect you.”

  Her eyes grew wide. She seemed to shrink in on herself. “Yes, Abigail, I have told Melchiah of my vow, and I’m certain he told them. They will honor my vow as long as you do nothing to cause them to do otherwise.”

  “What...” She gulped. “What could I possibly do to make them turn on me?”

  “Slit my throat.” He winked. “Even though I have vowed to protect you, they will do all to protect me. As long as you do not hold a threat to me or to Judah, you have nothing to worry.”

  Shadows flickered in her eyes and he wondered if she could be a threat. He doubted it, else she would not have wasted her energy tending his wounds. What was it that bothered her?

  “Where are Ianatos and the twins?” He glanced around the mulling people and then back to her. She toyed with her hands in her lap, her lips twisted together.

  “Abigail, what has become of them?”

  “I am afraid Nathan would not leave my side and I would not leave yours. Your brothers and Jonathan returned for the horses. Some of the men demanded Nathan lay down his weapon. When he would not, Ianatos joined him.” Her gaze skittered to his. “I am surprised the commotion did not wake you. Ianatos was escorted outside of the camp to his people. Nathan is bound to a tree. Jonathan and your brothers have yet to return.”

  Anger burned in his gut. After he had just told her they would protect her, they took her only anchor away from her. At least Dara, Bilhah and Micah... “Where is Bilhah? Micah?”

  “After much coaxing, Micah left with Ianatos. I did not wish the boy to do something rash and—” she paused, her cheeks turning red “—I do not know your people, Jesse. I do not know what they are capable of, so I sent him with Ianatos.”

  Her trust in the Philistine surprised him.

  “He went to great lengths to protect Joash. I cannot see him harming a child.”

  She was right. “And Bilhah?”

  “A woman sent her away. She followed Ianatos, but I do not know if she was allowed in their camp, either.”

  The anger in his gut turned into a raging inferno. He rose to his feet and stepped from beneath the canopy. Abigail placed her hand on his forearm to stay him. No wonder she was frightened of his people.

  “Is this the payment you give for kindness?” he bellowed. “If her family is not welcome here then neither am I.” He grabbed hold of her hand. “Dara! Dara!” He hollered for the old woman until she stood before him. “Gather your things. We are not welcome.”

  He stalked away from the canopy, weaving through gaping and stuttering people. His head pounded but not as fiercely as it had before. He halted at the edge of the camp. “The horses?”

  “Did you not hear me? Your brothers returned for them.”

  “Aye. Which way did Ianatos go?”

  She tilted her head as she twisted her lips. “I do not know.”

  Jesse blew air from his nostrils, scrubbed his hand over his face and then looked up to the heavens. He released her hand and glared at Dara to silence the outspoken sarcasm he knew was on the tip of her tongue before he began to pace. “What now, Lord?”

  “We wait,” Abigail said.

  He halted his feet, snapped his head toward her and near fell to his face. “What is it you said?”

  “We wait. That is what I was doing while you were sleeping. We wait for your brothers to return.”

  Abigail’s calmness sank into his bones. “Fine. We wait, then.” He turned on his heel and headed back to the canopied area. “Where is my uncle?”

  “Ach, the old man is taking a nap,” Dara grumbled.

  Jesse swiped his hand over his face. Beads of
perspiration were back and this time nausea roiled in his gut. He rocked back on his heels. Abigail caught his arm and steadied him.

  “Jesse, you need to lie down. Dara will tend you and I’ll find something for you to eat.”

  He glared down at her, unwilling to send her into a den of wild dogs ready to chomp at the first chance. “You will stay here.”

  “Jesse—”

  He moved close and stared down into her wide green eyes. Something flickered in them, drawing him closer. She drew in a breath. Like a droplet of water being pulled to another, he dipped his head closer. His lips hovered above hers. He wanted to kiss her, to know what it was like to share such an intimate touch with a woman. To share this, her first kiss, with her. His first kiss.

  But he could not. She did not know God. Did not love Him the way Jesse did. He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against hers. “Abigail, I know it is difficult for you to understand, but if you ask for food among my people—”

  The tips of her fingers hovered so near his bottom lip he could feel the warmth of them. The temptation warring within his chest won out. He cradled her hand and brought her fingers to his lips. What was it about this woman that drew him like no other? His father had not held to the ways of arranged marriages and always encouraged his children to seek love. He could not feel such an emotion with her, could he?

  No, it was only because he was beholden to her for all that she’d done for him. She had not needed to risk her life to save him, but she had. Only because she wanted the truth. What happened when she discovered the full of it? What happened when she discovered he was the one who had killed her mother? Not just by command, but by deed.

  Her fingers trembled within his hand and she pulled them away, dropping them to her side as she took two steps back. “I have suffered much worse at the hands of my mother.” She tried to smile but her efforts were in vain. He knew the little bit she revealed about her childhood had cost her a great deal. It was evident in the pain reflected in her eyes. Whatever her mother had done to her did not change the fact that he was the one responsible for her parent’s death. “If you insist on seeing your vow through, you can only do so if you are alive. If you do not rest, the wound on your head may not heal. Then where would I be? At the mercy of Suph.”

  The blood in his veins grew cold. He knew she only teased him to prod him into rest. However, her words were like dousing a fire with frigid water. He narrowed his eyes. Duty called. He would not, could not, think about her as anything more than a vow he must honor. Once he saw her to Jehoiada’s protection, he would be free to wander once again.

  Chapter Fourteen

  He wobbled farther away from her and winced as he raked his hand through his hair. His shadow no longer loomed over her. No longer granted her security. Abigail bit her tongue. She should not have mentioned Suph or Jesse’s current physical condition. For that was the exact moment he pulled away, shielded himself from her and turned to stone like the very rugged mountains on the horizon. The way he closed himself off from her, like those cedar doors gracing her bedchambers, caused an ache to form in her chest. The kind of ache that occurred whenever she craved her mother’s presence. The same kind of ache that closed in on her when she’d been locked in a box to teach her not to sneak out of her room.

  That kind of ache brought tears. Tears brought ridicule and more pain. Holding her head high like the queen she was never meant to be, she stepped around Jesse and went in search of sustenance. Once she ensured he was on the mend, she would have Nathan and Jonathan take her to Jerusalem. Or maybe she would leave as soon as Jonathan returned, and maybe she would have them take her elsewhere. Someplace where Suph would never find her. Nor would Jesse, if he so chose to look for her. After all, Jesse said she could choose her destination. Her own future.

  She skirted around a pen filled with sheep and swiped the tears trailing down her cheeks. She sat on a small log and stared off into the horizon. She did not need Jesse. Did not need his protection. Did not need him to discover the truth; nor did she need him to seek out his God.

  “Abigail?”

  She crossed her arms around her legs and rested her chin on top of her knees. “Leave me be, Jesse.”

  “I did not mean to upset you.” He ignored her plea and sat beside her.

  They remained in silence for long moments. His gaze warmed her. She wanted to look at him, to see the emotions swirling in his eyes. However, if she did, she knew she’d lose more of herself. To what, she did not know, for she did not understand the joy encompassing her whenever he was around. The joy of holding his hand. The need to be near him. Bilhah had said a man’s affections were not as easily given as a woman’s, but it seemed Jesse was more than willing to touch her hand, to soothe her wounds.

  His fingers tangled in her hair and her stomach tumbled. How was it that a simple touch caused her such turmoil? She swiped at a wayward tear.

  “Do not cry, Abigail. I beg of you, do not cry.” He curled his fingers around hers and pressed his mouth to the back of her hand. Shivers shook her at the intensity of the unknown emotion shining in Jesse’s eyes. Pulling her hand from his, she crossed her arms over her middle.

  Another tear escaped, then another. She waited for him to laugh at her. Instead, he grasped her chin with gentle fingers and forced her to look at him. “Abigail, your tears tug at my heart. Your beautiful green eyes were meant for joy, not sadness.”

  She winced as she tried to blink back the welling tears, but they slid past her lashes and down her cheeks. The color of her eyes had been a curse. She would not mention that lest it bring more pain. “All of this!” She waved her hand at the desert before them. “It is new and I do not understand the emotions building inside me. One moment I want to dance, another I want to curl in a ball and cry. At times I believe I can conquer Suph’s evil on my own, others I want to hide and never be found.” She tucked her chin back onto her knees. “I just want to breathe, Jesse. I do not want to consider what is real and what is not. I want to breathe.”

  “Then breathe, Abigail.” His words were a bare whisper, but they struck her heart like a hammer to a rock, shattering into many pieces. He rose from the log and crossed his arms over his chest. He was giving her what she wanted, and yet it hurt more than if he remained beside her.

  He drew in a ragged breath. “Have you ever seen the sunset, Abigail?”

  Jesse had asked her that very question earlier in the day. She glanced up at him, but he stared off into the horizon. She followed his line of sight and sucked in a breath.

  “Breathe, Abigail.” He turned and stepped over the log.

  Brilliant hues of colors she could only imagine stretched across the sky. Blues splashed with royal-purple, reds and oranges, mingled with pinks and grays. It was as if the heavens burned, yet the soft glow did not consume—it caressed. She watched as the colors faded, watched as the blue melded into the black, as the sun dropped beyond the horizon. Was it as such each night? Was this the doing of the one true God?

  If so, thank You, God.

  How had she lived her days without ever knowing such beauty? She breathed deeply and closed her eyes. She tried to brand the image into her mind lest she never see it again. What else had she missed locked away like a prisoner?

  A small cry called to her. She lifted her head and searched through the waning dark. The screech of a great bird drew her attention skyward. Within its clutches a small animal struggled. The bird dropped the animal, and Abigail rushed forward. The bird rose high and then dove back toward the tiny creature. Abigail ran, yelling while waving her arms in the air, trying to scare off the predator.

  It screeched and cawed. Abigail covered her head with her hands and ducked. The bird missed its target and came back for another round. Abigail stumbled, falling to her knees. She hunched over the tiny animal, protecting it from the bird.

 
“Abigail!”

  Her heart thundered against her chest. She could imagine Jesse’s anger, but she did not care. She could not allow this tiny creature to perish at the hands of the giant bird. Wings batted against the air, swooping over Abigail’s head. Her veil ripped from her hair. A whack and a screech.

  Jesse lifted her from the ground and cradled her against his chest. “Are you all right?”

  She pulled back and glanced at the ball of fur tucked in her hands and then at him. “Yes, I think so, but it’s injured.”

  “What is injured, Abigail?”

  She lifted the tiny creature for him to see. “Abigail,” he growled. “You risked your life to save a rodent?”

  “I did not know what it was, Jesse. I could not let that beast have it. Not after it dropped it.”

  “You could have been severely injured.” He tightened his arms around her. “Have you ever seen what one of those birds can do to a man? No, of course you haven’t. It is only by the grace of God you were not maimed or, worse, killed.”

  “I know.” Her voice sounded shaky even to her own ears. “But I had to rescue it.”

  He set her down on her feet and held out his hand, but she refused to hand the animal over to him. “What are you going to do with it?”

  “Let it go.”

  “Jesse, he is hurt.”

  He scrubbed his palm over his beard, something she realized he did whenever he was irritated. “All right, then. Let us see if Dara can mend it.”

  Abigail squealed, wrapped an arm around his neck, rose up on her toes and kissed Jesse on the cheek.

  * * *

  Jesse froze. The touch of her lips against his cheek sent a wave of shock clear to his toes. He’d forgotten all about the fear of seeing her run, then daring to combat a griffon of all things. He forgot the anger surging through his blood when he realized she was trying to rescue a wild animal from the deadly talons. Forgot his disbelief when he discovered it was a mere rodent. Weren’t women afraid of such creatures?