by Mesu Andrews
While we watched sizzling, juicy venison turn on the spits, Babylon’s raiding parties trickled back to their camps, heavy laden with gold, bronze, and silver. Many pulled oversized carts like oxen because the bounty was more than they could carry.
I pointed a meaty finger at the imbeciles. “How do you suppose they’ll get all that home?” My men laughed loud and long, having fought for many nations as paid warriors. The bounty always went to the king—no matter who scavenged it. Every piece of bronze, gold, and silver from Jerusalem’s temple would land in Babylon’s treasuries. My warriors, on the other hand, would reveal our treasures to each other by the fire and then hide them in our bags and blankets. Babylon couldn’t take what it didn’t know we had.
“It’s time to compare today’s bounty, boys,” I shouted at my hundred-man regiment. The other three thousand Scythians were under the command of my captains, also in regiments of hundreds, enjoying the same camaraderie around the fires surrounding us tonight. “Who will get double portions of food and wine?” Any competition stirred their blood to boiling.
Women we’d acquired along the way kept our wine cups full as each warrior held the wood, stone, or metal idols aloft. Some treasures received whistles and cheers. A few were ridiculed. I waited to reveal my find until last.
“Are there any more? I don’t want to miss anyone.” My men exchanged suspicious glances, knowing I was never so gracious as when I was certain of victory. “I’ve hidden mine in my tent. Azat, would you help me retrieve it?”
He rolled his eyes, no doubt thinking my antics unnecessary, but I loved a well-fought win. I lifted the limp goddess into my arms and returned the five paces to our fire. Silence met me, expressions sober regardless of the wine.
“Even as you, my fiercest warriors, have committed your swords to fight and someday secure for me Scythia’s throne, today the gods have shown their favor as well.” I lifted the wraith-like form toward the heavens and shouted, “Mother goddess, Tabiti, from this moment forward, we vow our allegiance, our protection, and our honor to you. Give us success on this our final campaign for Babylon, and lead us safely home to our families.”
An awkward silence made my skin crawl, and for less than a heartbeat, I feared rebellion. But the mighty little man beside me raised his war cry. Every soldier leapt to his feet and joined him. The brotherhood of Scythia spread to all our regiments. Swords in hands. Scythia in hearts. The goddess in my arms.
Chapter 5
Merari
“See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?
I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.”
-Isaiah 43:19
I fluttered on the edge of consciousness, unable to wake but unwilling to dream. What strange sound invaded my stupor? A boinging, boing, boing in rhythm with my body’s bouncing and the pounding of my head. Dimness swallowed the light, and once again I was taken away . . .
My eyelids felt like gates of iron, and darkness pressed against my body like a heavy blanket. I was lying flat on the ground, no longer jolted as a burden on a beast’s back. Heavy breathing beside me sounded like a growl. Was it real or had a creature of Sheol come to claim me for my sins? I tried to scream, to open my eyes, but I was chained inside the prison of my mind. My head pounded; body ached; I coughed. The effort drained me, and blinding fog claimed me again . . .
Cool water touched my face, my arms, my legs and feet. Soothing. Cleansing. Like stepping into the waters of the mikveh after my monthly flow. I let the dream carry me into delight. No more fear of creatures in the darkness, only a soft glow and warmth all around me. Distant laughter and men’s voices invaded, and I began to fight the hands that held me. I tried to open my eyes. My arms and legs felt like weights. A gentle voice whispered, “Shh,” and strong arms lifted me, cradled me, drew me close. I faded peacefully into the warm glow . . .
Aware of a now-familiar sound on the edges of my consciousness—boing, boing, boing—my eyelids barely opened. Darkness filled a tent half my height and was lit by a sliver of moonlight shining through a slit in dark canvas. I was alone, surrounded by sparse furnishings. Two cups. Two bowls. A bow and a quiver full of arrows.
I lifted my hand into the single ray of moonlight. Yes, it was real. I was awake. I pressed my hand to my face and winced at the heat. My head still throbbed, but at least I moved.
At the sound of men’s bawdy laughter outside the tent, I covered a sob and pressed down panic. Who were they, and how did I get in a tent? Whose weapons lay beside me? A battle axe. A bow and quiver of arrows. The awful boinging sound continued, now accompanied by men’s singing in a language I’d never heard. Laughing and shouting mingled. I covered my head and used all my strength to turn on my side, away from the tent opening. Away from my source of terror.
Arms over my ears dulled the noise, but not the memories. “Neriah.” Whispering my son’s name gouged my soul with deep wounds. Sobs shook me, draining what little strength I had.
“Tabiti wakes.” A man’s broken Hebrew replaced grief with panic. Too weak to fight, my pathetic attempt to scoot away was blocked by the tent wall.
“Shh.” A huge hand stroked my hair.
Recognition filled me with horror. “You washed me!” I screeched in Aramaic. Like a limp fish, I fell onto my back and gazed into almond-shaped eyes.
A small lamp lit the tent, revealing a pleased expression on a creature from another world. “Of course, Tabiti would know the language of trade. It’s how we speak to the Babylonians as well.” Terrifying tattoos covered every part of his neck, arms, legs, and chest. An angry scar bisected the right side of his face from the nose to his ear, and heavy, black brows peaked in the middle as if he was constantly questioning. I could only whimper and shake at the sight of him.
“You need not fear, Tabiti. No one will harm you.” He reached out to touch my face, and I released a piteous howl. “Shh. Sleep now.” He held a wooden cup of liquid to my lips, and I drank, still shivering. Was it fever’s chill or terror?
After three more sips of bitter liquid, he left the tent. I lifted the lightweight blanket covering me and found myself dressed in a new red robe—red, the color of harlotry. What had they done to my body while I lay unaware? My cheeks burned, and indignation drained my strength. A distant roar mingled with gray splotches, and I realized it must have been something in the drink. Before I could think what it might have been, darkness claimed me again.
A rough hand patted my cheek, rude and persistent. The hulking creature crouched before me, speaking, but I couldn’t hear him. Without permission, he laid down beside me, curving his mountainous frame around mine. I wanted to push him away, to kick and scream, but my body was limp. A helpless slab of meat in a butcher’s hands.
But he didn’t hurt me. Why? Instead, he held me gently, as if I might break, and his hands didn’t wander or violate. Yahweh, help me! The barbarian hummed softly, stealing my consciousness with his soothing presence.
“Tabiti.” I heard a whisper in my sleep. A gentle breath on my cheek stirred my senses. “Tabiti, dawn comes.”
Like a crashing cymbal, the words jarred me awake with the memory of last night’s intruder. His arms and legs wrapped me like a cocoon in an intimacy I’d known only with beloved Elon. My heart rent at the thought of what this stranger might have done to me, and I released a sound that could have curdled milk. The barbarian scuttled to his feet as if I’d bitten him. Perhaps I’d do exactly that if he came near me again.
“What? What is it?” He stood over me, short-cropped black hair hugging his startled face. “Are you hurt?”
Again, he spoke in Hebrew. I refused to answer. When he took a step toward me, I screamed with surprising strength.
“Shh! I won’t hurt you.” The first lines of frustration creased his brow. “I’ve met your every human need, Tabiti, and I vowed to guard your purity on this journey as I would protect my own wife.” Before I could scream again or rail at him with question
s, he knelt with his face to the earth and his hands outstretched—as if I were royalty.
Confusion gave rise to panic. Surely, I was having a nightmare or dying from the plague in Jerusalem like so many others. I was delirious, imagining the barbarian. Beside me sat a polished bronze mirror. I reached for it. I don’t know why, but when I saw my reflection, I knew—this was no dream. I saw my sister’s face staring back at me. Lifeless. Haunted. As she’d been the morning she killed my son.
“Do you like the mirror, Tabiti?” The man sat back on his heels. “I bought it for you yesterday, when we passed through Megiddo.”
“Megiddo? That’s three days north of Jerusalem.”
“We left Jerusalem the day after I found you.” He reached out to touch my hair, but I swatted it away. His frustration returned. “Leaving was your only hope of protection, Tabiti. The general lost control of his troops. My men will respect you, but I couldn’t protect you against the other nations who care nothing about the Scythian goddess of—”
“Did I hear the shriek of a goddess?” Another man, much shorter than the giant, poked his head through the tent flap. I gasped, but he ignored me. “We should go if we’re to reach Hazor by nightfall.”
“We’ll be ready, Azat.” The barbarian searched my gaze as he spoke. “She’s a bit disoriented. She doesn’t seem to realize she’s Tabiti.”
“Hmm.” The non-committal grunt punctuated the second man’s departure.
I turned away, too tired to care about the consequences. “Why do you protect me, and who is Tabiti?”
He ignored my questions and packed the tent’s sparse contents into his shoulder bag. Lying helpless, too strong to faint and too weak to move, I wished for unconsciousness. The barbarian lifted the tent off the ground, leaving me exposed to the already oppressive summer heat. Rolling the tent into a bundle, he secured it with other supplies on a donkey and then scooped me off my reed mat, held me in one arm, and in one fluid motion landed both of us on a sleek, black stallion. Repositioning me in his arm like a nursing babe, I could do nothing but cover my face in shame.
Someone attached something behind my captor’s saddle—my reed mat, I presumed. “Thank you, Azat.” While cradling me in his right arm, he waved his left arm forward, releasing an ear-splitting whistle. The horse beneath us reared slightly and shot into a gallop like a stone from a sling, while the sound of thundering hooves exploded behind us.
I groaned at the pounding, lifting my hand to steady my head against his chest. He shoved my hand away and repositioned me again, holding my head to his chest for me—and then my eyes went wide with panic. “How are you holding the reins?” Fighting his grasp to look at his position, I felt his first show of force.
He held me tighter and grinned, one arm cradling me, the other hand on my cheek. “I rode a horse before I could walk. You are safe, Tabiti.”
Without permission, my body melted into his strength. The excitement had drained me, and I didn’t even care where we were going.
He curled his arms up, drawing me close. “You have defeated death, Tabiti. Rejoice. I will present you to Nebuchadnezzar in Riblah and then take you home. Finally, home.”
Home. I let my heavy eyelids close, aching at the thought of starting over in Babylon. Could I live without Neriah? Would my grief ever end? My eyes shot open with a ray of new hope. Yahweh, could You lead me to Elon in Babylon?
Chapter 6
Idan, Hazor
“Hazor will become a haunt of jackals, a desolate place forever.
No one will live there; no people will dwell in it.”
-Jeremiah 49:33
The goddess slept in my arms while traveling through the tropical terrain bordering Lake Kinneret and following the Jordan River north. Peace softened her features now, but the turmoil I’d glimpsed in her liquid brown eyes this morning was seared into my memory. How could divine Tabiti not realize she’d poured herself into human form? Had the under-gods Papaeus and Api confused her mind? Had I somehow stepped into a civil war among Scythia’s gods?
Troubled by what-ifs, I couldn’t look away from her. Even the dark circles of famine-gaunt cheekbones were striking on the divine-made-flesh.
“If you want to speak with her, jostle her awake.” Azat rode up beside me, wearing the impish grin of a lifelong friend. He looked over his shoulder and lowered his voice. “Or have you finally decided she’s merely human?”
The question deserved no answer, and I let my angry stare burn him.
Hands lifted in surrender, his smile disappeared. “I’m sorry, but my concern is valid. Our regiment trusts you completely, but we may need more proof for the other commanders and troops.”
I dared not disclose my doubts, not even to my best friend. When I found her she’d whispered the goddess’ name—hadn’t she? “Why must Scythia’s crown prince prove anything? Haven’t I won their allegiance with my axe and blood? This is our last of five campaigns with King Nebuchadnezzar. Have they forgotten that Babylon’s favor will give me the influence I need to challenge my father’s throne?”
“We haven’t forgotten, my friend.” Azat slammed his fist over his heart and kept his voice low. “You are already our king, but we must continue to cultivate the men’s loyalty. Your father forgot this, and it has already cost him his son. It will soon cost him his throne.”
He was right. “What can I do to convince them she is Tabiti?”
Azat remained silent for a time, riding beside me in comfortable silence. I wondered if he’d forgotten my question until a deep sigh told me he’d finished contemplating. “Our warriors must believe the heavens will rain down fire if they defile this woman who represents Tabiti’s fidelity and purity. Most of those who have wives, as you do, have remained faithful on this long campaign with Nebuchadnezzar, but when they saw you sharing your tent with her—”
“I would not defile the goddess!” The declaration was more adamant than I intended.
My friend’s brows rose. “Your determination is strong, but no man is made of iron. If you keep holding her as you are now . . .”
I looked down at her. The vulnerability alone stirred my blood. Azat was wise, and he knew me too well. I focused on the path before us and my wife’s face flashed in my mind. I tried to summon an image of our infant son but couldn’t. I saw only Zoya holding the small bundle in her arms, tears streaking her lovely face as I rode away. It had been a year since I’d left, but it felt like a decade.
Arms burning from four days of bearing the goddess’ weight from dawn to dusk, I turned to my friend and finally confessed. “She was unconscious when I found her, but her lips were moving. She whispered what sounded like Tabiti. If you had been there, Azat . . .” Was I trying to convince him or myself? “If you had seen how she cared for the boy after death. If you’d seen the feral judgment she meted out against the other woman . . .”
“Then tell me. Tell me so I can—”
“No!” I stared at him hard. “I vowed to the gods. The scene was sacred.”
He nodded, focused on the road ahead. “Our men will defend you unto death, but when we arrive in Riblah, Nebuchadnezzar’s men won’t care that she’s a goddess.”
“Then we will make them care.” I was finished defending my decision.
Azat dropped his reins and laced his fingers behind his head, releasing a weary sigh. His stallion walked freely as mine had done since this morning. Our fathers had placed us on ponies before we could walk. His life and mine had taken the same path—except his parents had died when he was very young. He was taken into our household, but it was I who would become king and Azat would choose his position on my council. He was more loyal than my brothers and closer to my heart than the flesh on my bones.
As the sun touched the mountaintops at my left, I spotted several lines of smoke ahead and asked Azat, “How many men did you send before us?”
“Ten. Our meal should be ready when we arrive.”
And it was. Ten perfect gazelles turned on spits whil
e our weary regiment plodded into a clearing an arrow’s flight from the burned-out city of Hazor. Our early arrivers had set fires in a circle, marking an ample area for tonight’s camp. I thought it an extravagance until I dismounted with the goddess in my arms. The abandoned city and looming darkness made us a tempting target for an inordinate amount of wildlife.
Tall grass swayed around the perimeter of camp as the last rays of sun reflected on glowing eyes hidden within. Wolves howled, echoing in the distant mountains—a sound I hadn’t heard since leaving home. The hair on my neck stood on end.
I laid the goddess on the ground and shouted, “Circle the perimeter, bows drawn!”
“Yes, Commander.”
The goddess stirred. “What’s happening?”
My stallion pranced sideways, throwing its head left then right. Glowing eyes emerged from the grass, at least a hundred jackals, coming from all sides.
Before I signaled to loose arrows, the woman released a sound unlike any I’d heard. An undulating, throaty call. Both startling and exquisite. Strange and intriguing.
My warriors lowered their bows and stared. All night sounds stilled. And the jackals ceased their advance, perking their ears.
“What are you doing?” My question, asked in wonder, sounded more like censure.
Disdain filled her eyes. She lifted her chin and released the sound again, her tongue tapping her lips to vary the timing and tones.
A strange sight stole my words and chilled my bones. Like a curtain pulled across the evening sky, thousands of birds appeared from the north, blocking the moon and stars. Slack-jawed, I watched the stalking jackals scatter beneath the pressing threat of aerial attack—predators retreating from prey. The birds descended nearby, splashing in the marshes beside Lake Huleh.