Temper The Wind (Ancient Israel)

by Boyd, Mary Ellen

  Thunderous silence followed. Anger lapped at Javan in waves. “There are more?” Eli asked. “How many of our enemies have you brought back with you into our land?”

  Obed spoke up. “We left with nothing. We bring back gold, and flocks, and slave boys to work our land. We took them as repayment for our losses, and we take full responsibility for them.”

  Eli sagged, as if under a heavy burden. “We will record that in the registers as well. Sarah has sheds behind her house. They have not been used since her husband died many years ago, but they should serve your purposes.”

  Javan nodded. “Your worries are for nothing. We saw horrors you can only imagine in our trek through Ammon. We want only to live in peace on our own soil. Thank you for protecting our family lands. It is good to be home.”

  Eli smiled then. “Despite our words earlier, it is good to have you back. Are you willing to obey all the Law’s requirements for brides taken from captives? Allow me to recite that passage.”

  “No!” It was going to be difficult enough to explain everything to Taleh in privacy. To have her find out in front of everyone in the village was unthinkable. “I mean, I do know what my obligations are. Jephthah made them very clear when I first claimed her.” To hear that she would have her head shaved, to have her shocked reaction exposed before the mocking eyes of hostile strangers, no, he would not permit that.

  A long, thoughtful pause followed. Javan held his breath.

  “Very well. But we will be watching you closely.” Eli pointed at a man in the crowd. “Bring them to Sarah’s.”

  The streets had been much narrower in his youth. After finding the gates shorter, the city smaller, the village elders less imposing than he remembered, this change pleased him. He refused to think why the alteration had been necessary, refused to dwell on homes and families gone forever that left even the smaller city with the extra space.

  He found other marks from the war, the gates shorter, the city smaller. Most of the houses were smaller, too. All the houses had been indelibly marked by the fire that burned inescapably into stone and brick. No materials were left unscathed.

  Taleh walked behind Javan, waiting for him to turn and look at her. He had not reached for her when they had been dismissed from the men on the benches, had not even looked at her, had just assumed she would follow obediently. Of course, she was, but his indifference hurt.

  Taleh had not expected that anyone here would be pleased to see them. She was not that big a fool. She thought she had been prepared for this long walk, being ushered into an unwelcoming city. But every time she had imagined herself coming into Javan’s home town, he had been beside her. Not even her worst nightmares had forced her to walk past angry faces alone. She believed they had been recognized as husband and wife. Had they not been called “brides?” She certainly did not feel much like a wife, and Javan did not act like a husband.

  His bitter words had hurt, still hurt. He had said in front of everyone, ‘We learned to hate more about the Ammonites than any of you.’

  Was he having regrets? Could he change his mind now?

  Why would he not even acknowledge her, turn his head and ensure she was still there?

  The guide finally started talking. Javan wondered sourly if he was prompted by the sparkle of gold glinting through the donkeys’ heavy sacks. Although Eli had already mentioned it, the man made a special point of Sarah’s widowhood. Javan wondered if her husband had died by the hand of the Ammonites. Was this another dart aimed at his wife? At least it had found him as target instead of her.

  Sarah’s house was large, with a main floor and an upstairs, oddly reminiscent of the house in which he found Taleh, Javan thought as he looked at it. It was much too large for one old woman, a constant reminder of children who never were born. Sarah had already been too old for childbearing when Javan fled the devastated city, and childless, long past hope of providing heirs for her husband’s wealth.

  The stone house was oddly unmarked by fire, a beacon in a scarred city. Geber must have bought new stone rather than rebuild with what had been left. Javan wondered idly if that had bothered the villagers. The house had plenty of windows, for lattices appeared with regularity all along the walls.

  Behind the house neat sheds stood, the only sign of their abandonment the height of the brown grasses growing wild around them. He wondered if it would be necessary to lock the young men in at night with bars over the lattices, and fashion locks on the outside of the doors as well. It was strange to think like a slaveowner. He looked back at the small sheds. Some lime whitewash remained, and although it was faded, Javan judged it would be enough to keep them dry, should they still be here for the first rains. He could only hope the roofs were in good shape.

  Their guide called out a greeting. His voice had scarcely faded when the heavy wooden door of the big house opened, and Sarah stepped out.

  Javan’s memory suffered yet another painful blow. He remembered her dark-haired, plump, her skin unlined. The woman before him was none of those things. Her hair was white, her skin wrinkled and spotted with age, her body thin and bent.

  Only her eyes remained the same, and they snapped fire at Javan. She gave no greeting.

  “I thank you for your kindness in providing us with lodging,” Javan said quietly.

  Sarah nodded shortly, but still said nothing. Her lips compressed into a tight line, her eyebrows drew into a gray scowl.

  “Did they tell you who we are? We are not strangers to you, Sarah, wife of Geber. I remember you well from my childhood. I am . . .”

  “I know who you are, Javan.” She interrupted with the permission of age. “You have no need to introduce yourself to me. I knew your mother and father well. They are not here to tell you what they think, but I will! You bring your wife into my house like she is a prize, and I am expected to make my enemy welcome! I did not think I would live to see a day so black as this one. They tell me, into whose house you bring this woman, that I must let a worshipper of Molech take rest beneath my roof. I will do it, but only because I have been given no other choice.”

  She stepped forward, her movements no less threatening because of her age and awkwardness. “Hear me well, Javan, and you, too, Obed. I will watch these women whom you have brought into our land. I will watch them ever so closely.”

  With that, she turned away, and walked back into her house. The only sign she left for them was the open door.

  Javan met Obed’s gaze and shrugged. “There is no place else for us to go,” he said, and stepped inside.

  Obed motioned for Taleh to enter ahead of him. She hesitated, but Javan was vanishing into the dark interior. The only thing worse than going into the house of a woman who hated her was going in without his help, so she followed.

  The light from outside was blocked briefly when Merab and Obed followed. The lattices had been closed against the heat of the day. The room’s coolness came as a welcome relief. She saw the room had chairs set about, and a bench piled with cushions. Javan had followed their hostess farther into the house, and Taleh stood alone and uncertain. Obed held Merab’s hand.

  Javan peered around the doorway on the opposite side of the room. He seemed to bring the enticing smell of boiling meat, and vegetables. Taleh identified spices, dill and sage, and warm bread. The air itself smelled good enough to eat.

  “Come.” Javan beckoned to her, and smiled. She felt herself smile back. “Sarah has food. We must honor her by eating it while it is still warm.”

  As Taleh stepped past him into the next room, his arm went around her waist, guiding her. Did it mean anything?

  A table stood in the middle of the room, spread with all the wonderful food that had scented the air. It was long, big enough for many more than their small party. Benches ran along each side. No oil lamps hindered the fragrant air with their sputtering smoke. Instead, the windows were open, and the warm sunlight danced along with the dust playing in the golden beams.

  Sarah entered, carrying two heavy p
itchers, glistening with water, straining her wrinkled arms, pulling her frown tighter with their weight. “Sit. Sit. I did not carry all this food in for you to look at it.”

  Taleh had a difficult time swallowing her food under the scornful eye of the old woman. Javan and Obed insisted on speaking words before anyone was allowed to eat. Taleh had become accustomed to their habit the last few days of the trip, and saved herself another scowl by waiting, knowing it would more particularly be done here.

  After the meal, Sarah gruffly complained about the clean-up, and Taleh felt Javan’s steady gaze. She fought off the quick irritation. Did he not know by this time that she was willing to work? She never shirked any of the tasks he gave her. She caught her return glare in time.

  Javan looked around what would be his home for the next month. After sleeping under the stars for so long, he was not disposed to complain. The room was medium-sized, with a latticed window set fairly high off the floor. When he had opened it earlier, he noticed it overlooked the small courtyard behind Sarah’s house. The sheds sat further back, easily visible from the rooms on the upper floor.

  Behind him, Taleh said nothing.

  The room’s only furnishings were rolled-up sleeping pallets of woven wool stuffed with goat’s fur. The doorway was covered by a thick leather curtain of carefully tanned and beautifully pieced goatskins, likely the work of Obed’s brother Jesse. Javan had avoided looking too closely at it, his envy of Obed’s life too bitter to permit that.

  No one had stopped by to welcome him. A few had paused to watch while he and Obed untied sack after sack from the donkeys, gold glinting through the weave, clinking as each was set on the ground. He had expected more to come, to renew old friendships. Had he already met those who remembered him? Were the ones missing all dead? Or was it more likely that this was their way of expressing disapproval?

  As they had walked through the village, the people had stared at Taleh, and frowned at him. They saw only her nation and her beauty, and despised him for his weakness. He wondered if anyone would bother to find out just how much Taleh had endured already, belying her fragile appearance.

  Taleh moved around the room quietly, peeking inside the large sacks, seeing his treasures at last. He smiled. “Do you want anything there?”

  She jumped at the sound of his voice, and turned startled eyes at him. “What?”

  Had his people completely undone the days of trust he had tried to build? He tried again. “Do you see anything you like?”

  “I was merely looking.”

  “So I see. Do you find anything to your taste?”

  “It is all very nice.”

  “These possessions belong to you now, as well. Do not be shy with them.” Would they bring bad memories for her, seeing her people’s possessions in this foreign land? She would have to come to terms with it. She would have to come to terms with much, and soon.

  Taleh unpacked carefully, seemingly trying to arrange her new lodgings the way a woman would like, but she did not fool him. She was using the tasks as a distraction, busy work while she waited for him to start . . . something. He knew, because his nerves, too, were stretched to the breaking point, but not by her nearness. No, the task he had dreaded was at hand, and he had told her nothing, relishing the time of peace. The leather curtain might shut out prying eyes, but not the ears that monitored his every move.

  He would not let them down. He was determined to follow the Law, however difficult it might be, to show everyone he had not been corrupted by the practices of Ammon. Especially after bringing home, not just an Ammonite wife, which was bad enough, but Ammonite slaves as well.

  He was delaying. He knew it. Taleh’s presence surrounded him, her fluttery movements betraying her nervousness. To tell her she had nothing to fear from this night would not be the truth. This night she would lose, not her virginity, but her hair. He was not sure which was the greater loss.

  He had put it off far too long. How hard could it be just to tell her? She was on her knees by the bundles. His hands were damp. He wiped them on his tunic.

  “Taleh, sit down. There is no need for all this work. I will have someone help you unload the sacks tomorrow. We have things to talk about now.”

  She turned large, wary eyes on him, and cautiously eased herself upright, the brightly painted jar she had been unpacking clenched tightly in her arms. Javan marveled it did not break. Javan walked over. It was strange to see her like this, for she had begun to relax in his presence. He gently pried her fingers off the jar.

  “I want only to explain some things to you.” He captured her hands in his. “There are things I should have told you before, but the time did not seem right. Now you have to know.” How did he go from here? Did he simply say, I cannot take you for a month? Furthermore, this night I must shave off all your beautiful hair?

  Did he say, I like this no more than you? If it were not required, I would not? Would that help?

  Now that the time was here, he felt completely at a loss, unqualified for the task.

  He sat down on the stone floor first, and pulled gently until she had to join him. She gave him a tentative smile, and guilt stabbed again. “We are now wed. It has been registered, and witnessed by the village. I fear you are in for a difficult time. I did not expect you to be welcomed, but I did hope for less anger.” He looked at her closely, holding her gaze as well as her hands. “I hope you will remember how much responsibility you bear, carrying my name.”

  C H A P T E R 14

  Taleh straightened her back, stiff with hurt. He may not have meant it to be an insult, but it felt very much like one. “I shall endeavor not to disgrace you,” she said with as much dignity as she could. She tried to pull her hands away, but he did not let go.

  “I know.” His eyes were kind, and he smiled at her. To Taleh’s dismay, her anger slipped, and she could not bring it back. What power did he hold over her, that he could melt her anger with a smile?

  “I have learned you always do your best at whatever you attempt. You also do not complain. You may find both these qualities tested in the days to come.”

  Unexpectedly he dropped her hands and bolted erect, striding over to the window as though something drove him on. He stood looking at the closed lattice, not moving to open it. Unease prickled at Taleh’s spine.

  He turned to face her, and this time his eyes held pity. She wrapped her arms around her middle, trying to keep her fear at bay, her fingers cold where they touched her skin.

  “I know you think I will take you tonight. I have been remiss in acquainting you with the rules of our Law. You cannot learn it all at once. In the future, I will make time to teach you when each day’s work is done. But you must know what will and will not happen this night. This is not the night I will claim your body. Our Law requires I give you a month to mourn your family. Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” Taleh could not stop the words flooding out of her. “I repel you now that you are back on your own land! Your leaders have shamed you, and you now realize what a mistake you have made. Do I have to pass more trials before I qualify to be your wife? What will the men at your gates do if I fail one of them? Will they banish me to the desert? Or will they make it a merciful end and kill me where I stand?”

  She was horrified after the words were out, but there was no way to take them back. Even if she could have, she needed to hear his answer.

  Her tirade startled Javan, she could tell by his raised brows, but when he spoke, his voice was mild. “That is not true. I cannot regret what I said to the elders, nor will I apologize for my words. I might hate your country, what I saw there, but I know that was not your belief. I saw your face on the journey here when I mentioned the altars. There was much of your land you hated, also.”

  She wanted to turn her head away, but he caught her chin. “No, do not deny it. I saw it in your eyes, then and now.” He sobered. He had been serious, but the ominous weight of moments ago was back, and knots reformed in her stomach. “We are not
done with tonight. This month of waiting is the Law, if we wish to wed a captive. It applies to Obed and Merab as well. You will not be waiting alone. I, too, must endure this test. Do you think it easier for me? It will be torment for me.”

  He would be tormented? Relief slipped through her. Perhaps he did desire her, enough to overcome his hatred of her Ammonite-ness.

  He kept speaking. “This time can help us if we use it the right way. You will be able to learn about us. I will go out to my land and rebuild my family’s home.”

  She went suddenly cold. “You will leave me here alone?”

  “I will be here each evening. I must fix us a house. I will have the house completed before this month is over. You will not be here alone. You have Merab, and Sarah.”

  Taleh raised a skeptical eyebrow. It was as much as she could do just then. She was going to be left alone all day with people who hated her.

  “Do not let her gruffness frighten you. Win her over. Help her with her chores. She has much to do with so many staying here. She is too old to do everything herself. Besides, how else can we get through this? If we spend too much time together, we will surely fail this test.”

  He had used the wrong word. Before she could throw that word back at him, he added, “Yes, it is a test. A trial. You are right in that. But it is not just for you. It is a test for both of us. We both have much to prove.”

  She was no longer a child, Taleh told herself as she held his gaze. She had survived Chelmai’s vicious words. She had endured the harassments of the men of Minnith. She had lived through the long journey across the desert, been unharmed during the destruction of the rebels. She could do this.

  They thought she was not as good as they, that she, by her very presence, contaminated them. She may not know their law yet, but she could learn. She would show them what she was made of.

  It would be easier if she had Javan’s presence when she went among them, but possibly she had something to prove to him as well. As long as he was not going to abandon her, as long as he was willing to keep her, she would make it through this time.