Temper The Wind (Ancient Israel)

by Boyd, Mary Ellen

  The trauma of birth, seen up close, startled and frightened Taleh. Her anger disappeared, and she could not resurrect it. She could only stare at the woman who had almost been her friend.

  The child within Merab pushed, and Taleh watched the lump grow and fade. A child was at stake, and she would not let Molech’s reach win.

  Her voice would only come as a whisper. “I am here, Merab. I had hoped to find you begging for a reprieve, to be allowed to stay and raise your child. I wanted you to change your mind. I have been hoping for that all these months. If you choose that, I will back you, I will plead with Obed on your behalf myself.” Foolish dreams. Merab’s already pursed lips seemed to harden.

  She must be firm, Taleh reminded herself. She would not give in, not even to her sympathy. “I did not come to help you kill your child. Merab, do not think to make me choose between you and Javan, between Israel and Ammon. You will not like my choice.”

  She sensed movement nearby. Leah shuffled to the far side of the room. Sarah waited beside the bed. Neither gave her any assistance.

  At last, Merab’s green eyes looked into hers. “When this is done, if I live, come with me.”

  Again? “No.”

  “If you do not, the gods will hunt you down and punish you for your betrayal,” she spat.

  “They cannot reach me here,” Taleh said with a confidence she did not entirely feel.

  “You know nothing – OH!” Merab’s voice ended in a shriek. Her attention turned inward. Her legs, held so close together, fell apart and she strained.

  Sarah gave Taleh a gentle push aside. “It is what I hoped. She cannot fight this, her body will have its say.” The midwife did not waste time on a smile, just moved to the bed.

  Taleh stepped back, glad to get away from Merab’s eyes and from the scent, the very pulse of pain that permeated the bed. Leah was at her side, carrying a strange short stool with thick legs, flat arm rests and a seat like a horse’s hoof, with an opening in the center and no front to it. After Leah set it down near the bed, Taleh realized it was the birthing stool. She wanted time to examine it for her own turn, but there was too much to do.

  The men must have been called in, for they both appeared. Merab did not fight them as they settled her on it and disappeared in a hurry. Sarah moved quickly to strip off Merab’s robe.

  Merab did not even notice she was naked. The birth had taken control, her reactions no longer belonged to her. Deep animal-like groans came from somewhere far inside her. Her hands gripped the arm rests, and she pressed her feet against the floor, shoving as though she meant to tip herself over. But the chair had been built to withstand such treatment, its stubby legs splayed against her force.

  Taleh watched in fascination as the birth progressed. The groans became screams, broken by rasping, throaty breaths and agonized whimpers. Sweat poured off Merab’s body, and gleamed on her golden skin. The smell of her hard-working body hung heavy in the air.

  At last, Sarah, sitting on the floor in front of Merab, crowed, “I see the head! Lots and lots of dark hair!”

  Taleh did not even know she pushed into the crowded area. The sight was shocking, and wondrous. A head, a real live baby’s head! emerged from inside Merab. In the background, Merab started to cry with the last effort, but Taleh could not look away. Obed’s dark hair showed first, then tiny, scrunched eyes, a nose surely too small to be genuine, a mouth, open, emitting only gurgling noises, then a strange jumble of loose-joined parts as the body slid out faster than Taleh ever imagined.

  A daughter!

  The women vied for the best position, as Sarah deftly slipped a finger in the baby’s mouth and scooped out mucus. The cord slowly lost its color, fading and shrinking, forcing the baby to try to breathe again.

  And then a cry, strong and healthy, a new life announcing to the world it had arrived.

  Sarah held it in hands suddenly young, waiting to sever its connection to the woman who did not care if it lived or died. At last, the clean knife had its turn, and the baby was free.

  Sarah handed it, cord swaying, only a little blood dripping from the end, to its mother.

  Leah cradled it close to her heart, and then lowered her robe as she put her daughter to her breast.

  C H A P T E R 25

  Summer’s heat baked the soil. Only the last of the fruit trees, the figs, grapes and olives, were left still green and productive. The grains were long harvested, their precious yield carefully stored away. The ground suffered, as it did every summer, under the sun’s oppression.

  Taleh felt her time draw close. She drank water faithfully, under Sarah’s constant reminders. It helped some to combat the hot days, made hotter by her body’s strain. Her back ached always as it curved under the great mound of her belly. Her waist had become a distant memory. Her hands and feet were swollen and sore. She could not even see to put on her sandals. It was just as well, for her sandals no longer fit over her puffy feet. She had tried wearing Javan’s sandals, but they slipped around, and the leather straps rubbed the bloated tissues. As she waddled through her daily chores, she felt the soil collect between her toes and on the soles of her bare feet. She had to content herself with soaking them in a big bowl of water to clean them. They only got washed properly when Javan did it for her. She could not bend down far enough to try.

  There was not even room inside her for a deep breath.

  But today she could handle these discomforts with grace. Today, Javan had promised her a trip to the village.

  She tied the belt of her robe above her belly, and it settled into its familiar place just beneath her breasts. The day’s warmth stuck the curls around her face to her forehead. She pulled the headband off, and tied it around the tumbled curls clinging to the back of her neck. As much as she loved having her hair grow back, it was hard to appreciate its length on hot days like this one.

  Javan’s deep voice rumbled to someone outside the house. Today would be theirs, and she intended to enjoy it, despite her large belly and swollen feet. While her mind skipped gaily to the door, her body moved more sedately. Javan smiled at her when she came outside. He did that a lot, but Taleh had seen the worry in his eyes when he thought she was not looking.

  The camel sat in cud-chewing boredom behind her husband.

  “I thought we were going to walk,” Taleh muttered.

  Javan folded his arms. “You are in no condition to walk the entire way to the village. I know you dislike the camel, Taleh, but I cannot carry you far if you grow tired.”

  She resisted the urge to stare at his massive arms. “I do not dislike the camel. I just . . . distrust him. He always acts as though my presence demeans him.”

  The deep chuckle she cherished and did not hear enough sent sweet chills along her spine. “He treats everyone the same way, even me.”

  She smiled into Javan’s twinkling brown eyes. “Well, then, let us presume upon him.”

  As they rode over the hill, Taleh’s mouth dropped open. She gave a delighted shriek, and twisted to look up at her husband. “A caravan! A caravan, oh, Javan, you knew! Am I right? You knew all the time!”

  He kissed her nose quickly, then turned her back around. “Yes, I knew. You missed the last caravan to come through. I wanted to surprise you, to make up for the other times.” He took a deep breath. Taleh felt the strength of his muscular chest pressing against her back. “It seems every time the Midianites have come through, something bad happened. I wanted to give you pleasant memories.”

  Her heart melted. He must love her. Would a man who did not love his wife show such thoughtfulness?

  She would hope, and continue to love him. Some day he would find the words to tell her.

  Some day. She would be patient.

  This time there were no clouds to disturb her as they drew near to the impromptu marketplace. Even the sky was clear. Merab was no longer around. She had not been permitted to remain long after the birth. Obed had wasted no time putting her on the first Midianite caravan to come past.


  Taleh had not been there to witness the event. Javan hurried her away shortly after Obed’s daughter was born. But that did not keep the story from reaching Taleh. She gave an involuntary shudder, thinking about the rigid side of Obed she had never seen.

  Javan slid off as the camel settled itself, and his hands closed firmly around her waist. He leaned close, holding her firmly, and scrutinized her face. “Do not look back. What is done is done.”

  He did that often, reading her mind.

  He lifted her off the camel as though she weighed no more than when they first met. He turned to set her down, and she heard a muffled grunt. She giggled. “You have nothing to prove to me, husband. I already know what a strong man you are.”

  A dull red crept up his face, and she laughed. She raised herself onto her toes, and kissed him quickly on the cheek. “It is a wonderful gift, Javan. Thank you very much.”

  Javan smiled at her. Taleh’s neck prickled with menace.

  It was not from Javan. Ignoring the puzzled look on her husband’s face, Taleh swiveled around. The crowd milled about, no one giving them more than a smothered grin. She could see no malice on any faces, the comfortably familiar faces of the villagers.

  The feeling faded. She turned back to Javan.

  “What is it?”

  “I do not know. For a moment, I thought I felt . . . someone staring at me.”

  “What do you expect when you kiss me in public?” Javan‘s face held the smug look of a contented man.

  But Taleh could not brush aside the menace that left a faint echo inside her.

  “Taleh, there is nothing to make you afraid. Sarah told you to expect strange worries and fears, did she not?”

  Taleh nodded hesitantly.

  “You are pregnant, and near to giving birth. You must expect this, you know that. This is normal.” He shook her gently, almost a caress.

  She looked into his warm dark eyes, so confident and calm. Her worries eased away. Javan would take care of her. “You are right.” She grasped the front of his tunic and tugged. “Let us see what is here.”

  Taleh found new pots, and a wooden bucket. Javan found a fine set of knives and some papyrus. Taleh discovered a bracelet of silver from Egypt that had a matching head wreath. Javan bargained for a leather-covered yoke for his donkeys. Taleh saw some citron seeds, and wistfully passed them by. Javan made an excuse, and went back to get them. His enjoyment in her pleasure came as a surprise. Taleh stopped to look at a finely woven wool blanket, just the size for a baby.

  Their eyes met over its softness, and they nodded in unison.

  It was a day for dreams, for happy smiles and warm laughter.

  Javan tied their new possessions onto the leather straps holding the saddle blanket into place, and gave a tug. “I think they will be safe there. We should go home now. I see dark shadows beneath your eyes. It would not be good for you to become too tired.”

  Taleh did not want the day to end, but she felt the heaviness drag at her. “I enjoyed myself very much, Javan. Today has been all I could ask. I thank you.”

  “I am glad.” He touched her face lightly. “Now, let us start back. I think you could fall asleep on the journey.”

  Taleh smiled. “I think you are right.”

  Birds twittered between the trees, flashes of browns and reds and yellows. In the underbrush, small creatures scuttled and crackled. It smelled of warm soil and musty wood, and camel. Taleh molded into Javan’s arms, wrapping them around her belly and holding them in place. The baby shifted and stretched, and Javan kissed her hair. “We have a strong child.”

  “I think I will appreciate it more when he is out of me. Sometimes I do not enjoy his strength.”

  Javan shifted behind her. “Do you think it will be a son?”

  Taleh mused in brief silence. “I must. Have you noticed I never say ‘she,’ only ‘he?’ I never thought about that until now.”

  Taleh had to ask. “What if it is a daughter?”

  “I would love a daughter. We can always have a son another time.”

  Another time. Taleh smiled into the trees’ lengthening shadows. Then the smile faded. What if he could not wait, if he took another wife, and she gave him his first son?

  Taleh gave a brief prayer. Please, let this one be a boy.

  They were almost halfway home when the warning prickle came back.

  “Javan, stop! Quickly!”

  He pulled the camel up. “What is wrong? Is it the baby?”

  “No! Sh-h-h! I need to listen.”

  Javan pulled the camel up. Birds again, the wind whispering through the trees, and tiny scrabbling sounds from the forest floor, but Taleh could hear nothing that sounded like a threat.

  Javan waited patiently. He did not like this new oddity of Taleh’s pregnancy. He liked even less how certain she was. The hair on his arms rose as he worried about her mind. Women did not go insane from pregnancy, did they?

  Her behavior had been perfectly normal for her condition until they got to the caravan. What was it about them that always brought strange things into his wife’s life? Had they placed a spell upon her?

  He shook his head in disgust. Now he was thinking fantastic thoughts. A spell, indeed.

  He urged the camel forward.

  “Javan, wait!”

  “There is nothing here, Taleh. There was nothing in the market, there is nothing here.”

  “But I felt something.”

  “It is the pregnancy, Taleh, nothing more. Surely you know I would do nothing to jeopardize either you or the child. I was a soldier for many years. I tell you, there is no danger. Did you see anything wrong at the market?”

  “But –” Taleh began.

  “No, wife. You must be reasonable about this. Did you see anything wrong at the market?”

  “No.” The word came out grudgingly.

  Javan smiled. “Did you hear anything wrong just now?”

  “No.”

  “Very well, then. Nothing is wrong. Now, relax. We will be home soon, and you can rest. Obviously we did too much for you today.”

  But the prickle was still there, all the way home.

  Javan’s words meant nothing this time, carried no reassurance, banished no fears. Taleh knew she was being followed.

  Javan pulled the camel to a stop by the door. The camel knelt and he slipped off. Taleh missed his protection even as he reached for her. She bit her tongue to keep from bringing the subject up again.

  There was no proof, nothing she could touch and say, see, I was right. It was just that tingle on the back of her neck as she had walked through the village, a shadow that was never there when she turned around. She, too, wanted to pass it off as a quirk of her pregnancy, but that would be a lie. Her pregnancy had its share of strange and new feelings, but this was not one of them.

  She did not know what more to tell Javan, so she said nothing. How could she explain it better, what would she say? Javan was right when he said she knew everyone in the village. Which one would mean her harm? Their time of staring was long past. She might not be accepted yet, but she was acknowledged. No one stopped for a second look any more. Certainly no one cared enough to trail her as she moved around the village.

  So who was it? She had to look away from Javan’s steady gaze.

  She was almost happy in this life of hers. Javan had become her reason for being, her very breath. She loved him with an intensity that terrified her. The feeling had grown from its tiny beginnings in their early days, until it consumed her. He had never said anything to her about how he felt, an omission that stole a bit of her joy.

  She looked back as he led the camel away. Since she could not convince him, she would simply have to keep him within her sight at all times. He was her guardian. As long as he was nearby, she was safe. He had made the transition from soldier to farmer, but he did not completely leave the warrior behind. She saw it there still, in the alertness he could not stop, the quickness of his reactions, the strength of his bo
dy.

  She wanted, needed his support, the comfort his presence gave her. She carried their child, and she would let nothing endanger that precious life.

  There was danger now. It hung heavy in the air, it lurked in the shadows, hunkered among the trees.

  And it left no evidence behind.

  One day went past without incident, and another. She caught Javan giving her wary glances, but he made no comment. He did not understand her fear, she knew, could find no reason for it.

  Three days and Taleh’s dread grew. She had no proof, nothing even out of the ordinary, but she knew it was real.

  Javan was not visible from the house. He wanted to expand his field, and was busily felling trees to make more room for crops. She followed his movements by the shivering trees as they trembled under his axe. She had not let herself cling to him and plead with him to stay close, no matter how badly she wanted to. She felt his frustration with her, his irritated confusion, and had stiffened her spine. Someone would be within view. If it had to be only one of the slaves, so be it. They would surely hear a scream for help.

  She picked up the large wooden ladle from the long shelf and stepped back outside.

  The sheepfold was empty. She turned in jerky circles, sweeping the area with a frenzied gaze. There was no one in sight, no sound, no thunk of an axe against wood, no slave boy puttering around the pens.

  No protection.

  Terror sent her cowering against the wall, gasping for air, afraid to stay outside, too panicked to go back inside. Arms wrapped tightly around her belly, swollen huge with Javan’s child, she shivered and prayed, frantically searching the distance.

  Javan, come into sight, someone please be there.

  And one of the boys came from behind the sheep sheds. The fear vanished as quickly as it came.