A Light on the Hill

by Connilyn Cossette

  I stood, bracing myself against the trembling of my legs. “I am ready,” I said to Darek—and to Yahweh.

  Darek whispered something that I could not decipher, then gripped my hand and led me forward through the trees. Once we reached the edge of the grove, the outline of the hill-top city against the night sky was made clear in the moonlight. It was so black. Not one torch glinted from the ramparts. All was still. Silent. As if no one inhabited the place.

  “Is it empty?” I followed the line of the walls with my eyes, gauging how far I’d have to run to get around the other side. What would I find there?

  “No. Yehoshua left a contingent of soldiers here after it was taken. And a number of Levite families journeyed here the day before the festival to aid the priest who will preside over this refuge city, and to claim Kedesh as their home.” His breathy explanation seemed far too distant from the confident man I’d come to love, and I longed to know whether he was angry with me for this decision.

  I opened my mouth to ask, but just as quickly sealed it shut. It didn’t matter. This would be the last I would see of him. Perhaps it was best this way. He could walk away, find life in that beautiful valley, find another woman to marry, one who had not killed his nephews . . .

  “Ready?” he said, releasing my hand. I felt the move echo in my heart as well. “You must go—quietly but quickly. Do not stop until you reach those gates.”

  I nodded, tears scalding my throat, doing my best not to search out his eyes and savor one last taste of his presence.

  “Go!” he said.

  We both ran forward, bursting from the shelter of the trees to dart across the open area around Kedesh. Keeping my eyes trained on the dark walls, I pressed forward, grateful that I could still hear Darek’s quick breaths beside me, but imagining that Raviv was directly behind us, vengeance in his eyes and the names of his sons on his lips.

  By the time we’d reached the shallow ditch that surrounded the city, I was confounded as to why I had not already been thrown to the ground and my throat slit. Had Darek been wrong? Was Raviv not here after all? A tiny wedge of optimism pressed in. Perhaps I would survive this night.

  Circling around the northern end of the city walls, we made it to the other side of Kedesh. Sneaking another peek up at the tall ramparts and the few black outlines of windows along the top, I searched for signs of life within. Nothing. A flash of remembrance brushed through me, images of another window built into high city walls, and the scarlet cord that had saved us when Jericho fell.

  A large hand locked around my arm, yanking me to a stop and causing me to cry out in pain. “And where are you heading so fast?”

  Darek whipped around, sword outstretched. The grip on me tightened, making my arm go numb. I stifled a whimper. The strong smell of sheep clung to the man, but I could barely make out his features in the moonlight. Was he one of Raviv’s men?

  “Let her go,” said Darek.

  “I’ve been warned about a Canaanite woman sneaking about. Looks as if the warning was in earnest.”

  “I am not Canaanite. Please, let me go.” I attempted to twist away, but he held me fast.

  “You do not understand,” said Darek. “She is in danger. Free her.”

  “I don’t think I will. What business do you have here?”

  “There is no time to explain.”

  “You thieves? Come to steal sheep? These are Levite stock, I won’t allow it.”

  “No, we are not . . .” Darek’s words dissipated at the sound of feet coming toward us in the dark, along with an all-too-familiar voice.

  “Thank you, Barrak. You do your job well. Your flock is well protected.” Raviv strode into view, flanked by three of his men I recognized from the night outside Rimona’s home, one of them carrying a small torch. “I’ll take custody of this woman now.”

  “You’ll do no such thing,” said Darek.

  “Thank you for bringing her to me, brother, just as you promised.” Raviv acted as though he’d not even heard Darek’s demand. “Your loyalty is appreciated.”

  He’d promised to deliver me to Raviv?

  I sucked in a breath, waiting for Darek to deny such a thing, to insist that he’d always planned to escort me to a just and fair trial, but he did not look at me as he said, “I changed my mind.”

  Raviv’s brows went high. “Changed your mind?”

  “Moriyah deserves a fair trial. She did not intend for—”

  “She murdered my sons!” Raviv roared, his expression changing from bridled malice to unfettered fury in an instant. “I watched my boys suffer a tortuous death at her hands. I had to leave them behind for our father to bury alone. She. Will. Die.”

  The shepherd gasped, apparently realizing that Raviv had duped him into looking out for a Canaanite spy instead of a manslayer seeking refuge in Kedesh. “Now, if this is a matter for the priest—”

  “This is a matter of lawful vengeance on a murderer.” He spat the word in my direction.

  “There was no murderous intent, Raviv. It was an accident.” Darek stepped toward his brother, one palm upraised. “She did not mean to hurt them.”

  Raviv flinched back, as if stung, disgust contorting his features. “What has this witch done to you? You would see your nephews’ lives go unavenged? Twist justice for the sake of this . . .” he glared at me, his eyes latched to the scar on my face and then traveled down to my dress. “ . . . this whore? Do you not remember the injustice done to our own mother?”

  Darek shook his head. “It is not the same—”

  “You’re right, our mother was innocent. That murderer is not. Stand aside. She deserves to die.”

  Darek stood firm in front of me, his sword limp at his side. “I will not.”

  Raviv went still, his expression cold as death. “Then you are not my brother.”

  From the corner of my eye I registered a flash of movement, and at the same time the shepherd jerked backward, releasing me.

  Baz and Aviram, both with weapons outstretched and determination on their faces, plowed into Raviv and his men. Shock that my father’s men had been hiding here near Kedesh for all this time, along with confusion at the sudden chaos, paralyzed me.

  Darek swung around and yelled, “Run!” before turning back to defend himself against one of Raviv’s men.

  Spinning around, I ran back the way we’d come, pulse pounding and body screaming with terror. Hearing no footsteps behind me, I snatched a look over my shoulder just as Raviv swung his sword at his own brother. The flat of the blade slammed into Darek’s head, knocking him to the ground.

  My heart, and possibly my mouth, screamed my love’s name, and the temptation to turn around and run to him was a powerful current, but Raviv’s head jerked toward me at the same moment.

  Tears pouring, I ran, following the curve of the city walls, willing every bit of strength I had left into my legs. I did not want to die. I wanted to live. I’d always wanted to live, even with the blight of a mark on my face. Skidding sideways on a patch of gravel, my ankle twisted, but I did not stop.

  Help me! Mercy! Mercy, Yahweh!

  My inward plea spilled out of my mouth as I rounded the southern end of the city, desperately searching for the gates through the darkness. “Mercy! Mercy! Help!”

  The ground sloped upward, and with desperate relief flooding my body, I realized that I’d nearly reached the entrance of Kedesh. Breathless, I pressed forward up the earthen ramp, but miscalculating the incline, I tripped and fell, landing on one elbow and my forehead slamming against the hard-packed ground. Trying to blink away the disorientation, I looked up at city gates within ten paces of where I’d fallen. They were closed, as Darek had said they would be. No sign of life.

  And yet—I blinked harder to clear my sight. Was that a light?

  Yes! An oil lamp burned in a window not far from the gates. I scrambled to my feet, kept my eyes latched on the light, and ran toward it, ignoring the dizzying pain in my elbow and the wetness above my eye that annou
nced I’d cut my forehead in my fall.

  “Stop!” Raviv’s livid bellow came from about fifteen paces behind me.

  “Help! Help!” I screamed just as I reached the tall city gates. I pounded at the wood, my fists landing in muted thuds against the thick cedar, crying out for mercy, again and again, while begging Yahweh for the same.

  The clank of wood and metal within startled me. The gate shuddered and then swung inward, little more than a cubit wide. Warm light spilled through the opening. A large, scarred hand reached out, snagged my wrist, and yanked me inside.

  CHAPTER

  Thirty-Four

  Kneeling before the man who had pulled me to safety—an older man, dark-haired with a long silvering beard and astonishment on his face—I repeated my plea. “Mercy.” The wound on my forehead throbbed, and I was forced to blink the blood out of my vision as I looked up at him. “Help me.”

  A group of soldiers flanked the man, weapons in their hands.

  “What is happening here?” said the man, his gaze drawn to my scar. “Are you Canaanite?”

  A livid Raviv suddenly pressed through the gate, heading for me. “Give her to me” he bellowed.

  Thankfully, before he reached me, three soldiers stepped in front of him, their wide shoulders a wall between me and the one who’d come to avenge blood. Two other soldiers grabbed Raviv and stripped him of his sword.

  “What is going on here?” the older man said.

  “I have the right to her life,” said Raviv, surging against the men who held his arms. “Hand her over and we will leave.”

  From my place in the dirt behind the soldiers, I saw Raviv’s men enter the gate of the city, and close behind them came Baz and Aviram. All of them were quickly divested of their weapons by the guards. Blood trickled down Baz’s arm, and Aviram had a gash near his ear.

  But Darek? Where was Darek? I craned my neck to peer into the darkness outside the gate. Surely Raviv had not killed his own brother in pursuit of me?

  “Explain yourself,” said my rescuer to Raviv, with the authority of a leader in his tone. “I am the priest in charge of this city. I will determine who stays and who goes.”

  “She is a murderer,” spat Raviv. “And a zonah.”

  “She is nothing of the sort,” Aviram spoke over him, taking a few steps toward me. The soldiers pressed closer together, shielding me with their bodies, obviously unsure who was friend and who was foe. And even unarmed Aviram and Baz were imposing.

  “She killed my sons,” said Raviv, with an accusing jab of his finger toward me. “And she will die for it.”

  He looked gaunt, as if he’d not eaten for several days, his cheeks hollow beneath eyes that regarded me with black vengeance. And yet behind the searing anger I glimpsed a deep well of regret. From the story Darek had told me by the lake, I wondered if guilt for his neglect of the boys since the death of his wife had intensified his malice toward me. Empathy welled in my heart, and I longed to kneel at his feet and beg for forgiveness.

  The priest sighed. “So, you accuse this woman of murder and she has come to Kedesh to plead for her life?”

  Raviv scoffed. “There is nothing to plead. She is a murderer of the worst sort, and I have waited long enough to see her pay. Give her to me and we will go.”

  The priest shook his head. “You know the laws or you all would not be here. It doesn’t matter that she is a Canaanite; she, too, is allowed to take refuge in this city.”

  “She is Hebrew,” said Aviram. “And she is innocent.”

  The priest approached me, waving aside his soldiers. “Are you Hebrew, daughter?”

  “I am. My mother was born of the tribe of Yehudah. And I plead your mercy and beg of you to give me refuge here.” I dropped my head, lifting my palms in supplication. “I do not deny that his sons are dead because of my actions. But there was no malice in my heart. It was an accident.”

  “Ah.” The priest scratched at his graying beard with a grimace. “Now things are becoming clear. Where are you from, dear?”

  “Shiloh.”

  His eyes went wide. “You have traveled all the way from Shiloh?”

  “Yes. We attempted to go to Shechem, but were prevented by Raviv’s men from reaching the city.”

  The priest turned his head to look at Raviv. “You prevented her from reaching the refuge city? Even though by law she has every right to a fair trial?”

  Raviv scowled, his dark gaze trapping mine. “And I have the legal right to her blood.”

  Unable to look away from the naked hatred in his eyes, a shudder ran the length of my body. Although I’d known how enraged he was, hearing the statement from his lips made my knees tremble. He did not simply want me to die. He wanted me to suffer.

  “I understand your anger at losing your children,” the priest said, his tone full of compassion. “But the law written by Mosheh is very clear. This young woman has the right to a trial to determine her motives and discover whether there were witnesses to the crime. She will be escorted back to Shiloh where the elders will hear both of your testimonies.”

  Raviv began to protest again, but the priest lifted his palms in front of his chest, both of them displaying thick scars. “My decision is final. I think it best for you and your friends to spend the night outside of the city. She is now in my custody and will remain under protection until delivered to Shiloh.”

  Raviv glanced my way again, vengeance aflame in his dark eyes. “You will die—trial or no trial. I will end you, if it’s the last thing I do.” Then he shook off the guards that had been holding him back and strode toward the city gates.

  A shadowed figure stood near to the exit, head down. As the man shifted his stance, his face became clear in the torchlight, causing relief to wash through me. Darek. Alive.

  Raviv barely paused as he brushed past Darek and said with a flat tone, “I meant what I said. We are through.” And then, without a second glance at the brother he’d disowned with those words, Raviv walked out of Kedesh and into the night.

  My body wavered, exhaustion and relief slamming into me like twin storms. I was safe. I slumped forward, my bleeding hands on my knees.

  The priest knelt next to me and wrapped a fatherly arm around my shoulders. “What is your name, daughter?” he asked, his voice compassionate and his gaze searching.

  “Moriyah,” I replied. “I am the daughter of Ishai, a vintner in Shiloh.”

  “Ah, yes, I have heard of him—and his wine. My name is Dov. It seems you have quite a story to tell. But first I will take you to my wife. She will tend your wounds, make sure you are fed, and will find you and your friends someplace to rest.”

  I glanced up, searching for Darek through the crowd that had assembled around me, sighing in relief as I caught sight of him near the gate.

  His eyes still displayed the ravaging effects of Raviv’s hate-filled words, but as he gazed back at me, a small smile lifted one corner of his mouth—although it was only a shadow of the brilliant one he’d given me the night of the festival. He nodded a farewell to me, said something I could not hear to Baz and Aviram, then slipped out of the city and out of my life.

  3 Elul

  Shiloh

  I ran my hand over the wide curve of the oven’s mouth. How I’d missed kneeling here, waiting for the sticky rounds of dough on its walls to transform into golden-brown bread. The aroma of yeast and charcoal wafted around me with blessed familiarity. Home.

  I’d arrived in Shiloh yesterday in the back of a wagon and in the custody of six well-armed guards. I’d been given permission by the elder council to stay in my home until a trial date was determined. Although on edge about what was in store for me, and desperately missing both Yuval and Darek, I was glad that my loved ones would be gathered here this evening for the Shabbat meal and welcomed the distraction.

  Telling my father of Yuval’s sacrifice last night had been difficult. Somehow he’d managed to look stricken and full of pride all at once. “I don’t know what I’ll do without h
im here,” he had said, tears in the corners of his eyes. “There is no one who cares for this vineyard more than Yuval.”

  “I know. I am sorry.” I’d looked down at my hands, wishing there was something I could do to return my father’s steward to his rightful place.

  Abba had stepped forward, cupping my face in his warm palms. “I knew that Yuval was not a soldier, but I had no doubt he would protect you with his life that night. Just as your brother Shimon would have done. I made the right choice.” He’d smiled and pressed a kiss to my forehead. “We will ask that Yahweh would bless him, wherever he goes.”

  And Darek, too, my fractured heart whispered, the sight of him walking away from Kedesh rising in my mind. Swiping the tears that slithered onto my cheeks, I shook my head. It was no use dwelling on what could never be.

  After brushing away a bit of ash from the loaf I’d accidentally dropped inside the oven, I held the bread under my nose and drew a long, satisfied inhale. There was nothing to compare to the steamy goodness of fresh barley bread. I dropped the loaf in my basket and covered the stack with a double layer of cloth to trap the heat.

  I stood, brushing off my hands. I added the basket of bread to the low table, and then bustled around the room gathering the other dishes I’d prepared: roasted eggplant spiced with cumin and coriander, rich lentils swimming in thickened lamb-bone broth, and, for the guest of honor, chickpea stew.

  The door swung open and Eitan barreled inside, slamming into me with such force he nearly knocked me backward. He wrapped his spindly arms around my waist. “Moriyah! You are back!” He pressed his face against my body and gripped me harder.

  “I am,” I said. “For now.”

  He pulled back, tears glinting on his freckled cheeks. “You have to go again?”

  Had no one explained the truth to Eitan?

  “We shall see,” I hemmed. Then, with a smile I hoped would calm his fears, I said, “I’ll bet you—my branch-wielding friend—are hungry.”