The priest leaned his back against the wall and focused a sincere gaze on me. “Rachel and I have so enjoyed having you and Eitan stay in our home these past few days, Moriyah, but I must speak with you about your future here in the city.”
Unease worked its way through my body. “Of course, you both have honored us with your hospitality, but I do not want us to overstay our welcome—”
“No, no.” He waved a scarred palm. I’d discovered that the wounds had been caused by a fall into the fire when he was a small boy, and also that, to my surprise, Dov was the son of Shira, the wise midwife who’d tended my own burns after the fall of Jericho.
Although Shira was well on in years now, having been only seventeen when she joined the journey out from Egypt, Dov assured me that she still was active in tending new mothers and training young midwives to add to the legacy of the hundreds, if not thousands, of babies she’d helped guide into the world.
“Please do not misunderstand me,” Dov said. “We are happy to have you stay as long as you like. But I’ve had an idea I’d like to present to you. Rachel tells me that you have a talent for cooking such as she’s never seen.”
“Cooking and serving meals brings me great pleasure,” I said, smiling as I remembered the groans of pleasure made by Dov and Rachel’s guests when they’d sampled the apricot-raisin cakes I’d prepared this afternoon—my own recipe developed from the memory of the sweet bread Darek had jested about snatching from my lips in front of the king of Megiddo.
“Excellent.” Dov’s hazel eyes sparkled, and he pointed across the city toward a large two-story building built into the opposite wall, one that looked to have been used as an inn by the former Canaanite inhabitants. “Then I have found you and Eitan a place to live.”
“An inn?”
“There is much work to be done inside, but I believe it can be repaired in a few weeks. In a town this size we will have need of an inn for travelers and for those seeking refuge here as manslayers. What better way to utilize your skills while providing for the two of you?”
Truly, without my father’s provision, and without a husband, it would be left to me to meet my and Eitan’s needs. But an inn? Possibilities burst to life inside my head along with the words of Eleazar’s prophecy over me—a light in a dark place to those who are weary and in need of rest. Could this inn be the means by which his predictions might be realized?
I knew one thing for sure. If I did accept Dov’s offer, I would always keep a lamp burning in the window for those whose desperate eyes searched for that tiny flicker of hope as they ran toward the city to plead for their life.
Without waiting for an answer, he continued, evidently deciding I needed more convincing. “Much of the inn is in poor repair. Especially the roof. But the large stone oven in the kitchen courtyard seems to be in fine shape. You would have plenty of room to eventually employ one or two more workers to help you. Or perhaps, eventually, to raise a family.”
Although Dov’s smile was kind, his words were a dagger to my chest. There was only one man I’d desired to build a family with, and he’d abandoned me when I’d needed him most. Drawing on my skills of pretense, however, I brightly thanked Dov for his thoughtful suggestion and asked if he’d be willing to show me the inn in the morning.
“For certain! And if you decide to accept the role as innkeeper, I’ll assign a few Levites to begin repairs this week. I’d venture to guess that it won’t be long before others come seeking refuge here.” He placed a hand on my shoulder and gave it a grandfatherly squeeze, the move bringing a wave of melancholy for my father’s presence. “I know this is not how you saw your life unfolding, Moriyah, but I pray that you will find peace here for as long as you are among us.”
With a jest about not wanting to be left with only the crumbs of the delicious meal I’d prepared, Dov left me to return to the celebration on the other side of the rooftop, where his family was gathered beneath the large green-trimmed canopy. Four of Dov and Rachel’s children lived here in Kedesh, and Eitan had already made quick friends with one of their grandsons. The boys had spent the last few days exploring every nook and cranny of the mostly empty city, collecting trinkets they’d found in the abandoned homes.
When the Levites had arrived, this former Canaanite stronghold had been barren—house after house with vacant windows, a neglected marketplace, and a small temple that they’d stripped of its lifeless idols, ritually cleansed, and converted to a communal food storage facility. I wondered how long it would take for this place to become a bustling hub of trade once again. Perhaps my inn would be part of the rebirth of Kedesh as a city dedicated to Yahweh, instead of the bloodthirsty gods of Canaan.
I leaned my back against the stone wall and gazed over at the dark inn, wondering what it might look like on the inside. My mind whirred with ideas and plans. Like Dov and Rachel’s home, the inn had a flat roof where I could entertain on warm evenings and where guests might sleep when rooms were full.
However, looking past the walls of the city, I discovered a cruel irony—the lovely home I’d just been offered had a rooftop view of not only the snow-glazed triple summit of Har Hermon but also Darek’s lush valley. Rolling to the balls of my feet, I caught a glimpse of the lake that we’d stood beside as he told me of his plans for the future and of Raviv’s wife. And I was certain that the large flock of brown geese that had just flown overhead were on their way to hunt along its grassy edges for beetles and grubs.
I closed my eyes, breathing in the crisp air, wishing it could soothe the ache for only a moment. I miss him, Yahweh. Keep him safe.
Now that Yahweh had torn down the thick curtain I’d stubbornly hung between us, the partition in my soul was gone. Since the day of the trial I’d not heard any clear answers for the hundreds of questions I tossed at him day and night, but he heard me, that much I knew, and I looked forward to the moment I would next hear that truth-filled whisper at the center of my being. I would listen every day, every moment, expectant for the Voice.
Lately my dreams had been so brilliant, so full of strange and wonderful details. Perhaps, like Yosef, my sleep would be colored by visions that only Yahweh could provide, which was a wondrous, and slightly intimidating, thought.
“Moriyah, are you all right?” Eitan’s small voice beside me made my eyes flutter open. The boy was leaning against the wall next to me, his arms crossed and concern for me in his hazel eyes.
“Yes,” I laughed. “I am just considering my future—our future—here in Kedesh.”
I told him of the inn and Dov’s suggestion that we live there. He listened intently and stood on the balls of his feet when I pointed to the large building across the way.
“Oh, yes, I’ve been in there,” he said. “Tal and I even climbed the stairs and looked over the wall. It’s a long way down. We dropped rocks into the ditch.”
My stomach dipped at the image of the two boys tumbling over the ramparts to their deaths. “You must be careful, Eitan. I don’t want you to get hurt. It’s best to wait until the men have repaired the roof before you and Tal explore more.”
His brows lifted. “Can I help?”
Although I considered refusing, I knew he was desperate for occupation for his mind and body. A pang of sorrow hit me full-on. I may be trapped in Kedesh for many years, but the sentence was much harsher for an inquisitive boy who adored gamboling about barefoot in the countryside. A boy who would, in not too many years, become a man.
“I will ask Dov,” I said. “I am sure there will be some way you can be of help to the men. It would be good for you to learn from them. And perhaps we should consider an apprenticeship to one of the tradesmen. If we are to live here for many years, you must learn a trade of some sort to provide for your own family one day.”
Eitan tilted his head back to look up at me. “How long will the High Priest live?”
Eleazer’s kind eyes filled my vision. Even though I might desire for Eitan and myself to be free one day, how could I ever wish de
ath on such a man?
Turning toward Eitan, I framed his face with my palms, my fingers grazing the misshapen curl of his deaf ear. “I don’t know, my friend. It will be as long as Yahweh wills it to be. We cannot make the day come any sooner.”
He leaned into my touch, as if savoring the contact. “I am glad to be with you.”
“As am I. This would be a lonely place without you.”
“Moriyah?” He looked down for a moment, something clouding his expression and his dark brows crowding together.
“What is it, Eitan?” Was he feeling guilty again for Zeev or Yared? Missing his job of scattering the birds from the fields? Realizing the truth of his complete isolation from the rest of the world? Or maybe he was feeling ill? I slid my fingers to his forehead, testing for fever—
“Would it be all right if I called you ‘Ima’? Since mine is gone and . . .” He scuttled a bare toe across the mud-plastered roof we stood upon. “I’ve wanted you to be my ima for a long time now.”
I sank to my knees, dragging him into my arms and pressing a kiss against his worried brow. “There would be nothing that could please me more, Eitan. To me, you have been like a son since the first time you appeared in our vineyard with your ribs showing and your mouth full of stolen grapes. To be called your ima would be a precious gift, a high honor.”
He smiled, his multitude of freckles more precious than all the stars in the universe. I had the urge to kiss every single one of them.
A commotion across the rooftop, near the Sukkah, pulled my attention away. One of the guards from the gates was speaking with Dov, who was seated on the ground with one of his little granddaughters in his lap. The priest nodded his head, put the tiny girl aside, and moved to follow the soldier. Had another manslayer already appeared at the gates to Kedesh? Too bad the inn wasn’t already prepared to receive guests; perhaps Eitan and I should sleep up here tonight, beneath the Sukkah, to make room. I’d venture to guess Eitan would be thrilled at the idea of sleeping under the stars.
“Can I go see what is happening?” Excitement brimmed in his eyes.
“Yes, you may.” I mussed his hair before planting a kiss in the center of the unruly tangles he steadfastly refused to let me cut. “But stay back and out of the way of the men.”
“I will.” He smiled up at me and whispered, “Ima,” before slipping out of my grasp and running to the narrow stone staircase in pursuit of Dov.
“Slow, Eitan, or you will fall,” I called out.
“Yes, Ima.” His mischievous grin disappeared as he scurried down the stairs, far too quickly for my liking. I placed a hand on the center of my chest, my breath shuddering to a halt. Would my new mother’s heart survive this impulsive child who merely wagged his chin at risk? A child who had little concept of the danger that lurked outside these walls for him?
I prayed he would never have cause to discover such things for himself, but even as I did, Raviv’s last threat reverberated loudly in my head. As difficult as it might be for Eitan in the years to come, his feet must never go beyond the boundaries of Kedesh or his life might well be forfeited to Raviv’s vengeance.
CHAPTER
Thirty-Nine
Dov’s two-year-old granddaughter, Lailah, patted my cheek, her amber eyes taking in the scar with a child’s guileless curiosity. “What this?” Since Dov had not yet returned from the city gates, she’d instead taken up residence on my lap when I rejoined the other ladies and had been plying me with relentless questions about the Sukkah and the names of all the flowers that decorated the canopy above us, and asking for more of each delicacy on the long table.
Her mother glanced over at me, but instead of the censure I expected in her expression, she graced me with an encouraging smile. Gratitude blossomed wildly in my heart.
“Someone hurt me long ago,” I said, in answer to Lailah’s question.
Her dark, wispy brows furrowed, as if she could feel my pain in her own little body.
“It does not hurt anymore.” I shook my head, smiling so she would understand. “It is only an old scar that proves I was once very brave.” I tapped her tiny nose. “I’ll bet you are a brave girl, too, aren’t you?”
She nodded, and honey glistened on her chin from the roll she gripped in her other little fist. I wiped it away with a thumb before she slithered off my lap and headed for her mother on the other side of the table. My arms suddenly felt quite empty.
I stood to clear the table of empty bowls, but was momentarily blinded by the waning sunlight flaring orange and pink in the west beyond the city walls. I lifted my hand to block the brilliant light, and a shadow moved within the glare. Blinking away the dazzling glow, I shifted and realized that it was the outline of a man I’d seen against the sun. A man who stood very still, watching me, with a familiar set of wide shoulders and dark hair tinted red by the sunset behind him.
He took one determined step toward me, and then another.
Stunned by Darek’s presence, I could not find my voice, nor any strength in my legs. How long had he been standing there?
He approached the Sukkah, offering a friendly “shalom” to the others gathered around the table. “May I speak with you alone, Moriyah?” he asked, his tone light and his dark eyes betraying nothing of the reason why he was suddenly here.
I felt everyone’s eyes on me as I followed Darek to the stairs. But this time, instead of glances of disdain or judgment, the looks I caught from a few of the ladies were more in the vein of sly encouragement. The idea filled me with unbidden longing for Ora and how she would beg to hear about every nuance of Darek’s sudden reappearance.
When we reached the bottom of the stone steps, I expected him to stop and face me, but he kept walking.
“You are here,” I said, skittering to keep up with his long stride.
“I am.” His lips pressed together as if challenging me to dig for answers instead of offering them freely.
After a few moments of stubbornness, I capitulated to curiosity. “Where have you been?”
“I had some business to attend. Took a while longer than I’d hoped, but you know how journeys can be—you think all is well and then complications arise.” He flipped a palm over, as if such a paltry explanation were sufficient. He turned a corner, walking us through the empty marketplace without stopping, as though he had some destination in mind.
“Oh? And where did you travel?” Although I allowed only the slightest hint of vexation to arch my voice, my heart was screaming, Where were you while I was standing trial for murder?
Finally he halted and turned toward me, his dark eyes seeming to take me in from head to toe and back again. With a small quirk of his lips, he scratched at his face, drawing attention to the fact that his jaw was stubbled. He’d shaved his beard again, perhaps only a few days ago. But it had been nearly fifty days since I’d seen him last, since we’d walked through dangerous territory where it had been necessary for him to be in disguise.
I felt my eyes go round as an answer whispered in my mind. Could it be?
Suddenly, he spun around and opened the door we’d been standing in front of. Looking up in confusion, I realized we had ended up in front of the inn. My inn. How had he known about this place? From Dov? Realization dawned. The priest must have been summoned to the gates for Darek, not another manslayer.
Without a word, he disappeared inside. A spark of excitement that had nothing to do with Darek buzzed in my stomach as I stepped across the wooden threshold and followed him into the place that would be my new home. With little sunlight left to sneak through the high windows near the ceiling, the large room was shrouded in shadow. It was empty, with the exception of a long table and two shattered stools, but I’d never seen anything more beautiful. This would be my home.
With his hands on his hips as he surveyed the dusty room, he continued. “Baz was none too pleased to shave that thick beard of his. It took a fair amount of persuasion, but he did it.” Darek laughed and the sound echoed off the empty walls
and traveled all the way through me. “Ever seen a bear without fur? That’s about what he looks like.”
I followed him into the next room, which was even darker and more empty. He scanned the space, then pounded on a couple of beams overhead with a flat palm, as if testing their trustworthiness in holding up the floor above us.
My mind reeled back through the weeks I’d spent in Shiloh before the trial. I’d seen Aviram with my father a number of times, but never Baz, and somehow in all the confusion I’d never thought to question his absence. “You were with Baz?”
Darek dipped his chin. “We weren’t quite sure where to go, but thanks to my excellent navigation skills—” his lips twitched with a smug smile—“we found Shuah and the caravan on the road to Tyre.”
My hands flew to my mouth. “You didn’t . . . You went back for him?”
“Of course.” He shrugged, as if there had been no doubt he’d plunge back into enemy territory for a man he barely knew. “Yuval sacrificed everything for you. I owed him a rescue.”
“But where—” I flitted a look behind myself, as if expecting to see my father’s steward stride into the room behind us.
Darek halted my searching. “He is back in Shiloh, where he belongs.”
“Oh.” Although I was pleased to hear Yuval was home, disappointment flew in. I’d not be able to thank my friend in person, not for a long time. Perhaps never, if Eleazer lived a long life.
“Zendaye sends her love to you, by the way. And Shuah assured me that next year they would travel through Kedesh on their way to Damascus.”
Leaving me reeling from surprise and delight, he again strode from the room and then exited through another door that seemed to open into a large courtyard at the center of the inn. Although curious to see the oven Dov had spoken of, I took my time in the room, spinning in a slow circle, considering everything Darek had revealed. I imagined the space with a large bed in the corner, a few baskets, a small table and three stools, a home for a family. A hope I’d pushed aside until Darek had appeared on that rooftop.
A Light on the Hill Page 28