Well, what law applied to this?
Yahweh’s law was very clear. “When you harvest the grain in your land, don't harvest the grain in the corners of your fields or gather what is left after you're finished. Leave it for poor people and foreigners.”
He had only one option.
That evening, Othni stood on the base of the eastern gate. He’d addressed the men of Debir many times, but this was the first time he’d done so knowing half of them were against him. He licked his lips, trying to wet them.
He’d rather just go home.
“We appear to have a disagreement concerning the barley harvest.” He ignored the murmuring and continued. “I was sent here as shophet of Debir. I am responsible for seeing this city obeys Yahweh’s Law, and I will do so.”
“How are you going to do that?” Gilad called out from the back of the crowd.
“I will expel from Debir anyone who repeatedly and deliberately refuses to follow Yahweh’s Law.”
Scattered gasps rippled through the crowd.
“Reaping all the way to the edges of your fields for just one year may not seem very important to you, but it is. It is as important for you as it is for the poor. If we ignore our trust in Yahweh, and our sense of generosity, we will lose our identity as a people. We will no longer be different from the rest of the people in Canaan.”
Othni weighed his next words carefully. “The last time Israel did not trust Yahweh, we ended up waiting in the wilderness for almost forty years. I will not let that happen again. Yahweh does not tell us how much we are to leave behind for those who may need it, but He does command us to leave something. He allowed for no exceptions. Everyone will leave some barley standing in the fields this year. Since we have no poor or widows in the city, we will harvest some of it ourselves and store it, for any that may need it in the year to come. We do not know what may come, but Yahweh does. Some will be left standing for foreigners and travelers, as commanded.”
He fixed his gaze on Enosh. “And if you have a problem with anything I have said this morning, or at any other time, come talk to me, not to each other. We have only each other out here. We can’t afford to be divided.”
Othni remained on the base until everyone went on their way. Enosh was the last one to leave. He stood arms crossed, eyes hardened. At last he stalked off.
Was anything really repaired? Had he gained any followers? It was too soon to tell.
For once the floor of the abandoned house that had become Enosh’s meeting place with Gilad wasn’t muddy, but the air still smelled musty. Tiny puddles of stagnant water hid in the corners where the light never reached. Enosh paced as the sun slid behind the mountains.
Gilad leaned against a wall, one ankle tossed over the other, gnawing on a straw of barley.
“It's been nearly a year since the battle, and I've gotten no closer to ruling Kiriath-Sepher than the day I arrived." Enosh threw his hands in the air, sending a pair of bats flying. "I attacked his military leadership, disrupted his home, questioned his faith in Yahweh. I've tried to divide the city. A small amount of success with that.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Other than telling him his wife has been unfaithful, which he won’t believe for a moment, I don't know what else to try. I've run out of ideas."
Gilad pushed off the wall. “I am willing to do whatever you ask."
He smiled wearily. “I know. You've been a willing servant through all this, and when I take my rightful place, you will be well rewarded."
Gilad tipped his head. "How well rewarded?"
“I don't know. Depends on how much you help me. I'm not thinking about that now. I have to actually become shophet first." He paced again. Scattering loose stones with every step, he silently went over every tactic once again. "It's that wife of his. She frustrates every plan I come up with. If it weren't for her, I'd have been ruler long ago. I need her out of the way. If I could just think of something ..."
Gilad tossed aside the straw. “I have a friend in Juttah. We could keep her there for a while, a few moons maybe. He would hide her if I pay him.”
“Pay him?” His mind raced. What was he talking about?
“If she were missing, Othniel would be so distraught you could do whatever you want. You could take over completely. Instead of letting it remain a small city with a few people who only want to raise barley, it could attract more trade than Shechem.”
Was he really suggesting this? Taking his wife by force? “Are you out of your mind?”
“You said you wanted her out of the way.”
“I didn't mean that way. I only meant I wanted her to stop her getting in the way every time I make a plan. Which will happen anyway in a couple months, come to think of it. She’ll be too busy with the baby to be interfering. I just need to be patient.”
“I'm tired of being patient.” Gilad’s voice was low, almost a growl. “Remember, my future is linked to yours. If you aren't shophet, I am nothing. You need to do something drastic, and you need to do it now.”
Gilad was a big man, but Enosh was still in charge, and he needed to let Gilad know it. He thrust his shoulders back, his chest out. “I am the one with the silver.” He spoke slowly and distinctly. “I hired you, and I can let you go if you do not abide by my wishes. You will not touch Acsah, or my sister, or any other woman or child. Or anyone, for that matter, until and unless I give you specific orders to do so. Do you understand?”
Gilad nodded.
“What do you understand?”
Gilad returned to the wall and fell against it. “Don’t hurt anyone. Don’t do anything without specific instructions.”
“But will you obey my orders?”
He tucked his thumbs in his belt. “Sure.”
Enosh glowered at him a moment, then exited, leaving Gilad behind.
The man had said he would do as he was told, but Enosh wasn’t so sure. He would have to keep an eye on him, before he caused more damage than anyone could ever repair.
Chapter 16
'Where can we go up? Our brethren have made our hearts melt, saying, "The people are bigger and taller than we; the cities are large and fortified to heaven. And besides, we saw the sons of the Anakim there."
Deuteronomy 1.28
Acsah woke with a start at the sound of a man’s shout.
“Othniel!”
The name cut through the haze of sleep, then the shout came again. Who would be calling for her husband this early? The sun wasn’t even up.
She reached for him, but he was already pulling on his tunic.
Othni opened the curtain, and gray light peeked in. Later than she’d thought, but still too early for someone to be shouting. She rolled over and closed her eyes.
She was just about to fall back into sleep’s welcome oblivion when voices drifted up—more than one. Who was in her home?
She dragged herself from bed and shrugged into her cloak, and then crept to the lower floor.
The tower guard stood near the entrance with two other men. These were not men she recognized.
“Please. We need your help. We have only half the men you have. We don’t need everyone. Maybe half.” A man shorter than Othni pleaded with him. His beard, liberally flecked with gray, made him appear older than he probably was. If she could go by his smooth skin.
Othni stroked his beard, wincing. "I don’t know—”
His companion, an older and stockier man, looked like he wanted to punch someone. Maybe Othni. “They’ve burned our crops! I’m not sure how we’re going to survive until next spring.”
The first one grasped the older man’s arm. “Hoshea, please.” He turned back to Othni. “Forgive my cousin. He can get … excitable. But we are becoming more alarmed by the day. We don’t know how we will feed our families. If our city will remain ours. Where we will live if it doesn’t. So I ask you again, will you help us?”
What did they want Othni to help them with? Where did they come from?
She approached her husband and stood behi
nd him.
He pulled her away from the visitors and turned to her. “I thought you were asleep.”
“What’s happening?”
“They’re from Anab. The Anakim are back.”
No … not again. It had barely been a year since the last war. “They want you to fight?”
“We need you,” Hoshea said. “You defeated them here. We need you to lead us there.” He grabbed Othni’s arm.
“Many of my men settled here with me. They are seasoned warriors. They will not let you down, and I can send them with you. But you see my wife. Our baby is coming soon. I can’t leave now.”
The man’s face fell. He opened his mouth, closed it again. “All right, I’ll take what I can.” He stalked off toward the courtyard.
“I’m sure that will be sufficient. We thank you, very much.” The older man looked from Acsah to Othni. “We’ll wait outside, and then perhaps you can help us find those who can join us.”
Acsah reached for Othni. “You’re really not going?”
“Not right now. I don’t want to leave you so close to the baby’s birth.”
“But what about the people of Anab? Won’t they need you?
“As long as I don’t have to go, I won’t. I can send the others.” He gathered her in his arms and held her.
She laid her head against his chest, enjoying the beating of his heart. Maybe marrying a warrior wasn't so bad after all.
Othni kissed her temple and left to gather some of his men.
Acsah followed him into the courtyard, where the older, calmer man watched his irritable cousin pace in the street. “I’m sorry. What is your name?”
“I’m Esau. My cousin is Hoshea.”
“I’m Acsah. Please, Esau, let me get you something to eat.”
He glanced toward Hoshea. “We are in a great hurry.”
“It will take time for my husband to gather the men. You’ve come a long way. You must be famished and exhausted. Let me feed you. Rest a few moments.”
He pursed his lips and frowned, but eventually assented. He gave a weak smile before going to his cousin.
She ducked into the broadroom to gather food for their visitors. She returned, arms full of bowls and a pitcher. “I’m sorry I have no bread for you.”
Esau smiled. “Don’t worry. I know we’re quite early. You’ve done more than enough. More than we had any right to expect at this time.”
“Nonsense.” She handed him the bowls one at a time until her arms were empty and she could sit beside him. “You are our brothers. Whatever we can do to help we will happily do for you.”
“Except send your best warrior.” Hoshea’s upper lip curled.
“I assure you, all our men are excellent, and if my husband thought for one moment you were in danger without him, he would go with you.”
“I believe you. Forgive my cousin. Again.”
She poured bowls of juice and then handed each man one.
“I hope so. They’ve already destroyed a quarter of our olive trees. And if they get to our grapes … what is Grape Town without grapes?” Esau chuckled wryly at his jest on Anab’s name.
“I’m sure we’ll have extra olives. We don’t have enough people for all the space we have, and we have more plots than people. I don’t know about grapes, but we do have extra grain. So if there is anything else you need, do not hesitate to come back.”
Othni jumped the wall of the courtyard. “I have half our men—one hundred. That should be more than enough, knowing how many giants got away, and you’ll have most of my captains. They are gathering some food and their weapons, and they’ll meet you at the gate as soon as they can.”
“That’s more than we could ask for. Thank you.” Esau rose to embrace him.
Hoshea silently left the courtyard. “I see my wife has already brought you some food.” Othni grinned.
“She’s taken very good care of us.” He followed his cousin, then turned around. “I’ll remember what you said, Acsah.”
“What was that about?” asked Othni.
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I just told them I was happy to feed them, and you were sending your best men. I don’t know what he was referring to.”
He pulled her close. “Well, I am sending my best men. Hopefully this will be over soon, and the baby will come …” He nuzzled her neck.
She giggled.
“And the giants will be gone forever …”
He slowly turned them so she could not see the men marching down the road toward the south gate. He had complete faith in them to do their best without him.
Still, they were giants …
And he wondered how long he would be able to stay home, safe and sound in Debir.
Othni wandered through the vineyard. Vines crawled along the ground, sending out branches which in turn gave birth to enormous clusters of dusty purple grapes. Slim tendrils ending in wayward spirals peeked from among vibrant foliage.
He plucked a plump grape from a twisted vine and ate it. Tried several more. Not quite ready. Still needed a few more days.
He meandered along the terraces, and at the last one, he bent and scooped up a handful of sun-warmed earth and squeezed it. It still held some of the winter’s rain, enough to take the grapes through to maturity. He dug deeper, and found the ground still moist. Thank Yahweh.
He trudged back up, terrace after terrace. At the top, he turned toward the gate.
Enosh leaned against it, his back toward Othni.
There was no way to avoid him, short of walking all the way to the eastern gate.
He blew out a long breath, pushed back his shoulders, and strode though.
Enosh followed. “Othniel. I need to talk to you.”
“I am not changing my mind.” He kept walking.
“About what?”
“The wheat to be stored. Don’t think I don’t know who stirred up Jedediah.”
“Othniel, stop.”
He halted, still facing toward home.
“What?” His voice was harsher than he meant it to be.
“I know you have no reason to believe me, but I need to tell you something.”
Othni narrowed his eyes. “Yes?”
“I … I have an … acquaintance … and I have reason to believe he may intend to harm your wife.”
“And why would he want to do that?”
Enosh winced. “He may have misinterpreted something I said.”
Othni spun around. “Something you said? Like what?”
Enosh backed up. “That is unimportant. What matters now is that you protect her.”
Othni stepped nearer. “I always protect her.” His voice was nearly a growl.
“I mean, you must never let her out of your sight.”
“Why? What exactly does he intend to do to her? This is Gilad we are talking about, right?”
Enosh nodded. “I don’t know what he has in mind.”
Othni advanced on Enosh until he was backed up to the city wall. He put his hands against the wall, one on either side of Enosh’s shoulders. “I still don’t know if I believe you or if this is another strategy to take more for yourself. But if anything happens to her, anything at all, I will hold you responsible. Not him, you. You started this. Whatever he does to her, I do to you. Understand?”
“I do.”
Othni stared at him a moment longer. He really couldn’t tell if Enosh was telling the truth or not. His face was unreadable. Too many years in battle, probably. He gave nothing away.
He dropped his hands and headed for home.
The problem now was, what, if anything, did he tell Acsah?
Enosh growled and stomped around his house. Ever since she believed he had sent her to Acsah’s to gather information, Dania was never home anymore, but she always left him food. A stack of flatbread, a piece of cloth laid over it, sat on the table in the broadroom. He grabbed it, along with the jar of raisins.
He went to the courtyard and sat by the cold fire pit. He took the top of
f the jar and tipped it over. A few tumbled out and he slammed his hand against the ground.
The Feast of Weeks would be starting soon. All the men would be leaving for Shiloh today. He should go, but Yahweh deserved none of his thanks. Surely Othniel would have something to say about his missing both Passover and the offering of the first of the wheat. Not that they had any in Debir, but still, they were commanded to show up and give thanks.
Too bad. Othniel may be in charge of the city, but he could not command Enosh to be thankful. And as long as he wasn’t worshipping false idols, not going might be a bad idea, but he wasn’t really breaking any of Moses’s precious laws, was he?
He grabbed a stick and poked at the embers. Stirring them up would do no good. They were stone cold. He continued jabbing, wishing he were poking at Othniel instead.
He’d tried to do the right thing. He really had. He’d done what he could. If Othniel chose not to believe him, how was that his fault?
This wasn’t war anymore. He’d drawn the line at hurting innocent people, and what had it gotten him? Threats. Intimidation. No appreciation whatsoever for warning him his beloved wife might be in danger.
Then let Othniel and his pretty wife take their chances with Gilad.
He threw the jar against the wall, shattering it. Might as well see if he could find something to hunt. He grabbed his bow and quiver and headed for the desert. He needed to kill something.
A warm breeze blew softly over the rooftops, carrying the aroma of barley bread and lentil stew. Owls screeched as they took off on their nightly foray in search of food. The barely risen moon, slightly less than full, shone in the sky like a jewel.
Back in Hebron, that light would have been reflected in the numerous springs that encompassed the city. Acsah loved to watch the water sparkle by the light of the moon. But she’d come to love the twinkling of the countless stars that surrounded the orb, stars she’d never noticed while looking at the water instead of the sky.
Thank you, Yahweh.
Acsah looked over her shoulder at the brothers, who were deep in conversation. Siah looked over at Dania, and his face softened, a tender smile peeking through before he resumed his sober talk. She grinned. However much he denied it, Siah was falling in love with Dania.
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