Prize of War

by Carole Towriss

  He could try and stop him, but he would likely just try again later.

  If Enosh could catch him before he even reached the main road, he could stop him from taking Acsah anywhere. But that was unlikely. Enosh was too far away and Gilad was too close to the road. Enosh would have to follow him, see where he went, and figure out what to do when he caught up with him. Not a great plan, but all he had.

  A flash of blue caught his eye.

  Was that Dania? Creeping alongside the wall toward the gate.

  A smile crossed his face. Good girl. She would run straight to Seraiah.

  And for once, that made him very happy.

  Head up, Rapha pulled in one knee, then the other, then dragged himself to his feet, never taking his gaze off his attacker.

  As soon as Rapha was up, Gilad slammed his fist into his gut. Rapha’s face turned red as he grabbed his midsection, struggling for breath.

  Gilad nodded to his accomplice.

  Finally finding her voice, Acsah cried out as the other man grabbed Rapha’s arms at the elbows, pinning them behind him. Gilad punched him again and again. Blows landed on his jaw, cheeks, chest, gut. Every blow resounded deep in Acsah’s soul. How much Rapha was suffering for her, for his family. Hot tears slid down her face.

  Rapha slid to the ground, face swollen, gasping for air.

  Gilad leered at her. “You are standing in the way of my reward. I intend to help Enosh get what he deserves, one way or another.”

  She couldn’t breathe, could barely see…

  Before she thought again of screaming for help, a rag was stuffed into her mouth and tied behind her neck. She punched, kicked, flailed, but the men were too big. She was dragged like a doll from the vineyard toward the road east of Debir, the road headed to Hebron, Bethlehem, Shechem, and all other cities north.

  “Give me one of those ropes.” Gilad caught a length of flax rope tossed at him and wrapped it around her wrists, so tightly the skin pinched. He grabbed her and lifted her roughly onto a donkey.

  “How long until we reach Juttah?” asked his accomplice, a burly, unkempt man badly in need of clean clothes.

  Gilad glanced at the sun hanging low in the sky. “With the donkeys running, we’ll be there by nightfall.”

  “And if they won’t?”

  “We’ll make them.”

  “Have you ever tried to make a donkey run when it doesn’t want to?”

  Gilad sighed. “Then we’ll have to make camp somewhere.”

  Visions of lions, leopards, and scorpions flashed through her mind. Even soldiers were wary of spending the night in the negev and did so only in fairly large numbers and with a fire nearby. Terror gripped her.

  Yahweh, where are you?

  Gilad mounted the animal behind her and kicked it with his heels.

  Two on a donkey made the ride painful. She shuddered as Gilad’s body pressed against hers. He encased her, grasping the reins, trapping her. His breath blew hot on her neck, and the smell of stale sweat surrounded her.

  She tucked her bound wrists under her belly. The hard bouncing could not be good for the baby. At this pace they’d be in Juttah in the time it took to eat a pomegranate.

  If the donkey kept running, which was doubtful. Surely it would rebel soon. Most would only run a few moments.

  Why Juttah? Juttah was barely a village. There was nothing there. But then, Gilad never said exactly their final destination was Juttah. The other man only asked how long until they got there.

  She could only hope he’d ride far enough to safely evade Othni and then slow down. At least for a while.

  Otherwise, she would lose this baby.

  Help me. Help us. Show Othni where we are.

  Othni tried to stuff the irrational fear growing in his chest down where it belonged.

  “They should have been back by now. I’m going to find them.” He caught Siah’s gaze. “Rapha’s with them. He can take care of them, right?”

  It didn’t help that he could see that same fear in Siah’s eyes.

  Without a word the brothers jumped down the ladder and sprinted toward the vineyard. Before they ran halfway, they saw Dania racing toward them. Othni’s stomach tried to crawl up his throat.

  Siah kicked up his pace and passed his brother to reach her first.

  She fell to her knees. “Gilad … he came. He didn’t see me, so I ran. He was pounding the life out of Rapha.” Her voice broke. “He said Acsah was getting in the way and he needed to ‘remove’ her, whatever that meant.”

  Othni left Siah with her and bolted for the vineyard. He ran up and down the rows of vines searching for his wife, not caring how many unripe grapes he trampled.

  “Othni!” The unveiled panic in his brother’s voice sent shivers down Othni’s back. He turned back to see Siah’s pale face, staring at the ground. “It’s Rapha.”

  Othni jumped two rows at a time to reach them. He knelt by Rapha’s still form, touched his skin. The young man groaned. He was alive.

  “Dania’s with Simona.” Siah answered Othni’s unasked question.

  “Find the waterskins. Let’s see if we can get him to talk.” He gently rolled Rapha onto his back, and rested the boy’s battered head on his knees. Rapha moaned with every movement, but Othni tipped his head enough to drip in some water.

  “Boys, what’s wrong? I saw you down the street! Oh …” Jedediah and two of his sons pulled up short as they saw Rapha. He snapped his fingers and sent one back toward the city.

  “Rapha, what happened? Rapha!” Siah shouted.

  His eyes fluttered open. “Gilad.” A tear made its way down toward his ear. “Two men. North.” He coughed. “So sorry … so sorry …” Another tear.

  “Othni.” Siah pointed at the branch of acacia wood tossed nearby.

  Othni hovered his hands over the bruises, afraid to touch him. “Oh, Rapha, we’re sorry. This was not your fight.” Rapha’s blue-and-purple face twisted his stomach into knots. What kind of monster could do this to someone?

  “Who would do this?” Jedediah knelt next to Othni.

  Siah fisted his hands. “Gilad has Acsah.”

  The older man’s jaw fell open. “You must go! We’ll look after Rapha. Go! Now.” He gestured wildly toward the north.

  Othni gently set Rapha’s head in the older man’s lap, then he and Siah sprinted for home. As they neared their house, they passed two of Jedediah’s sons carrying a tunic stretched between two long sticks, apparently to be used to carry Rapha.

  “I’ll get the bows. You get the food.” Othni pointed to the roof.

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “We’ll need it later. So will she.”

  Othni stepped into the stable area and saddled the animals. He rubbed Donkey’s nose. “I need you to run tonight. This is for Acsah, all right? We need to find her, so I need you to run faster than you’ve ever run before. Can you do that for me?” He blinked away the moisture gathering in his eyes.

  Donkey stepped forward and laid his strong jaw on Othni’s shoulder.

  Siah jumped down the ladder with a bulging bag. He saddled his donkey and then tied the bag to his animal. When he looked up, Othni caught his gaze.

  “Do you think we have a chance of catching them?” Please say yes.

  Siah nodded. “I doubt Gilad treats his animals any better than he treats people, so yes. I think we do.”

  After grabbing the weapons from the wall, Othni stuffed a quiver full of arrows and handed it to his brother. After filling another, he slung it over his chest. He tossed Siah’s bow to him, grabbed his own, and brought Donkey from the house.

  They led the animals out of the eastern gate. Othni stared for a moment along the road.

  The only clue they had was Rapha’s rasped word, “North.” That could mean anything. Or nothing. But there was certainly nothing south. It was a start.

  Yahweh, guide us.

  He pressed his knees into Donkey’s side. “Come on, Donkey. Let’s go.” The animal responded
as if he knew his mistress was in danger. The brothers flew north.

  Toward Hebron? Bethlehem? The hill country? Othni had no idea. All he knew was he’d made a lot of mistakes in his life, but, this time, he could not fail.

  Enosh threw his birds to the ground and sprinted after the men. If Gilad was going to try to make his animal run, Enosh would catch him maybe even well before he reached Juttah. No donkey would run like that for very far.

  He headed for the main road. There was a slim chance they would see him, but he could run far faster there than on uneven ground. There wasn’t much daylight left, and they’d have to stop soon. At best, he could simply free her, if he could catch them unaware, but that was unlikely. If he could incapacitate one quickly, perhaps he could fight the other and win, then release her.

  One hand checked for his dagger as he ran. The other grasped the few arrows and bow he’d brought.

  He was within steps of the road when two more animals bolted toward him. He dropped to the ground, tried to hide behind a bush. Not great cover, but perhaps it would suffice. Had they spotted him? More friends of Gilad? Who else could be racing donkeys in the desert?

  The riders slowed to a trot, and then halted.

  Othniel jumped from his mount, coming nose to nose. “Swear to me you had nothing to do with this.”

  Enosh stood. “I swear. I was hunting, and I saw Gilad and another carry Acsah off. I was following them.”

  If Othniel could have killed him with a look, he would have.

  “I swear to you. I would never hurt a child or a woman.” He held the shophet’s gaze, without challenging him.

  Othniel stared a moment longer, then looked north. “That’s what Dania said.”

  “She should know. I may be a lot of things, but I am not that despicable.”

  “Why are you even chasing them?”

  He grimaced, remembering his words in the abandoned house. “This may be my fault.”

  “I don’t need or want your help.” Othniel returned to his donkey.

  “But I know where he’ll be.” I think.

  Siah raised a brow. “Where?”

  “If I tell you, you’ll let me join you?”

  Othniel swung his leg over his mount. “Why should I trust you?”

  They had no reason to. “I’m standing in the middle of the road, having run all the way from the vineyard. And we’re wasting time.”

  “My donkeys can use the rest.”

  Enosh sighed. “Because this is my fault, and I want to fix it.”

  The brothers exchanged a look.

  “Please?” When was the last time he said please, to anyone but his sister?

  Othniel nodded. “Fine. You can go. But remember, if I think for one moment you are any threat to me, my brother, or Acsah, I will not hesitate to put a dagger in your back.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “Now where are they?” Othniel pressed his heels into the donkey’s side, and he began to trot.

  Enosh jogged beside the brothers. “Not far. In Juttah. You can give the animals a break. He said he knew someone there who would hide her for pay.”

  “Does he have any coin?” Siah asked.

  “No. I’m assuming he thought I would pay once his plan worked.”

  “Will he believe you if you show up and tell him you’re happy he did this?”

  “He might.”

  “What if you brought silver to pay the man?”

  “That would help.”

  They continued jogging toward Juttah.

  He’d told Othniel Gilad would believe him, but in truth, he had no idea if he would. He could only hope. Because he had no doubt that if anything happened to Acsah, Othniel would indeed bury a blade in his back.

  Stopped on the road, Acsah winced. The baby kicked, hard. He always seemed to be more active in the evenings.

  She should be at home on the roof, Othni’s hand feeling the baby’s movement. He loved counting the kicks. Watching her sew tiny clothes. Coming up with names. One night for girls, the next for boys.

  She studied her hands. Except for right under her palms, which were pressed together, bright crimson bands encircled her wrists. If they weren’t untied soon, they’d be dripping blood instead of just raw.

  How long had they been gone? Had Othni realized she was missing yet?

  The men would come after her, that much was certain. But would they find her?

  The young donkey planted its feet and brayed, a shrill, raucous noise that caused her ears to ring.

  “Come on, we’re wasting time.” Gilad tugged on the rope. “Stubborn brute.”

  How had he not yet learned donkeys weren’t stubborn, just careful? Even if he’d never owned one, he should know that a donkey wouldn’t move if nervous or afraid.

  He yanked again on the lead.

  Acsah grabbed at the blanket to keep her balance. She was thankful the animal didn’t trust him any more than she did, which meant the journey wasn’t likely to be swift, giving Othni more time to catch up. Donkeys were generally pretty happy to plod along all day for just about anyone, but it wasn’t surprising Gilad had been unable to get this animal to run for very long, and with two people on his back, it would go slower yet.

  “Gilad.” The other man tried to get his attention.

  “What?” Gilad answered without taking his eyes off the mount.

  “Over there.” He jerked his chin toward the side of the road, where a thin, black viper lay coiled. Tiny round eyes in a small head followed their every move. “That is not a snake to toy with.”

  “All right. We go the other way.” Gilad moved to the other side of the road, gently pulled on the rope, and the animal crept forward.

  She needed to be calm. Think. What should she do? Was there anything she could do?

  She was a warrior’s daughter. She’d grown up hearing stories of battle. If they were to find her, they’d need a sign.

  How could she give them one?

  Pain pricked at her wrists, and she shifted her hands to keep raw skin from rubbing raw skin. Blood dripped onto her sash, the one she had worked so hard to dye a beautiful, deep indigo.

  An idea formed. Her fingers furtively worked the end of the sash, pulling out threads. When she freed one, she let it drop to the ground.

  And prayed the sun didn’t set too quickly.

  Chapter 18

  And He said, "My presence shall go with you, and I will give you rest."

  Exodus 33.14

  Othni reached down to stroke Donkey’s neck. Acsah loved her animal, and Othni had ridden him hard so far.

  What would all of this do to the tiny babe she carried within her? Had the danger and the hard ride already done irreparable damage?

  Yahweh, keep them safe.

  Both of them.

  Juttah appeared in the distance, sitting atop a low, wide hill like a cheap jewel in a bronze ring. The village had been settled principally by shepherds. Mostly tents, a few houses. This time of year, it was nearly empty, most of the men and boys out with their flocks in search of greener pastures.

  “Slow down, Donkey.” Othni pulled to a stop and alighted.

  “Look!” Siah jumped off his mount. He bent to pick up a thread of blue fabric. Then another, and another, scattered on the ground at the entrance to the road on the right. He sprinted back to his brother and held up his palm with the pieces of cloth in it. “These are from Acsah’s sash. She left us a message.”

  Othni grinned. “Excellent.” He pondered his options as he glanced westward at the sinking sun. “Let’s follow this road. We need to hurry.”

  Siah tossed his brother the reins and jogged ahead, bent low searching for threads. Every twenty or thirty strides he picked up a couple more, until they reached the center of town.

  The light fading, they crouched behind the well at the center of town.

  “I’ll go in first and try to get them to come outside.” Enosh paused for a moment, frowning. He scanned the village. “May I borr
ow a donkey?”

  Should they trust him? Did they have a choice? Othni handed over the rope, and then he and Siah remained at the well.

  Enosh strode toward the house, Donkey behind him.

  A short, chubby man exited and embraced Enosh. “Welcome, friend. We have been expecting you. Your companion has already joined us here, along with his wife, and his friend, Omri.”

  Gilad joined them. “I see you got my message.”

  Message? It took all Othni’s self-control to remain at the well and not bolt for the courtyard, pummeling every man in sight.

  “I am Tamir. Now come, eat. We have prepared a small feast for you.” He swept his arm toward the house, gesturing. From the slurring of his words, it sounded like Tamir had already been helping himself to his own wine. Quite a bit of it.

  “No,” Enosh said. “We mustn’t impose.”

  “I insist. You must eat with us and stay the night.”

  “No, we couldn’t. We have had a change in plans, and we must move on to Hebron.”

  “You cannot travel at night. It is far too dangerous. I insist you stay the night and leave at first light.”

  “If you insist,” Enosh said, “then by all means, we shall stay. Thank you, my friend.”

  Tamir laughed. “Come, come. My wife has ground fresh barley and made plenty of flatbread, as she had no time to let it rise before you returned. We also have plenty of wine and lentil stew. Then tomorrow we shall slaughter a lamb and have a proper feast—”

  He held up a hand. “No, my friend, on this I must insist. We are expected in Hebron tomorrow on urgent business.”

  Tamir’s shoulders dropped. He seemed genuinely disappointed. Odd.

  “Could you show me where to put my donkey before we eat?”

  “Of course. We don’t have the fancy houses you have in Hebron. We keep all our animals together. Gilad's are there already, no?” He gestured toward Gilad and Omri, and all four ambled to the far side of town, Tamir’s gait a little wobblier then the others.

  Enosh glanced over his shoulder and jerked his head in the direction they were walking.

  “Do we both go? Or do we get Acsah first?” Siah asked.