Prize of War

by Carole Towriss

  “Why? I’ve never seen him like that.”

  Should he say something? Siah would kill him. “He’s in love.”

  “With my sister.”

  Othni nodded.

  One corner of Enosh’s mouth tipped up just the tiniest bit. “She could do worse.”

  The hot summer sun peered into the room, poking Acsah awake. Late afternoon, by the color of the light. Had she slept all day? Why was she so exhausted? And sore? Every part of her seemed to hurt. Arms, legs, back. Even her head pounded. And when had she last eaten? She tried to sit up, but only managed a groan.

  She sank into the straw-filled mattress. Next to her the baby squirmed, bumping into her side. She smiled as she untied the neck of her tunic, rolled on her side and pressed the tiny bundle to her chest. The baby began to suckle. Laying her head on her folded arm, the other arm holding him close, the muscles throughout her body relaxed. The tension drained away. She closed her eyes.

  She stroked his head. So soft. How could anything be so soft? Softer than a baby lamb, than butterfly wings.

  My baby boy. My son. My precious … she needed a name. What should she name this son of Othniel, born into battle?

  Simona entered the room carrying a platter of cheese and bread and a pitcher of juice. “You’re awake. I came to check on you. How is our baby?” She placed the food on the ground and sat next to Acsah. “Well, he seems to have figured it all out.” Eyes twinkling, her finger traced circles on his cheek.

  “Have you any news from Anab?”

  “No, but they only left four nights ago.” She rose and flitted around the room, straightening and cleaning. “But Dania did ask me to tell you that Micah and Samuel have returned with the grain from Hebron. Everyone will have plenty to eat.”

  Thank you, Yahweh.

  Acsah groaned as Simona helped her sit up, pain streaking through her torso. She transferred her son to the other side. “Why am I so tired?”

  Simona chuckled softly. “You were up most of the night. The baby keeps waking you up to eat. You won’t be getting much sleep any time soon. When he’s finished, I’ll help you wash and change your tunic.”

  Acsah held her son close as he drank. How amazing that she could produce such a beautiful creature. His eyes held hers. Othni’s eyes. She looked away.

  He shook his head, pulling away from her. He snuggled down into his cloths. She laid him in her lap and rewrapped him securely.

  Simona gently placed him beside her. “Here, drink this juice while I wash you.”

  The gentle ministrations of the older woman’s washing soothed her body, but not her mind. What was Othni doing right now? Was he safe? Was he worried?

  Would he come home to her, or would she be left alone to tell him stories of his abba?

  Bring him home to me.

  Early on the sixth morning, Othni climbed the tower. No doubt he would see what he had seen every other morning.

  Rolling hills leading to mountains. Puffy clouds in an expanse of blue. Perhaps a bird or two.

  He lowered his left foot to the rung below. Wait. Had he seen movement, or was it his imagination? Wishful thinking? He placed his sandal again on the ladder and stood on his toes.

  Giants marched on Anab.

  He descended the ladder three steps at a time and dropped to the wall. He shook Siah and Enosh awake. “They’re on the way! Wake up your men.”

  Within moments, archers knelt behind battlements, ready to loose arrows as soon the enemy drew near enough. Othni placed his superior bowmen farthest away, while those with less experience were stationed front and center.

  As the titans came into closer range, Othni instructed the archers to aim. He kept his voice to a harsh whisper. The giants surely expected them to be ready, but why waste even a chance of a brief surprise?

  He selected his strongest Anak arrow, and then raised his bow. He placed the arrow on the left side of the bow, and settled it on his hand. The tension would be far too much to hold for more than the briefest moment. He would have to find his target before he drew the bowstring.

  His willed his heart to keep beating at a slower pace as he kept his left arm level.

  The Anakim drew nearer.

  If he didn’t know better, he’d swear the ground was shaking with every step they took. Sweat dripped down his neck.

  Closer, closer …

  He aimed for the neck of one of the behemoths and counted the footfalls. Ten, nine, eight, seven … He drew the string back, evenly and firmly to his jaw, rested his thumb against the bone, and released.

  The missile found its mark. The giant fell.

  Chaos erupted.

  Acsah was stuck in this room for seven days. Alone. Anyone who touched her or anything she touched was also unclean until sundown, so Dania and Simona took turns caring for her.

  This was only day three.

  Dania brought in warm bread and cheese.

  Acsah tried to eat. The baby needed the food even if she didn’t. She forced it down.

  “We’ve distributed the barley Micah and Samuel brought back from Hebron.” Dania drew the comb through her hair. “None of the people from Anab ever knew we were close to running out. If it weren’t for you ... That was a wonderful and selfless thing you did, Acsah, selling your bracelets. They all would be going hungry right now without you.”

  She didn’t feel selfless right now. All she wanted was to find out about Othni. Was he hurt? Was he even alive?

  Would he come back to her, or would she be alone?

  You are not alone. I will never leave you.

  She clung to that promise. Whether Othni returned to her or not, she needed to remember that. She was not alone.

  Chapter 21

  The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still.

  Exodus 14.14

  Othni peered over the wall at the Anakim below as they reached the gate. Shoulders to the wood, they slammed against the doors. Again. And again. The gates shook, rattled. The archers on the wall loosed arrows, but they were out of Anak missiles. Their Israelite arrows had little effect.

  There weren’t enough giants left to take over the city. All they could do now was inflict as much damage as possible, kill as many Israelites as they could before Othni and his army destroyed them.

  Enosh cringed as the behemoths pounded the doors yet again. They couldn’t possibly hold much longer. He crouched, sword in hand, near a house at the end of a street, waiting for the giants to invade.

  The bronze-covered wood crashed to the ground with a thunderous force, and the Anakim charged. Their swords were nearly as long as the Israelites were tall.

  Enosh flattened himself against the house. Gripping his sword with both hands, he held it high over his left shoulder. He waited until the Anak was facing another Israelite, then brought the blade down hard behind the giant’s knee. The sword pierced flesh, and he leaned all his weight into it. Blood spewed out over the blade onto Enosh’s hands and tunic as the Anak roared a string of unintelligible words. Enosh then drove the point of the blade deep into the exposed muscle to ensure it was completely severed.

  The giant’s leg gave out, and he collapsed.

  The Israelite jumped out of the way just in time.

  Chest heaving, his gaze swept the area. The archers had eliminated enough Anakim before the gates were breached to outnumber them, but the sheer size of the goliath fighters was still overpowering. Their arrows little effect, and their swords were barely bigger than an Anak’s hand.

  This was far from over.

  As the sun neared the mountaintops in the west, the clanking of metal against metal echoed the chaos in Othni’s mind. Grunts and bellows and shouted commands fought to be heard over each other. Firelight and waning sunshine bouncing off swords stung his eyes. Arrows screamed through the air. The odor of burning wood mixed with sweat filled his nose.

  Othni jumped from the wall to the roof below. He surveyed the city. The few remaining Anak—the biggest and strongest—ran
through the city, hurling livestock, smashing courtyard walls.

  Siah raced for the grain silo on the other side of town, an Anak in close pursuit. If Siah could get inside and bolt the door, he’d be safe, and so would Anab’s grain for the year. Only nine, ten more steps, but the Anak was closing in on him.

  Othni searched for an Anak arrow. One well-placed shot, and Siah would be out of danger. It would be one of his longest shots ever, but he had to try. Seeing two of the prized missiles, he jumped to the ground to retrieve them.

  Then Othni saw him. A tiny child, a boy. Barely a toddler. Frozen with fear, tears streaming down his face, hands clenched at his chest.

  Why was he still here, and not in Debir? And where was his imma? His abba? He must have gotten lost in the confusion.

  He had round cheeks, and hair the color of Acsah’s, and Othni’s heart panged. He glanced at Siah, then the child.

  Could Othni load an arrow and fell the Anak in time to save Siah? Doubtful. But he could reach the boy. He was not going to hesitate like he did four years ago and lose them both. He ran to scoop up the child and deposit him in a home, any home, to keep him safe. Two steps from the boy, a brutal pain sliced across his bicep. Another slashed his thigh. Warm blood flowed down his arm and leg. He stumbled to the child, wrapped his good arm around the boy’s waist and tucked him against his side. He staggered to the nearest courtyard, set the boy down, and collapsed onto his stomach.

  He managed a deep breath while he saw the boy run into the open room. He breathed a prayer of thanks as everything went dark.

  It wasn’t until Othniel looked away that Enosh noticed Seraiah.

  When Othniel grabbed the little boy, Enosh charged at the Anak. Two more of his men followed. Enosh held his short sword in both hands over his head. When he neared the giant, he raised it, and jabbed it into the Anak’s lower back, left of center. After he fell, another soldier sliced under his armpit. Blood poured out.

  Enosh bolted for the commander. Blood gushed far too fast from the gash in his thigh. The one on his arm didn’t seem as deep. Enosh ripped a strip from the bottom of his tunic and wound it around Othniel’s leg, knotting the ends together. He did the same on his arm.

  A woman ventured from the house holding out another tunic, glancing side to side as she walked toward him. He grabbed it and began tearing. The first bandage was already soaked. He wrapped the leg again, and noticing the woman had ripped another strip, added that one as well.

  He stood and surveyed the little town. It appeared the Anakim were all dead or occupied, but he needed to make sure. He also needed to find Seraiah. “Will you stay with him a moment?”

  She nodded.

  He sprinted to the town center. Quickly checking with Othniel’s captains, he made sure all the giants had been killed. He questioned his own men to make sure none had escaped to the southern hills this time. Satisfied with their answers, he set the men cleaning up the mess the giants had left behind. The men of Anab had already begun carrying the carcasses of the livestock out of the city.

  But where was Seraiah?

  He returned to Othniel.

  The woman looked up from where she knelt beside his fallen commander. “I tried to get him to drink some water, but he won’t wake up.”

  He’d seen this before. With the amount of blood Othniel had lost, he probably wouldn’t awaken until at least tomorrow. “Thank you. Is there somewhere he can stay for a day or two?”

  “He can stay here, if you help me move him.”

  “I’ll need to remain with him as well. Who else is here with you?” They couldn’t stay there if she was alone.

  “My husband and son.”

  “Very well. I’m so grateful.”

  Her eyes welled up. “You saved our town. We owe you so much more than a couple days on our floor.”

  “Grab his feet.”

  “Let me get a mat and some straw so he’ll be comfortable.” She raced up her ladder.

  Othniel wouldn’t notice it, but if it made her feel better, let her prepare him a softer place. He pulled off his own leather chestplate while he waited for her to return and laid it on the stone wall around her courtyard.

  Seraiah raced into the courtyard. “What ...?” His gaze fell on his brother’s motionless body, his tunic covered with blood. “Is he ...?”

  “No. No, he’s been badly injured, and he’s lost a lot of blood, but I believe he’ll be fine. He needs to rest, but he should be all right in a day or two.”

  “What happened?”

  “He was trying to take a little boy to safety, and he was attacked by an Anak.”

  Seraiah smiled briefly. “Sounds like him.”

  Enosh watched Seraiah’s face. Had he ever had someone care so much for him? Maybe Dania, but he had ruined that.

  The woman returned with a mat and set it on the ground floor. Stepping to the stable area, she filled her arms with straw and arranged it on the floor. Then she carefully placed the mat on top of that.

  “Seraiah, can you grab his legs?” Enosh knelt at his head, slipped his arms under Othniel’s shoulder blades, and grabbed his tunic. Together they lifted the unconscious man and walked backwards to the mat, then gently lowered him to the ground.

  “Can you help me get this off?” Enosh raised Othniel up and rested him against his chest, then untied the fasteners at the sides of his armor. He started to pull it over Othniel’s head, but that was impossible with him against his chest.

  “Here.” Seraiah grabbed at the shoulders and pulled upward while Enosh pushed him forward. Together they removed the clunky article, then Enosh laid him down again.

  Enosh stood. “Siah, why don’t you take charge of getting the city cleaned up? The men know and respect you more. I’ll stay here with him for now. You can come back later.”

  Seraiah eyed him.

  Enosh wasn’t sure Seraiah quite believed his reasons, but it was best that he keep busy, and not sit here and worry about Othniel.

  Enosh collapsed against the wall, resting his arms on his raised knees.

  The young woman offered him juice. He drank it but didn’t really taste it.

  The elders slaughtered a few young goats to feed and thank the men of Debir.

  Other than Othniel, there had only been a few injuries and no deaths. Yahweh had truly blessed Israel. To be fair, they outnumbered the Anakim, but he had learned that Yahweh’s will could frustrate man’s no matter what.

  Enosh stayed with Othniel while Seraiah took charge of the city. The woman—her name was Dinah, he had learned—brought him some of the food. He’d better eat; his body needed food whether he wanted it or not.

  He felt Othniel’s brow to be sure a fever wasn’t taking hold. Maybe he could get some honey later.

  The soldiers and the people of Anab cheered and danced and feasted. Why wasn’t he a part of it? This man beside him couldn’t exactly be called a friend. Not long ago, he had held Othniel liable for everything bad in his life. He wasn’t, but Enosh had placed the blame there regardless. And even though he had come to terms with his own failures and responsibilities, he still wouldn’t consider Othniel his friend.

  So why did he feel the need to watch over him?

  Othni blinked his eyes. Where was he? Someone’s common room, but whose? He tried to roll over, but pain shot up his arm. He lifted his head. His right arm, the same one he burned in Debir, and his thigh on the same side were heavily bandaged. Blood had seeped through in spots, but it was dark and dried. Thank Yahweh the bleeding must have stopped.

  But not the pain.

  He rolled over on the other side, leaned on his forearm a moment or two until his head stopped spinning, and sat up. He just needed something to help him sit upright.

  “You can’t stand up just yet.” Enosh jogged from the other side of the room and grabbed his arm, helping him lean against the wall. “You lost a lot of blood. You need to eat and get your strength back.”

  Slowly images reformed in his mind. The Anakim
breaking through the gates, grabbing animals, knocking down walls …

  His brother. The child.

  He felt like an Anak had lifted him and thrown him to the ground. He could barely breathe. His chest ached like it never had before. Pain worse than the burn on his arm, than the hole in his side, than any wound he had ever suffered.

  “Siah?” He could barely bring himself to ask the question. “Is Siah …”

  “Siah is rebuilding the well.”

  Othni leaned his head against the wall. The weight of the city walls seemed to be lifted from his shoulders. If he had been responsible for Siah’s … he couldn’t even think about it. Yet he didn’t see any other choice he could have made.

  “I can go get him for you. He is quite anxious to see you.”

  “No. Not yet.” He wasn’t ready for that conversation.

  “You made the right decision. You were too far away, and there were too many people in the way. Even for you, and you’re the best archer I have ever known.”

  “Thank you,” Othni whispered. Still, to choose not to save your own brother …

  A young woman handed something to Enosh.

  “Here.” He shoved a bowl at Othni. “It’s broth.”

  He studied the unappetizing bowl. “Just broth?”

  Enosh, sitting next to him with a bowl that looked decidedly more appealing, smirked. “Keep that down and I’ll see what else I can find.”

  He slurped the watery liquid. It hit his stomach and warmed his insides. He breathed deeply. “It’s good.” Not lentil. Not sure what kind. “Where are we?”

  “Anab. Jephthah’s house.”

  “I take it the battle is over, and the Anakim are gone.”

  “All dead.”

  “Did they hurt anyone?”

  “Some injuries. None dead. We’ve rebuilt the walls of the courtyards and the vineyards, cleaned up the olive groves, and we’re digging another well near the one they caved in. Should take another day or two. Their vineyards won’t be bearing any fruit for several years, and they lost a lot of livestock. They’ll need help from other cities for a while.”