Between the Wild Branches

by Connilyn Cossette

  “She is beautiful,” she said as I took my place behind her.

  “Who, my la—? Mariada.”

  “Your daughter.”

  I held my breath to keep in the sob that surged into my throat.

  “She will have your eyes someday, I think. Such a pretty and unusual mix of colors.”

  I’d not been close enough to my baby to know such a detail, my greedy eyes only glimpsing dark hair and a precious face from across the room.

  “And now that she laughs,” she said, “she has that same dimple in her cheek that I’ve seen on yours, during the rare occasions that you smile broadly.”

  I could do nothing to stop the tears that spilled over, and I was glad she was faced away from me as she innocently twisted the spear of grief deeper into my soul. But somehow she must have sensed my pain. She swiveled around on her stool and looked into my eyes.

  “I wish it were different,” she said, her tone strong and sincere, “between your people and mine, so we could simply be friends. Or at the least that I had enough power to have stopped Tela from taking her.”

  “As do I,” I said. “I would count myself blessed to have a friend such as you, no matter our heritage.”

  She gave me another sweet but rueful smile and turned back around to let me finish my task. But before I did, I placed my hand on her shoulder. “And thank you. For choosing me that day. I will always be grateful. If you had not, I am certain that neither I, nor my child, would have lived.”

  Twenty-Two

  Lukio

  My footsteps echoed in the dark as I headed home after Orada’s funeral. The streets were empty, my only companions the sort of creatures that embraced deep shadows. Although I had nothing to fear from these night dwellers, human or otherwise, I missed Igo, having become accustomed to his quiet presence at my side. But I’d been right to leave both him and Zevi at home, far away from tonight’s ghoulish ritual.

  The death of the Hebrew girl lay heavily on me, even though I could have done nothing to save her. Yet whenever I thought of that blood dripping onto the altar, it was not a young slave’s face I saw in my mind, but Tesi’s.

  Mariada had turned away once to speak quietly with her mother, and for the first and only time since we’d arrived at the internment grounds, I’d allowed my eyes to drift to Shoshana. Still standing just behind us, she’d looked so small among my compatriots, the same group of people who’d just cheered for the blood of her own kinswoman. I’d expected to see terror in her expression, but when she lifted her gaze to meet mine, her abject grief was palpable enough to wash over me like a tidal wave.

  She’d lost so much. Her mother, her brothers, her children, and now a friend in the most heinous of ways. I wanted nothing more than to wrap my arms around her like I had when I was a boy, to hide her away from the pain of the world beneath our sycamore tree, and to vow that I would protect her from now on—the way I hadn’t done when I left her behind. It was only a moment that our gazes connected, yet it felt as though a thousand words passed between us before I was forced to turn away from the woman whom I’d thought I would marry and toward the one who would soon be my wife—something that was becoming more difficult with every brief encounter.

  As I ambled through the slumbering city, trying to force thoughts of what could have been from my mind, I could not help but remember the day I’d returned to Ashdod. With a belly full of anger, I’d strode through the streets that day in awe of the bustling spectacle that was the city of my birth. Dazzled by the inspiring buildings, finely tailored garments, and beautiful women who appreciated my face and form, everything I’d laid my eyes upon that day had made Elazar’s family seem backward and uncultured.

  I’d sneered at the Hebrews’ simple way of life in their rough-hewn homes atop the mountain. I’d thought their laws rigid and their stories of miracles and split seas ridiculous. I’d compared the God they worshiped to the many bejeweled and well-crafted ones that decorated the homes of the Philistines and ridiculed the idea of an invisible deity who cared anything for a barely confederated nation of shepherds and farmers—let alone saw them as his treasured children the way Elazar, and my sister, had insisted.

  For years, Ashdod had glittered in the sun for me, like the iridescent shell I’d given Shoshana, but the shine had finally worn completely off. After witnessing what I had tonight, I could no longer deny that my sister had been right about our people.

  Although the Hebrews did offer animal sacrifices to Yahweh, the prayers that accompanied such gifts were mostly in gratitude for his goodness, supplications for his protection, and pleas for forgiveness. There was no lascivious flouting of naked bodies, no sensual and unspeakable acts committed for the sake of the fertility of the land or the people. There were no offerings of human blood on the altar or infant immolations. I’d avoided the temples here for so long that I’d been able to fool myself into believing that none of it mattered, but now I was forced to admit that the reason I’d done so was because such acts reminded me of the vast differences between the life I’d walked away from and the one I’d run headlong into.

  So lost in my thoughts, I did not notice the footsteps gaining on me until I was nearly at my own front door.

  I swung around, fists at the ready and body tensed for a fight.

  Mataro stood three paces away, hands uplifted. “It’s only me.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Can a man not visit his cousin? It’s been too long since we’ve spoken.”

  Remembering the oddity of his presence at the funeral tonight, I did not relax my stance. Mataro never did anything without a hidden motive. “I have nothing to say to you.”

  His hands drifted down as he took another step toward me. “We’re family, Lukio. The same blood runs in our veins.”

  The light from the nearest window, undoubtedly lit by Teitu in anticipation of my return, illuminated the blackness of Mataro’s enlarged pupils. He must have drunk deeply of the laced wine tonight.

  “All I’ve ever desired was your success, cousin. And I can still be of help to you.”

  “You want only to help yourself to my wealth.”

  He shook his head. “That’s not true. I am proud of all you’ve accomplished. And you’re all I have left of my family, Lukio. I have no sons. You alone are my legacy. Why wouldn’t I want the best for you? Let me be of service to you in your new position.”

  I huffed a disbelieving laugh. “And how would you help me? I have plenty of men to do my bidding and the king’s ample resources at my disposal.”

  “I have friends in important places, friends who can ensure that this new festival of yours is a success. Those men I was telling you about from Gaza, they have a new fighter—”

  I put up a hand. “I don’t need anything from you. Go home. Sleep off your drink.”

  I turned to go, wishing I could put this awful night behind me but knowing I’d likely lie awake on my bed, dreaming up ways to get Shoshana out of Ashdod safely and without detection.

  “I would not be so hasty to dismiss me, Lukio.” Mataro’s tone had lost all pretense of cordiality. “Those same friends who can help you can also work against you. It would be a shame if they did so.”

  My back stiffened, but I kept my composure as I turned to look at his face, still marked with scars from the plague that had taken my aunt and uncle and the rest of our family to their graves. The shadows thrown by the lamplight caused the pitted valleys across his skin to appear even more macabre.

  “That sounds all too close to a threat, cousin.” I leaned heavily on the word.

  His palms turned up in supplication. “I would never presume to threaten you. Only to make you aware that there are whispers.”

  I arched my brows, inviting him to continue. “About?”

  “There are those who question your appointment and the king’s decision to give a common fighter so much power.”

  I opened my mouth to refute him, to remind him that I was not just a fighter but a wea
lthy landowner, whose goods were traded all over the Great Sea.

  “Not me, of course,” he said quickly. “I always knew you had great potential. Even in your youngest years, you were remarkably cunning.”

  “I am not concerned about gossip,” I said, with a flip of my hand to brush away his empty flattery. “The king knows he can trust me. He gave me his favorite daughter, did he not?”

  “And there’s no one more worthy of such a fortuitous match.”

  Opening the door to my house, I turned away from his false praise, too exhausted from the emotion of the day to listen to another disingenuous word from his mouth.

  “I did find it interesting, however . . .” The sinister drawl of the words made me halt with one foot over my threshold. “That you seemed far more interested in your bride’s maid tonight than you did the king’s daughter. A Hebrew, correct? And quite a delectable little one at that. A recent mother, too, from what I hear. So she’s certainly experienced.”

  My blood turned to ice. He must have seen that brief but silent interchange between Shoshana and me. Although I was more than tempted to turn around and choke the life from him for even laying his filthy gaze on her, instead I curled an arrogant smile worthy of Demon Eyes on my lips and shrugged at him. “Mariada will be my wife in a matter of weeks. Who is to stop me from taking a taste of what will soon be mine, after all? You?”

  My stomach roiled at degrading Shoshana to a piece of property, but for her sake and that of her daughter, I barked a laugh, shaking my head in mock amusement. “Go home, Mataro. Count what’s left in your purse, if anything, now that you don’t have me to leech off of. And don’t come back here again.”

  Leaving my cousin to scuttle back into the shadows, I entered my home with a pointed slam of my door and then leaned back against the wall to calm my raging pulse.

  Why could I not keep my eyes to myself? I’d put her in even more danger tonight with my foolish yearnings for the past. Please . . . I began, but then shut down the fruitless prayer before it could take shape in my mind.

  Yahweh may listen to Risi, who was everything good and kind, and perhaps even Shoshana, who took great risks to rescue her vulnerable kinsmen, but no matter what my sister said, the Hebrew god would have nothing to do with the likes of a brutal fighter who’d run away from his sacred mountain and embraced every self-indulgence Philistia had to offer.

  But no matter how useless I’d been to Shoshana in the past, and no matter the sins that blackened my soul, I would not stand by and watch her suffer any more loss. I would get her and her child out of this city, even if it cost me everything.

  Twenty-Three

  I stood in the center of the well-packed fighting grounds, surveying the oblong area that had now been completely cleared and flattened. Already wagers were being made on some of the more prominent fights that would take place three days from now, my own included, and a large group of young men had volunteered to take part in the opening bouts that would precede the organized matches. Everything I’d planned for the festival was coming together seamlessly, and the entire city buzzed with anticipation, yet I no longer cared. The only plan that mattered was the one I would be discussing with Jaru today.

  I allowed my gaze to move over the prolific olive orchard and vineyards that I owned, which, along with the fields of barley and corn, had produced far more than even my overseer had projected for the past couple of years. I was wealthier than I’d ever imagined, even as a boy wandering about the woods of Kiryat-Yearim, dreaming of returning to Ashdod and claiming the fame Mataro had promised me. But I was more than willing to risk it all if it meant that Shoshana could return to her home and her children. Her friendship had been an oasis of joy in the midst of my lonely childhood, and I owed her everything.

  “Is everything ready for the festival?”

  I turned to find Jaru approaching, looking as though he’d gotten about as much restful sleep as I had over these past few days.

  “Almost,” I said, gesturing to the group of Hebrews and their ever-present guards under one the trees that remained along the ridge. “They’re taking a break in the shade for now.”

  Jaru grunted his approval, his eyes moving over all the progress we’d made. I’d joined in the labors a few times over the past week and could not deny that I’d enjoyed felling trees again for the first time in a decade. I’d ignored the curious looks by both the guards and the captives as I’d done so, almost reveling in the burning blisters that had formed on the hands that had grown unaccustomed to slinging an ax.

  Not until recently had I realized how much I missed the smell of wood dust, the crack of a mighty tree giving way to my strength, the roar of its fall, and the shaking of the ground beneath my feet as it hit the earth. It only made me more determined to be done fighting for good. I would have my final match here on these grounds and, hopefully by then, Shoshana would already be back in Kiryat-Yearim with her little ones. I swallowed against the ache in my throat when I thought of never seeing her again, of losing her a second time, but I vowed to be content that she was safe and free.

  “It is truly impressive what you’ve managed to accomplish, Lukio,” Jaru said. “I will admit that when I heard you were replacing Oleku as the Master of Games I did not have much confidence that a young man who’d done little more than fight with his bare hands could organize a festival like this one. But you proved me wrong, and I am glad for it.”

  I ignored his meaningless accolades. “I need your help.”

  His brows arched in surprise at my urgent tone. “After the assistance you’ve provided my people, both with resources and information, I am at your service.”

  I’d not done much to aid Jaru’s rescue efforts, merely provided the location of the two girls so they could be freed and donated a small cache of silver for bribes. I’d never been more grateful for my wealth and access when he told me the girls were safe. Perhaps after Shoshana escaped, I’d get more involved in his schemes. After marrying into the royal family, I’d have plenty of opportunity to do so—if, that was, my own plan did not burn my standing with the king, and therefore my betrothal to his daughter, to the ground.

  “The woman you’ve met with in the garden shed. Shoshana. We need to get her out of this city.”

  He shook his head. “As much as I would like to help every slave in Ashdod, we must conserve our energies for those who are most vulnerable. Your friend lives in the palace, Lukio. She is safe. Well fed. Not being sold for her body. If she were a child in danger, it would be another matter.”

  Although I felt fairly confident that Jaru was trustworthy, I hesitated to reveal Shoshana’s secret. I would never forgive myself if something were to happen that would keep her from her daughter. But without Jaru’s help, the idea I’d been working on would fail. I needed his contacts in the palace, his network, and his expertise in such matters.

  “Shoshana may not be a child, but her infant daughter is being held in the palace.”

  He flinched. “Her child is in Ashdod?”

  I nodded, my stomach churning as I revealed all that had happened to Shoshana and how Tela had stolen her baby just after birth.

  His dark eyes were sorrowful as he contemplated my revelations for a few quiet moments. “I am sorry, Lukio. I wish we could help, but it’s just not possible. Even with the men I have under my influence, smuggling a baby out of the royal residence is beyond risky—it’s downright suicidal. Nicaro is fiercely protective of his family. If any one of us got caught stealing a baby he considers one of his grandchildren, he would not only have our heads but those of our entire family. I cannot risk my wife and children for a babe who will grow up in lavish splendor and treated as royalty. I am sorry for Shoshana. I truly am. She is a sweet girl who has never wavered in her commitment to helping us. But it’s just not possible.”

  I’d anticipated as much, but I’d considered every angle. “My cousin came to visit me two nights ago, after the funeral. He knows about Shoshana and me. And he did not make
his threats to expose her subtle in the least. He must have some sort of connection within the palace, too, because he seemed to know about the baby.”

  Jaru’s jaw twitched as he considered this news.

  “If he exposes the child as an imposter, as a Hebrew, I fear for what Nicaro might do. You know our king. Any whisper of subversion to his power is squelched mercilessly, and any talk of a Hebrew babe being raised in his home would be a threat to his reputation for certain. In fact, he might even kill Shoshana, too, just to keep the entire thing quiet.”

  Jaru’s gaze moved to the west, toward the seashore where he’d been found by compassionate Philistines. He was a good man. One who risked much for those who could not protect themselves. But I sensed that he was not convinced. I hated to use my last weapon, but I’d do anything to make sure Shoshana and her baby were safe.

  “If you will help me with this, I vow that I will never reveal what I know of your network.”

  His head whipped around, his eyes piercing. “And if I don’t?”

  I shrugged, letting my fighter’s arrogance bleed through. “I will do what I must to protect her.”

  There was no mistaking my veiled threat. I had no intention of revealing his rescue efforts, knowing that his entire family would be at risk if his role were uncovered, but I was desperate enough to feign such ruthlessness.

  He glared at me for a few moments, assessing the hardened expression I’d fixed on my face.

  “She was more than your friend, wasn’t she?” he asked, reminding me again of his mother and her uncanny way of exposing artifice. More than a few times Azuvah had caught me in lies, and with little more than a pointed look, had cowed me into spilling the truth.

  “We were to be married.”

  “You were betrothed?”

  “Not yet. We were too young at the time. I’d been working toward that future when everything crumbled to pieces. She married someone else to satisfy her father’s debt.”