Eleven
Arisa
The path up the back of the mountain was steep, but Abinidab said it was the only way the Ark could be transported. The other way was too narrow and winding for the six white-clad men who’d been taking turns carrying the burden since dawn. Lukio and I followed a safe distance from the golden chest at the head of our strange procession, both of us in awe of the enormous trees on either side of the path that stretched toward the sky in clusters of green-headed splendor. A storm was threatening, the stir of dark clouds gathering above us as we pressed toward the summit. It seemed like we were climbing into those same clouds as we ascended, and I wondered if the gods were nearer here, where the mingled scents of bark and decaying vegetation spoke of the cycles of life and rebirth.
Ronen walked a few paces behind us with his eyes on the ground, humming something to himself. He’d said little to me this morning before we began this second leg of our journey but had asked Lukio about the pouch at his neck. At first, my brother had been suspicious, clasping the leather purse in his palm with a determined set to his chin, but Ronen had not been deterred, inviting Lukio to take a closer look at the lion claw necklace he was so fascinated by, and soon the pouch was emptied and all of my brother’s treasures displayed with pride.
During one of our rests over the past few hours, Lukio had even taught Ronen the game of dice that he and his friends spent so much time playing. Why tossing sheep knuckles in the dirt and then counting holes on each side once they shuddered to a stop was so fascinating to boys, I could not begin to guess, but if it caused Lukio to relax a small measure and cease scowling like a cat in a washtub, then I was glad for the distraction.
The pain in my ankle had been greatly diminished by this morning, thanks to a strong-smelling herb poultice administered by one of the women of Beth Shemesh, and I’d been able to walk most of the day. But after so many hours on this upward road plagued by uneven ruts and hard-packed dirt, my ankle had begun to swell and throb once again.
My next step landed on the wrong edge of a loose stone, and it jostled beneath my sandal, knocking me off-center and nearly pitching me to the ground. I sucked in a breath as new pain spread across the top of my foot, making the soreness in my ankle a distant memory.
A hand gripped my arm as I wobbled, saving me from falling forward in a graceless heap.
“There now,” said Ronen, holding me upright. “Are you all right?”
My throat closed shut as his brown eyes, the color of rich earth, surveyed me carefully. He looked to be close in age to Mataro, but the thick black hair curling around his ears made him seem far more youthful than my awful cousin. And the concerned furrow between his dark brows made it clear there was little similarity between the two.
“Is your ankle hurting again?” he asked when I failed to answer.
Blinking in embarrassment, I nodded.
“Can you walk?”
“Yes,” I replied, the word so small it likely was borne away on the breeze.
I did not know why Ronen made me feel so timid. I’d never been the type of girl who fluttered and preened over older boys deemed handsome by others. All I knew was that whenever he looked my way, my chest squeezed tightly, my palms sweated, my voice pinched tight, and I had to look away from his potent gaze.
I lifted a tight smile and took another step, but the pain was so sharp that colors swirled in my vision, and I could not restrain the strangled cry that burst from my lips. Hot tears of humiliation gathered in my eyes.
“You’re truly injured, aren’t you?” he said, looking ahead to where the rest of the men trudged upward, ignorant of my struggle.
I replied with a small shrug, wishing he’d just go on and let me limp behind and pray to whatever god lived on this mountain that Abinidab’s house was not much farther up this untamed road.
Ronen moved in front of me and crouched down in the dirt, patting his back. “Climb on.”
I skittered backward, gasping as another shock of pain gripped my foot.
“I may not look like a camel,” he said, with a grin over his shoulder. “But I do a passable impression of one. I promise not to spit.” He winked at me, the gesture causing another of those unfamiliar flutters in my stomach.
When I did not respond to his jest, his lips curled into a gentle, reassuring smile, and his tone softened. “I understand that you don’t know me, Arisa, and this is all very confusing and frightening for the two of you. But I would never hurt you or your brother. I only want to help. It’s not too much farther, but the sun is going down, so we need to be on our way. And I promise that once we reach Abinidab’s home, you will be fed and cared for with utmost hospitality.”
Lukio nudged me at the mention of food. “Hurry,” he said, in our own tongue. “I’m hungry.”
Resigned, I sighed and with heat flooding my face, I inched closer as Ronen turned around, giving me his back again. My stomach twisted about like a fishing net caught on the rocks, but I placed my hands on his shoulders and allowed him to hoist me up, his arms wrapped beneath my knees to keep me steady. His muscles strained beneath his tunic, and he bounced once, jostling me into a position that forced me to wrap my arms around his neck. Then, tipping his head in a silent command for Lukio to keep pace, he began to walk.
Mortified by my helplessness, especially in front of a man who made my insides flip and squeeze, I held on tight and kept my eyes pinned on the road in front of us, straining for any glimpse of the old man’s home.
But then Ronen began to sing.
When he’d woken the two of us with his presence yesterday by the wall, I’d been tempted to snatch up Lukio and flee the valley, regardless of the pain in my ankle. But I’d been so drawn to the lovely sound of a deep voice singing in Azuvah’s language and desired to listen for just a while longer. He’d fumbled with the sounds, altering the order every so often, just like how I’d seen one of the stoneworkers shifting rocks back and forth as he devised a swirling pattern on the new hearth Jacame had commissioned after the earthquake. However, when Lukio had whispered my name during one of the pauses in the melody and we’d been discovered, I’d cursed myself for being so foolish as to be lured into danger by a song.
Now the same melody he’d been experimenting with on the sheepfold wall spilled from his lips, and though there were gaps in my understanding of some words, I grasped the meaning fairly easily. It was the story of a boy tending sheep on a hillside at sunset, watching the clouds slide along the canopy of fading blue overhead and wondering what lay beyond the stars that winked into sight one by one.
Ronen’s deep voice vibrated in his chest, and I felt the echo of it in my own as I held my breath, enthralled by the sounds that emanated from his mouth as he effortlessly carried me toward the summit.
Lukio seemed unimpressed by the singing, caught up as he was in plucking stones from the ground to aim at tree trunks or toss into the babbling stream that ran alongside the path. But as Ronen’s song came to an end, I kept silent, hoping he might sing another.
“We’ve arrived,” he said, to my great disappointment. For as much as I’d been ready for this eternal climb to be over, the music that came from somewhere deep inside Ronen captivated me.
Two homes appeared between the trees. Flat-roofed and fashioned from stone, they perched on the hillside like a pair of gray quail. The other men had already arrived and were gathered in front of the largest home, which I assumed to be that of Abinidab, who seemed to be the leader of this group of white-clad priests. The golden box was nowhere in sight.
As Ronen approached with me still clinging to his back like one of the monkeys from Egypt I’d once seen for sale in the market, Elazar came forward to meet us, a woman at his side, both of them with matching expressions of alarm.
“What happened to her?” said the woman, her pace quickening as she came nearer. Her pale green headscarf fluttered in the breeze, and a few black curls slipped from beneath the cloth, framing her round face.
“S
he hurt herself before I found them yesterday, and it looks as though the long walk aggravated the injury.” Ronen bent his knees, silently giving me permission to climb down.
Gingerly I slid to the ground but winced as soon as my left foot touched the dirt and sucked in a hissing breath.
The small woman practically shoved Ronen out of the way to get to me and slipped her arm around my waist. “You poor girl, how long did you walk on that foot?” She scowled at Elazar, wordlessly chastising the tall, thick-bearded man—her husband, if their familiarity was any indication.
“She hid it well, Yoela,” he said, large palms uplifted. “If I’d known she was hurting, I’d have had us all take turns carrying her.”
Last night, as I’d told this big man and his elderly father my tale, he’d been so kind, never pushing as my voice halted and stumbled over words I’d used only infrequently with Azuvah in secret. And he’d gone out of his way to fashion a soft pallet for Lukio and me at the foot of an oak tree, giving up his own mantle to add to the blanket we’d carried from Ashdod. I’d been stunned by the gentle treatment, especially from a man as large and rough-featured as Elazar, but also struck by a pang of latent grief for the father who’d once carried me around on his shoulders but who had not looked back after leaving us at Jacame and Harrom’s threshold.
Ronen voiced his agreement with Elazar’s words. “It’s true. I walked behind her all day, and it was not until this last stretch that I even saw her falter.”
“Thank you for carrying her, young man,” said Elazar’s wife with a kind smile, her tone gently dismissive. “I’ll make sure she is tended to properly.”
With a respectful nod of his head, Ronen walked away, joining his uncle in the cluster of men who were congregated near the house, discussing something in low, but animated tones. These men seemed to do little more than argue, as I’d witnessed last night. It had taken a long while to relax into sleep after their loud and vehement disagreement, and it seemed that whatever matters they’d been discussing were far from settled.
Lukio had found his way to my other side as Yoela fussed over me, his cheek pressed against my shoulder and his wary gaze darting between Elazar and his wife.
“Come,” she said. “We have just called everyone to gather for a meal. We have much to celebrate and we are delighted you are with us!” Yoela craned her neck to smile at my brother. “And you, my friend, look as hungry as a wandering jackal.” The twinkle in her honey-brown eyes made her seem far more youthful than her husband, whose temples were brushed with silver.
Although he did not respond to her gentle tease, Lukio’s stomach answered for him, and Yoela laughed, the sound nearly as enchanting as Ronen’s music. A rush of something new flooded through my limbs, something that reminded me of the countless nights Azuvah lulled us to sleep with her stories and songs, and the faint memories of being tucked securely against my mother’s warm body.
Any lingering thoughts that Azuvah had led us astray by insisting that we follow the Ark withered away as Yoela guided us to her home, exclaiming over our bravery for making such a treacherous journey alone and telling us how excited her children would be to meet us. And even as two older boys and three girls, all with Yoela’s black curls, emerged from the house to watch our approach with open curiosity, somehow I knew that we’d taken the right path, even if it led us to the top of a mountain deep in enemy territory.
Part Two
And he struck some of the men of Beth-shemesh, because they looked upon the ark of the LORD. He struck seventy men of them, and the people mourned because the LORD had struck the people with a great blow. Then the men of Beth-shemesh said, “Who is able to stand before the LORD, this holy God? And to whom shall he go up away from us?” So they sent messengers to the inhabitants of Kiriath-jearim, saying, “The Philistines have returned the ark of the LORD. Come down and take it up to you.”
And the men of Kiriath-jearim came and took up the ark of the LORD and brought it to the house of Abinadab on the hill. And they consecrated his son Eleazar to have charge of the ark of the LORD. From the day that the ark was lodged at Kiriath-jearim, a long time passed, some twenty years, and all the house of Israel lamented after the LORD.
1 Samuel 6:19–7:2
Twelve
Eliora (Arisa)
1062 BC
KIRYAT-YEARIM, ISRAEL
Clutching the soft stack of cushions I’d collected to my chest, I paused to take in the awe-inspiring view from the rooftop, one that even after eight years never ceased to steal my breath. From this vantage point, I could see the entirety of the valley below and the thick-forested hills all around it, dressed in every shade of green. I inhaled deeply of the crisp smell of the woods and the delicate hint of smoke from the cookfires in the courtyard, enjoying the chorus from a trio of songbirds in nearby pine branches. The sweet familiarity of it all wrapped me in bone-deep contentment.
When my brother and I had arrived on this mountain, desperate and confused, I would have never imagined how much I would come to love every leaf and flower and rock on its slopes. Nor that Elazar and Yoela would not only invite two enemy children into their house, but also welcome us into their family, treat us as their own, and give us new names when we joined ourselves in covenant with the Hebrews. Even if Lukio still struggled with being called Natan, I was ever grateful to leave Arisa behind in Philistia and to be known as Eliora to everyone in Kiryat-Yearim.
Although there were times I missed the tang of sea salt in the air and the distant crash of waves on the shore, this place among the clouds was home—far more than Ashdod had ever been. I would not trade my adopted mother and father—nor any one of my nine adopted siblings—for any amount of time back on the coastal plain where I’d been born. That place and all the terrible memories it harbored was firmly in my past, where it belonged.
Miri appeared at the top of the stairs, her sweetly rounded cheeks flushed and the coils of black hair she’d inherited from Yoela refusing to be tamed by her loose braids. “Eliora! I’ve been searching all over for you!”
My younger sister bounded across the roof to meet me near the parapet. “Safira wants me to remind you that the braziers will need to be filled before dark, and that additional fuel should be fetched. I told her that Natan stacked the woodpile almost to the roof of the shelter, so we have plenty at hand, but she doesn’t believe me.”
I could practically see the pinch of worry between Safira’s dark brows as she’d directed Miri to relay the message. But although her anxieties were rarely based in truth, I had no desire to see our sister fret over any detail during tonight’s wedding festivities. Especially when she was the bride.
I sighed, letting my eyes wander over the eastern hills again. This would likely be the last quiet moment I would have for the next few days. Many of the townspeople would already have begun the hours-long, winding trek up the hillside to join our family in celebrating Safira’s marriage to one of the young Levites who lived here on the mountain above Kiryat-Yearim, and I refused to fall short in my duties. Our mother had instilled her devotion to hospitality in her children, so everyone—from Gershom, our eldest brother, down to little two-year-old Dafna—had duties to perform to ensure that Safira’s marriage celebration would be one to remember for years to come.
“Help me with the rest of these, won’t you, Miri?” I gestured toward the last of the colorful cushions left atop the roof from a Shabbat gathering two nights ago. “Thankfully the rain held off this week or they’d all be soaked through.”
“I’d be happy to,” she chirped, thirteen years of exuberance wrapped up in her youthful smile as she moved to comply. “But Ima says I must fetch more bowls from the storage room next. And Rina needs help turning the meat spits since Shai and Amina have taken off somewhere.”
Rina, the eldest of my sisters, was the most skilled with cooking, next to our mother. Since her marriage last year to another of the Levites who lived here on the mountain, Rina had taken over much of the cooking f
or the unmarried guardsmen. She was more than capable of overseeing the wedding feast, but I could almost feel her vibrating with tension as she ground something in a mortar across the courtyard. A flash of guilt swept through me at seeing her so on edge and not being able to help her, but I had plenty of my own tasks to attend and could not disappoint anyone by letting a single one fall by the wayside.
Besides, soon the other women of our clan would join Rina and Miri, bringing their own offerings of bread and stews and other savory dishes to add to the feast, and plunging into a swirl of chattering ladies made my skin feel too tight and my stomach writhe like a pot full of caterpillars. Even if none of them had ever said anything unkind in my presence in all these years, I still could not help wondering what they might be saying about the “foreign girl” when I was not around.
I frowned as I peered over the parapet into the courtyard, searching for the twins. “Shai and Amina cannot stay still for an hour, can they?”
Miri shrugged. “They are five. To them, sitting near a fire for hours to ensure a lamb is roasted evenly is akin to torture, even if they’re taking turns.”
Our twin brother and sister were the very definition of life, with boisterous voices that constantly overlapped the other, legs that seemed to be always in motion, and hands that were compelled to touch anything that came into view. They never balked at helping, and in fact begged to be included, but rarely did they finish the tasks assigned to them. I almost dreaded times when they offered to help me in the gardens, as I usually spent most of my efforts directing them and protecting plants from their curious fingers and wayward toes. But their adoring smiles and plentiful hugs made up for any frustrations caused by their enthusiasm.
With our arms full of cushions, Miri and I descended the stone steps into the courtyard, which was the bustling center of preparations for tonight’s feast. After we spread the cushions on the ground in the approximation of a circle to encourage conversation, Miri bounced off to help Rina.
To Dwell among Cedars Page 10