To Dwell among Cedars Read online

  “I am only a servant in these gardens. The real blessing flows from the presence of the Ark on the mountain.”

  He frowned, a disbelieving crease between his black brows. “You think the Ark of the Covenant is the reason for all this?”

  I laughed softly. “The vitality of these plants has little to do with me. I merely tend to their needs and enjoy their offerings. This is why anyone from the town below is welcome to come here, harvest vegetables or fruit, collect herbs to spice their food, or even gather flowers to brighten their tables and homes. It may be mostly my hands that work in these gardens, but they belong to all of us.”

  His gaze locked on my face, blinking at me like I was a stranger whose language he was attempting to decipher. Unsettled by the pointed scrutiny, I brushed dirt from my tunic, hoping to sway the subject away from myself.

  “Is there some way I can be of service to you?” I asked, suddenly realizing that his presence here was odd. Everyone had so much to do to prepare for the upcoming celebrations, and the musicians would be no exception.

  He cleared his throat, shaking his head as if loosening some thought that had taken hold. “I . . . I came to see if I can be of service to you.”

  “To me?” I asked incredulously.

  “I’ve heard that your sisters deliver goods from your gardens down to the village on a regular basis, but that in all the upheaval with the wedding and the festival, it has been a couple of weeks since they’ve been able to do so.”

  A warm flush crept up my cheeks. “That is true. We’ve had such an abundance of melons and gourds recently that I’ll need to find someone to make another trip down before they go to waste. As I said, many of the townspeople come to pick their own food, but there are a number of those who are elderly who cannot make the steep journey, so their deliveries are made first. I planned to send some down to your camp as well, since there is plenty to go around.”

  “And that is where I come in,” he said, his arms stretched wide. “Think of me as your very humble servant.” He bowed with a grin that belied his words.

  Thrown by the unexpected offer, and the way my pulse stumbled whenever he directed that bright smile at me, I stuttered, “Don’t you have things . . . plans to attend to? Songs to prepare?”

  The amusement immediately faded from his face. “My part is minimal for now. I’ve already repaired the instruments that were damaged during the journey here, and I must be available in case anything else breaks during practices, but I’m certain I’ll have a few hours of extra time each day.”

  “But don’t you need to practice with the others? Will the choir be singing some of your compositions?”

  Even though I’d understood little about the creation of music, I knew for certain that Ronen was a talented songwriter. He’d captured me with his voice that first day, as surely as if he’d tied me to that crumbling sheep pen. I’d been unable to move for fear of breaking the spell he’d woven within the space of only a few notes. I could only imagine that after all these years of training at the feet of master musicians, his music must be even more enthralling.

  A shadow of something indecipherable moved across his face. “I have not composed in a very long time,” he said, his tone clipped. “My skills as an instrument builder are far more necessary right now.”

  Bewildered by the terseness of his answer, and the surprising undertone of anger that lay beneath it, I dropped my eyes to the weeds still clutched in my dirty fist, feeling foolish. For as much as I’d held Ronen up in my mind as a savior, I really did not know him. He must think me ridiculous for my assumptions.

  “Thank you for your offer.” I tossed the thistle aside, suddenly eager for him to go. “But it is really not necessary. I’ll manage.”

  Yet, in truth, I was in desperate need of help this week. The rest of my family had been busy lately, both with the wedding and with preparations for our many anticipated guests during the festivals. But perhaps I could talk Natan into helping me instead. Anything to keep him occupied and away from the Gibeonites would be worthwhile.

  “Did your brother return unharmed the other night?” he asked, discerning my thoughts and ignoring my refusal of his offer. “After we spoke on the roof?”

  I frowned, confused by the sudden turn of the conversation. “Other than a few bruises and scrapes—which he well deserved—and a foul-smelling tunic that took hours to scrub clean. Yes, he returned unscathed.”

  “What happened?” His voice was soft, sympathetic. But I was still unnerved from his earlier rebuff, so I settled for a brief explanation that would not press too hard into the tender spots left uncovered by my gut-wrenching prayers earlier.

  “The same thing that has happened many times. He went off with friends, some Gibeonite boys, and they wreaked havoc on some poor shepherd’s sheepfold. My father and brothers went back with him to rebuild the walls and make restitution for his folly.”

  He hummed in thought, his eyes skimming slowly over my flowers again before they came back to land on me. “Perhaps I can be of help in that regard as well?”

  “How so?”

  “He seemed to respond to me all those years ago,” he said. “Perhaps he would again?”

  I huffed a breathy laugh. “It would take more than a game of dice and a few stories to gain his trust now, I’m afraid. My father and both my brothers have tried and failed to draw him out. He refuses every attempt.” I glanced away again, blinking my eyes against the renewed threat of tears.

  “Then what would it hurt for me to try?”

  I crouched down, turning my attention to an invasive patch of clover that encircled a densely blooming mallow bush. “I am certain you have far more important things to tend than my difficulties with Natan.”

  He did not respond, and I took his silence as agreement, allowing the quiet to fall softly between us as I continued to clear the soil around the prolific explosion of yellow blossoms. I was still at a loss as to why Ronen had even sought me out this morning. Something made me suspect that it was not simply to help me in the garden, but I did not have the courage to press the issue. When I was satisfied that the mallow was no longer under threat of suffocation, I plucked a handful of the edible leaves and then stood to brush the dirt from my tunic.

  Ronen’s attention was on some far point, as if he could see through the dense forest to the other side of the mountain, and beyond it the sea beside which I used to live a very different life than the one I did now.

  “I must be off,” I said, forcing a smile. “Rina will be wondering why I’ve not returned with the bulk of the ingredients for her stew.”

  Ronen wrinkled his brow, taking in my small handful of leaves. “I certainly hope there will be more to this stew than that.” The amused twitch of his lips grew into a wide grin that reminded me of the time he spent playing dice with Natan, and how he’d laughed with gusto as my seven-year-old brother beat him effortlessly.

  “I’ve left my very full basket over there.” I gestured toward the far end of the terrace, unable to restrain a responding grin to his tease. It seemed whatever cloud that had come over him when I asked about his songs had dissipated. Gone was the disconcerting flash of annoyance, replaced by the same warmth and confident ease that had made me trust him from the beginning.

  “Then I will help you carry your very full basket back to the house,” he said, waving a hand to usher me forward. “And tomorrow I, along with a couple of my friends, will be here early to help you harvest all those wonderful melons and gourds I’ve heard so much about. Perhaps I’ll even get a chance to speak with this wayward brother of yours—see if I might offer a fresh voice of counsel on the type of company he’s been keeping. I can be quite persuasive, I’m told.” He winked, proving his own argument.

  Obviously my refusal of help had been tacitly ignored. Although I wasn’t certain that I welcomed other strange men disturbing my early mornings alone with my vegetables and flowers, I could use extra hands in the garden, and his concern for Natan did s
eem genuine. Perhaps Yahweh had answered my prayers for something to reach my brother’s stony heart by bringing Ronen back to Kiryat-Yearim.

  Nineteen

  Relying on the familiar motions of slicing gourds from their vines to keep my attention away from Ronen, who’d indeed appeared this morning with his twin friends to help with the harvest, I startled when my name echoed across the garden, bouncing off the trees.

  Before I could even determine which direction the sound was coming from, it repeated twice more, each time with more desperation. Bounding to my feet, I searched for the source of the frantic call as a girl appeared around a bend in the terrace, her long hair streaming out behind her like a brown ribbon and abject horror on her face. Realizing it was Shoshana, the daughter of Menash, one of the Levites who guarded the Ark, I dropped the yellow gourd I’d just picked, along with my knife, and jogged forward to meet her.

  “You must come!” she called out as she stumbled to a halt in front of me. Her entire body was trembling, and her large hazel eyes were swimming in tears. “It’s Lu . . . Natan. He’ll be killed!”

  My blood went still, and a faint ringing began in my ears.

  “What do you mean? Where is he?” My own voice sounded distant as I gripped her arm.

  “He and Medad are fighting, and it’s so awful. Neither one of them will stop, they just keep pummeling each other. I tried—I tried so hard. I called his name and called his name, and he just refuses to listen. You have to come! He will listen to you, I know it!”

  My chest pinched at the image her words created, one in which the Natan of the present was mingled with the Lukio of the past. The one whose bloody lip and black eye reminded me that I’d failed to keep my little brother safe.

  “What is happening?” asked a deep voice that somehow cut through the pulsing chaos in my head.

  Ronen was suddenly next to me, concern on his face.

  “My brother has gotten into an altercation,” I said, through the burn of tears in my throat. “I—I have to go.”

  Even as I spoke the words, panic began to well. It had been so long since I’d walked down the trail to Kiryat-Yearim, and even the idea of doing so made sweat break out on my forehead and my throat tight. But the thought of my brother in such danger was even more terrifying than leaving the only place I felt truly safe.

  “I’m coming with you,” Ronen said, his tone brooking no argument as he gestured for Osher and Shelah to follow. Although my heart thundered and jolted with every step away from the top of the mountain, I bounded down the jagged trail behind Shoshana, who’d not stopped weeping since she appeared in the garden.

  When we were about halfway to the town, Shoshana suddenly dashed off the trail, pressing through the brush toward a small clearing up ahead. We heard the fight well before we saw it. The horrific sounds of flesh hitting flesh, along with a number of angry voices filtered through the trees as we neared the melee.

  Medad’s two brothers were on one side of the clearing, their faces twisted with menace as they screamed encouragement to their older brother. A few other young people from Kiryat-Yearim watched the chaos with varying shades of support for both opponents spewing from their lips. Adnan and Padi were there as well but spun around and left the moment they spotted me, belying Natan’s assurances about their loyalty.

  I heard the name “Demon Eyes” called out more than once, which I assumed was a spiteful moniker to mock Natan’s mismatched eye color. But nothing prepared me for the sight of my brother straddling the other young man, his bloody fists swinging with such fury that they were nearly a blur.

  I gasped his name on a sob, but his concentration was on his grim task.

  Ronen charged forward, not hesitating to grab Natan by the tunic with both hands. But my brother would not be moved, ignoring Ronen’s every attempt to pull him off Medad, unceasing in his relentless assault.

  Blood was everywhere. On his knuckles, his face, his clothes. Both young men looked like they’d been to war.

  I screamed my brother’s name over and over, but he was deaf to me.

  Ronen’s friends joined the fray, and together the three of them used their joint strength to drag Natan backward, ignoring the vile curses that spewed from his mouth as they did so.

  As soon as they gave him a bit of slack, Natan swung around, fist flying. Thankfully, Ronen anticipated the move, avoiding the blow with a surprisingly swift dodge. His friends regained their hold, one restraining his arms and the other latching on a chokehold.

  “Natan!” Ronen yelled, with a commanding edge in his voice that shocked me. “Your sister is watching! Stop this, now!”

  Although his teeth were gritted and his face red, Natan’s eyes wheeled toward where I stood with both hands over my mouth and tears soaking the sleeves of my tunic. He jerked his body, still fighting the hold the men had on him.

  “Lukio!” bellowed Ronen. “Stop fighting them!”

  Natan flinched at the sound of his birth name, his attention snapping back to Ronen. He gaped at the Levite, but then his eyes dropped to Ronen’s neckline, where the lion claw necklace he’d been so enamored with as a child still hung on the same leather cord.

  “You,” he said, blinking rapidly. “You’re that . . .”

  Ronen nodded. “And just like that day, I am here to help. My friends and I mean you no harm.”

  My chest shuddered with trapped sobs, and, at my back, Shoshana trembled, her fingers clutching my tunic so tightly that I felt her fingernails digging into my skin.

  Chest still heaving, Natan’s body slowly relaxed, even if his jaw was still as tight as a bowstring. The Levites did not release him, rightly guessing that if let free my brother might re-engage with Medad.

  However, a glance to my right showed that already the young man’s brothers had him on his feet and slung between them as he limped off into the woods. The rest of the onlookers had already filtered away as well, uninterested once the fists stopped flying.

  “You could have killed him,” I said to Natan, my words a painful rasp against a throat aching from screaming his name.

  “Given what he said, I had every right to,” he spat out.

  “What did he say?” I asked, taken aback by the vitriol in his tone.

  He pressed his bloodied lips together, his nostrils flaring.

  “Natan,” I urged.

  His brown and green eyes narrowed on me sharply. “He called you the product of a pagan and a temple whore at the foot of Dagon.”

  My mouth went dry as the blood seemed to drain from my face. I was not innocent to the ways my people worshiped their gods—little had been hidden even from my young eyes at the temple. Not only had my uncle been a High Priest of Dagon—to whom public fertility rites were performed without shame—but my aunt had been devoted to the Serpent Goddess, whose bare-breasted priestesses handled all manners of snakes in their rituals, some whose bites were known to cause the women to fall to the ground, bodies writhing and seizing as they divined all manner of prophecies. Nothing could wash away such disturbing images from my mind, but I’d hoped that Natan at least might be ignorant to some of the more lurid aspects of our past, since he’d been so young. However, it seemed I’d been the ignorant one.

  “As vile an accusation as that is,” said Ronen, “this could have been dealt with without bloodshed.”

  “What say do you have in any of it?” snarled Natan. “Whether or not you stumbled across us as children does not mean you have authority over me.”

  Ronen heaved an exasperated sigh. “Perhaps not. But your sister is right that you could have killed that boy if we had not arrived in time.”

  “He attacked me first,” said Natan with a belligerent sneer.

  “Doesn’t matter. Anyone with eyes could see that you had no intention of stopping. And that would mean the penalty of death for you.”

  Natan jerked his head to the side, his jaw grinding as he glared off into the trees.

  Ronen gestured to his friends, who slowly relea
sed my brother and then backed away. “If it had been my own sister, I might have been tempted to react in much the same way. But you lost that fight the moment you lost control.”

  “I knew what I was doing,” Natan said, eyes now narrowed on Ronen and chin lifted. “He got what he deserved.”

  Ronen’s answer was sharp as a blade. “Does your sister deserve to watch you be stoned to death?”

  My brother’s gaze slid back to me, and my heart squeezed between the equal weights of both my love and my worry for him. I stepped forward, the desire to embrace him nearly overwhelming. But he spun around, and after roughly brushing past Ronen’s friends, bumping their shoulders unapologetically as he did so, strode up the trail.

  “Let him go,” said Ronen, his eyes on my brother’s retreating back, but none of the edge leaving his voice. “He needs time to let his blood cool completely before anyone can reason with him.”

  Although it galled me to stop my feet from following, Ronen was right. Natan needed to uncoil himself first or he would hear no one.

  I guessed where he might be headed—a cave he’d discovered on the west side of the mountain years ago. Although I’d once secretly followed him there, after an argument that left both of us tangled in frustration and hurt, I would never intrude on his secret refuge. I had my own place of retreat and understood the need for solitude when my soul was heavy.

  “He’s right that Medad instigated the fight.” Shoshana released her grip on the back of my tunic and emerged with tearstains on her freckled cheeks. Distracted as I was, I’d forgotten that she’d been hiding behind me this entire time. “Medad has been pushing him for as far back as I can remember, insulting him, calling him ‘Demon Eyes.’ But I knew when he slandered you so terribly that Natan would not stand for it.”