To Dwell among Cedars Page 20

  It did not matter that I’d known most of them for eight years now; I’d never felt comfortable among them. There were times I’d tried to relax, allowing myself to laugh just a little bit louder at some amusing tale or to interject a comment or two, but somehow I always left feeling as though I’d pushed too hard, forced myself into their circle uninvited, and annoyed people who were too kind to tell me so. I was much better off serving silently and staying in the shadows, more than content to allow Miri and my other sisters to shine like the beautiful lights they were. Hopefully my glaring blunder hadn’t ruined the night for them as well.

  Tomorrow I would make it up to all of them by harvesting a few baskets of my most profuse blooms in the garden. It had been so gloomy lately, with the weather a near-constant drizzle, so I knew a variety of colorful flowers inside everyone’s home this week would be welcome.

  Bolstered by my idea, and knowing I really should try to sleep, I inhaled deeply of the night air, glad that the rain had stopped for at least a little while. When I looked up again at the moon, a strange shadow had eclipsed its fullness, transforming it into an unnatural shape.

  My breath caught. I’d only seen an occurrence like this one time before, just before the Ark of the Hebrews had been brought to Ashdod. The moon had turned a strange reddish color, like blood in the water, and my uncle had woken us all in the middle of the night to beg Dagon for mercy against whatever evil had come over Philistia. At the time I’d cared little for Harrom’s hysterical ravings and had only wanted to go back to sleep. Little did I know how much would change soon after that sign appeared in the sky.

  Wanting to get a closer look, I carefully made my way down the stairs and through the house, then tied my sandals to my feet and crept out the door, careful to pull the latch tightly behind me without making a sound.

  Leaning my back against the side of the house, I watched the moon for a long while, tracking the movement of the cloud across its surface, wondering how such a thing was even possible, and what it might mean. But before I could slide back inside once the moon returned to its full brilliance, a shadow flickered in the corner of my sight.

  I peered into the darkness, wondering if it might be a deer dashing through the clearing, but instead, Natan’s distinctive form was outlined by the moonlight, his long legs taking him away from our home and into the woods.

  What could he possibly be doing out here so late? I suspected it must have something to do with Adnan and Padi.

  Before I could even pause to consider the wisdom of following him past the dark tree line, my feet were moving in that direction. I considered calling out his name but worried it might wake someone. Best to simply catch up with him, I thought, frustration welling up, and drag him back home by the ear. There was no use alerting everyone in our home and the others nearby that, once again, Natan was up to something.

  However, I underestimated my brother’s ability to outpace me, especially when the thick tree cover blotted out the sky and left me with only miserly shafts of moonlight by which to navigate.

  I found myself alone in the woods, my brother nowhere to be seen, and with no idea of where I was or how to get back home. Knowing that the Levites were out here patrolling this area gave me a small measure of comfort. From what my father said, they rarely reported spotting any dangerous animals, only a few small bears in the early months and a pack of jackals from time to time. Both could be easily scared away by loud noises that I was more than prepared to make if necessary.

  Knowing that trying to find Natan now was futile, I walked on a bit farther, hoping I might stumble across one of the guardsmen who would certainly lead me home. Although they were all trained never to take the same path twice through the woods, a safeguard against inadvertently making trails that would lead enemies to the Ark, all of them were experts at finding their way on this mountain, and, as my father had bragged many times, could practically do so with their eyes closed.

  The longer I walked, the angrier I grew. Natan had no business sneaking about in the woods at night, especially with such worthless friends leading him about by the nose. I’d been so hopeful earlier when I’d caught sight of Ronen and Natan talking together after the meal. Ronen had been grinning as he spoke, his palm curved over my brother’s shoulder in an affectionate manner. Losing the fight against whatever humorous thing Ronen was saying, Natan’s mouth had twitched with an almost-smile. My heart had leapt into my throat at the sight, tears filling my eyes. No matter what Ronen thought of me or how I’d ruined his Shabbat meal with my carelessness, at least he’d stood by his promise to attempt a connection with Natan. And for a few moments tonight, it seemed as though they had indeed found common ground, since they continued to talk until Machlon made it clear he was ready to make his way back to camp.

  I’d been relieved when they left, both because I worried that I would do something else to prove myself awkward in Ronen’s presence and because an eerie sense of discomfort enveloped me whenever Machlon looked at me. How two men from the same family could be so very different—

  Something slammed into me, knocking every thought from my head as my skull crashed into a tree trunk and then my body hit the ground. With my mind swirling, I lay twisted in the underbrush as two blurry shadows hovered over me. A man cursed, only his lips visible in the weak moonlight. His face looked to be covered with mud, or perhaps the darkening haze across my vision had caused such a strange illusion.

  “We need to go,” rasped the other shadow. “Leave her.”

  Something about the voice seemed familiar, but before I could organize my jumbled thoughts, a shofar sounded close by.

  The shadows dashed away without another word, gone so quickly that I wondered if I’d imagined them in the first place. But the pounding in my head and the sting on both my palms and knees gave testimony to the fact that someone had indeed collided with me.

  Shofar calls repeated, this time much closer, and then the crash of multiple footfalls approached. Terrified that the men who’d attacked me had returned to finish the job, I held myself still, trying to be invisible, even though I was trembling violently on the inside.

  “Eliora?” said a familiar voice. “Is that you?”

  I peered through the mess of my hair, which had somehow come loose from my sleeping braid, and saw three sets of sandals near me. I whimpered and tried to shrink back, but when one of the men knelt beside me, there was just enough moonlight to see that it was Rami, one of the older Levite guards.

  “Go on,” he ordered with a quick jerk of his head. “Don’t let those two get away. I’ll get her back home.”

  Without another word, the other Levites dashed off into the brush in the direction my attackers had gone. And then, with quiet words of reassurance that I would be all right and that I was safe, the broad-shouldered Levite carefully scooped me off the ground and lifted me in his arms as if I weighed no more than Miri.

  “Let’s get you back to your father.”

  Twenty-Four

  “Then tell me, Menash. How did they get so close? Especially when you were right there?” demanded my father, his resonant voice rolling through the window like thunder as he questioned Shoshana’s father. I’d not meant to overhear him interrogating the guards first thing this morning, but since my mother insisted I stay abed until my head stopped pounding, I’d been an uninvited audience to the meeting happening in the courtyard just outside. I could not hear the mumbled response but imagined that whatever excuse Menash might have to offer would not satisfy my father in the slightest.

  He’d been livid when Rami brought me home, bleeding from the head and still disoriented from my collision with an oak tree. I’d been horrified that his blustering woke everyone in the household, except for little Dafna, who slept blissfully unaware through the entire ruckus. Between my father ordering Rami to wake the other Levites and join the search for the perpetrators, my mother fluttering about treating my wounds, the twins’ loud tears over my injuries, and my tangled hair spilling
all over the place in full view of everyone, I’d been utterly mortified.

  The fact that Natan also appeared in the main room while I’d been explaining my reason for going outside to look at the moon in the first place had only added another layer of confusion to the embarrassing situation. Had I conjured the image of my brother wandering about in the night? Perhaps whatever mystical occurrence had happened in the heavens tonight had caused me to see things that were not there.

  “You were asleep?” bellowed my father. “A highly trained Levitical guard charged with protecting our most holy object would endanger it by sleeping during his patrol?”

  I cringed, feeling mortified on behalf of Shoshana’s father. I’d never spoken with the man, but I had recently overheard my parents talking about how changed he was after the death of his wife and how Shoshana had been forced to shoulder the burden of care for her little brothers in spite of her tender age.

  Menash must have shifted closer to the window because I was finally able to hear his response. “I have no excuse, Elazar. None.” He cleared his throat. “I grew complacent after so long without even a hint of danger. That is my only explanation. I accept full responsibility for my actions.”

  Everything was silent for a long while. I could only imagine how anxious the man must be. My father was never unkind, but he could be stern and unbending if the situation warranted.

  “You are off the rotation, Menash,” said my father, and the iron undergirding his words was enough to make me certain that the man would never again stand guard on this mountain.

  “No. Please, Elazar. My family—”

  My father spoke over his useless pleas. “Your children will not go hungry. There are other ways you can serve your brothers.” The statement was as much a command as a reminder of whom he had betrayed with his careless behavior. “The elders will decide what will be best for you in the long term, but for now I cannot have an unfit man guarding the Ark.”

  There was no response from Menash. What else could he do but accept his punishment? My father’s word was law atop this mountain.

  “You are dismissed,” said my father, as unrelenting as I’d ever heard him. “Send Rami over to me before you head home.”

  I considered making a noise, alerting my father to the fact that I was within hearing of his conversation, but Rami spoke before I could do anything, and curiosity won over my pangs of conscience.

  “Menash is done?”

  “He is,” replied my father. “Find him some work to do in town. He has no one else but us, after all. What did you find in the woods?”

  “Nothing,” said Rami. “There was no trace this morning, except for some trampled brush, where it looks as though a couple of them were hiding. We think there must have been at least three men, possibly four. Maybe even more, there’s no way to know. We think they went in different directions once the shofarim blew. It just took too long for our men to respond once Menash finally blew his horn, and there was some confusion about who should remain in position after the alarm sounded. Running across Eliora didn’t help either. Oren and Eli couldn’t catch up after that.”

  My stomach seemed to make an entire rotation in my gut. Obviously I should not have been out there in the first place, since I’d been dreaming up Natan’s presence in the shadows, but to hear that the men had missed out on catching whomever had been trying to get to the Ark made me ill. How could I have been so foolhardy?

  “She could have been killed,” said my father, his tone as icy as the streams that flowed from the foundations of this mountain.

  “I thought she had been,” said Rami, with a bleak note in his voice. “She was so still there on the ground when we approached. But I don’t think they meant her harm. She said one of them just barreled into her, perhaps even by accident.”

  A low sound of disagreement emanated from my father’s throat. “That makes no difference.”

  “Do you think this was a Philistine scouting party?” asked Rami.

  “They learned their lesson the last time they came near the Ark. Even they wouldn’t be so foolish. And they wouldn’t have left witnesses alive. No, I think these were some of our own.”

  I could not fathom the thought that a Hebrew could have been behind this.

  “Do you suppose Menash was involved?”

  My father paused. “No. He seemed genuinely remorseful. But he will need to be questioned more, just to be certain.”

  “Agreed. And we should regroup,” said Rami. “Add more guards. A double layer of security.”

  “If not more,” said my father. “Tell the men not currently on watch to gather at midday. I’ll speak with the others this morning. Whomever did this is likely still in the area, and we cannot take any chances. There will be no more complacency.”

  Before Rami had even left the courtyard, I was off my bed and moving toward the door, regardless that my skull was vibrating with pain and my eyes went a bit hazy if I turned my head too fast. Thankfully, no one was in the front room when I came down the stairs, and I was able to slip outside without notice and catch my father before he left the courtyard.

  “Eliora,” he said, his silver-threaded brows furrowed deeply. “What are you doing out of bed?”

  “I am fine,” I lied, blinking away the blurred spot in my vision. “I needed to speak with you.”

  “I must deal with my men.”

  “Please,” I said, “it will only take a moment. I must apologize.”

  “Apologize?”

  “For being out there. It was so foolish. I don’t even know what I was thinking.”

  Unless I had proof that Natan had been sneaking off in the night, I did not want to make things worse by revealing it to my father. My brother was barely speaking to any of us as it was.

  “It was very foolish, Eliora. It would have been a simple thing for you to wake me, or one of your brothers, to accompany you if you were so desirous of seeing the moon.”

  “I know, Abba. Please forgive me.” My hands trembled as I awaited his censure.

  His mouth was set in a tight line and his expression severe, but he placed a hand beneath my chin, forcing me to look into his eyes. “If those men had meant to hurt you, you would not be alive right now.”

  I shivered, remembering the force of the shadowed man’s enormous body as he hit me like a runaway chariot. “Do you really think it was Hebrews?”

  His brows went high, and then his gaze flicked up toward the window where I’d been listening. My face flushed. “I didn’t mean to—”

  He held up a palm. “It’s fine. I should have chosen a more private place to deal with Menash.”

  “If it wasn’t Philistines, then is the Ark in danger?” I blurted, the worry in my gut boiling over.

  “Eliora,” he said, his expression softening somewhat. “You were there in that valley eight years ago. You know who protects the Ark.”

  Indeed I did. For the rest of my days I would always remember the prickling sensation that lifted the hair on my neck and arms as the clouds swirled over the valley of Beth Shemesh, and then the horrific clap of thunder and the smell of charred flesh.

  “But it is my duty to guard this area,” my father continued, “and to ensure that unsanctified men remain far enough away that they do not suffer the consequences. Those men last night were taking their own lives in their hands—especially if they were Levites.”

  “Why would Levities be more at risk than others?”

  He contemplated for a few moments before speaking. “You told me once of the disrespectful way the Philistines treated the Ark when they brought it into Ashdod. Do you remember?”

  The memory arose clearly: the sounds of the crowds screaming in vicious glee, my first glimpse of the fascinating golden box, and the feel of Azuvah’s reassuring presence at my side as she mourned the desecration and mockery of the sacred vessel. An unexpected swell of latent grief over her loss welled up, something I thought had been buried alongside my other memories of Philistia.
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br />   “Nothing happened to those Philistines that day,” he said, “even though they offered up the very seat of Yahweh to their pagan god.”

  “Was it only because they did not open the box?”

  “We don’t know if they did or not,” he replied.

  “Then why?” I asked, finally able to articulate the question that had always niggled at my mind. “Why would Levites be struck down immediately when the uncircumcised men who stole the Ark off the battlefield and tossed it at the foot of Dagon were not?”

  “I wondered that myself,” he said, “especially after the tragedy at Afek. I even discussed it with your grandfather a few times.”

  He went silent for a few moments, and I thought perhaps he would simply excuse himself and leave me without an answer. He had much more important tasks to attend to right now, after all. But instead he surprised me by continuing.

  “Let me ask you this,” he said. “When you lived in Ashdod you were subject to the laws of your seren, correct?”

  I nodded, remembering well the horrifying sight of soldiers dragging thieves through the street and men hung on the city walls for unknown offenses, left to be picked over by the birds until only their bones remained as a warning.

  “But when you came here,” he continued, “you were no longer under the jurisdiction of the kings of Philistia. You accepted the offer to become a part of our family, and in doing so, placed yourself not only under my authority, but also the authority of the Covenant.”