To Dwell among Cedars Page 21

  I nodded. Being washed in the cold stream and then speaking aloud my intentions to be part of Israel in front of Elazar’s family would always be one of my most cherished memories. The fact that Natan agreed to observe the Torah laws, yet refused to undergo the rite of circumcision, still bothered me, but did not lessen the joy I’d felt that day.

  “You became a daughter of Avraham, just as much as those born of his lineage, and are therefore subject to the entirety of the covenant Adonai cut with him—both its blessings and its curses.”

  “Curses?”

  “Yes. Disobedience always has consequences. Which brings me back to the Levites. You remember the story of the golden bull in the wilderness, and how the Levites were the only tribe willing to mete out justice against those who worshiped the blasphemous idol?”

  “I do.” The stories of the multitude at the foot of the mountain of Adonai, along with their escape from Egypt, were among the many Azuvah had told Natan and me when we were young. But it wasn’t until I heard them from the lips of my grandfather in the first months of our arrival that I truly understood their significance and how they displayed the power and might of the God who plucked his people from Pharaoh’s grasp and deigned to speak his commands directly to them from the fiery cloud atop the summit.

  “After that day, the sons of Levi were given a special role among the tribes. We alone hold the responsibilities of caring for the Ark, the Mishkan, and the holy implements for the sacrifices. Not all of us are born of Aharon’s priestly line, but we are all set apart for a holy purpose. And because of that separateness and high responsibility, we must be careful to uphold every aspect of Mosheh’s commands with regard to the sacrifices and the implements—to the very letter.”

  “So, because the men at Beth Shemesh were Levites,” I concluded, “they are held to a higher standard?”

  “Exactly. Beth Shemesh is a Levitical town, designated as such by Mosheh himself. They disregarded the Torah—either willfully, or because the knowledge of the laws regarding handling of the Ark was not properly taught generation to generation. They suffered the consequences for such disobedience. The Philistines are not beholden to our laws. They have no such sacred responsibility. However, they still were cursed because of their foolish boast that they’d been victorious over Yahweh—a notion that the Pharaoh in Mosheh’s day learned by suffering his own plagues.”

  Even after all these years, the memory of the horrific black boils on Harrom’s face managed to send a shiver across my shoulders. And the sound of Jacame pleading for Beelzebub, her Mother Goddess, and all the rest of her menagerie of sightless gods to heal her weeping sores and spare her children and grandchildren still rang in my ears with near-perfect clarity, as did the sounds of suffering that had echoed across our city as I lay beside my brother, shivering and weak. All because the seren of Ashdod, along with my uncle, thought they’d bested the Almighty.

  “Ah. It looks as though you have a visitor,” said my father. Startled, I followed his gaze to where Ronen stood fidgeting at the entrance to the courtyard, hesitant to disturb our discussion. My head swam briefly; whether from surprise at his appearance or my injury, I wasn’t certain.

  “He does seem eager to help you in the gardens,” my father said, with the barest hint of amusement in his voice.

  “He and his friends are merely being kind,” I said. “They are grateful we’ve been sharing food with their camp while they prepare for the festivals.”

  He hummed, sounding unconvinced. “I’ve now given two daughters away in marriage, Eliora, and arranged matches for Gershom and Iyov as well. I know a concealed motive when I see one.”

  A rush of heat washed through my limbs. My father must be mistaken.

  He chuckled softly, gesturing for Ronen to join us. “Perhaps we will be celebrating your own wedding soon.” He dropped his tone as Ronen approached. “His uncle is as surly as a cat in a rainstorm these days, but young Ronen seems to be honorable.”

  “But . . .” I choked on my raspy whisper. “I don’t want . . .” My tongue seemed to fill my mouth as all my fears welled up and my mind raced at full gallop. The idea that my father might actually be considering Ronen as a match, as Rina had implied, was as thrilling as it was terrifying.

  By the time Ronen stood before us, I could barely control the instinct to run to my secret place and plead with Yahweh for the privilege of remaining on this mountain for the rest of my days, and to beg him to take away any desire for a man who would take me from this blessed place.

  “Shalom,” Ronen said. He gave my father a deferential nod of his head but seemed uneasy. A spear of panic went through me. Surely he was not here for the reasons my father had hinted at. Not this soon. Not when I hadn’t even allowed myself to consider the impossibility of a betrothal. My knees wobbled, and my head felt light again.

  “I’m glad you are here,” my father said to Ronen, even as he reached out to steady me. “Eliora needs to go back to the house to lie down. Will you escort her?”

  Ronen looked bewildered by the request. “What is wrong?”

  “She was attacked in the woods last night and injured by the brute who slammed her into a tree.”

  “A tree?” Ronen’s jaw went slack as his eyes darted to my forehead. My mother had wrapped a linen bandage over the bruised gash there, but by the way Ronen paled at the sight, I knew it must be peeking out from beneath my headscarf.

  “She’ll tell you what happened. I need to go deal with my men.” My father turned his eyes back to me, a glint of iron determination in their depths. “But rest assured, I will find out who did this. And when I do, they will not go unpunished.”

  Twenty-Five

  Ronen

  Elazar’s declaration made my stomach roil and pitch long after he walked away and left Eliora and me alone. Clearly he had no notion that I was in any way involved with the goings-on last night or he would not have entrusted me with his daughter.

  I’d climbed up the hill this morning after only a few hours of fitful rest, both to allay any hint of suspicion by my appearance and to reassure myself that Eliora was safe. Osher and Shelah had sworn she was uninjured, but the bandage on her head belied their account.

  “How were you wounded?” I asked, barely able to look her in the eye for the guilt coating my insides.

  Her hand went to her forehead for a swift moment and then back down to her side, seeming embarrassed that she’d drawn any attention to it. “It was foolish. I should not have gone out there. But I thought . . .” She chewed her lip, glancing around before she told me of how her restlessness led to thinking she’d seen her brother out in the dark under a strange moon, before getting lost and run over by a shadowy figure.

  For as much as I was relieved that she seemed not to have recognized Osher, I was horrified she’d endured any of it. In addition to the wound at her temple, there was also a faint bruise on her cheekbone and more than a few scratches on her arms and legs, causing the images of Osher and Shelah plowing over her like a team of runaway oxen to circle in my mind over and over. If they knew what was best for them, they’d stay far away from me for the next day or two.

  “Please don’t say anything to anyone,” Eliora said, breaking into my thoughts. “I don’t know if I actually did see Natan, or if I was mistaken. He was back at the house by the time I returned with Rami.”

  As usual, Eliora was protecting her brother, even if he did not deserve it. I wondered if he had any idea the danger he’d put her in with his skulking about. What if it hadn’t been Osher and Shelah out there in the woods last night, but an actual enemy?

  Another wash of guilt came over me. Who was I to cast blame on the boy when I had been part of the disaster that led to her injuries in the first place?

  When the twins came flying toward Machlon and me, crashing through the underbrush with less stealth than a herd of boars, we’d scattered in four directions like we’d planned. The flight down the mountain had been harrowing, since I’d had no other
direction to aim than downhill. In the near blackness of the tree cover, my sandals skidding on sodden ground and decaying leaves, I prayed I would not fly over the edge of a cliff or pitch headfirst into a ravine. I nearly had been caught, but somehow I’d heard my pursuer and flattened myself beneath a bush, narrowly avoiding detection. I’d emerged from my hiding place well after the guard disappeared into the woods—soaked through, shivering, and livid.

  After wandering for what seemed like hours through the forest, when I’d finally joined Machlon and the others at our agreed-upon meeting point, I’d not held back my frustrations.

  “This entire night was a waste,” I spat, anger alone warming my bones. “Now the guards suspect something is going on, and the mission is likely compromised because of your carelessness.”

  “Relax, Ronen,” said Machlon. “She didn’t see their faces. We are safe.”

  “She?” I whipped my head around to glare at my cousin.

  “Your Philistine.” He waved a dismissive hand at Osher. “Somehow this big ox plowed over her up there. Who knows what she was doing wandering around in the middle of the night. Maybe you aren’t the only man she has dangling from her claws.”

  It took every thread of restraint inside me to keep from slamming my fist into his lascivious grin, but I knew if I reacted to his goad then he would only mock me further. For as much as he’d been the one to push me toward manipulating Eliora in the first place, Machlon had been almost hostile at every mention of her name since then.

  Osher launched into his account of nearly being caught by one of the guards who’d been dozing against a tree. But after listening to his tale, as well as his paltry assurances that Eliora had only been bumped to the ground, I was only more furious. My uncle had sworn the two were the best trackers in the territory and yet they’d done nothing more than bring down Elazar’s guard on our heads and attack an innocent woman.

  I’d thrown my hands in the air and headed back toward camp, having nothing more to say to the two fools who’d nearly undone everything we’d planned for so long, put an innocent woman in danger, and possibly ruined the only chance I had to reclaim all that I had lost.

  “What I don’t understand,” mused Eliora, drawing me back to the present, “is why any Hebrew would chance going near the Ark. Its power is nothing to take lightly.”

  I held back a scoff, but something in my expression must have given away my doubts. She shifted her gaze on the forest beyond the compound to study my face intently. “You don’t agree?”

  I considered keeping my lips sealed, but after such a long and sleepless night, my inhibitions had crumbled to pieces. “All I know is that my father and brothers are dead because of that golden box.”

  Her lips parted on a silent gasp. “What do you mean?”

  “They were loyal Levites, Eliora. Among the first to volunteer to accompany the Ark to Afek under the leadership of the High Priest Eli’s worthless sons. They were given every assurance by Eli himself and the other elders of Israel that the sacred vessel would not only protect them in battle but would also annihilate our enemies without a sword being lifted. Instead . . .”

  “My people killed them,” she finished for me on a whisper, tears glinting in her deep-forest eyes.

  I flinched at the reminder, but it was true. Soldiers from her city—perhaps even some of her own relatives—had been on that battlefield. They’d slaughtered my father and brothers without remorse, and if some of the accounts I’d been told later were true, encouraged their packs of war dogs to desecrate the bodies while they plundered the fallen.

  “The presence of the Holy One may have once resided on that vessel,” I said, “and of course it is still sacred and an important focus of our worship, but it’s just a box now.”

  “Oh, Ronen,” she said as a tear spilled down her bruised cheek and over her jaw. Somehow, even in my agitated state, my eyes were drawn to the trail of it, and a strange compulsion to catch the precious thing with my finger gripped me. “I remember you said they’d been lost that day, but I had no idea they were so close to the Ark. No wonder you doubt its power.”

  I suddenly hated the way she was looking at me, like I was someone to be pitied. I much preferred the way she’d flushed and darted her eyes away the other night when she caught me watching her, trying to conceal the way my attention affected her. “As I said, I don’t dispute its importance to our priesthood. Without the Ark returned to the Mishkan, proper worship cannot be conducted the way Mosheh ordained, but there’s no actual danger from the relic itself.”

  “But you were there at Beth Shemesh,” she said. “You saw the aftermath.”

  “Of the lightning, yes. But that had less to do with the Ark and more to do with the fools who left it atop a boulder in a flat valley and gathered around it during a storm.”

  “There was no storm, Ronen. The sky was clear that night. Don’t you remember that I was there? I may have only been a girl, but I will never forget the moments after those men opened the Ark.” She paused and shuddered slightly. “The sound was deafening and the light so brilliant I thought perhaps the world had ended in a flash. But it did not come from above, even though a swirl of colorful cloud appeared directly overhead. The light came from between the wings of the creatures and split into as many shards of fire as there were men in that valley. I hid my face after that, terrified that the light would seek my brother and me out too, but somehow we were spared such an awful fate.”

  I’d never actually heard her firsthand account of the events at Beth Shemesh, only a few minor details from my uncle, who’d brushed her story off as nothing more than the imagination of a child desperate for attention. But hearing it now, I wondered if my convictions on the matter might not be so well defined, had I been privy to such a vivid description. It was more than obvious that Eliora believed that what she saw was an act of divine judgment.

  But the fact remained that the Ark had been impotent on that battlefield. And my father and brothers had been destroyed because Eli and his sons convinced them that it would protect them from harm.

  Even as much as I’d come to crave Eliora’s timid little smiles and despite the fact that the sight of her bruised face made me want to tear Osher and Shelah limb from limb, I still had a job to do on this mountain, and we were running out of time. I couldn’t let my draw toward this woman preclude the justice my father and brothers deserved.

  However, no matter if Machlon protested, I was done using Eliora in this quest for information. Spending time with her had yielded nothing more than an increasingly desperate desire to know what she looked like with her hair unbound and an impossible yearning to be part of the family that had invited her into its warm embrace. It was more than evident that I would not learn the location of the Ark by indulging in the pleasure of her company or basking in the generosity of her compassion.

  “I came to tell you that I’m not able to help you in the gardens today,” I said, ignoring the confusion in her expression as I suddenly changed the subject. But I needed to make certain she was no longer involved and had already come up with a plan before I’d even known the extent of her injuries.

  “One of the lutes we brought has a deep crack down the center of its neck,” I said. “I need to replace it and require a long stretch of olive wood to do so. From what I understand, Natan knows where to find such material.”

  It had occurred to me as I’d spooled and unspooled the problem while I lay unsleeping that it would be far better to find out what a young man who spent his days tromping around the woods knew about the Ark’s location, rather than his sister, who spent most of her time in a garden far from the area guarded by Elazar’s men.

  Surprised delight flashed across her face. She likely assumed my only motive was to befriend her brother for her sake. “Of course. If there is any gain he’s made from passing time with those Gibeonite boys, it’s knowing the trees on this mountain like the lines on his own palm. I’m certain he could help you.”

  A
shaft of sunlight broke through a part in the clouds at that moment, illuminating the side of her face and painting her pale skin with a golden glow. The urge to curve my palm over that smooth cheek, absorb the warmth that had nothing to do with the sun and everything to do with Eliora was nearly uncontrollable. The name she’d taken fit her so well. Regardless that she kept all that light hidden beneath an ugly brown scarf, a tucked chin, and the inclination to blend into the background, it shined from within like a house lit with a thousand lamps, spilling brilliance from every window.

  She was lovely, kind, and generous, everything I could want in a wife, but once I finished my job here in Kiryat-Yearim, I would not be returning.

  And when she realized my duplicity, she’d not want me to anyhow.

  By the time I walked her back to her door, made her promise to go rest, and set off to find her brother so I could achieve what I’d set out to accomplish, I already felt the loss of her like a knife between my ribs. But it was time to keep my distance.

  Twenty-Six

  With a crack the olive tree fell, its gnarled trunk bouncing twice before settling precariously on its splayed branches. Natan swung the double-edged ax up to rest on his shoulder with a self-satisfied grin. He’d chopped it down with the ease of a man ten years his senior and he knew it.

  “Are you certain the wood will be of the right quality?” I asked. “I need the best to repair this instrument. It’s been handed down for two generations.”

  “It will,” he said. “A few of these olive trees were struck with some sort of disease a few months ago, but it seems to only infect the leaves, not the heartwood. I don’t know that any of them will survive the cold months, let alone bloom again. And not even Adnan and Padi could tell me if the disease will spread to the other trees. So it’s probably best that we take them all down.”

  It was the most I’d heard the boy say since my arrival, but something about sharing his knowledge of trees seemed to cut through his guardedness, so I took advantage of the opportunity.