Between the Wild Branches Page 21

  “I see.”

  “So, will you help me?”

  “You’ve given me little choice, haven’t you?”

  “One must use whatever weapons one has when innocent lives are at stake.”

  His mouth quirked at my use of his own words against him. “And how do you suggest we go about kidnapping a baby from the palace?”

  I exhaled in relief, my body relaxing for the first time since we’d begun this conversation. “I have a plan, but it will take coordination. And the assistance of some unlikely participants.”

  “Who?”

  I gestured across the field, toward the Hebrew men who’d spent the last few weeks toiling on my land in the hot sun all day and then chained up within my vineyard’s watchtower at night. “It may take some work on our part to convince them.”

  “The transport to Egypt is scheduled for the night before the festival begins,” he said. “There’s no time to involve them in a rescue, nor to organize everything that must be in place.”

  “The festival will give us the perfect cover.” I explained the entire plan that I’d dreamed up over the last couple of days and was encouraged by the wise suggestions and resources he offered to shore up weaknesses in my plot.

  When I was finished, he huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “Well, I can certainly say one thing of the great Demon Eyes. He never lacks audacity.”

  Then he clamped his square palm over my shoulder in a fatherly gesture that made me feel that he’d forgiven me my bluff about turning him in.

  “She’s worth risking all of this?” His gaze took in my rich landholdings.

  “She is.”

  “And yet you don’t plan to go with her?”

  The images came to me unbidden. Returning to the mountain. Seeing my sister again. Growing old with Shoshana at my side. But on their heels came the reminders that I’d thrown away everything Elazar and Yoela offered me and spent the last decade wallowing in Ashdod’s every vice. There was no going back.

  Besides, what sort of future would I be able to offer Shoshana? I was still an enemy of her people. Through my body flowed the blood of those who’d violated her, enslaved her, and stole her child. Regardless of the friendship we’d had in the past, none of that could be forgotten, or forgiven.

  “My profile is too high. This entire plan is built around my presence at the festival. Nicaro’s attention must be on me, the wealth pouring into his city, and how all of this will solidify his influence over the region—not on a paltry number of escaped slaves. If I disappeared and threw the festival into chaos, he would be livid, send a contingent after me. Shoshana is safer if I remain where I am.”

  He hummed in response, and I wondered if he could sense how deeply divided I was. But instead of arguing with me, he patted my shoulder one more time. “All right. Let’s go talk to these Hebrews of yours.”

  Together, we crossed the field to where the Hebrew men sat in the dappled shade of an acacia with their guards. They looked exhausted. I’d been very careful to treat them as if they were nothing more than forced labor and had not interfered when the guards lashed out at any who lagged in their tasks. It had been a necessary evil to keep the appearance of normalcy, and it had made me ill to do so, but I hoped they had the stamina to accomplish what needed to be done.

  I spoke directly to their guards. “Jaru has given me leave to reward you for all your hard work in keeping these slaves in line over these past weeks. You’ll find a fresh meal prepared by my own cooks at my steward’s home just over the rise, along with plenty of cool beer straight from my own cellars. Go, take a break from the heat and relax as you enjoy my thanks.”

  The guards looked around, casting stunned glances at each other.

  “What of them?” asked one of the guards, gesturing toward the captives. “They’ll scatter like beetles if we don’t keep a watch on them.”

  I gritted my teeth. The overworked Hebrews were far more deserving of a reward than the guards who’d been calling them foul names and striking them whenever it entertained them.

  But Jaru laughed heartily at the man, placing his hand on the pommel of his sheathed sword. “You don’t think that I, who am heavily armed, and the champion of Ashdod can’t wrangle a few shackled and half-starved shepherds? Besides, you’ll be within shouting distance should any of these fools have a mind to try anything. Go on now, enjoy your meal. And when you return, bring some water back for these lazy dogs, or we’ll get nothing more out of them today.”

  The guards laughed and did as Jaru asked, not the least bit suspicious to be sent away by the head of the royal guard.

  As soon as they were out of hearing range, I stood before the Hebrews. “I know you have been mistreated here,” I said in their native tongue, which caused all their eyes to go wide, “and for that I apologize. It was impossible to lessen your burden without causing the guards to ask questions.”

  The men divided confused looks between them. Of course they would be wary of me. Even if I’d swung my ax alongside them and had not berated them the way the guards had done, I was still their enemy.

  “How do you come to speak our language with such ease?” asked one of them, a man whose thick black curls and hawkish nose reminded me of Gershom, Elazar’s eldest son.

  “That is a story far too long to explain now, but I will say that I lived among your people for a number of years.”

  Eight pairs of skeptical eyes looked up at me.

  “And so, because you were a prisoner of war, we are now your slaves?” another one asked.

  “No. You misunderstand me. I was not a captive. I was a . . .” I paused, wondering how to explain. No matter that Risi had counted Elazar’s family as ours, I’d never done the same. “I was a guest in a household that treated me with kindness regardless of my heritage. And for that I am working on a way for you to escape before you are put on a ship bound for Egypt.”

  Shocked murmurs passed between them. They must not have been aware of their ultimate destination.

  “What’s his reason for aiding an escape?” asked the first man, gesturing toward Jaru.

  Azuvah’s son surprised me by replying in his mother’s tongue, albeit halting and deeply accented. “My reasons are my own. But you would do well to listen to Lukio. He saved your lives. Along with that of the boy who was with you.”

  “Zevi?” called out one of the men. “He is safe?”

  “Is he your son?” I asked.

  “No,” he replied. “An orphan. He’d been sent to live with distant relatives after his parents died of a fever.”

  That certainly answered some of my questions about the boy. He’d said little about his home, simply that it was gone and no one was left. I could only imagine the horrors he’d witnessed during the raid of Zanoah and guessed it would be a long while before he would sleep without the nightmares that shook him awake most nights. Each morning, I awoke to find his arm looped around Igo’s neck and was glad that the dog’s presence comforted him.

  Although Zevi seemed to trust me more now, it was the dog he’d taken most to, tending to his duties without complaint—a ruse that had to continue for the sake of appearances. It wouldn’t do for the king to somehow get word that the boy who was supposedly a slave I planned to mold into a brutal fighter was living in luxury. Although I trusted Teitu to keep that to himself, I was not as certain of the rest of those who served in my home. Therefore, Zevi slept on the floor with Igo and spent his days running about the house, performing menial tasks or cleaning up the dog’s ample messes.

  “He is safe and will return to Hebrew territory with you,” I said. A strange pang of regret prodded my ribs at the pronouncement. For as much as I’d used Zevi’s impulsive attack on the soldier to manipulate Nicaro, I truly admired the boy for trying to protect the girls. Girls who I now knew were not even his kin. The house would be quiet again without him.

  “If you are so full of mercy,” said the first man, “why break our backs for days? Why not simply let us go now?�
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  “It is not as simple as it might appear,” I said, “and there are other lives at stake, including Zevi’s.”

  “And what about my daughters? Were they not worth saving?” said a man who looked to have been beaten this morning, since his eye was nearly swollen shut. I winced at both his appearance and the understandable rancor in his question. He had plenty of reasons to hate every single one of us after what had happened to his family. I was grateful that I was able to deliver news that would assuage some of his suffering.

  “Thanks to my friend here and some compassionate priestesses,” I said, “the girls were rescued. They’ve been secreted to a safe place east of here, and you will be reunited with them after you leave.”

  The man’s bruised face went pale. “They are safe?” His words came out in a breathless rush.

  “They are,” I said, my own throat tightening at the flood of emotions that moved across his face: disbelief, gratitude, relief.

  “And my wife?”

  The hopefulness that lifted his voice made my gut burn like a torch. I hated to lift his spirits so high and then dash them back down to earth so quickly, but I shook my head. “The two women left the city before anything could be done. We don’t know where they’ve been taken.”

  His head tipped forward as one great sob came from his mouth, the sound so raw that I wondered if this was the first time that he’d actually allowed his grief to burst to the surface since the raid on his home. The men on either side of him placed their hands on his shoulders as his body shook silently, respectfully lending their support to their brother as he mourned.

  “We have little time to explain,” I said, my throat feeling as though I’d swallowed a knife whole. “But we have a plan to not only free all of you but also a Hebrew woman and her infant, who’ve been trapped here since the fall of Beth Shemesh. If we do not have your cooperation, none of this will work. But if all goes as planned, you will be back in Hebrew territory before evening falls on the second night of the upcoming festival.”

  My heart clenched painfully at the thought of Shoshana being gone so soon. I would never see her again.

  “And if we don’t agree to help you rescue this woman?” asked the leader. “Will you keep us enslaved?”

  “Of course not,” I said, panic squeezing my chest, “but I beg of you to help me. To help her. She . . .” I paused to organize my thoughts. “She has suffered greatly and is desperate to get her child out of Ashdod. I was not able to save your women, and I will regret that all my life, but this is a woman bound to you by covenant and the blood of your common ancestors. She and her little girl need your help.”

  A silent prayer slipped free of the usual control I had on my mind, one that was as startling to me as it was inevitable. Please, Yahweh, if you care at all about Shoshana, make these men heed my plea.

  The man whose face and soul had been so battered by my people raised his head, meeting my gaze with his lopsided one. “I will help.”

  It took great restraint to keep my jaw from dropping open, and by the shocked expressions of the rest of the Hebrews, they were just as startled by his offer.

  “If my Yedida were here, she would be ashamed of me for not helping,” he said. “Not only would she be profoundly grateful for what you’ve done for our girls—” his voice cracked and he stopped to clear his throat—“but she would do anything to help a woman in need, especially, as you say, one of our Hebrew sisters. I don’t know how I will breathe without Yedida and there is nothing I would not do to have her by my side again. . . .” A tear dripped from his one good eye. “But I will not dishonor my wife by running away like a coward when a woman is in danger, even if it costs me my life.”

  The man’s words had the impact of a team of horses hitting me at full speed. This man had lost the woman he obviously loved and yet instead of breaking into pieces, he had the courage to fight for my Shoshana.

  Something I’d been too much of a coward to do ten years ago.

  Jaru explained our plan to the other Hebrews, who’d all agreed to take part. “Do not even discuss this amongst yourselves,” he said, “and follow the directions I gave you to the very word, or this plan will crumble in upon itself. And although my own family is Philistine, I would beg you to think of my wife, my son, and my three innocent daughters who will suffer greatly if my part in this scheme is mentioned. The king of Ashdod is merciless with traitors.”

  Thankfully, all the men nodded their agreement, and I could only hope that they would keep their word. If everything went wrong, I could lose my wealth and standing in the city, but Jaru had far more to lose than I did.

  As soon as the guards returned, Jaru gave them instructions for making certain that the Hebrews finished ringing the fighting grounds with hundreds of whitewashed stones by the end of the day tomorrow. Hopefully it would be the last task they would be forced to perform as enslaved men.

  Jaru and I took our leave, both of us silent as we made our way back across the fighting grounds and toward the trade road. I considered the desperate prayer I’d sent up to Yahweh, a God who I’d never believed was any more real than the stone and wood ones my people worshiped. Why, in that moment, had I let myself hope that I was wrong?

  My sister was adamant that not only was Yahweh real, but that he was an all-powerful being who’d breathed life into all of creation and spoke the sun, moon, and stars into place. And Azuvah had spoken of him as a deity who loved her people like children, even going so far as to rescue them from Pharaoh when they cried out in distress. How strange that her son, the very babe who had been stripped from her arms, now walked beside me. Surely that could not be a coincidence, could it? An even more unbelievable thought struck me as I glanced at Jaru from the corner of my eye. Shoshana had said that Risi believed Yahweh was watching over me. Could Jaru’s impossible appearance in my life be some sort of answer to my sister’s prayers?

  Feeling as though I’d been pierced through with some sort of fiery arrow, I stumbled and then came to a halt.

  “Are you well?” asked Jaru, again sounding so much like his mother that I could almost hear her calling me lior in her low, lilting voice. I’d never forgive myself for accusing her of having forced us to crawl out the window that night only for the sake of ridding herself of two bothersome children. How I ever could have believed such lies, even as a child, was beyond reprehensible. I would do everything in my power to pay my debt to her by protecting her son and his family from Nicaro’s wrath if something went awry.

  “I have one more favor to ask of you,” I said, “in case this plan fails.”

  His dark brows arched in question.

  “My servants will need work in good households,” I said. “If I am caught, will you make certain they are safe? Especially the women and those who are not deemed of much value?”

  He tilted his head to peer at me with that penetrating gaze that never failed to make me feel as transparent as fine-spun linen. “I give you my word.”

  I nodded my gratitude. “And no matter what I said before, I would never betray you or your family.”

  “I know, Lukio,” he said, and I heard the faint echo of Azuvah’s approval in his voice. “I never believed you would.”

  Twenty-Four

  Shoshana

  I tipped my head back to take in the impressive face of Lukio’s home, awed not only by its grandeur but by the idea that my old friend, a boy who was once more comfortable among donkeys and trees than other people, lived in a place designed to impress the masses of people who strolled by this house every day.

  Unlike most of the other homes we’d passed on our walk through the city, Lukio’s doorway and window casings were not decorated with charms or symbols of gods, but instead painted in bold shades of red and blue.

  Mariada had been overjoyed when a messenger arrived this morning with an invitation to come visit the home of which she would soon be mistress, both to familiarize herself with its workings and to suggest any changes she might desire
before their wedding in three weeks. When the man said that the invitation included not only her sister and mother but her maid, my heart sank to my toes. It was awful enough thinking of being absorbed into Lukio’s household before I’d realized how deep-seated my love for him was, but it was even more so now. However, as I stood at the threshold, I had to admit that I was also deeply curious about the place that Lukio had built for himself.

  We were greeted at the door by Teitu, who ushered us into the vestibule without even a hint of acknowledgment that he and I had spoken before. He immediately knelt to wash the dust of the street from Mariada, Jasara, and Savina’s feet, but when he approached me with his pot of fresh water and a clean towel, I took a couple of steps backward, arguing that I could tend to my own feet. However, he insisted, saying it was his duty to tend the feet of every one of his master’s guests, no matter their station. I submitted to his ministrations to avoid scrutiny but felt the stares of the other three women boring into me. As Teitu dried my feet, his one good eye flicked upward to meet my gaze. There was something speaking in that look, a communication of some sort that I could not interpret. Before I could even think to furrow my brows, the manservant rose to his feet and invited us to follow him to the main hall.

  Before I’d come to Ashdod, I’d never seen a hearth such as the ones the Philistines preferred—large circular pads of stones affixed to the floor, where their covered cooking pots would simmer for hours among the flames. Families and guests gathered around these indoor hearths for meals and celebrations, much as we Hebrews did own cook-fires under the sky. But never had I seen one as intricately detailed as the one at the center of Lukio’s large hall, fashioned from all manners of seashells and smooth river rocks swirling in one great pattern. At one moment, my mind was convinced the entire thing was cycling like the stars in the heavens. Above the hearth was a large opening for the smoke to escape, the ceiling painted a brilliant blue that mimicked the clear sky overhead and was held aloft by great pillars decorated in the same bold colors as the trimmings on the front of his house.