Shelter of the Most High Page 27

  After insisting that he be allowed to escort me to the inn and being denied entrance, Tal handed over a rolled missive sealed with the clay imprint I recognized as the High Priest’s symbol. We were ushered through the outside gates but told to wait. None of the men removed their eyes from us, nor their hands from the hilts of their swords, as the message was delivered to the captain of the guard.

  “What is this?” I asked. “I go through these gates many times but never such questions as these.”

  Tal grimaced. “Eitan mentioned that the night before he left there was an attack against one of the manslayers. Someone decided to exact their own justice.”

  I caught my breath. “Did he live?”

  “It was a woman.”

  “Not Moriyah,” I gasped. Surely if something had happened to his mother, Eitan would have told me.

  “No,” he said, placing a calming hand on my shoulder. “Not Moriyah.”

  Although my breath came easier, I had the unsettling feeling that Tal knew much more than he was saying. However, I was prevented from asking anything else when the captain of the guard emerged from the gatehouse, the missive from Eleazar unfurled in his hand.

  “Tal,” said the broad-shouldered man I recognized as Chaim, another childhood friend of Eitan’s. “Where is he?”

  Tal grimaced, as if reluctant to speak in front of me. “He’s gone to confront Raviv.”

  Chaim blew out a huff of disdain mixed with a half-formed curse.

  “I know where the house is,” Tal said. “Do you have a few men to spare?”

  “Sofea?” a voice called out from behind me. I spun, shocked to see Darek striding toward us, his sheathed sword in his hand. He must have seen us approaching the city and headed straight here without taking the time to tie it to his belt. “Where is he?”

  Beating me to the answer, Tal gave a quick explanation, during which Darek’s expression devolved from alarm into white-faced disbelief, accentuating the dusky shadows beneath his eyes that spoke of sleepless nights over Eitan’s disappearance. “He went there alone?”

  Tal’s tone was measured. “I’m sure he only went ahead to scout and determine what challenges we face. He told me to wait just a short while before coming here for help.”

  I glared at him, wondering how long after Eitan had left Tal had waited to wake me, but as I did, the message he’d delivered from him suddenly clarified in my mind. Tell her she is worth it.

  Although I had instigated that kiss last night, an outpouring of my gratitude for his promise to ensure Prezi was safe, I realized now that at some point it had shifted into a farewell. Horrified, I clutched Darek’s arm, the truth splintering my heart. “No—he will not wait for help. He go to give his life for Prezi’s.”

  Darek shook off my grip and sped through the gates.

  Hastily, Tal escorted me back to the inn. But before I knocked, he leaned over to kiss the top of my head—as if he were my own brother—and murmured a reassurance that he would return with both Prezi and Eitan, and then strode away to return to the gatehouse. His haunted brown eyes called those promises into question.

  Chaim was gathering a few men to follow after Darek but had vowed not to leave without Tal, so I was left to deliver the news to Moriyah that her son had knowingly walked into Raviv’s trap for my sake.

  Attempting a few calming breaths before I lifted my hand to knock, I was startled when the door flew open before my fist met wood. Moriyah stood in the doorway, eyes like silver moons. She flung her arms around me, drawing me close and tucking me beneath her chin like she did with her own children. She breathed my name into my hair and stroked my back.

  “You are home,” she said. “Safe.”

  Every emotion boiled over. Shame, fear, pain, guilt, anger, and longing mixed together into tears that stained the front of her blue tunic as I clung to her. Although her body went rigid, she did not push me away. She held me closer, murmuring assurances and endearments.

  “He go to rescue Prezi,” I sobbed, my disjointed thoughts tumbling out end over end. “My fault. He cannot . . . alone . . .”

  She pulled back, her warm hands on either side of my face. “Sofea. Slow down. I cannot understand what you are telling me.” I tensed at the sharp censure in her voice. Her concern had pulled it taut as a bowstring—with good reason. I drew in a long shuddering breath and tried again, wishing I had more than bad news and halting Hebrew to offer. I looked into the face of the one woman who loved him even more than I did and told her everything.

  Moriyah paled as I spoke. She closed her eyes, still holding my face in her palms, and her lips began to move in silent supplication. After a few moments of watching her lift a desperate plea to Yahweh, begging for the life of the son she adored, I too allowed my eyelids to flutter shut and added my own feeble, stumbling prayers to her own.

  I felt her thumbs brush beneath my eyes, wiping away my tears. “We can do nothing now but entrust them to the One Who Sees and wait for them to return.” She gave me a wan smile as she tugged my wrist. “Now come inside, daughter, and tell me what all has occurred since you disappeared.”

  I followed her through the inn and into the courtyard, where a chorus of exclamations greeted me.

  “Sofea!”

  “You are home!”

  “She’s back!”

  Gidal, Malakhi, Chana, and Abra crowded around me, a tangle of arms, hugs, and kisses. However, their exuberant welcome was soured by the questions that followed.

  “Where is Prezi?”

  “Is our brother with you?”

  “Where did you go?”

  “What did you bring us?”

  The last one was delivered by little Chana, who must have seen my departure as one similar to that of her father, who was sometimes gone for weeks at a time but who nearly always managed to return with some little trinket he picked up along the way.

  Hers was the only question I was prepared to answer in the onslaught. I knelt and cupped my palms on her round little cheeks. She reached out to grasp my shell necklace, running her fingers over the rippled back, as she must have seen me do many times. “I have no gifts, little bird, but tomorrow you and I go explore, yes?”

  “Can Prezi come?” she lisped.

  I swallowed the searing truth and blinked away my tears as I kissed her forehead. “I hope this, my sweet.”

  Sarai came forward to embrace me as well, welcoming me home. Her face was strangely drawn, a contrast to her normally effervescent disposition.

  “What is wrong?” I whispered into her ear.

  “It’s Binah. The healers have done as much as they can, but an infection rages in the wound. We are all praying that she lives.”

  Stricken, I pulled back to look her in the face. “Binah?”

  Moriyah slipped an arm around my shoulder, drawing me away from the children. “Come, I am sure you are in need of refreshment. Sit at the table and I’ll fetch you some food and tell you what happened while you were gone.”

  Once I was settled on a large pillow with an overabundance of bread, cheese, dried figs, and yogurt set before me, Moriyah told me how Eitan had saved Binah’s life from a vengeful young shepherd the day Nadir tricked us into leaving.

  So Binah had been the convicted manslayer Tal had spoken of. I was tempted to ask more about why she’d been sent to Kedesh but Moriyah’s next words startled me.

  “Although it was terrible that such a thing happened,” she said, “and we are all very concerned about Binah, it was the shepherd who revealed Nadir’s treachery. Without such knowledge, Eitan would not have known to go after you.”

  I set down my cup with a jolt, water sloshing onto the table. “What does this mean? He have no plan to follow?”

  Moriyah regarded me with curiosity. “He thought you had chosen to leave, dear. He would never force you to stay with him if that is not what you want.”

  “He hurt my heart, but I don’t choose to leave him. Never.” I scanned the familiar scene in the courtyard—the
children playing a game of chase, Sarai chastising them for coming too close to her loom—and memories of the last months among this family unfurled like a scroll. “And even if . . .” I choked on the words. “Even if terrible things happen today, I want to stay here.”

  Moriyah’s silver eyes bore into mine. “You are part of this family now, Sofea. This is your home, whether or not you marry my son.” Her thumb caressed the copper ring Eitan had crafted for me. “It terrified me when he left, but I understood his desire to protect you. In fact, I watched him leave from Dov and Rachel’s rooftop and did nothing to stop him. I trust Yahweh with my son, Sofea. And so should you.”

  CHAPTER

  THIRTY-NINE

  Eitan

  I’d been crouching in the brush for too long. Even knowing what I had to do, my reason fought against it. And yet the longer I waited, the more likely it was that Tal would send men from Kedesh before I had the chance to do what I must.

  Prezi meant nothing to Raviv. She was simply an expendable piece in the game he was playing with me. If a contingent of men plowed into the valley, swords waving, she would likely not survive. It was my life for hers.

  It had been easy to find Raviv’s land. I’d seen the nearby lake often enough from Kedesh, and now I surveyed his territory from my vantage point in an apple orchard that sat upon the western ridge, only one of many fruit orchards and olive groves that rimmed this large, fertile basin. Raviv, being the firstborn son, had inherited two-thirds of the land when his father had passed away a few years ago, but Darek was still entitled to one-third. Looking out over the recently harvested fields, I wondered which area was his portion.

  This valley was everything he had described. The soil was a deep, rich red, the small lake at its heart shimmered beneath a brilliant blue sky, and trees of every variety entertained myriad birds in their branches—all beneath the white-headed watch of Har Hermon, the range of mountains that dominated the northern horizon.

  An unbidden thought strayed into my mind. If they’d lived, Zeev and Yared would be nearly twenty-five now, perhaps married and living with children of their own in the little grouping of homes here in the valley. Their sons and daughters would be playing in this orchard now, climbing trees, laughing. Instead, their generations had been halted by my impetuous hand.

  I swiped a palm over my shaved head, reminding myself again that I had laid my shame down in Shiloh. I’d have to replace the daily habit of flogging myself for the boys’ deaths with daily reminders of those sacred moments before the altar as my burden was turned to ash.

  Although I’d seen two men tending a herd of cattle and one woman with an infant strapped to her back stirring a large pot over a fire, I was at a loss for direction. A dozen goat-hide tents formed a half-circle around three halfway-constructed homes and one small villa. In the past eleven years Raviv had planted the roots of a small town here and obviously employed a large group of loyal men to harvest and protect his assets.

  “Who are you?” said a small voice behind me.

  Whipping my head around, I caught sight of two young girls a few paces away. They looked to be similar in age to Gidal and Malakhi, both dark-haired and brown-eyed and looking so much like Abra and Chana that I found myself staring.

  With the corners of their outer garments held in their fists, both of them carried a small load of apples in the fold. Their eyes were wary as they regarded me, no doubt wondering about the strange bald man crouched in the weeds.

  I sat back on my heels with a counterfeit smile on my face, hoping to assuage their fears. “Shalom! My name is Eitan. I am searching for a friend of mine.”

  Startling at my voice, the younger one sidled closer to her sister, letting one corner of her garment drop as she reached for the older girl’s hand. Her load of apples tumbled to the ground.

  “I promise I mean you no harm. I am only looking for a young woman named Prezi. She is tall for a girl, with long straight brown hair and dark brown eyes. Have you seen her?”

  Their own brown eyes widened and they glanced at each other briefly, something passing between them that raised my hopes.

  “Please, I need to find her. Our family is worried for her safety. Do you know where she might be?”

  The older sister kept her expression impassive, her mouth set in a hard line and an unyielding gaze locked on me, her sober nature reminding me of Gidal. The younger sidled closer to the older one, flicking nervous glances between her sister and me. I had no doubt that these two knew exactly where Prezi was.

  Tempering my impulse to interrogate them further and insist they tell me exactly where she was being held, I attempted a different approach.

  Noticing a reddening scuff on the older girl’s shin, one that looked to be caused by a climb to retrieve apples, I sat back against a tree and placed my hands on my knees so they would see that I held no weapons.

  I craned my head up to gaze into the green and gold canopy above my head. “There must have been a plentiful harvest this year. I’ve never seen so much fruit. I was thinking about picking a few apples but it looks like the birds have beaten me to it.” I sighed and let my eyelids drop, enough that it would seem that I was simply resting, not peering at the two of them between my lashes.

  Although they stayed where they were, it seemed as though the stiff posture of the older girl softened just a touch.

  I did not open my eyes as I said, “You two remind me of my little sisters. Their names are Abra and Chana. They are younger than you, but they love to climb trees like this.” I held my body still, waiting, breathing in the sickly-sweet scent of the decaying fruit on the ground. “I’ll bet you don’t climb trees though. Only your brothers would do such a thing, I suppose.”

  “We don’t have brothers, and I climb trees all the time” came the sharp reply from the older girl.

  I let my eyes burst open with feigned surprise. “Truly?”

  The girl’s jutted chin displayed her offense at my manufactured slight. “I climb better than any boy in this valley.”

  “Did you collect those apples from the top of a tree?”

  She nodded, pride in the set of her narrow shoulders.

  “Impressive.” Smiling in a show of camaraderie, I folded my arms over my chest. I leaned my head back again, eyes closed, determined to wield my newfound patience to glean what I needed to know. “I’ll just rest here a few more moments before moving on to continue my search.” I sighed heavily, and spoke as if to myself. “Her cousin is soon to be my wife, and she is so devastated. I can’t stand to see the woman I love so heartsick. I promised her that Prezi would return home.”

  After a few long, silent moments, the girl spoke again, her words barely above a whisper. “I saw her.”

  I pulled in a slow breath through my nose in a feeble attempt at remaining calm and then lifted my eyes. “Can you show me where she is?”

  She flinched slightly and then shook her head. “My abba will be very angry.”

  My insides twisted violently. “Will he hit you?”

  “No, but he will yell. Loud.” Wide-eyed, the younger one nodded in agreement with her sister.

  Their apprehension gave me pause, but Prezi’s life was at stake. “I will never reveal to anyone that I spoke with you. I promise you this, on my life.” I leveled a sober gaze at them both. “I only want to take my friend home to her cousin. She is alone and must be very afraid.”

  The girl’s eyes fluttered as she contemplated, but then she pointed to one of the small, half-built homes at the edge of the orchard. “I climbed a big tree because I heard singing in words I did not understand. There is no roof yet, so I could see a lady in there. She smiled at me and waved with her fingers because her hands were tied up, but then I heard Abba and I climbed down and ran away.”

  A voice rang out in the valley, and peering through the brush I could see that the woman with the baby on her back was the source.

  “Our mother is looking for us,” said the oldest girl. “We have to go.”
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  “Thank you, girls.” I smiled at them, one last reassurance. “Shalom.”

  The younger one shyly returned my smile, displaying a large gap where her front teeth had been and then whispering a lisped shalom. The curve of her mouth was the very image of Darek’s. My stomach soured as my suspicions about their parentage solidified.

  Needing confirmation, I called out softly as the girls veered past me, wisely still keeping their distance. “Is your father’s name Raviv?”

  Although she flinched in surprise, the older girl nodded before she trotted off, dragging her sister along behind her.

  These were Raviv’s daughters. Sisters to the boys I’d killed. Cousins to my own siblings. We have no brothers, the girl had said. So the woman down by the fire, obviously his new wife, carried another daughter on her back. After all this time, Raviv still had no male heirs to continue his family line. No wonder his bitterness had not waned since Zeev and Yared’s deaths. I could expect no reprieve from a man who blamed me for ending his bloodline.

  Ready to face his wrath for Prezi’s sake, I rose, but someone fisted the back of my tunic, jerking me behind the bushy apple tree I’d been using as a hiding place. Grabbing over my shoulder for the wrist of my attacker, I spun, yanking his arm into one of the impossible-to-escape holds Baz had taught me.

  “Good,” Darek said with a wry grin. “Quick as lightning and an armlock few could break.” He lifted his brows, appraising my changed appearance with a swift perusal of my shaved head before pinning me with a critical glare. “But I would already have plunged a dagger into your spine. Awareness is paramount, Eitan. It’s fortunate I even recognized you.”

  I released him with a huff. “Not a good time for a lesson.”

  “Neither is it a good time for suicide.” The words were razor-sharp and fury reigned across his lowered brow. “Chaim is coming with some of his men. We’ll wait.”

  “No. Prezi won’t survive a full-out assault.”