To Dwell among Cedars Page 31

  A curl of dread wound its way up my spine as I looked around the clearing. I’d been so focused on speaking to Machlon that I’d not noticed that the guards who’d once stood watch over the tent were nowhere to be seen. My cousin had sworn to me time and again that no one would be killed during this mission, that the Levites would be subdued and then bound and gagged so they could not raise any alarms. But had those promises been lies as well?

  “Osher, Shelah. Can you get us off this mountain?” asked Machlon.

  “It won’t be the fastest, or even the easiest of routes, especially in the dark,” replied Osher. “But once we get past the eastern ridge, my brother and I know the way.”

  “What do we do with him?” asked the brute who still had me by the hair.

  My cousin looked at me without even a flicker of recognition for the blood-bond he’d earlier sworn we shared. “Make certain he doesn’t follow.”

  Thirty-Seven

  Eliora

  A creeping sense of dread came over me as I followed Ronen’s captors. Even without the high vantage point of my oak tree, the distinctive shape of the cedars up ahead announced their destination long before they even reached the clearing.

  The trees were even more massive than I’d anticipated, their furthermost branches seeming to reach for the stars and each trunk so wide I guessed four men could not encircle it with fingers touching. These trees were centuries younger than the famed ones they’d sprouted from in the ancient forest of Sidon—some perhaps even dating to the rebirth of the world after the flood, if my grandfather’s stories were to be believed. I could easily understand why cedars such as these were coveted for ship masts and soaring temple roofs.

  The flicker of torchlight glowed between the trees up ahead, confirming my escalating fears. The men who guarded the Ark were forbidden from lighting any flame at night, to avoid announcing its location. Somehow they must have been overtaken or the clearing would not now be glowing like a signal fire.

  Since my attention was pinned to Ronen’s white garments, determined as I was not to take my eyes from him until my father arrived, I stumbled over something in my path and fell to my knees.

  With my shin smarting from scraping it against a pinecone, I twisted around to see what had tripped me and gasped far too loudly before slapping my hand over my mouth.

  I’d stumbled over a man’s leg. And not just any man lay unmoving on the forest floor with a dark stream of blood trickling from his mouth. Rami, my father’s second in command, had been slain. Tears blurred the horrific scene before me into a pool of grief. Rami had been one of the first men outside my family who I’d learned to trust in the days following my arrival at Kiryat-Yearim. He was kindness personified and a man of unwavering loyalty.

  A low moan drew my eyes to another body a few paces away, and I shuffled over to find Nahor, another of the Levitical guards, lying on his side, breathing in shallow spurts.

  “Nahor,” I whispered, “can you hear me?”

  Another rasping moan came from his mouth.

  “You will be all right,” I said, choking on the lie, since the awful rattle in his chest suggested otherwise. “My father will come soon.”

  I held his hand, determined that the poor man would not take his last breaths alone and prayed that my father would indeed arrive with more men to put to rights whatever horror had transpired here tonight.

  Sooner than I expected, Nahor’s labored breaths ceased, the night going terribly still around me.

  If these two men, trained to defend the Ark at any cost, had been killed, then what of the rest? The shofar blasts I’d heard back at the charcoal mound had lasted for only a short time and had been few in number. Something, or someone, had cut them short, and my guess was that the men who’d taken Ronen into the clearing up ahead were part of a much larger group. They had to be in order to overpower all sixteen men out here at once. The attackers must have been lying in wait, holding off on their strike until the noise of Yom Teruah began.

  A plan that was as sinister as it was well coordinated.

  Had I erred in not taking the long way down to the bluff to find my father? I’d thought one of his guards might do so, but Rami and Nahor’s deaths made me abandon the hope. And now Ronen was at the mercy of men who’d committed such awful deeds, and I was torn all over again. Should I run back down the mountain? Or check on Ronen and be patient?

  Please, Yahweh, I breathed. Give me wisdom.

  Shouts in the clearing made the decision for me. I bounded to my feet and headed for the cedar grove. Dodging behind the nearest tree, I peered around the enormous trunk and nearly cried out to see the man I loved being dragged to the ground by three rough-hewn men. He tried to fight them off, twisting his lithe body until one of them grabbed ahold of his hair and slammed his face into the ground. A sword was snatched from Ronen’s hand, making me wonder how he’d gotten ahold of a weapon and why it looked as though he’d been headed toward the linen-swathed Ark of the Covenant at the center of the clearing and the white-clad priests who held it aloft.

  Even in my distress over Ronen, the shock of being so close to the precious box I’d not seen in so long caused a bevy of memories to rise up: the moment I’d first seen it being jostled down the street on the back of a wagon, the soldiers hefting it on their shoulders with such lack of care and dropping it in front of Dagon, the way it shimmered after the earth shook and the idol fell at its feet, and finally the thundering booms and flash of light that cut down the men of Beth Shemesh as they gathered around to peer at the sacred objects inside.

  My attention was pulled back to Ronen as the men hauled him to his feet, his once pure-white garments covered in dirt. And standing in front of him, seemingly uncaring that Ronen had been assaulted by brigands, was his cousin Machlon.

  My confusion only grew as Machlon and the man I’d known as Ronen’s friend, Osher, stood calmly discussing some sort of failed Gibeonite plot and then how best to remove the Ark from the mountain.

  No, came a whisper from deep within my soul. You cannot allow this to happen.

  But I’d waited too long. I would never reach my father in time if I ran now. I had no weapon to fight them. No shofar to call for help. I was all alone, a Philistine woman with only words to wage battle against all these men. Men who’d already killed two of their tribal brethren, perhaps more, and held their own cousin and friend captive.

  But even as I mourned my powerlessness and considered what I could possibly say to convince them, Azuvah’s words from so long ago rose in my mind: “You will never be alone, lior.”

  I wrapped my hand around my wrist, feeling the knotted cords of Azuvah’s tzitzit under my palm, knowing exactly what I had to do.

  I leaned my back against the mighty cedar tree, hands shaking and breathing out a prayer that I would not meet the same fate as my father’s men before I could speak. Although my heart crashed against my ribs so violently it felt bruised, I could no longer hide in the shadows. Both Ronen and the Ark were at stake, so the only thing I could do was make a scene, stall for time, and pray that my father would appear.

  I bolted from my hiding spot and shouted, “You cannot move the Ark!”

  To both my relief and horror, the entire company of men turned to face me. I’d hoped that the sight of a woman in the clearing might give me enough time to speak before they realized I was defenseless, and by the shocked confusion on their faces, I’d calculated correctly.

  Ronen surged forward, calling my name and trying to get to me, but the men who had ahold of him threw him back to the ground, piling atop his struggling body without mercy even as he pleaded with Machlon to leave me alone. One man untied his belt and gagged Ronen with it. Tears filled my eyes as I watched him slump to the ground helplessly.

  “My dear Eliora,” said Machlon with false affection, “I am so glad you’ve joined us. You seem a bit confused. But perhaps this is because my cousin neglected to mention his true purpose for being here in Kiryat-Yearim.” He spread hi
s arms wide, his raised brows and haughty smirk implying that the man I’d come to admire so much over these past weeks was part of this plot.

  I dropped my gaze to Ronen, every part of me screaming that it could not be true, but the guilt on his face telling me it was indeed.

  “Oh yes,” Machlon said. “And I thank you for revealing the exact location of the Ark to him.”

  An exclamation of dismay burst from my mouth as our time at the oak tree came to mind, when I’d felt I could trust him with the deep things in my heart—and with my secret place. Shame flooded through me. I’d done this. My foolishness over a man had made the Ark of the Covenant vulnerable to these thieves.

  From his place on the ground, Ronen shook his head vehemently, silently denying his cousin’s accusation. But it had to be true, otherwise, they would not have known how to find this well-hidden place. Yet, if he was part of this plot, then why had he been dragged here and then subdued? None of it made any sense.

  But I did not have time to wallow in my guilt, Ronen’s betrayal, or the confusing circumstances of his capture. I had no idea what these men had planned for the Ark of the Covenant, but I had to do anything I could to keep them from removing it from Kiryat-Yearim. And even if they were nothing but thieves and liars, their own lives were at stake here as well, and I could not stomach watching more men be struck down like those at Beth Shemesh.

  “You will never be alone, lior.”

  “If you are part of this, then you have blood on your hands,” I said, praying that Yahweh would make my spine as strong and tall as one of the mighty cedars, even though my hands and knees were shaking. “And you must be brought to justice under Torah law.”

  One of the white-clad priests addressed Machlon, even as he held aloft the Ark. “What does she mean?”

  Machlon scoffed. “We don’t have time for this. Osher. Shelah. Tie her—”

  “Two of the Levite guards were killed tonight,” I yelled, which somehow halted the two men who’d been coming for me. “For the crime of protecting our most holy object.”

  “Is that true?” the priest snapped at Machlon. “Your father assured us that there would be no bloodshed.”

  Machlon waved the man’s concerns away. “She knows nothing. No one is hurt.” Then, in three strides, Ronen’s cousin was directly in front of me, his gaze penetrating and his expression menacing. “Say one more word and Ronen pays the price.”

  “You would kill him?” I said.

  “He betrayed you, foolish girl. It’s true. But he also betrayed me, my father, and the rest of the righteous priests who were counting on him. It is my duty to remove this box from Kiryat-Yearim by any means necessary, and Ronen is merely an obstacle at this point.” His gaze traveled over my face in that strange scrutinizing way I’d noticed the night he came to our home. “And no matter that he abused your trust and ran to me as soon as he discovered this location, I can tell you still care for him. You don’t want to watch him suffer. Do you?”

  I swallowed hard, my eyes blurring. Everything he said was true. Even if Ronen had revealed every one of my secrets to his horrible cousin, there had to have been a reason. Those moments under the oak tree were too real, his emotions too raw to feign. Perhaps Machlon and his father had manipulated him in some way. But regardless of his guilt or innocence, I did not want him to die.

  “What do you want?” I whispered.

  He smiled, the haughty movement of his lips highlighting the differences between himself and his cousin. “Unfortunately, we’ve lost our guides. But you know this mountain, don’t you? In fact, I’ll wager that, smart girl that you are, you remember the exact way Abinidab transported this thing up here.”

  I let my eyes close and my chin drop forward. I did know the path. Natan and I had explored every part of the mountain together in the early months of our life here, and I’d noted the route we’d taken followed a narrow stream of water that flowed from a cracked boulder just outside the perimeter the Levite guards kept around the cedar grove. It was easy enough to head east from this place and cross paths with that stream. Although the trail was long obscured with vegetation, I was certain I could find it, even in the dark.

  Letting out a shuddering breath, I looked over at Ronen, whose penetrating gaze was on me. I loved him. His deception did not change that fact, and somehow I was convinced that there was more to the story than what Machlon had revealed.

  I had to trust that the same God who directed those two milk cows to Beth Shemesh, returning the Ark directly back into the hands of the people he’d gifted it to in the first place, was still in control.

  “You will never be alone, lior.”

  Keeping my gaze on Ronen, who returned my stare with a heart-rending blend of guilt and confusion in his dark eyes, I told his cousin that I would do whatever was necessary to save his life.

  Thirty-Eight

  It was simple enough to find the stream, which had only grown in the years since I’d noticed its path. The water shushed its way along the slope through the trees, and I followed its course, leading the small procession down the hill with the precious vessel they had stolen.

  Other than the crunch of our footsteps on dried leaves and pine needles, the night was still, although a few night birds startled into the sky as we descended on the opposite side of the mountain from Kiryat-Yearim, moving farther and farther away from anyone who might be able to stop this before it was too late.

  Next to me, Machlon held a torch high to light my way. He’d said little as we walked but had, to my relief, ordered someone to remove Ronen’s gag and bonds. He’d threatened to allow the men who’d beaten Ronen to do as they pleased with me once we reached the valley if he spoke a word or made any attempt to come within ten paces of me.

  How Ronen could be related to such a man, I could not fathom. Ronen may have lied to me and even betrayed me and my family, but in Ashdod, I’d lived with men who’d relished violence—on the fighting grounds, the battlefield, and even in the temples—and Ronen was nothing like them. If anything, the remorse all over his bruised and bloodied face gave testimony to that, along with the way he’d pleaded with his cousin to let me go free before he was silenced.

  The closer we came to the bottom of the mountain, the less hope I had that my father would find us before we came out of the trees. Once there, it would be simple for Machlon and his men to swiftly cross the valley. It would not be long before my help was unnecessary.

  What would my father do when all was revealed about my part in this travesty? Not only had my misplaced trust in Ronen led these men directly to the Ark, but I’d chosen to lead them down the mountain to save a traitor’s life. Elazar had been only too swift to relieve Menash of his duties for the sin of sleeping during his watch. How much more would I be punished for mistakes that had actually caused the holy vessel to be stolen?

  We reached the farthest ridge, marked by an enormous flat boulder silhouetted against the starry sky and past which it would be simple for Machlon to navigate the final slope into the valley. I knew that it was time for me to make one last attempt to stop these men. But sensing that any appeal to Machlon would go unheeded, as focused as he was on what he considered his duty, I decided my best course of action would be to speak directly to the men upon whose shoulders the golden box rested.

  Given courage by the flicker of indecision I’d seen in the priest’s eyes when I announced Rami and Nahor’s deaths, and hoping that Ronen would take my distraction as an opportunity to escape, I lunged for the torch in Machlon’s hand. He was so taken off-guard by my sudden movement that I’d already darted away by the time he recovered enough to grab for me.

  Glad for my many years of shimmying up trees, I scrambled atop the slick boulder and lifted the torch high. Inspired by Ronen’s admonition to embrace my unique appearance as a testimony to Yahweh’s goodness, I yanked my headscarf off my head, tossed it to the ground, and shook out my hair so that it flowed in golden-brown waves around my shoulders and to my waist.
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  “I am Philistine,” I called out, swallowing the instinctual shame that went along with that statement and forcing myself to stand at my full height. I pushed past the discomfort, aimed my gaze at the priests, and pointed at the burden they carried on their shoulders with a trembling finger.

  “I was there when the Ark of the Covenant was brought into Ashdod,” I continued, my voice growing louder in spite of the burn in my throat. “I watched it be offered to Dagon as a war trophy. And I also saw it sitting on the temple porch, unmoved after the earth shook violently, while the god of Ashdod fell before it. I heard the terror of the priests the next day when it fell again before the Ark, breaking to pieces even when the earth was still. Moving it now from this place would be disastrous.”

  “We are priests, not pagan Philistines,” said the man whose voice I recognized as the one who’d reacted to my announcement back in the clearing.

  “This woman is the daughter of Elazar,” said Machlon, his finger jabbing up at me with frustrated accusation, “who is in league with both Ahituv ben Pinchas and the Pretender Samuel. Do not listen to her.”

  “I thought you said you were Philistine,” said the priest.

  “I am,” I said, “but I am also the adopted daughter of the man who has watched over the Ark for the past eight years. And it was he who told me of the peculiar responsibility you priests and Levites have to uphold the statutes regarding the handling of this sacred object and the dire consequences for ignoring them. Even though I was a child when I followed the cow-drawn wagon to Beth Shemesh, along with the five lords of Philistia, I vividly remember the sights, the sounds, and the smell when the Levites’ bones burned before they hit the ground because they mishandled the Ark. Those men too were of the sanctified line of Levi, and their grave miscalculation cost them their lives.”

  I let my gaze travel over the men gathered below, some who glared back with malice, and some whose brows were furrowed with curiosity. “So you must ask yourself, are you truly convinced of the righteousness of your mission here—this clandestine plot carried out under cover of night, which already cost two Levites their lives—and are you willing to die an excruciating death if you are wrong?” I braced my feet on the boulder, spread my arms wide as the torch fluttered in the breeze, and met Machlon’s infuriated glare with the most determined stare I could muster.