To Dwell among Cedars Page 5
“It is time to go,” she said, closing the door behind her and jamming a wooden dowel in the latch, locking us inside. A full wineskin was slung over her shoulder, and she carried a linen-wrapped parcel.
“What is happening?” I asked as Azuvah knelt to drag a large leather satchel from beneath the bed, one that looked to have already been packed. The promise that she’d made to me last week in the sanctuary came immediately to mind.
“Mataro’s lecherous friends are here,” she said, opening the pack and digging through it with purpose before pressing the wineskin and the linen bundle inside. “They are drinking themselves into oblivion and boasting about their plans.” Her voice held a menacing edge I’d never heard before from the gentle old woman.
“For a fight?” I asked, my hands shaking as I gripped Lukio’s shoulders and tugged him close to my side. Thankfully he was too sleepy to struggle against my embrace. He leaned heavily against me, his eyes fluttering closed.
“I wish it were only a fight,” Azuvah said as she sailed across the room to snatch up both my and Lukio’s sandals. “Mataro has sold you, Arisa. To one of the priests of Dagon.”
Everything went still around me as the world tilted sideways. “Me?”
She returned to push our sandals into the satchel. “The man plans to take you with him as soon as this debauchery is finished.”
“I’m to be a slave in the temple?” The words were too terrifying to speak louder than a whisper.
Azuvah tied the pack closed and dropped it on the bed. “Worse than a slave, my sweet girl. Far worse.” Although I did not understand exactly why her tone made the skin on my neck and arms prickle, I did not doubt Azuvah. “That is why we must leave. Now.”
“I don’t want to go anywhere, Risi,” said Lukio on a yawn. “Mataro said I am the best fighter and soon everyone in the Five Cities will know my name, even the kings.”
Before I could respond, Azuvah knelt before my brother, an earnest expression on her wizened face as she gazed up at him with affection. “Mataro is right about one thing, Lukio. You are the strongest boy I know. One who will grow into a man of integrity and honor if you choose the right path.” She grasped his hands and turned them palm up. “These hands were made to defend those who cannot defend themselves. And tonight, that means protecting your sister by fleeing Ashdod.”
His brows pinched together as he glanced up at me. “Risi is in danger?”
She nodded. “There is no other choice but to go, lior. Your sister’s life is at stake.”
He blinked at her, taking in her plea wordlessly. Then his gaze darted to the door before coming back to rest on me.
“Please, Lukio,” I whispered, through the burning knot in my throat. “Please.”
It seemed a hundred years passed before he finally nodded and I was able to release the breath I’d been holding back.
“Good,” said Azuvah, who then stood and placed a kiss on his forehead and then one on mine. “We don’t have much time. We must be far away before anyone notices I am missing.”
“How will we get out of the villa? We’ll be seen,” I said. We’d be forced to walk directly through the rebuilt hearth room on our way to the front door.
“We are going out that way,” Azuvah replied, gesturing to the window that looked over the alleyway behind the villa.
“But it’s so far to the ground!” I said. “How will we get down?”
With a smug little grin, Azuvah pulled a pile of braided linens from beneath the bed as well. “With this,” she said, stretching the cloth between her outstretched arms so I could see the knots she’d tied along its length. “I found a bin of forgotten linen sheets and prepared this over the past few nights. It is as strong as any rope.”
She took the long braid and tied the end to the sturdy frame of the bed we shared, then together the three of us moved it directly beneath the window.
“Lukio first,” she said. “Then you.”
My brother scrambled onto the bed without argument, far from fearful over the prospect of climbing down from the second story since he spent much of his time scaling trees with his wild friends.
“Hurry,” she said, waving her hands at me. “He will come to fetch you soon and you must be away from this place.”
After taking a shuddery breath, I helped Lukio climb onto the sill, encouraging him to be as quiet as possible as he slithered down the linen rope. Once he was safely on the ground, I took the leather satchel from Azuvah and slipped the strap over my chest. Then I gripped the stone ledge with both hands and, with Azuvah’s help, managed to maneuver myself until my legs were outside, bare feet propped against the wall and the rope gripped tightly in my fists.
A loud sound at the door halted my progress.
“Let me in,” shouted Mataro, pounding on the wood. The dowel Azuvah had jammed into the latch wiggled as he shook the handle.
“Go!” whispered Azuvah, her eyes wide. “Now!”
“Not without you,” I said, my hands already aching from holding my weight.
“Open this door, you stupid cow,” screamed Mataro, jerking the door so hard that it juddered on its leather hinges. “I know you are in there.”
“Arisa,” said Azuvah, her tone solidifying into a firm demand. “You must get Lukio to safety. There is no one else who can do so.”
I shook my head vehemently, the memory of the deep purple bruise on Azuvah’s face rising in my mind. Mataro would not stop at a strike when he discovered us missing. From the bellowing threats he was spewing from behind the door, he would not stop at all. Agony flooded through me. I had no choice but to obey her, or all of us would suffer his wrath.
“But where do I go?” I choked out.
Her gaze fluttered about the room, as if the answer were written somewhere on the walls. “The Ark,” she said on a gasp, her eyes flaring. “It is just as in my dreams. You must follow the Ark.”
“Where?” I gasped, her strange statement addling my mind further.
“It was taken to Ekron, after being sent away from Gath,” she said. “Go north on the trade road and then follow the river eastward.”
“But I—”
“Follow the Ark, Arisa. Do not turn to the right or to the left, and do not stop until it dwells among the cedars and you are sheltered in perfect peace.”
Pain ripped through my chest at the thought of leaving her, but the bone-deep trust I had in her made my decision for me. I nodded and through a haze of tears, I saw her smile one last time, all the love in the world shining in her deep brown eyes.
“I promised you would not be alone, and I vow that it is true,” she said. “Yahweh will be with you. Now go!” She whirled around, slipped off the bed, and then with a strength I did not know she possessed, slid a heavy wooden chest in front of the door. Although it was a futile gesture and Mataro would no doubt burst through, she was giving us a few extra moments to get away.
Hand over hand I used the knots Azuvah had tied to let myself down the length of the rope, repeatedly scraping my knees on the plastered mudbrick as I attempted to keep myself from sliding to my death. When I was only a few cubits from the ground, I heard a loud crack as Mataro broke through the wooden dowel and the groan of the chest being shoved aside as he fought his way through the barricade Azuvah had made. Knowing I was out of time, I let myself drop, hissing at the spike of pain in my feet when I hit the ground.
Even though everything inside me screamed to run back in the house and plead with Mataro to leave Azuvah alone, I ignored my instincts and grabbed my brother’s hand.
“Run!” I commanded in a rasping whisper, fixing my eyes on the dark street ahead of us and wishing I could not hear the horrors that emanated from the window above us. Curses. Moans. The sound of fists meeting flesh and the vow from my cousin to choke the life from the woman who’d sung me to sleep every night of my life.
I had no idea what lay before us on this dark road, but I would not waste Azuvah’s sacrifice.
Six
“Where are we going?” asked Lukio for the hundredth time since we put Mataro’s house at our backs and flew into the night.
“I told you. We have to find the Ark of the Hebrews. Azuvah said that it was brought here.”
“And then we will go home?”
I studied his beloved face as he blinked up at me, my gaze going to the remnants of the bruise beneath his green eye and the gap where one of his lower teeth had been knocked out. Already a new one was pushing into its place. The memory of the blood trickling from his nose the other day wiped any lingering uncertainty from my mind.
I stood tall to assert my authority. “We can never return to Ashdod.”
His eyes went wide. “Never?”
I shook my head. “It is too dangerous.”
“But how will Azuvah find us here?” he asked with a deep furrow between his brows.
My heart wept at the innocent question, but at the same time, I was grateful that he seemed not to have noticed, or understood, the sounds of Mataro destroying the woman who’d laid down her life for us. Lukio loved her just as much as I did.
“She wanted to come but had to stay back in Ashdod.” The lie slipped from my tongue easily, determined as I was to keep him from knowing the extent of my fear.
He frowned, gazing back toward the expansive stretch of coastland from which we’d come.
“I have an idea,” I said, thinking to distract him from our new and terrifying reality. “We must find that golden box, Lukio. The first one of us to catch sight of it will earn a double portion of bread.”
Lukio’s green and brown eyes sparkled as he rubbed his belly. “Truly?”
We’d already eaten half of the bread Azuvah had packed, but at least the skin of watery wine was almost full since we’d knelt on the bank of the river this morning and drank until our bellies sloshed. No matter what we discovered today, I would ensure he had the double portion anyhow, but Lukio was always up for a challenge.
“First, we need to get inside the gates.” My eyes followed a small caravan of traders, their camels slowing into a loose-limbed cadence as they climbed toward the grand entrance to Ekron. “There,” I said, gesturing to the last animal, which bore two small children among its burdens. “Let’s follow closely. Perhaps the guards will assume we are part of that group.”
He nodded and slipped his palm back into mine. He’d grown so much in the last few months that he stood just past my shoulder now. One day soon I knew he would surpass me in height—greatly, if my father’s size was any indication—but I would never forget the first time Azuvah placed him in my arms, saying that he would always look to me for care and protection. A statement that proved to be absolutely true in the years since then and even more so now.
“Eyes on the ground,” I hissed as we approached the gates.
He scowled, annoyed that I’d prevented him from gaping at the guards who stood watch, their iron swords gleaming in the sunlight.
As much as I regretted snapping at Lukio, we could not chance anyone taking notice of us. Like Azuvah had predicted, it took all night to find our way here, stopping only for a few hours’ rest within a stand of bushy junipers alongside the river. We’d made it this far without detection, and I was determined to remain unnoticed. I kept my head down and hurried to catch up with the traders, pleading with the gods to cloak us with invisibility as we passed beneath the wary gazes of the guards.
When my plan worked and none of the men took notice of two dusty children trailing behind the line of camels, I took a few deep breaths, willing the tight knots in my stomach to unwind. I patted the strap of the leather satchel, reassuring myself that our only worldly possessions were still slung across my torso.
Tightening my grip on Lukio, I peeled away from the crowd, feeling the urgent need to put distance between us and the gates.
“You’re squeezing my fingers,” said Lukio, making an attempt to shake off my hold, his feet dragging in the dirt.
“There are too many people in this city,” I said, firming my grip as I gestured to the river of bodies swarming toward the marketplace. “We cannot get separated as we search for the Ark.”
“Why do we have to find it?” he asked, trudging along beside me. “Tombaal said it was full of evil spirits.”
I had no answer, other than Azuvah’s strange mumblings about dreams and assurances that we would find peace among cedars—none of which I was certain I believed—so I tugged on his hand and headed toward the center of the city, assuming that the best place to find a sacred object would be a temple.
We passed through the bustling marketplace where Philistines, Canaanites, Amorites, and other foreigners vied for goods or customers, just as they’d done in Ashdod before the plagues had struck. It seemed that Ekron had had no such misfortune, for every stall overflowed with bounty and the sounds of commerce rang from every corner.
After winding our way through narrow streets toward the center of town, where an assortment of grand homes and minor temples lined the streets in well-maintained grandeur, we came upon the largest and most ornate of all. An engraving near the entrance to the courtyard offered the sanctuary to Baalzebub, Lord of Ekron, who was revered for his powers of healing. But there was no golden box sitting on the porch before his likeness and no bevy of priests trying to decide what to do with the Hebrews’ sacred chest. In fact, it seemed that none of the terror that had fallen over Ashdod was on the faces of the people here. They moved about the streets without a care, unmarred by boils, and the obvious bounty in the market making it plain that they’d suffered no horde of rodents devouring their crops. Had Azuvah been wrong about where the Ark had been taken? Or had it indeed been destroyed?
Despondency settled atop my shoulders and tears stung my eyes. My brother and I were alone in a strange city, Azuvah was dead, and I had nothing more than three remaining rounds of bread and a skin of wine to sustain us. My stomach roiled and pitched as I wondered whether we would be forced to return to Ashdod after all.
Swiping at my eyes before Lukio noticed my hopelessness, I cleared my throat. “Looks as though it’s not here. But let’s go back to the market and keep our eyes open for any talk of it, all right?”
“But who will get the extra loaf of bread?”
I ruffled his curls, laughing as he ducked away from my affectionate gesture. “The first to overhear any clue as to where it is.”
“Like a spy?” he responded, grinning.
“Exactly.”
For the next couple of hours, we wandered through the marketplace, strolling past stalls stacked high with fabrics of every variety, pots of pungent spices, tables lined with idols both large and small, and fresh produce that practically begged to be snatched. But although my stomach pleaded with me to succumb to temptation, we could not chance someone noticing our presence. I glared at Lukio every time I caught him staring longingly at baskets of ripened olives or fragrant fruits.
But although we hovered around countless booths and shop windows, listening for any mention of the Hebrews’ treasure, I heard nothing but the usual arguments over weights and measures, and the everyday gossip between friends and neighbors. Discouragement weighed heavy on me as the heat of midday leached the strength from my bones.
However, during our largely fruitless search, I had discovered something shocking: a large number of Hebrews were among the customers here in Ekron, a few wearing tassels on the corners of their garments that were identical to the knotted white-and-blue threads Azuvah had always worn around her wrist. Those who did not wear the fringes looked no different than the other customers, their dress and mannerisms so similar to the other tribes in this
region that it was difficult to distinguish them. But after living with Azuvah for my entire life, I knew the distinctive lilt of her language as much as I knew my own, and I’d heard more than a few Hebraic tones bartering goods and haggling prices. Why, when we’d devastated the Hebrews’ army and stolen their greatest treasure, would these people continue to intermingle with their enemies?
“I’m hungry. When can I have the bread?” Lukio whined, his belligerent pout belying his actual age and contradicting his size. There were purple shadows beneath his mismatched eyes, and his lips were cracked after hours in the sun.
“All right, let’s find some shade and eat,” I said, my spirits flagging further as I contemplated what we would possibly do once our meager provisions were gone. Would I end up having to steal to prevent my brother from starving? Or worse? I swallowed hard against the glut of hot tears that was making its way up my throat. It was my responsibility to protect Lukio and already I was failing.
“. . . glad they didn’t let that thing through the gates,” said a woman as we passed by a handcart laden with a strange assortment of goods: a tilting pile of what looked to be well-used pottery, a mound of fabric scraps, and produce that looked to have passed its prime two days before. The couple whose conversation had snagged my attention away from Lukio’s empty belly looked to be peddlers—their clothes threadbare, their bodies filthy and gaunt. Although the market was bursting with customers, none seemed interested in their paltry offerings.
“I am as well,” said the woman. “I heard even more people died in Gath than Ashdod.”
Thrilled that I’d finally heard talk of the Ark, I swung back around, dragging Lukio behind me without explanation as I slipped behind a pottery stand where the couple could not see us.
“Indeed,” said the man, his fingers sliding over his greasy pate. “But the seren is no fool.”
Pulling Lukio behind me, I stepped out from behind the pottery stall, too desperate to remain hidden.
“Where is it now?” I said to the man.