Prize of War
Prize of War
Carole Towriss
Copyright
Copyright © 2017 by Carole Towriss
All rights reserved.
ISBN-13: 978-1977979742
Cover design by Roseanna White Designs
No portion of this book (except for excerpts for reviews) may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher.
Scripture quotations taken from the New American Standard Bible® (NASB), Copyright © 1960, 1962, 1963, 1968, 1971, 1972, 1973, 1975, 1977, 1995 by The Lockman Foundation. Used by permission. www.Lockman.org All rights reserved. Any emphasis to scripture quotations is added by the author.
Prize of War is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Dedication
To anyone who has felt alone.
Know that God is with you.
And Caleb said, ‘I will give my daughter Acsah in marriage
to the man who attacks and captures Kiriath-Sepher.’
Othniel son of Kenaz, Caleb’s brother, took it;
so Caleb gave his daughter Acsah to him in marriage.
One day when she came to Othniel, she urged him to ask her father for a field. When she got off her donkey,
Caleb asked her, ‘What can I do for you?’
She replied, ‘Do me a special favor.
Since you have given me land in the Negev,
give me also springs of water.’
So Caleb gave her the upper and lower springs.
Joshua 15.13-19 & Judges 1.12-15
GLOSSARY
Abba— Daddy
Imma—Mother, Mom
motek—my sweet, sweetheart
Anak, Anakim (pl.) — a giant, warlike people who inhabited southern Israel, smaller descendants of the Nephilim—the offspring of sons of God and the daughters of men (Genesis 6.4)
negev—dry land, desert
ahuvi, ahuvati- my beloved (for a male/female)
shophet—leader of a city. Although commonly translated as “judge,” the Hebrew word also connotes leading, defending, delivering, and avenging.
sabba—grandfather
savta, savtot—grandmother, grandmothers
CHARACTERS
biblical characters
Acsah—daughter of Caleb
Caleb—warrior and spy of Israel, shophet of Hebron
Othniel—nephew of Caleb, also called Othni
Seraiah—brother of Othniel, also known as Siah
Salmah—soldier, husband of Rahab
Rahab—wife of Salmah
fictional characters
Enosh—soldier of Caleb
Malachi—Othniel and Siah’s cousin
Simeon—Rahab and Salmah’s son
Leah, Jonah—sister of Caleb, aunt and uncle of Acsah
Rapha—hired worker of Caleb, Shemer’s son
Dania—sister of Enosh
Shemer—hired worker of Caleb, father of Rapha
Rinnah, Mattan—hired house servants of Caleb
Eitan, Penuel—hired harvest workers of Caleb
Judith, Miriam, Naomi, Yemima—widows in Hebron
Simona and Eilah—sisters, settlers in Debir
Gilad—friend and accomplice of Enosh
Jedediah, Deborah—settlers in Debir
Tamir, Hannah—friends of Gilad in Juttah
Map of southern Judea and the northern negev
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Author’s Note
If you liked Prize of war…
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Carole Towriss
Chapter 1
…and the daughter of Caleb was Acsah.
1 Chronicles 2.49
“I’m a prize? What do you mean I’m a prize?” Acsah’s throat burned as she fought to keep the tears from spilling. How had this day turned upside down so quickly? The sky closed in on her as she stood on the open roof of her home. She struggled to breathe, couldn’t pull in enough air.
Her abba folded his arms across his broad chest and clenched his jaw. “You are my only daughter. I intend to see you are protected. And since you can’t seem to make this decision yourself, I felt I had to step in.”
“My imma never would have allowed this.”
Pain clouded his eyes. “Your imma would have seen you married by now. Perhaps I have been too indulgent.”
“How do you know …? But what if …?” Thoughts swirled, too many and too fast for her to complete one. “Abba, why?”
He uncrossed his arms. “Acsah, you know I love you dearly, more than life itself. I have talked to Yahweh about this. I have talked to Leah…”
Acsah’s gaze shot to the woman standing next to him. Why would her aunt betray her like this? “You agree with him? How could you?”
Leah neared. “Because I love you like a daughter. This way, Yahweh Himself will choose your husband. And he will be brave, strong, a true warrior.” She stretched out her hand, but Acsah backed away.
“I don’t want a warrior! That’s the last thing I want!” Her traitorous hot tears finally had their way, coursing down her cheeks. She raced from the roof, down the stairs, and through the house. Outside, she ran past the wide gates of Hebron and into the countryside beyond. Was there no way out of this deal her abba had made for her?
Breaking into a sweat, she passed Abba’s golden wheat fields and sprinted up the rise leading to the enormous threshing floor beyond. Reaching the flat, packed ground at the apex of the hill, she stopped, chest heaving. She bent at the waist, her hands on her knees until she caught her breath, then collapsed on the hard ground.
What kind of old, scarred monster would she end up with? How ugly would he be? Would he be cruel? Demanding? She buried her head in her arms on her knees, sobbing until her tears were spent.
Drying her wet cheeks on her headcloth, she scanned the verdant hills of Hebron, resplendent with the fragrant flowers of early summer. The fertile land mocked the emptiness in her heart.
She surveyed the abundant grain waving in the seemingly endless fields. Being the daughter of Israel’s mightiest warrior Caleb may have locked her into a marriage she did not want, but it also brought her innumerable advantages. She rose and adjusted her clothing. The time for despair had passed. There was work to be done. People depended on her.
She strode back to her house and filled a small bag with grain. As she walked along the main road that fronted the outside circle of houses, she tucked the pouch into her sash. She crossed one of the many smaller streets leading from the ring road into the center of the city. Judith’s house sat on the corner.
Acsah opened the courtyard gate and let herself in. “Judith? I've come to help with the bread.”
Three older women sat in the common room of their modest home near a small oven. Each sat before a large, flat-topped, stationary stone called a quern, with a smaller handstone they moved back and forth over the grain to turn it into flour. “We were beginning to think we wouldn’t see you today,” said Judith.
“I’m
so sorry. Just a talk with my abba. Nothing to worry about.” She joined their circle, sitting before an empty quern.
“How is Caleb? Such a good man.” Naomi patted her arm.
Acsah ignored the comment. She removed a handful of wheat from the bowl in their midst and began crushing the kernels. As flour was produced, she added it to another container and then began again.
Their chatter drowned out the scratching, crunching sounds of turning wheat berries to flour, and the flour into bread. Hours had gone by before the task was accomplished.
“I’ll take the bowls back for you. You rest for now. If you’ll pass me that, Miriam?”
Acsah balanced the bowl the widow handed her on top of the first one, leaving the stack of flat, round loaves that would feed the women for the rest of the day. She carried them to the storage room at the back of the house and set them on the table. Before she left, she emptied the contents of the small bag of grain she’d brought into the widows’ larger jar to replenish what they had just ground, and returned with a small bowl of dates and raisins.
“Time for me to go, savtot. I’ll be back tomorrow.” They weren’t truly her grandmothers, but since she had none by blood, and they had no relatives nearby, they all enjoyed the special relationship Acsah nurtured among them.
On the way home, she thought more about Abba’s pronouncement. She simply had to persuade him to change his mind. As soon as the idea formed, she knew it would never happen. She’d never known him to change course. He made decisions slowly, deliberately, after examining all the facts. After much counsel and prayer. Then he did everything possible to see his decision was carried out.
The epitome of a warrior. A commander.
She had no more chance of avoiding this marriage than the walls of Jericho had against Joshua seven years ago.
Othniel’s head was so full of competing thoughts he barely noticed the lush green fields he walked through. The road from Hebron to Bethlehem was usually calming and enjoyable, but so far he’d missed most of it.
Caleb’s report after his scouting mission to the nearby city of Kiriath-Sepher echoed—especially that one unbelievable statement: “I offer my daughter Acsah as a bride.”
Uncle Caleb was wealthy. He had land and silver. He had influence. He could offer anything, make anyone’s life easier, better. He could set a man up for life. Why in the world would he offer his only daughter?
Not that Othni objected. To the contrary. He would do almost anything to make her his. His heart beat faster at the idea. He thought back to their life on the other side of the Jordan River, back to when they’d been children. Acsah had been not only his cousin, but also his best friend. Days of chasing rabbits and building fortresses blended into picking berries and sitting under trees, dreaming of what life would be like in Canaan.
Then they crossed the River. Her tenth summer, his fifteenth. After that, things got complicated.
He hadn’t seen her in four years. What did she look like now? Surely she’d grown even more beautiful. She was a woman now—more than of age. Why hadn’t she married yet?
Why hadn’t he?
Because every woman he’d thought about marrying, he’d compared to her. And none of them measured up. None had her flashing eyes. Her pink cheeks. Her wavy, dark brown hair, which was so dark it was almost black…
That would all be over as soon as he conquered Kiriath-Sepher.
But first, he needed to talk to Salmah. Salmah had been with Caleb nearly every day of the wars until they came home. He hadn’t run like Othni had. He’d had no need to.
Would Caleb even talk to Othni now?
Winning Acsah’s hand was the only thing in this world that would make him risk disappointing Caleb again.
Acsah paced in the courtyard in front of their home, the sweet fragrance of pomegranate blossoms drifting on the air. Bright red flowers, the shape of ram’s-horn trumpets, dotted the trees. The colors and scents, which normally invigorated her, crowded her space.
Maybe she could talk to Aunt Leah first, enlist her help in persuading Abba to change his mind. Acsah moved to the side of the house where Leah and Uncle Jonah’s rooms were attached. She peeked through the door into their central room, but Leah wasn’t there.
After rehearsing a number of things she might say to attempt to change Abba’s mind, Acsah finally settled on two or three. She had to try, though it was probably useless. She spun on her heel and returned to the wide, open room that occupied the right two-thirds of the lower floor of their home. The stone pillars that held up the roof loomed larger than usual this morning.
She leaned over the low stone barrier to her left and rested her head on Donkey’s nose, rubbing his neck for a long moment. “You don’t have to worry about getting married, do you?” She scooped out some grain from the feedbag in the corner and held it out to him. His lips tickled her palm as he nuzzled her hand. “Not that you could have any babies if you did.” Too bad her life couldn’t be so simple.
Acsah headed for the stone stairs in front of the storage room that ran across the back of the house. Reaching the top, she inhaled a deep breath. If only she could suck in courage as easily as air. Maybe she could duck into one of the two sleeping rooms that took up the back part of the roof.
No, she might as well face him now.
Abba and Aunt Leah sat on a round leather mat, and Acsah lowered herself to the floor next to him. “Abba, may I talk with you about what you said this morning?”
“Yes, motek.” He grinned. “But I won’t change my mind.” He could call her my sweet, but underneath his smile, his will was as hard and sharp as the bronze in his sword.
She glanced at Leah, then back to her father. “Why must I marry a soldier? Can’t I marry someone else? Maybe one of the others?”
“You’ve already turned down five men.” He frowned at her and held up a hand, fingers spread wide. “Five.”
She squirmed. “I know, but …”
Aunt Leah touched her arm. “Tell me what was wrong with them. Why did you always say no?”
Acsah shrugged. “I don’t know. Baruch was too old. Aviel wanted to move to Lachish. So far away—I’d never see you. Gershom … Gershom … he ...” She sighed deeply. “But Abba, I can’t marry anyone.”
“Why ever not?” He widened his dark eyes, his bushy brows disappearing under his crop of gray hair.
“Because … because …” She chewed on her bottom lip.
“Why?” His voice was firm, his eyes narrowed.
This was not how the conversation was supposed to go. She folded her hands in front of her, squeezed them together until her fingers ached. “Because then you will be alone. And no one should be alone.” She pulled her knees to her chest and dropped her head onto her arms.
Her father’s strong hand rested on her head. He waited, smoothing her hair until she stilled. “Acsah?” His gentle voice soothed her raging nerves.
She raised her face to his, drew in a shuddering breath.
“Why are you afraid to leave? What do you think will happen?”
“I- I don’t know. I just know I can’t.”
He reached for her and took one of her hands between his rough ones. “But motek, you must. It is the way things have always been, the way Yahweh intended. Daughters grow up and leave to marry. I assure you, I will be fine.”
He didn’t understand. How could he? He hadn’t been there that day. A thought occurred to her, and she tilted her head. “Why did you never marry again?”
He shrugged. “At the time, I only wanted to care for you. And there were wars to be fought, and then time went by, and here we are.” He aimed his penetrating gaze at her. “Would you feel better if I were married? If I had someone here with me?”
It would.
But it didn’t change the fact that she would never wed a warrior.
Othni winced. Rahab had worked hard to prepare an abundance of delicious-looking food, and he couldn’t remember having tasted any of it. Had he even spoke
n to her, or to Salmah, during the entire meal? He put on a smile and swallowed the last of his bread, then drained his drinking bowl.
Rahab reached to fill it again then set the pitcher on the mat spread in the courtyard of their Bethlehem home. She scooped a toddler off Salmah’s lap, set him on the brushed dirt floor, and stood. “Come, Simeon. Let’s let Abba talk to his friend.”
Instead Simeon settled onto Othni’s lap and tugged on his beard. “You are Abba’s friend?”
“He is a very good friend.”
“Then why have I only seen you a few times?”
Rahab gasped. “Simeon!”
Othni chuckled, dislodging the child’s fat fingers. “I have been fighting in other places.”
“My friends don’t go far away.” Simeon frowned.
“Your friends are little boys, not soldiers.”
“Oh.” The boy shrugged and clambered off Othni’s lap.
“Simeon, we are going inside. Now.” Rahab shook her head and picked him up.
“He doesn’t live up to his name very well, does he? He who hears and obeys?” Othni laughed as Rahab carried the four-year-old inside.
“We keep hoping he’ll grow into it. The hearing part he gets. It’s the obeying part he still needs to work on.” Salmah’s hearty laugh rumbled deep in his chest. “Just wait—you’ll see someday. Anyone you have your eye on?”
“That’s why I'm here.”
Salmah leaned forward, grinning. “What can I do? I have no daughters for you. Only one tiny, disobedient son.”