Prize of War Read online

  Acsah’s heartbeat quickened. What could have happened to Enosh? And why was the messenger going into town instead of back?

  The boy’s words repeated in her mind. Was Enosh missing? Injured? She may not love him yet, but the thought of him in pain brought her no joy.

  Then a new thought struck her, one that lightened her mood considerably. If something happened to him, was she released from her father’s vow? She would be free from marrying a soldier. She could choose someone more … peaceful. Someone who would be home every night.

  What was wrong with her? A man might be seriously wounded, perhaps dead, and all she could think about was her own comfort.

  Was she that selfish? If Enosh were hurt, how many others might be injured—or killed—as well?

  Oh Yahweh, forgive me for my thoughtless concerns. Protect Abba, my cousin, all the men fighting for Israel—and Enosh.

  What did that mean for the battle, if Enosh were injured? Yet the messenger had said Abba would return in a week. Because they had captured Kiriath-Sepher, or given up?

  If he came home in a week, presumably he’d bring home Enosh as well. That meant whatever she intended to do to help Yemima and Judith, she needed to do quickly. She rolled up Judith’s rug, and hurried to the southeast quarter of town.

  The smells were always the first thing she noticed about the marketplace. The spices of roasting meats, freshly baked breads, and various incenses contended with sweat, dust and dung for dominance.

  Vendors called out their wares in loud and obnoxious voices. Musicians demonstrated their instruments and animals belted their displeasure.

  Acsah first found the rug dealer. A tall, lanky man, Terach had always given her a fair price before. “What have you brought for me today?”

  Acsah knelt and unrolled Judith’s rug on the cloth spread on the ground at his feet. “You’re my favorite dealer, so I’m offering this to you first. Isn’t it stunning?”

  He squatted and pinched, poked and pulled at it with long fingers. “Very good craftsmanship. You make this?”

  “No, I’m bringing this for a friend.”

  He laughed. “One of your friends, huh?” He quoted her a price.

  “No, thank you.” She started rolling the rug.

  “Wait—what are you doing?”

  “She spent months on that. What would you have offered if I had said I made it? More?”

  He grimaced. “Probably.”

  “What difference does it make? She taught me to weave like this. She and my aunt.” She cradled the weaving in her arms and moved to the next dealer. Next time, perhaps she wouldn’t be so forthcoming with her information.

  It took four dealers before she got a fair price, but eventually she did. Abba had taught her never to back down. Had it been hers, she would have taken less, but not for Judith.

  She strolled around the market. Nothing new for sale. Really, she was just stalling. Was she ready to face Ezra?

  She found the food section, and made her way to the wine dealers. At the first stall, she stopped.

  “Excuse me, do you know where Ezra is?”

  “I am Hevel. I have much better wine than he does. Look at this one. It—”

  “I’m quite sure your wine is excellent, but I’m not buying any. I just need to talk to him.”

  “Are you sure you want to talk to him? I’m more pleasant to talk to, as well.” He grinned.

  “It must be him. I’m sorry.”

  “Over there.” He pointed at an old man in a richly colored tunic, deep in conversation with several others. His arms flailed, his chest puffed. He slammed his hand on a low table holding jugs of spiced wine, and the other three backed away.

  Acsah cringed, and looked at Hevel.

  He grinned. “I told you.”

  When the others left, she crept toward Ezra.

  Yahweh, give me the words to convince him to let her stay.

  He smiled as she approached, as if he’d never spoken a cross word in his life. “May I offer you some wine? A sample?” He held out a beautifully painted jug.

  “No, thank you. I wanted to ask about the house you have here. The one Yemima is living in.”

  The smile disappeared, as did the pottery. “The one I am selling.”

  “I wondered if there was any way she could continue to live there, until—”

  “She can’t have it. They had no children. It reverted to his father, and then to me. I’m selling it.”

  “I’m not asking you to give it to her. I’m just asking you to let her live there until …”—she cleared her throat—“until she dies. She has nowhere else to live.”

  “She is not my problem. She is her family’s problem.” He rearranged his jugs by order of height.

  “But she has no family.”

  “That’s unfortunate.” He adjusted his cloak.

  “Isn’t there anything you can do?” An idea struck her. “What if she pays rent?”

  “I need the coin now. Unless you can buy it, I can do nothing.” He glanced behind her. “Now, you are blocking my paying customers, so if you will please …” He shooed her away like an insect.

  Even her abba wouldn’t let her spend that much, and he was indulgent by his own admission.

  Her heart sank to her dusty feet. She had failed. She may as well get used to it. She would never again be able to help as she had been.

  How would she break the news to Yemima?

  Othni sat atop the hillock, a soft western breeze barely blowing. A messenger from Hebron had brought jars of honey and stacks of clean cloths. The camp boys had set jugs of water near the pool for the men to use to wash their wounds so they would not foul the camp’s drinking water. Othni drew the damp cloth down his arm, wiping away the yellow ooze that seemed to be continually seeping. He cringed at the smell. It must be truly awful if he repulsed himself.

  When most of the fluid was gone for the moment, he applied some honey and set the cloth aside. No use wrapping it yet. The pus would continue to flow, and the wrap would need to be changed too soon. Better to leave it open to the sun.

  He leaned back on his hands and fixed his gaze on Kiriath-Sepher. It was indeed a beautiful city. He could see why the giants valued it more than Hebron. The limestone walls topped with towers encircled it, protecting it like loving arms. Was there a market? A palace, like the one Caleb had told him about in Arad? This city was not nearly as big as Arad, but bigger than Hebron, a royal city. He couldn’t wait to get inside.

  He rose and stretched his arms to the sky, a clear blue cloudless expanse with a bright sun rising. The heat was bearable this early in the day, and his pain was better today, three days after the battle. He pulled his elbow back, held his left arm out straight as if to loose an arrow. His right arm was a little stiff at the site of the burn, but otherwise he was ready to fight. Most of the Israelites were in the same condition. Only the few who had been on the wall, like Malachi, still needed time to recover. Tonight or tomorrow maybe, when the moon was new and the night sky good and dark, they could implement his plan.

  All in all, things were looking up.

  Even Malachi seemed to be improving. He’d refused water the first day, only wanting to sleep. Given the level of pain he must have felt, it was understandable. But the following day, he’d sipped the water brought to him. Yesterday he even ate something. He wouldn’t be fighting, but he was healing.

  Othni headed for the fire where the rest of the captains had gathered. Siah met him along the way, face grim.

  “What?”

  “Malachi burns with a fever.”

  “Fever?” His breath caught. Last night he’d been fine.

  “He’s mumbling, not making any sense.” Siah swallowed. “Saying he wants to see his brother.”

  “Azriel?” Azriel had been gone for over a year. Othni shoved past his brother and sprinted toward Malachi.

  His cousin lay on his belly on a mat, squirming and muttering. He rested his head on his arms. A cloth covered hi
s back, probably smeared with honey. Salmah applied a wet rag to his face. Caleb sat next to him.

  Othni dropped to his knees, searched Malachi’s tortured face. “What happened?”

  Caleb looked up, his mouth twisted.

  Did he think this was the end? Othni grabbed Caleb’s tunic. “What?”

  “I am afraid he has a fever throughout his body. If he does, it is untreatable.”

  Othni’s mouth went dry. “But you don’t know that. Not for sure.” He touched Malachi’s foot. It raged with fever. He turned back to Caleb.

  Caleb said nothing.

  No. No, no, no. This could not be happening. “You have to do something.”

  “We have done all we can do. He refused water the first day, and that weakened him. He also would not let us touch him, so we could not put honey on him once the blisters started opening. And I think that is when the heat set in.”

  Othni’s chest ached. It was his fault. He had promised to protect Malachi, and he had failed.

  Caleb grasped his shoulder. “This is not your fault.”

  He scoffed. “How can you say that?” Of course it was his fault.

  “Because if you hadn’t brought him, he would have asked Seraiah, or me, or anyone else, until someone agreed. He had made up his mind to come.” Caleb nodded to someone standing behind him.

  Siah touched his back. “Come on. Let’s walk a while. You can’t do anything here.”

  He jerked away. “I’m not leaving him.”

  “We won’t go far, I promise. We’ll keep him in sight.” He pulled on Othni’s arm.

  Othni stood and lurched forward.

  Siah put his arm around his brother’s shoulder, and they drifted a few paces away.

  His breathing quickened. “First Enosh takes Acsah from me, and now my cousin.”

  “It hasn't happened yet.” Siah’s voice was calm. How could he be calm?

  “If he dies, I will kill Enosh.”

  His brother’s eyes held his. “No, you won’t. I won’t let you.”

  “Try and stop me.”

  “If you kill him, you’ll have to go to Shechem.”

  “What?”

  “You’ll have to go to the nearest city of refuge, where you go when you murder someone, to avoid blood vengeance. Because Enosh's family will track you down.”

  Othni scoffed. “Why should I go all the way to Shechem? Hebron is a city of refuge.”

  “That’s where Enosh is from. You think that will work?”

  He dug the toe of his sandal into the ground. “Probably not.”

  “And then you will have a hearing before the judges, and they will decide if you had a right to kill him. And they will decide you did not, since Malachi died as a result of injuries sustained in war. In a war for Israel, in which Enosh was a commander, legally appointed by your uncle. The fact that he made a stupid decision ending with a lot of men dead notwithstanding.”

  Othni huffed.

  “So, yes, I will try, and I will succeed at stopping you. If I have to.”

  He was silent for several long, painful moments. “Thank you,” Othni whispered.

  “You’re welcome.”

  It was good Siah wanted to keep him from ruining his life. But he’d already lost Acsah, and now he’d failed to protect his cousin. What did he have to live for, anyway?

  Acsah heaved the pottery jar onto her shoulder and slipped through the courtyard gate. The afternoon sun warmed her back as she trudged down the street to the widow’s house. How many more times would she be allowed to visit them? Enosh had hinted he wanted a wedding as soon as possible, and if Abba agreed, it could all happen very quickly. Best to say goodbyes now while she had the time to do it properly.

  She pushed open the courtyard gate.

  The widows sat in the shade of a pomegranate tree. A loom leaned against the gnarled trunk, Judith already crafting a new rug.

  Naomi dozed, her back against the opposite side of the tree. Miriam spun wool.

  Acsah claimed a place in the circle and set the jar beside her. “I’ve brought the first jar of wheat. When Abba returns, we’ll bring the rest.”

  “How wonderful. Thank you very much,” Miriam said. “I wasn’t sure what I would do this year with my grandchildren no longer nearby.”

  “It’s your right by law,” Acsah replied. “Never hesitate to claim it.”

  “Acsah always makes sure we are taken care of. I don’t know what we’d do without her.” Judith reached for her hand and squeezed it.

  Acsah looked away. “Yahweh will always provide for you, whether I am here or not.”

  Miriam looked up from her wool. “What does that mean?”

  “Is this your way of telling us something?” Naomi asked.

  “I am to be married soon, and I don’t know if my husband will be as lenient with my time as Abba is. I’ll have my own house to look after, a husband to care for …” She shrugged. “I just don’t know.”

  Silence fell over the women. Even the clicking of the loom ceased.

  “Well, girls, like she said, Yahweh will provide. For all of us.” Judith linked her arm in Acsah’s. “We shall pray for you. If Yahweh wills, you will continue to care for us. If not, He will send someone else to help us, and He will have another plan for you.”

  Another plan. Acsah didn’t want another plan. She wanted things to remain as they were. There was so much she did for them even they didn’t know about, things she did in secret to protect their dignity. Who would take over for her? Could she ever be happy if she wasn’t caring for those who had no one else? If she wasn’t making sure no one was alone, keeping her promise to her imma?

  Othni paced all day near Malachi, waiting for word the fever had disappeared.

  Salmah rose and neared him. Was he bringing good news—or bad?

  “I don’t think he has much time left. His breathing and his heartbeat are very fast, but his skin is becoming blotchy. He still has a fever, but he is shivering.”

  Othni’s stomach revolted, but at least it was empty. He trudged toward the sleeping mat his cousin lay upon and halted a few strides away. Malachi looked nothing like the young man who’d followed him so joyously to Kiriath-Sepher a few weeks ago. He was emaciated, pale … defeated.

  Othni knelt beside him. He lowered his face to Malachi’s, felt his breath on his cheek. “Cousin, please forgive me. I’m so sorry I let this happen to you. I’m sorry I did not stop you. I should have … I’m sorry …” He couldn’t stop the tears.

  The shallow breaths slowed, moments lapsing between each one. Finally, there were no more.

  Othni opened his eyes.

  Siah, Caleb, and Salmah sat around the body, silent.

  His cousin lay dead before him.

  This was Enosh's fault.

  He jumped up and searched the camp. There, by the fire.

  Othni stormed toward him.

  His brother’s voice vaguely registered behind him. “What are you going to do?”

  He continued toward Enosh. When he reached the fire pit, he grabbed the man by the arm. “Stand up!” He yanked him to his feet. “You killed my cousin.”

  Enosh's cold eyes raked over him, head to toe. “I did no such thing. He was a soldier. He knew the risks when he marched down the road.”

  “He was a child!” Othni drew his arm back and let his fist fly into Enosh's jaw.

  The commander stumbled back.

  “Stay away from me; stay away from my family.” He stalked away, rubbing his fist.

  Siah caught up to him. “And what did that accomplish?”

  “It felt good.”

  Caleb approached Othni, his hitch noticeably worse. “Get your men ready to implement your plan. I’m putting you in charge.”

  His throat tightened. Surely he didn’t mean this. “Now? But Malachi—”

  “That’s why I want you to do it tonight. You need to do something besides think about what happened.”

  What happened? “Don't you even car
e? Malachi's body still lies—”

  “Othni!”

  He turned toward his brother. Siah’s voice had been sharp, but his eyes were moist.

  “He was my nephew,” Caleb whispered. “But I want this ended. So gather your men. As soon as it’s dark, get started. You’ll need all night.”

  Othni glanced at the empty spot where his cousin had lain. Men had already removed the body.

  Conquering Kiraith-Sepher was the last thing on Othni’s mind. Then again, nothing would bring Malachi back.

  Othni could take the city, avenge his cousin, and maybe knock some of the smugness off Enosh’s face at the same time.

  Yahweh, give me strength.

  Chapter 5

  Then he went up from there against the inhabitants of Debir;

  now the name of Debir formerly was Kiriath-sepher.

  Joshua 15.15

  As Othni suspected, the wall proved to be an outside entrance to a spring, beyond which was a tunnel. That led to a set of stairs which climbed into the city. The system had been designed so the giants could simply come down the stairs each day and fill their jars with water, freshly filtered through the rock.

  That was all going to come to an abrupt end.

  Othni lined up the men, and anything that could be used as a tool to dislodge the stones was passed man to man as they took turns. The wall was built more for disguise than strength, so their progress was steady.

  “What if we just send men up the stairs to attack the city?” asked Siah.

  Othni shook his head. “We’ve said all along that our best chance is to get them outside the walls. I don’t see any reason to change that now.”

  Salmah nodded. “I agree. I don’t think we can get enough of them in there fast enough to keep them from getting slaughtered. Against normal men, maybe … but Anakim? Having our men exit the tunnel one or two at a time … they’d be killed as soon as they stepped out.”

  “Our best option is still to keep the giants from the water, force them outside.”

  After a tense, dark, and long night, the men were exhausted. Othni and the Israelites retreated to their camp east of the city. He called for his best archers, who had been waiting for this moment.