Providence (14 page)

Her brow furrowed. She knew most of Gil's Hebrew but stumbled over a few words.

“Look.” Gil urged Benjamin forward, closer to the ranks of his kin. “They have brought you one of your own. He is free to return to his people.”

The soldier on Konath's left balked at Gil's offering.

The leader of Manasseh raised his sword. Gilded silver shone in the sunlight, but the weapon was not as fine as the blades of Aram. Yet, it would slay a man in earnest.

“What do pagans know of our God? What is He to them? You are spies. Your King sets a trap for the innocent.” The leader of Manasseh kicked his horse and pulled hard on the reins. The Chestnut reared up as its rider slashed at the air with his sword. “Turn back. You are not welcome in this valley or beyond.”

“If they want a fight,” Konath said to the men at his sides, “we will rout them.”

“No.” She would not have innocent blood on her hands.

Konath turned. His eyes bulged like a beast ready to devour. “Tie her—”

She ran, swift of foot, into the deserted space.

Gil yelled. She did not heed him. Rocks numbed her toes. She sought the leader of Manasseh. No one else.

The wind threatened to rip off her head covering and humiliate her. She held the muslin tight. Her breath burned her throat. If an arrow felled her, she would die trying to save innocent lives. Gil's life. Benjamin's life.

She slowed her sprint as she neared the acacia tree. The leader did not leave his shade. Dropping to the ground, she bowed low. Crushed rock pained her knees. Warm soil flushed her forehead.

“If you are angry, then the fault lies with me. I, Hannah
bat
Zebula have sung praises of the Creator to our pagan neighbors. Am I wrong? Does our God not send the rain on Aram as well as Israel? If blood is shed this day, it will be on the hands of Manasseh and Levi. For I have drawn Aram here to the city of the Levites for an audience with the prophet.”

The leader moved into the light. “How is this?”

Hannah shielded her eyes from the sun's glare. The leader's cocked head and unyielding stare beseeched her to finish.

She stayed low. “My master is in need of healing. As am I. The house of Zebula knows the prophet by name. My father and brother have spoken with the Anointed One face to face. Another meeting with him is all I ask.”

The Chestnut's head bobbed. Hooves retreated from her body, taking a sliver of shade with them.

“Why should the need of Aram concern me?”

In truth, it shouldn't. She owed a debt to Naabak, not to this man. Oh, to have some of Gil's outspokenness now.

“Vengeance.” She spit the word from her mouth like a pit. “If you crush the King's men, will he not send more? Will the Ammonites not side with Aram and flood our land? You will give them reason to hate us more than they already do.”

He assessed his army. “How do I know you speak the truth and are not the King's concubine?”

Her gut hollowed. The thrumming in her ears mimicked the march of troops.

“Shall I recite the
Shema
? The Commandments? The Levitical Law?” Her voice trembled. How dare he accuse her of being a heathen! “Name whatever tradition you want spoken. I am a chief priest's daughter and have remained true to my people.”

She rose to her feet and fisted her hands on her hips.

He gazed upon her. And Gil. And Benjamin.

Had he understood her rant? What else could she say?
Think.

A surge of hope flooded her body. “I know the prophet's name.”

The leader grinned as if he thought her a fool. “He is known over all of Israel and Judah.”

“But I can write his name.” Hannah ran to the tree and snapped off a spindly branch. Standing with her back to the leader, she drew the letters that named the prophet, tracing over the wobble of her first mark.

Right to left.

Perfect Hebrew.

The Hebrew her father had written the day of her humiliation.

She turned and sought the leader's affirmation. He studied her face. Her eyes burned and watered, but she would not close them. He finally nodded.

“Sweep it away and release our brother from captivity.”

As she erased the etching, she asked, “You will let us pass into Mahanaim?”

“Mahanaim is of no use to you.”

“I do not understand.” She wet her cracked lips with a dry tongue. Was her translation in error? “We need to see the prophet.”

He glanced into the clouds above the cliffs. “The prophet is not in the city. He has gone up the mountain to speak with God.”

She looked up at the deep, sloping crags. Trails cut into those cliffs would be narrow and strewn with rocks. The acacia branch fell from her fingertips. Naabak would have to be carried up that mountain, to the prophet, before he died. Wiping the dust from her hands, she turned toward Aram's forces. At least this time she traveled outside the mountain.

18

Hannah walked in the shade of the Chestnut alongside the leader of the tribe of Manasseh, Makir
ben
Gamaliel. If only he could have ridden in front of her as a shield from the penetrating stares of Konath's soldiers. Judgment crossed their helmet-fortified faces. Judgment as from the crowd in Jerusalem. Unclean? Cursed? Traitor? Spy? Her skin burned hot and tingled like the time she grasped a fork from the fire.

Makir reined in his mount a maneuverable distance from Konath.

“The one you seek has gone up the mountain to talk with God.” Makir spoke forthright. “It is commonplace with one such as him.”

Konath cackled like a wild dog calling its pack. His men assessed his reaction. So did she. No one smirked. She flexed her fingers behind her back and remained stalwart. Facing Konath was easier with the army of Israel at her side.

“It is a trick,” Konath roared. “A trick to separate me from my men and murder me on the rock.”

“It is easier to rout you here,” Gil said from his position next to Benjamin. “And spill more of Aram's blood.”

Konath's armor grew more intimidating with the swell of his chest. He stepped closer to Gil.

“Lord Konath,” she interrupted. She shuddered at the address, but sparing Gil another attack was foremost in her thoughts. Her hope had been dwindling like a beggar's candle. “It seems the prophet left yesterday at first light. The time of his return is uncertain.”

Makir nodded an affirmation to her testimony.

She rolled her shoulders back and let the fancy-patterned linen give her the illusion of height. “I am not afraid to take my master up the mountain. Your King wished as much.”

Konath's stallion bucked its head at its tightening reins. “Our master has no hands or feet. Will you drag him in the dust?”

“You would allow death because your commander is late?” Makir questioned. “Let him decide if our God is the Most High God. Will the journey not determine his fate?”

And mine?
With the look Konath gave her, she shuddered to think of her end if Naabak perished.

Gil stepped forward. “I will carry him. I am not afraid of illness or ambush.”

Makir nodded favorably to Gil. “The path is wide enough for a small ass.”

“We have one of those.” Gil rested his hand on Mereb's shoulder and exchanged a brotherly wink with Benjamin.

Hannah stifled any hint of a smile, any twitch. Too much was at stake to provoke Konath.

“And if we set up camp,” Konath said, no folly in his tone, “will my men suffer death by your arrows?”

“Not before your chariots slay some of my men.” Makir edged his mount forward. “Stay and we will swear a truce. May this valley not be defiled by bloodshed.”

Oh Lord, do not add the slaughter of men to my list of transgressions.

Reumah strolled forward. Her bright veils and jewels budded with life. She was a lily in a field of sweat-stained leather and dented armor. She bent a knee and displayed a bob of respect. “My husband and all of Aram will be in your debt.”

“It is the mountain to which you will owe a debt,” Makir said. He ignored Konath's stalwart stance. His attention stayed on Reumah.

“I skirted the catacombs of Helbon as a child. This mountain is a foothold to me.” Reumah lifted her arm toward the cliffs. Bracelets clinked and molded into a mass of gold.

Hannah joined Reumah and dipped her head in a show of respect. “Will you bestow a guide?” Hannah asked Makir. The sooner they got on their way, the better.

“Gather your party and I will lead you to the base of the mountain.” Makir motioned for Benjamin to join him.

Reumah did not waiver.

Konath did not object.

“There is one path and one path alone. Do not veer to the left or to the right,” Makir said.

Benjamin practically leapt onto Makir's horse. “Your wife is a brave woman, Gilead. You must receive me if I venture south.”

If Benjamin only knew how her bones quaked. “I will wash your feet in the City of David,” she said in earnest. If she and Gil made it down the mountain alive.

Hannah hurried to check on Naabak and prepare for the trip. As she neared Naabak's cart, Mereb stepped from behind the cloth wall.

“It is your fault our mistress desires to climb the mountain,” Mereb said. “You have filled her head with Hebrew mysticism.”

“What do you know of my heritage? I could curse you in Hebrew and you would be none the wiser.” She pushed the Moabite away and walked on, making a list in her head of bandages and hyssop leaves. Not that her herbs would make Naabak new, only God could restore Naabak's body. The dancing boy in Jerusalem was proof of God's healing power. But following the Levitical laws for clean skin couldn't hurt her master's chances.

“Do not fool with me.” Mereb's words were a wind at her back. “Trouble came to this household with your arrival.”

She whipped around. “I did not wish to come to Aram and remain in captivity. Your lies have kindled Konath's hatred.”

“And your lies have brought false hope and travel to the land of the enemy.” Mereb kicked at the hard ground.

“Who is the enemy?” Gil came up beside Mereb. Susa, the guard who had retrieved the letters from the King of Aram, trailed behind him. “Are we not accompanying the King's commander?”

“A strong back is all I need from you,” Mereb said, his gaze barely skimming Gil's face.

“If you're the other back, then I truly am the one in need.” Gil's laughter caused the guard to crack a smile. How could Gil chide after all the beatings he had endured?

“I have my mistress to attend to.” Mereb shrugged off Gil's goading.

Reumah opened the linen drape around her bed. “Swaddle another. This trip is nothing to me. It is a one way stroll. My husband can attend to me on the way down.”

Mereb bent low at Reumah's voice. Was he surprised by Reumah's presence or the mention of her husband's affection? Hannah shook images of the pagan priest's chamber from her memory.

“Going up the mountain will be the most difficult,” Mereb stuttered.

Reumah's hand shot up, quieting any more words from Mereb.

Mereb scurried by Naabak's cart without a glance.

“Is my husband ready to be moved?” Reumah rubbed her pimpled skin.

Hannah nodded. “He is ready and eager.” Weren't they all eager for an end to this pilgrimage, for an end to Naabak's suffering, and possibly an end to their own suffering, especially if leprosy waited beneath their skin? She desired to be free from her curse, but what if the prophet failed her again? Failed Naabak? Could she accept captivity? Even death?

Reumah let the drape of her mobile chamber fall to the frame. Hannah closed her eyes. If this journey determined her future, she could accept her lot in life. But she could never accept any harm coming to Gil.

“Hannah?” Gil's voice brought her back to the chaos.

He bent low and regarded her as if she were the most beautiful of blossoms. “Let me draw you some water.”

Shaking her head, she refused his offer. He had to shoulder Naabak's burden up a steep mountain. Not she.

“The skins need filling. I will drink from the barrel and rest in the shade. You will sweat soon enough, Husband.” Oh, what wouldn't she give to make that lie a truth. He had stolen a kiss in the pit and left her wanting more. More kisses, and more of him.

She grabbed an empty goat's bladder slung from the corner of Naabak's cart and cleared her mind of lustful images. She discreetly brushed Gil's hand as Susa pushed his charge forward. “
Shalom,
” she whispered.

Hannah turned the stopple on the barrel and began to fill the empty skins. Warm droplets of water trickled down her hand. Every minute they waited to start their ascension, the prophet gained ground. How much time did Naabak really have? His hammock of ram skins would heat with the sun and grow damp with sweat.

The shade from the barrel grew longer.

Her gaze stayed on the mouth of the skin, but she knew who flanked her back. Dread slithered across her shoulders and down her spine. Her fingers trembled. Water cascaded off her hand.

“Did I startle you?” It was not a true question. Too much pleasure rumbled in Konath's voice. “You did not think I would stay behind in the valley, did you? Allow your husband to bash the commander's head in with a rock? And you to flee to your countrymen?”

“It would speed your ascension to the King's right hand.” She capped the skin and stood.

“I can wait a few more days until Naabak's body is stiff.” His voice lowered. “What will his grieving wife give me for my comfort? Her allegiance? Her body? After all, I stood by her husband to the end.”

You wicked vulture.
“She will need time to grieve.”

“Some. I am discreet.”

Hannah clutched the full skin to her chest. “You sicken me.”

“Because I spoil your plot to rebel on the mountain and run to safety.” His breath was heavy upon her head covering. “You would leave Naabak to rot faster than me. Only, I have to bring his body back to his men.”