Providence (15 page)

“What if the prophet heals Naabak? What then?” She braced her hand against the barrel in case she needed to flee.

Konath's laughter did not soar like Gil's but instead sank to the depths of his bowels. “His own god would not heal his disease. Why should your God?”

Her jaw dropped open at his mockery. “Do you not fear your own god?”

“I fear no one but the King of Aram. When he trusts me like a brother, I will have more power than the gods.” Konath stretched his arms toward the sky as if challenging Hadad to strike him down. The thunderous god didn't act. Neither did hers.

“You are drunk.” What other explanation was there for a man to challenge his own god? She turned to leave.

He cinched her arm, drawing her close. “Not yet. But I will drink when I celebrate my command. And I will celebrate with you.”

Bile burned the back of her throat. “I will not leave this land. God has given it to my people. You captured me once. Never again.” She glared into his dark eyes and sank into their harsh emptiness.

“Then when Naabak dies, you had better jump from the mountain. For all he has will be mine. And I will not stay in the land of the Jews.”

And she and Gil would not leave it.

19

The mountain loomed with deep catacombs and clefts that resembled eye sockets in a skull. The midday sun settled over the mountaintop, blinding all who dared look to the tip of their route.

Konath led the party of prophet seekers with Susa at his side. Naabak's guard had his sword drawn, ready to skewer an enemy at every turn. Gil and Mereb carried Naabak on a hammock of ram skins sewn over poles. Mereb mumbled a low prayer, to whom Hannah did not know. Was it a prayer of protection from Naabak's illness? She would need God's mercy twofold, for her fingers had sunk into the pus on Naabak's skin many times.

Reumah followed behind her husband, remaining somber. She did not pray, but then she had offered her body to Hadad's priest and her husband still suffered.

Pulling a donkey loaded with waterskins and food, Hannah trailed behind everyone. How fast could an elderly prophet travel with two days of lead time? She hoped the man of God ambled slowly, weighed down with whatever brought him to call on God from the cliff tops.

Mereb stumbled.

She gasped and slackened the lead on the donkey. Naabak nearly landed head first on the path.

Reumah shouted for help and slapped Mereb's shoulder.

“My arms have drained of life,” Mereb offered as an excuse.

“He is a shell of himself,” Reumah said. “If he was well, you would not be able to lift his leg.”

“I shall pour us all a drink.” Hannah loosened one of the waterskins. She had thought Naabak would die of leprosy or of the heat, not of being dropped by a servant.

Konath adjusted his braided leather chest shield and glared at Mereb as if he contemplated slicing off the servant's head.

“There is a cave up ahead,” Konath said. “Hebrew, search it out.”

When no one obeyed Konath's order, she noticed Konath meant her, not Gil. Her mouth parched.

Susa came and stood by the donkey. The soldier did not look amused at his duty.

“Go and see if there is room for the commander,” Konath's voice rumbled. If you come across your prophet, do not hesitate to introduce us.”

“Call to me if there is movement,” Gil said as she passed. The rush of Gil's words made her heart sink to her stomach. He appeared weak and winded.

“I do not fear the prophet.” She assured him with a smile. “Only a wild animal.”

The depth and the darkness of the cave blinded her more than the sunlight. Blinking to adjust her sight, she listened for a growl, a shuffle, or an unsettled pebble.

Nothing.

The catacomb was not deep, but it was cooler than the trail. A welcome refuge from the heat. She scanned the shadows for life. One corner. Another corner. And anoth—

She spied something slumped against a large rock.

Her knees nearly buckled. She stifled a scream.

Bones. The remains of a man or woman. She did not know which.

Her father's voice rang a priestly warning in her head:
“Do not touch the dead. For you do not know how they died.”
She moved closer to investigate. This couldn't be the prophet. A body needed more than days to decay to dust.

The skull of the deceased had been struck with something heavy enough to leave a hole. The tunic had fed plenty of rodents. No satchel or purse remained. Not only had life been taken from this person but also its coin.

Backing out of the cave, she stopped short. Konath towered over her.

“Bandits prospered here.” She shuddered at the thought that they may still be prowling the mountain. “This hole is a tomb for their victim. I did not see any other life.”

“Is it your prophet?” Konath's question held hidden pleasure.

“Only a fool would attack the mouthpiece of God. The body is but bones, so I cannot tell much about this traveler.”

“We will rest here then. Bring the water and fruit.” Konath's command echoed inside the catacomb.

She waited for Gil and Mereb to lay Naabak on level ground before carrying in the food and drink. Konath inspected the remains. He seemed more concerned with the dead than the living.

“A careless Jew.” Konath kicked at the nearest limb.

“How can you be certain it is one of my brothers?” Gil took the cup she offered him. “There are no possessions, no clothing.”

“He was dumb enough to get ambushed, was he not?”

Gil stilled. He did not drink. Was he contemplating a fight for the insult? She discreetly touched his back and felt his muscle soften.

“Can we not get rid of that corpse?” Reumah sat on a smooth rock ledge near her husband.

“Even the dead stare at your beauty.” Konath's smirk made Hannah relive the night she interrupted his pleasing of her mistress.

Reumah's attention stayed with Naabak.

Konath cocked his head like he expected a gracious response.

Hannah refilled Reumah's cup lest her mistress faint from the heat or Konath's penetrating stare.

“I am parched as these dry bones, slave.” The edge to Konath's voice made Hannah replenish his cup in haste.

Konath kicked the dead man's rib cage. His leather-booted foot cracked a bone in half. The sound, like the snap of driftwood, chilled Hannah's blood.

The skull severed from its spine and rolled, resting near Reumah's feet.

Reumah screamed and shifted to keep the decayed head from touching her sandals.

Naabak's body jerked.

Hannah bent low to comfort him and check his sores. Gil prodded the skull with a stick. The gleam in his eyes revealed a desire to whack it back at Konath.

A ribbon of black slithered out of the empty eye socket. In one breath, a poisonous asp struck Reumah's calf and latched on to her skin through her silken skirt.

Shrieks rattled the cave.

Hannah raced toward Reumah. A surge of energy flooded her limbs. Instinctively, she knew what she had to do even before Naabak began rasping orders.

Gil grasped the snake's head and pinched it, freeing the fangs from Reumah's flesh.

Hannah crouched before Reumah. Sweeping aside the garment of her mistress, she swallowed hard, placed her lips around the bite, and sucked. Sucked until her cheeks ached and her belly wretched. Sucked until drool seeped from her mouth. Sucked until a hand at her collar ripped her from Reumah's leg.

She heard Gil's frantic question. “Why?”

20

“Puh,” was the only sound she could make as saliva spewed from her mouth. She could not taste the venom but her cheeks tightened like twisted rope. “Puh, puh, puh.”

On hands and knees, she drooled like a sick dog. Her mouth drained on its own making a puddle in the dirt.

“What have you done?” Gil reprimanded.

Was saving Reumah's life a sin? She shook his hand off her shoulder. She had to get outside before her stomach erupted.

Covering her mouth, she ran into the sunlight and vomited over the side of a boulder. Collapsing onto the warmth of the large rock, she lay on her belly like a lump of dough waiting to be baked. Her lips pulsed in protest of the poison.

“Is that pagan woman worth your life?” The rebuke in Gil's voice reverberated through her temples.

She closed her eyes. The sun had become too bright. “Reumah,” she whispered.

“Mereb is attending to her.” His tone softened. “I will get a wet cloth for your mouth.”

“No. I might swallow the water. It will cause me more pain.”

He gently rolled her on her side. He meant well, but she longed for the security of the rock.

“Your lips are not dark. That is a good sign.” It may have been a good sign, but a reprimand rippled through his assessment. He did not seem relieved.

“Are you angry?” She tried to decipher why his face stayed wrinkled like that of an old man. “Reumah could have died.”

“So could you have perished.” The lines in his forehead softened.

The fight fled from her body. She lay draped as a sheet over a rock on the side of a mountain. Still captured. Still cursed. She looked into Gil's questioning eyes.

“Would that be so bad?” she whispered.

His head bent low. “Is that what you want? To die? To leave me?” His voice rose, sending a skink skittering among the rocks.

It was not her desire to take her own life. God gave life and took it away. But she did not deserve Gil. Why he didn't hate her for all the trouble she had caused him, she did not understand.

“Hannah.”

The breath of her name on his lips released a lifetime of hidden shame. Tears dampened her cheeks. She pushed herself from the rock.

“Oh, Gilead.” She sat and wiped the wetness from her face, “I am growing weary of all this trouble.”

“If you were not here, I would not be in trouble. I would have set myself free. If necessary, by bloodshed.”

“You would shed innocent blood?”

“Are they innocent?” The fierceness in his eyes reminded her of a savage predator.

He knew the law as well as she did. He had told her that once. These foreigners mocked God, but had God condemned them?

“I am not innocent,” she said. “I bear the stain from someone as detestable as these foreigners.”

“You are a daughter of Aaron and a daughter of Zebula.” He took her hand and sat beside her. “The prophet will set you free from your burden.”

His surety refreshed her soul. “You are too certain. What if he does not heal me? Or heal Naabak?”

“Then he will have to deal with me.” Gil struck his chest.

She smiled weakly but the seriousness of their plight bound her hope.

“There will be no sadness. Not here on our mountain.” He emphasized their ownership of this place. She wanted to believe him. Believe that God had a plan. Believe that all her pain would be buried on this rock.

Gil scanned the height of the mountain. He seemed to study every crevice, every alcove. Bathed in the harsh sun, he radiated like an angel. “Where is the life in this mountain? At the end of our harvest, the landowner throws a banquet for his trusted workers. There is a feast. And wine.” The celebration blazed in his eyes. “We eat for days, and when we are full, we lay by a stream. A fig tree gives us shade.”

She angled toward him, enjoying the anticipation she heard in his voice. Her thoughts did not linger on the food. “I am not one for banquets.”

His thumb caressed her knuckle. “I want you to rest in the shade with me. Alone. Just you and me.”

When she looked at his eyes, they sparkled with her reflection. In truth, she ached to be his wife. To lie with him. She shuddered at her sinful thoughts. But she did not turn from them. Or from him.

“Will you go there, Hannah?” His voice sounded strangled.

She closed her eyes and tried to picture the running water, the green fronds, the shaded grass.

Opening her eyes, she held his gaze and squeezed his hand. “I will go there.” The warmth in his fingers radiated through her hands. She shifted closer. The heat from his body was better than the sun drenched rock.

“With me?”

“Only with you.”

He lined her lower lip with his thumb. “Then stay alive with me so we may go there.”

She kept her longing in check, but her heart was heavy, full to the brim like a merchant's purse. She wanted to be with him, but they were still in bondage. “I shall do my best.”

“There you are, lazy girl,” Mereb shouted.

Her heart skipped a much-needed beat.

Gil released her hand.

“What are you doing?” Mereb questioned Gil as if he had a right to an answer.

“I was checking her lips,” Gil said. “The venom has worn off.”

“Then come inside.” Mereb practically pulled her from the rock.

Gil braced an arm against Mereb's chest.

Mereb released his grip on her tunic. “Naabak says I cannot tie a bandage on his wife. No one does it like the girl.”

“So that is why he has spared me.” She grinned while she stood. Her vision blurred. A whirlpool spun between her ears. Was it the poison? Or the dread of going back into the dark cave?

“Hurry.” Mereb waved her inside. “I cannot do your work.”

“No one can.” Gil placed a supportive arm across her back.

Was she worthy of praise? She had agreed to lie beside a man who was not her husband. Even though he had not mentioned marriage.

21

Reumah's puncture wounds would heal. Even with a bandaged leg, she rallied the caravan to overtake the prophet.

Hannah stumbled and braced herself against the neck of the donkey. The foal brayed. Her toe throbbed from the assault of a jagged rock. Navigating a narrow path while the sun sneaked behind the mountaintops proved painful for her feet.

“We will camp in the width of the bend.” Konath's order thundered to the cliff tops.