by Lynn Austin
“How can I walk? It’s so dark in here.”
Devorah’s daughters were asleep, and she could use a change of position. “Come on, I’ll walk with you. We can circle the edge of the room. See if it helps your back.” She stood and helped Miriam to her feet.
“What are you doing? Where are you going?” Miriam’s mother said, clutching the hem of her daughter’s robe.
“Miriam needs to stretch her legs. Will you watch the girls for me, please? We’ll be right back.” They threaded their way through the crowd and began a slow circuit around the inside perimeter of the hall. Only the very youngest children seemed able to sleep. The older ones fidgeted and whined as if sensing their mothers’ fear and worry. Aside from the nervous rustling and whispering, the room was eerily quiet. Devorah was certain that she could hear battle cries in the distance—or was it her imagination?
“How’s your back? Does walking help?” Devorah asked as they began their second circuit.
“No. It still hurts really badly, and—” She halted and gave a little gasp. “Oh no! Oh no! I’m . . . I’m all wet!”
“Your sac of waters must have broken. That means your baby is coming.”
“No! Not tonight! Not here, in the middle of all this!” Miriam sank down on the floor as if her legs had given way. “I want to be in my own home, in my own bed! I want Asher close by and—”
“Miriam, shh . . . shh . . . You need to lie down. I’ll find the midwife and—”
“How are you going to find the midwife in this crowd? In the dark?”
“It won’t be hard.” She helped Miriam to her feet, and they walked back to their places. When her sister-in-law was settled, Devorah whispered the news of Miriam’s labor to all the women around her, asking them to pass the message through the room until it reached the midwife. A few minutes later, the woman made her way to Miriam’s side.
“Stress can bring on labor,” she told Devorah. “I wouldn’t be surprised if every expectant mother in this room has her baby tonight.” Devorah remembered a story from her people’s history of how a priest’s wife went into labor when she heard the Ark of the Covenant had been captured and her husband killed in battle. The woman had also died, as Devorah recalled. She shook her head to push aside the image, wishing she didn’t know the Bible so well.
“See if you can find a private place to lie down,” the midwife told Devorah. “Her labor needs to proceed in peace.”
On her way to search for a spot, Devorah noticed a commotion near the door and people lighting oil lamps. She went to see what was going on and discovered that several wounded men had been brought in from the battlefront. Devorah’s heart began to race. She had to see if one of them, God forbid, was Jude. She pushed toward the door and saw blood pooling on the floor, glistening darkly in the lamplight. She heard the moans of the wounded, the cries of the women, and forced herself to study the men’s faces until she was sure that Jude wasn’t among them.
The sight had shaken her. She had to sit down for a moment until her legs stopped trembling. When she stood again to find a place for Miriam to give birth, she knew it would have to be far away from the makeshift hospital by the door. But by the time she found a spot and hurried back to tell the midwife, word of the casualties had whispered through the crowd reaching every woman in the room.
“Asher . . . is Asher alive?” Miriam asked. “I’m so afraid for him!”
“I saw the men they brought in,” Devorah told her. “I didn’t recognize any of them.”
“Stay with me, please!” Miriam begged. Devorah asked a neighbor to watch her sleeping daughters, then helped the midwife move Miriam to a far corner of the room. She kept calling for Asher, making herself sick with worry over him, and her contagious fear wore on Devorah, fueling her own fears for Jude.
“It’s going to take several hours,” the midwife said. “First babies usually do. But it would be better for you and your baby, Miriam, if you calmed down. The child can sense your tension.”
Devorah tried praying with her sister-in-law, singing to her, reciting psalms. Nothing helped. The battle sounds had quieted, and Devorah didn’t see any more casualties coming in, so she knelt beside Miriam’s mat and took her hand. “Listen, I’m going to do my best to get a message to Asher.”
“Tell him to come! I need to see him! I need to know that he isn’t hurt!”
“I can’t promise that he’ll be able to leave the barricade, but I’ll do my best.”
And maybe Devorah could learn about her own husband, as well.
Chapter
16
BABYLON
Ezra sank behind the barricade and wiped sweat from his eyes. He still gripped his sword in his aching arm. After more than an hour of endless fighting, he and his men had repelled the first assault. He’d watched the enemy scatter, retreating into the darkness out of the archers’ range. “Is everyone all right?” he asked. Fatigue and stress made it difficult to catch his breath. He saw cuts and scrapes as he looked around at his men, but nothing serious. Jude and Asher were safe. Across the barricade, however, enemy bodies littered the street. “Provide cover for us,” Ezra ordered the archers. “We’ll strip their weapons.”
Jude held him back. “Stay here. I’ll go.” Jude and a handful of men finished the grim work of pulling arrows from the bodies and gathering swords from the slain, then they took cover again to await the next attack. This ordeal had only begun.
Ezra had barely known what he was doing as he’d lashed out with his sword. He remembered ordering his men to give a shout, just as his ancestors had at Jericho, and the noise had startled their enemies. In the fierce fighting that followed, he’d had no time to comprehend that he was killing people. He looked out at the battlefield now and knew that he had slain some of the dead. The thought made him shudder. But if he hadn’t killed them, he would surely be dead in their place. He looked away, ordering a fresh scout to climb up to the rooftop in Shimon’s place.
“I need you to be my messenger,” he told Shimon after he came down. “Go around to the other barricades and bring back news. See if there have been other attacks.” Ezra took a long swig of water after Shimon left, then told the others, “We need to rest in shifts. For all we know, our enemies could be sleeping through the night while we remain awake, so they can attack us in the morning when we’re exhausted.”
“I told you we should go on the offensive,” Jude said. “Why not kill them now instead of sitting here, waiting? Otherwise, we’ll have to keep this up all night and for another full day.” Ezra didn’t reply. He’d chosen his strategy after hours of prayer. Right or wrong, it was too late to change plans.
A while later, Shimon returned. “The enemy attacked three other barricades the same time they attacked us, but all our defenses held. The other barricades remain on alert.”
“The enemy may be trying to find our weak points.”
“All the more reason to go after them,” Jude said. “Now the waiting will be endless. And like you said, they’ll sleep but we won’t dare.”
“I hardly think they’re relaxing out there,” Ezra said. “For all they know, we might leave the barricades any minute and come after them.” Jude shook his head in disgust and walked away. Ezra turned to his messenger again. “What about injuries? Were there casualties?”
“About a dozen altogether. They took them to the house of assembly for medical attention.”
“I pray that none of our men dies.”
“One more thing,” Shimon continued. “Your brother’s wife, Devorah, sent a message. She said Asher’s wife is in labor.”
“Oh no. Is she all right?”
“The midwife is with her. But she’s terrified for her husband. They believe her labor will go better if she learns that he’s okay.”
Ezra nodded, aware of the deep love between his brothers and their wives, a love that made him envious at times. He walked to where Jude and Asher lay sleeping against the wall, but before he had a chance to wake them,
they both opened their eyes and looked up at him in alarm. “What’s wrong?” Jude asked.
“Asher, your first child is on its way. Go back to the house of assembly and wait with your wife. She needs to know that you’re fine. Take a shift as a guard there, where you’re out of danger.”
“I want to fight. Why should other men die protecting my family?”
“Go back, for now. Reassure her that you’re safe. We’ll send for you when we need you.”
Asher stood, his reluctance obvious. “I’ll go—but I’ll be back.”
While the others dozed, Ezra paced the area behind the barricade, too restless to sleep. When he gauged the time to be almost midnight, he climbed to the rooftop to take the lookout position.
The sky was just turning light in the east when he saw the enemy coming—a solid block of them, more than one hundred strong. This time they carried shields as protection from Ezra’s archers. They made no attempt at stealth, and their marching feet broke the stillness as they surged forward, their swords and spears extended like bayonets. They were going to storm the barricade.
“Here they come!” Ezra shouted to the men below. “Wake up! Take battle positions!” He prayed they could shake off their sleepiness.
Within minutes, the battle raged. This time the volley of arrows did little harm against the enemy’s shields. Sounds of clashing swords and battle cries filled the air. Ezra longed to go down and fight, but he needed to watch for assaults from other directions. “We need reinforcements!” he shouted to his messenger. “Go to the other barricades and tell them we’re outnumbered.” He watched helplessly as his men fought for their lives.
Then, off to his left, a group of Babylonians ran forward with ladders. They were going to bypass the barricade and scale the rooftops. “I need help up here!” Ezra shouted.
An enemy arrow whistled past Ezra’s head, barely missing. He crouched low to be a smaller target, his heart pounding at the near miss. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his enemies prop a ladder against the house adjoining his. With no time to call for help, Ezra stood and got a running start to leap across the gap to the neighboring rooftop, landing painfully on his hands and knees. He made it just as the first invader reached the top of the ladder. Ezra slashed out at him with his sword, uttering a savage cry, then kicked the ladder backward, sending the two men who’d been scaling it to the ground. The ladder smashed into bits. Ezra ran back to his lookout position. “I need more men up here! Quickly!” he shouted. “The enemy is scaling the rooftops!” In the chaos that followed, a few enemy soldiers managed to penetrate the battle line but were eventually felled.
Hours later, Ezra’s men finally defeated their attackers. Once again, he sent men across the barricade to retrieve the fallen enemy’s weapons. His men had sustained casualties this time, and he sent the wounded to the house of assembly for treatment. “I’m afraid that this was only the opening salvo,” he told Jude. “Now that daylight is here, the battles may be much worse as more enemies join the fight.”
“I smell smoke!” Jude said, sniffing the air. “Do you think they’ll start fires to flush us out?”
Ezra smelled it, too. “I doubt it. They want our plunder, remember?”
“But maybe we should prepare for it.”
“You’re right. Now that it’s light, have the young boys fill water jars and keep them ready.” A few minutes later, Asher returned.
“The attacks came on several fronts this time,” he reported. “None of their forces made it past our barricades.”
“What about casualties?”
Asher lowered his voice. “Dozens of our men were killed. Twice as many were wounded.”
Ezra closed his eyes at the news, aching for their families. But the death toll would be devastating if they hadn’t been granted the right to defend themselves. When he opened his eyes again, Asher was smiling.
“I have a son,” he said.
Ezra pulled him into a quick embrace. “Congratulations. And I’m guessing it would be useless to order you to stay away from the front lines?”
“I’ll defend my son’s life with my dying breath.”
“I pray it won’t come to that.”
The skirmishes continued all day, with enemy forces growing larger each time. Ezra’s men continued to win, and he knew God was on their side. During each lull, he encouraged his men with prayers and words of Scripture: “‘You are my King and my God. . . . Through you we push back our enemies; through your name we trample our foes. I do not trust in my bow, my sword does not bring me victory; but you give us victory over our enemies.’”
By late afternoon, Ezra’s men were so weary that many of them fell asleep sitting up. He allowed them to rest in shifts but always near their posts. He ordered more guards to the rooftops. The women sent food and water to the front lines to keep up the men’s strength, but each battle left a few more of Ezra’s soldiers wounded. How much longer could they hold out?
The sun crawled toward the horizon. Their ordeal was nearly over. But as Ezra had feared, the enemy made one final assault before the day ended, and this time the Babylonians had recruited teenaged boys to join the attack. It seemed criminal to wield a sword against mere boys, but Ezra had no choice. He ached with exhaustion and knew his men did, too, but they fought with all their strength, well aware that they fought for their lives.
They beat back their enemies one final time, forcing a retreat. Ezra watched them disappear in the fading light and felt as if a mountainous burden had lifted from his shoulders. He turned to Jude, who had been fighting alongside him, but his brother suddenly shouted, “Hey! That’s him!”
“What are you talking about?” Instead of replying, Jude started climbing over the barricade. Ezra grabbed his leg to pull him back. “Jude, stop! What are you doing? Don’t go out there yet!”
“Let me go! I saw him! I saw the filthy Babylonian who threatened Devorah!” He kicked and struggled to free himself.
“No, wait. It’s nearly over now. The Babylonians are retreating.”
“I know! And I won’t let him get away alive!” His brother was much stronger and managed to break free. Before Ezra could stop him, Jude bolted over the barricade to chase the retreating men.
Ezra scrambled over behind him, calling out to Asher and the others. “Help me! We have to stop him before he gets himself killed!”
Jude raced ahead, charging into the retreating men. “Come back and fight like a man, you coward!” The Babylonian halted and turned to face him. But so did six others. Jude hurled himself at his enemy as if blind to the danger, plunging his sword into the startled man in a deathblow.
“Jude, look out!” Ezra shouted as he ran toward his brother, his steps slowed by exhaustion. The warning came too late. Ezra watched in horror as the enraged Babylonians turned on Jude before he could withdraw his sword from his enemy’s body. By the time Ezra reached him, Jude lay slumped on the ground, blood pouring from several stab wounds, including one to his gut. Ezra chased Jude’s attackers, not content until he and Asher and the others had killed all six Babylonians. Then he hurried back to where Jude lay bleeding. His brother’s eyes were open. He was still alive. “Bring a litter!” Ezra yelled to the men behind the barricade. “Hurry! My brother needs help!”
“Did I kill him?” Jude breathed. “Is he dead?”
“Yes, Jude. And so are all the others.” Where was the litter? Why didn’t they hurry? Ezra tried to lift Jude and carry him himself, but his right arm felt strangely weak. He thought it was weariness from wielding his sword for so long, but he looked down and saw blood gushing from a jagged wound on his upper arm. Only then did he notice the pain and feel faint. Asher grabbed him before he fell and eased him to the ground.
“Ezra! You’re injured!” Asher tore off a strip of cloth and wrapped it tightly around Ezra’s arm to slow the bleeding.
“I’m all right . . . I’m all right. Go with the others, Asher. Make sure Jude gets help.” The day wasn’t quite over, a
nd they needed to retreat behind the barricade in case there was another enemy assault. Someone helped him to his feet. The pain in his arm was excruciating, and as he climbed over the barricade, Ezra knew he wouldn’t be able to hold a sword again. Instead, he climbed to the roof to watch the shadowy streets for movement, praying continually for Jude.
“I need to find my brother,” he told the other men the moment the sun slipped below the horizon. He found Jude lying inside the house of assembly, his ruddy face pale with approaching death. Devorah sat beside him, holding his hand, begging God to spare his life. “How is he?” Ezra whispered to Asher. But his younger brother simply shook his head, tears in his eyes.
“I’m here, Jude,” Ezra said as he knelt beside him. Jude appeared too weak to speak. He gazed up at Ezra for a long moment, then looked at Devorah, then back at him. Ezra understood. “Yes. I’ll take care of her, Jude.”
“No, no, no, no . . .” Devorah moaned. “Jude, no! You can’t die! Oh, God, please . . . please . . .”
“On my soul, I promise I’ll take care of her,” Ezra said. Then he rose and hurried away to give Jude and Devorah their final moments alone. But Ezra couldn’t stop weeping—and he didn’t care who heard him.
Chapter
17
CASIPHIA
Reuben hadn’t slept. He’d spent all night and day on alert outside the house of assembly, watching bloodied men being carried back from the front lines. At least a dozen had died. “You must be exhausted,” the man standing guard beside Reuben said. The elderly man’s joints were too crippled and twisted with age to hold a sword. “Why don’t you go inside and lie down, son?”
Reuben shook his head. “I can’t sleep.”
“Here, then. A slug of this will keep you going.” The old man lifted the jar that he’d kept at his feet all this time and offered it to him. Reuben took a gulp, thinking it was water, and discovered that it was wine. Fermented wine. Stronger than anything his family drank on the Sabbath. It stole Reuben’s breath and burned all the way to his stomach. He took a second gulp, then coughed. The old man laughed. “We call that ‘liquid courage.’ Helps your tired body wake up, doesn’t it?” Reuben nodded and handed it back as the wine’s warmth spread through him.
