by Mesu Andrews
When Sitis tried to follow a few steps, Aban halted her gently. “Please, mistress. Remain inside as much as possible.” He pointed to the surrounding caves carved into the mountain face. “I can’t tell if these beggars belong to the first-sector caves or if the Nameless Ones have discovered your location. I’ll send a few of my trusted guards to stand watch.”
Sitis trusted Aban’s judgment and his caution. His warm smile reminded her of one of her own sons. “Thank you, Aban. I don’t know why you’ve chosen to be so kind, but I’m grateful.”
Astride his new Egyptian stallion, Sayyid cast a long evening shadow against the vacant merchant booths, and Aban’s sleek dapple gray mount stepped in flawless cadence alongside. One hundred of Sayyid’s guards, dressed in fine black cloaks, emerged from the siq on camels draped with red-and-yellow braided mantles. Sayyid was determined to impress the opposing army, even if his hopes of victory were slim. If Bildad the Ishmaelite and Eliphaz the Edomite could not be bribed or duped, Uz would be bathed in blood tonight.
The worn and weary inhabitants of Uz’s first sector watched as Sayyid’s entourage paraded through their midst. Women gathered children into their small tents and caves, and men stood guard with roughly hewn weapons. Sayyid sneered. A lot of good those silly spears will do if Bildad’s troops have come for retribution. The first sector lay exposed on the eastern side of the narrow siq and therefore unprotected by its natural fortification.
Signaling his men to a halt just outside the city gate, Sayyid rehearsed the plan with Aban a final time. “Remember, if Bildad and Eliphaz have come in peace, we’ll lead a small contingent through the siq tonight. However, at the first sign of aggression, we must begin our defense plan. If an enemy sword is drawn or an arrow flies, I’ll circle to the rear while you and the men make an initial surge. Then you must retreat through the siq into the second sector. When their army pursues us through the siq, I’ll signal our waiting troops on top of the mountain to rain down boulders on their men below. When the last of our guards have safely exited the siq, we’ll seal off the opening with a rockslide and escape through the western mountain range.”
Aban’s suspicions kept his voice low. “How do I know you won’t seal off the siq before all of our men are safely through it—Father?”
Sayyid smiled. “I suppose we’ll have to trust each other, Son.” Aban’s graying complexion was just the response Sayyid expected. “Like I trusted you to order the Nameless Ones to kill Sitis this afternoon.” Clucking his tongue, he dug his heels into his stallion’s side and proceeded toward the oncoming army.
“Wait!” Aban followed on his dapple gray. “What would you have had me do?” he whispered when his horse pulled alongside Sayyid’s stallion. “Elihu arrived just as the men would have slaughtered her. Even the Nameless Ones aren’t foolish enough to murder the great lady of Uz in front of a reputable witness.”
Sayyid responded with one lifted eyebrow. He would let his captain squirm. Aban need not know that while he’d been playing hero to the three women this afternoon, the leader of the bandits had come to Sayyid with the details of Aban’s betrayal and had suggested a delightful alternative plan.
“Come, Aban. We have guests to welcome. Or perhaps a battle to fight. Hi-yah!”
Sayyid’s horse tried to bolt, but he calmed the beast to a noble gait. As they approached the oncoming sea of animals and riders, Sayyid wished his heartbeat was as easily controlled. The enemy’s army of camels stretched as far as the eye could see, walking three abreast along the winding mountain paths. A smaller caravan of donkeys, carrying supplies and a few riders, meandered at the rear.
“Have you ever seen anything like it?” Sayyid breathed more to himself than to Aban, who had ridden up beside him.
“No, and I wish I weren’t seeing it now.”
Sayyid and his captain rode in silence until no more than ten paces separated the opposing leadership. Sayyid stayed his courage, determined to impress Sitis’s brother. “Greetings, Prince Bildad.”
The setting sun and forty years had only heightened the Ishmaelite prince’s nobility. His robe of sky blue linen and the deep purple sash distinguished him as a son of Shuah. His beard was longer, grayer, but he was still handsome. Beauty also seemed an inheritance of Sitis’s family.
As a boy, Sayyid had been forced to bow with his nose to the ground each time Bildad visited their village. Not anymore. He sat a little taller in his Egyptian saddle. “It is an honor to welcome you after all these years.”
“We are here to rescue my sister from your abuse, Sayyid.” Bildad’s obsidian eyes stared through Sayyid, not at him.
“And my nephew!” The old man on Bildad’s right erupted with a thunderous voice like Esau’s. No doubt this was Eliphaz, Esau’s firstborn. He displayed none of Zophar’s or Bela’s ruddy Edomite coloring. Rather, his face resembled a dark raisin with a long white beard. “El Shaddai will rain down His vengeance for your violence against Job,” Eliphaz shouted, shaking his gnarled fist.
He certainly has Esau’s temper, Sayyid thought, wishing he could hoist a javelin into all their bellies. Instead, he inclined his head and spoke somberly. “I understand your concerns, brothers. However, I fear you have sorely misjudged your family’s circumstance and my participation.” Before any of the men could draw breath, he pressed his defense. “Your sister is not well, Bildad. She has lost all her children—even her three precious daughters, named after the Ishmaelite goddesses.”
Sayyid saw his first arrow hit its mark. Bildad blanched at the truth of his sister’s idolatrous penchant.
While the others shifted uncomfortably on their saddles, Sayyid continued. “In a single day, Eliphaz, all of Job’s wealth was destroyed either by raiding parties attacking from opposing ends of the earth or by the fire of God. The following day your nephew was struck by wasting boils.” Hesitating only slightly, Sayyid leaned closer, as if sharing a secret. “I can assure you, I am a powerful man in Uz, but I can neither rain down fire nor inflict boils on a man’s flesh.”
Sayyid’s gaze fell on Zophar, Job’s favorite cousin-brother, the great spice trader. “Even as Job draws his last breaths, he casts aside your advice, Zophar, and clings to the harlot of which you warned him.”
Shock shattered each man’s stony expression at the pronouncement, and then Sayyid added his final blow. “Elihu, student of the Most High’s teachings, your ima Sitis sold her hair today in the marketplace for three loaves of bread.” He held up the long, ebony locks he’d sheared off Sitis’s head earlier. “She asked me to take it to the temple of Al-Uzza in Moab as an offering.”
“You are a liar!” Elihu shrieked, eyes wild, spittle spilling onto his beard. “Ima would never—”
“That is enough, Elihu.” Bildad spoke with the regal calm of a man accustomed to being obeyed, and Elihu fell silent immediately. “Elihu’s passions carry him away, but I trust his integrity completely. He has accused you of falsehood, Sayyid.” Bildad pierced Sayyid with his gaze. “Which of your statements would he have judged false?”
Sayyid smiled but felt the left side of his mouth twitch nervously. He inwardly cursed his weakness.
“My father lied about Mistress Sitis’s desire to make her hair an offering at the temple.” Every eye darted to Aban, the source of the confession, but the captain’s gaze was fixed on Bildad. Sayyid glared so hotly, he was certain Aban’s face would burst into flames. Alas, it did not.
Bildad lifted one gray eyebrow. “Sayyid is your father?”
“By the gods, Aban . . .” Sayyid’s voice was low, menacing, daring him to continue.
“Yes, from an Egyptian handmaid. Much like our forefather Ishmael was the son of Abram’s Egyptian woman, Hagar.” Sayyid noted Aban’s respectful, intense expression and felt a stab of envy. How could Aban hold Bildad’s gaze without flinching?
“How do you know Sayyid lied?” Bildad asked.
“I am Sayyid’s captain, and we have issued a detachment of guards to protect Job. Tho
se guards reported to me a conversation between Mistress Sitis and Master Job that would preclude your sister from requesting such an offering.” For the first time, Aban looked away from Bildad and glanced in Sayyid’s direction. “My father didn’t want to tell you the truth because . . .”
Sayyid glared at Aban, forbidding him to speak. Begging him to keep silent.
“Sayyid—my father—well, he is a liar. It’s what he does.”
The four visitors couldn’t have looked more shocked if they’d swallowed their camels’ cud. Sayyid’s face blazed like an inferno, humiliation kindling fury.
Bildad laughed so hard, he nearly fell off his camel. “Well, Captain, at least you don’t seem to have inherited your father’s treachery.”
Sayyid considered running his sword through Aban’s heart then and there, but his personal humiliation seemed to be placating the leaders of this great army. “My son paints a dreadful picture of a grain merchant’s life,” Sayyid said, shrugging his shoulders good-naturedly while glaring daggers at his son. “Aban has the luxury of a soldier’s life, black-and-white, right and wrong.” Looking at Zophar, Sayyid included the spice trader in his generalization. “We merchants understand that in order to survive, one must sometimes sculpt the truth to accommodate the situation.”
“And what situation confronts us that you felt the need to sculpt such a lie, Sayyid?”
Though Sayyid was growing weary of Bildad’s incessant hammering, he noted the prince’s hardening features and decided humility was the best approach for the final negotiation. “I thought if you believed Sitis to have embraced idolatry, you might accept hospitality from an idolater.” Sayyid bowed his head and opened his arms wide. “My home is open to you and to as many of your troops as you deem worthy.” Sayyid’s stallion pranced nervously, but its master maintained his penitent pose, waiting.
During the long silence, Sayyid watched Aban’s hands on his reins, clenching and unclenching, twice, three times. His captain was nervous, but still he’d proven himself a fine negotiator. He obviously couldn’t be trusted in matters related to Sitis, but even in that circumstance he’d proven useful to unwittingly lead the bandits to where she was hiding. The Nameless One’s visit had been timely and his predictions as insightful as a sorcerer. He had assured Sayyid that half-truths and lavish hospitality would win these men’s favor. And so far . . .
“Lead us into the city, and we will camp on the plains,” Eliphaz commanded as though ordering his own troops. “You are clearly not a man to be trusted, Sayyid, and I intend to speak with Job before any agreements are struck.”
Sayyid’s head snapped to attention, and he drew breath to match the venomous tone of Esau’s firstborn. But Aban interrupted, showing infuriating tact and diplomacy. “My father would be happy to lead you and a detachment of your men into the city, Master Eliphaz, with an equal number of Prince Bildad’s soldiers. Our cooks have already begun preparing a meal for one hundred extra mouths.” Aban started to turn away but snapped his fingers as if remembering something at the last moment. “Master Zophar?”
The merchant looked startled to be addressed directly. “Yes?” he said, glancing cautiously at his father and his teacher.
“I wouldn’t presume to instruct you on tending to Job, but if your caravan holds herbs that might help him, you should bring them when my father escorts you.” Aban nodded respectfully to the three elders and then shot a hostile glance at Elihu before turning his dapple gray stallion in the direction of the city gate. He then issued the retreat signal to the first two rows of guards, and the ornately adorned camels and riders returned to the city with their captain.
“Well, Sayyid,” Bildad said, reminding him that nearly two thousand men awaited his instruction. “I hope your fine son is a testament to your changed character. I remember you as a scheming peasant boy, but perhaps you have improved, as you say, to a conniving grain merchant.” Bildad and his three friends sniggered.
Annoyed, Sayyid returned his attention to the siq entrance. The guards on camels had disappeared through the siq, but Aban’s dapple gray stallion was tethered at the base of a rocky mountain path. Where have you gone, my son? And why are you in such a hurry to get there?
The night sky gulped away light, and every heart throbbed with tension, waiting for the cries of battle or some word of aid from Job’s and Sitis’s relatives. Around the soft glow of firelight, the four women chatted quietly until the cave exploded with a muscular figure dressed in black. After reflexive gasps, the ladies stood to welcome Aban—three offering smiles of relief. One, not so relieved.
“What brings you back here when it’s almost dark?” Dinah said, hands balled on her hips. “And you could have been followed by any number of Sayyid’s men or Nameless Ones.” The words tumbled out much harsher than she’d intended, but this man was still untried. Granted, he’d proven a godsend earlier today, but what would he prove tomorrow and the next day and the next?
Aban looked as if he’d been slapped, and Sitis gently placed a hand on Dinah’s shoulder. “I think she’s asking if you’ve come with news about Sayyid’s meeting with my brother and Job’s uncle.”
Dinah crossed her arms and set her feet like a commander waiting to hear a scout’s report. She sensed Sitis’s disapproving frown and was certain Nogahla and Widow Orma shared the woman’s adoration of their new champion.
Aban suppressed a grin, which only stoked Dinah’s fire. “Sayyid is leading a hundred of the visiting army through the siq, where they will make camp in our canyon and see Job for the first time.” He sobered and turned to Sitis with concern. “My father’s words dripped with honey. I’m sure he plans to smother them with hospitality and win them over to his version of the truth.”
“I must go! Job’s throat is too raw to speak,” Sitis said, grabbing a cloak to throw around her shoulders. “We can’t let Sayyid interpret the last year’s events. You know his silver tongue twists the truth.”
“No!” The cave resounded with the answer.
Dinah pulled Sitis into a fierce embrace. “Please, Aban, remind her of the dangers. Tell us what Sayyid is planning.”
She watched a cloud of sadness darken his features. “I’m sorry, Mistress Sitis. I don’t know what Sayyid is planning anymore.”
Dinah glared, silently accusing him of lying.
He raised his hands, pleading his case. “My father discovered that I tricked him earlier and has now changed his plans with the Nameless Ones. I’ve positioned my most trusted guards around this cave, but I cannot protect you, mistress, if you leave here.”
A stream of tears flowed down Sitis’s cheeks. “But who will speak for Job?”
“Elihu is among them, Sitis.” Dinah gently grasped the woman’s shoulders and faced her. “Elihu knows Sayyid’s treachery. He will recognize it and speak out.”
Aban spoke softly but firmly. “I’m sorry, Dinah, but I believe Eliphaz, Bildad, and Zophar see Elihu as an impetuous, emotional boy. His opinions seem to matter very little among them.”
Anger rose inside Dinah. She knew Sitis was hanging on by a thin thread of hope. How dare Aban cut it off so carelessly! “Well, Aban, do you have a better idea?”
“I will speak for Master Job and Mistress Sitis,” he said simply.
Silence reigned.
Dinah’s heart nearly stopped when she saw the inner battle raging on Sitis’s features. Surely you won’t place your life in the hands of this stranger, she thought. Trying to spare Sitis from a dire mistake, she turned to the captain and said, “Please, Aban, don’t take offense, but . . .”
“You don’t trust me to speak the truth because I’m Sayyid’s son.” His voice bore a tinge of anger mingled with defeat. “Why do you allow my past to eliminate the possibility that I have become a man of integrity?”
Dinah felt the blood rush from her face. Had she become like those who judged her? Unwilling to forgive? Unable to see beyond her past? Yet something about this man held her back. His integrity had not be
en tested over time.
“I’m truly sorry for the way I’ve treated you, Aban, but please understand. My friends’ lives depend on this moment. I would even go myself if it would help.” She chuckled at the thought. Wouldn’t that cause a stir, if Dinah appeared beside Job at the ash heap?
“But who will go if Aban doesn’t?” Sitis whispered in Dinah’s ear as the two women clung to each other.
“May I go, mistress?” Nogahla’s quiet voice came from the darkness of the cave, and Dinah turned to see her beautiful round eyes.
“Nogahla, my friend, they will not listen to you.” Dinah exchanged a knowing glance with Sitis. “Though we know you are a kind Cushite girl with great wisdom, those men would not hear your words.”
“No, I don’t intend to talk to Master Job’s relatives. I mean to go with Master Aban to set your mind at rest that he is being truthful on Master Job’s behalf.” Nogahla blinked several times, punctuating her request, and Aban raised pleading eyebrows. Dinah thought he resembled a wolf ready to devour her little lamb.
“I don’t think it’s proper for a young girl to be traipsing alone with a soldier after dark.” Dinah sounded like her ima—scolding, nagging, chiding. But if she’d listened to Ima Leah, she might not have landed in Shechem’s bed.
“Nogahla can tend Job’s wounds with the supplies Zophar is bringing,” Aban said a little too quickly. But Aban’s mention of medicinal provisions sent Dinah’s mind humming with hope, and now Sitis also pleaded silently with her. Only Widow Orma remained neutral, warming herself by the fire.
Dinah’s heart squeezed at the thought of sending her precious friend with a man she didn’t fully trust, but what else could she do? “All right, Nogahla, you’ll need to take this basket of supplies with you for the first visit.” Dinah began filling it with some of Nada’s food provisions and the few small jars of herbs they had left.
Widow Orma handed Nogahla a rock-hewn pitcher insulated with woven mesh. “I’m sending the last of our mint tea. Have Master Job drink it while it’s still hot,” the widow said. “It will help soothe his throat and stomach so he can tell his own truth soon.”
