Temper The Wind (Ancient Israel)

by Boyd, Mary Ellen

  Too, Pelet had been stopped in time, before he was able to carry out his wickedness. He could simply plead ignorance of Taleh’s status as an engaged woman. He had looked honestly surprised. How could it be proved otherwise?

  He still held Taleh’s arms. He was truly afraid now, afraid to have her out of his sight for even a moment. He pulled her against him, wrapping her in his arms. He was truly afraid now, afraid to have her out of his sight for even a moment.

  Her softness was much too tempting, her eyes wide and startled but warming with desire, her lips parted on a gasp as she tilted her head back to look up at him. He lowered his head, losing his struggle as his lips met hers. At the moment of contact, she made a tiny movement, but his arms held her in place. She stood stiffly at first, and he could hardly blame her. They were still strangers, truly . . .

  She tasted like he thought, hoped, she would, warm and sweet. She shifted against him, the stiffness easing away in silent surrender, and slipped her arms around his waist, just above his belt of weapons.

  Weapons.

  The thought nipped at the edges of his mind. He thrust it away, but he had been a soldier too long. The instant of suspicion broke offensively into his pleasure. Caution intruded.

  He ended the kiss, hoping she had not noticed the change in his mood. He could not stop his smile at what he saw, for the startled delight of a virgin’s first kiss was on her face. Her eyes were unfocused, her lips, glistening with his moisture, trembled with the unfamiliar emotion.

  “I must find a way to protect you better,” he whispered into her hair. He knew she heard him, because she nodded, her fine hair sliding softly against his arms.

  Her hair. He caught a handful that danced too near his fingers and lifted it slowly to his lips. It would take a long time to grow back after he shaved it. He had never doubted the Law before, but this one would be hard to obey, very hard.

  Taleh stood within the circle of his arms, too astounded to move. She could not see what he was doing to her hair, for his other arm still held her firmly against his chest, her face pressing heedlessly into his coat of mail. He had not left off wearing it, for they were still within the boundaries of Ammon. The metal was cold with the chill of night. She felt the bumps where the metal bits had been stitched to the leather underneath her fingertips, and caressed them. The leather, warmed by his body, smelled musky and male, and very much like Javan.

  The battle inside her raged, and was lost. Or was it won? She no longer knew. The only thing she was certain of was that somewhere during the kiss the last of her resentment of him burned away. In the never-ending nightmare in which she found herself, he was the one secure point she had to cling to.

  C H A P T E R 9

  He would waste no more time, Javan decided. How could he protect her? So many other duties kept him away. She needed a guard, but who could he trust?

  He had to talk to Jephthah. Now. As commander of this army, Jephthah was in charge of enforcing the Law. The responsibility for deciding Pelet’s fate lay with him.

  Javan looked down at her, still wrapped in his arms, seemingly content. There had to be a way to keep her safe. He wondered what she was thinking. Did it matter? He had her, and he would not give her up.

  He looked out over the camp, firelight flickering here and there across the vast throng, wisps of smoke bringing the smell of burning wood. Somewhere in the darkness, Pelet waited, alert for another opportunity. Javan remembered the look in his eyes: humiliation, wild frustration, rage. Pelet was angry now, angry enough, he knew, to try again, to try anything.

  He pulled back enough to see her face, but he kept his arms around her waist. He did not want to lose even that contact. “You will have to come with me. It is not safe to leave you here.” He gave her a quick hug, then reluctantly let go. “Bring what you have.” Taking her hand, he led her back toward the camp of the soldiers.

  As they walked, Taleh saw men watching them with interest despite the poor light from the scattered fires. A few of them grinned at Javan as they passed, and Javan nodded in return. The farther into the group they got, the more embarrassed he appeared. Chuckles and pointing fingers spread the word of their approach. Uncomfortable as she was by all the attention, Taleh had to smile at Javan’s reaction. She knew without his saying a word that these were his men.

  They were not following the path Pelet had chosen, to Taleh’s relief. No wonder he had gone the other direction, she thought. It must have been merest chance Javan had not been among his own command.

  Javan let her hand go, to slide his arm around her side, moving her close. His hand caught in the folds of her robe, pulling it. A sudden sharp pain made Taleh gasp.

  The small sound stopped him instantly. “What is it? What is wrong?”

  Taleh raised her eyes to his. “It hurts.”

  “What hurts?”

  “I do not know. My side . . .” she turned to look, and her words choked.

  Javan stepped around her to see for himself. Blood had soaked through part of the right side of her robe. Taleh gaped at it, horrified by the size of the stain, baffled at how she could have missed it before now. The pain settled into a dull ache. She could feel the faint trickle of more blood as it oozed out of the wound and down her leg.

  Javan crouched down, and turned her carefully to get more light on it. His voice bit at the air. “How did this happen? Did he hurt you anywhere else?”

  “It must have happened when we stepped into the hole.” Javan’s barely restrained ferocity reminded her sharply of what he was, a soldier, a man of war, capable of killing at a moment’s notice.

  “He has sealed his fate.”

  Taleh said nothing. Fate? What fate awaited Pelet, a man of war among his own army?

  “Can you walk a little farther?” He lifted her chin with a finger. His voice was surprisingly mild.

  “Of course.” Taleh blinked at his sudden transformation. The soldier in him was gone, the gentle man back in his place, that mighty strength under careful control.

  She plucked at the robe, the drying blood stiff under her fingers. The fabric must have stuck to her wound and dried. When Javan accidentally caught her robe, he pulled it away and started up the bleeding again. She could not imagine how so much blood had escaped her notice. She wished she could take a look, see how deep the cut went.

  Javan stood. “Come along, then. We have much to settle this night, and it grows late.”

  Left with no choice again, Taleh followed. “What do we have to settle?”

  “Pelet’s punishment,” he said. “I will not permit this offense to pass.”

  “But Pelet went the other way.” She looked vaguely out across the camp. Where was he now?

  “I am taking you before Jephthah. He will make the decision.”

  Taleh stopped in her tracks. Jephthah? The leader of this army, the man who had made whole cities cower at his approach? She would not do it. He could not make her. She turned around. The camp of the women was nowhere in sight. How far had they gone?

  Javan stopped several paces ahead of her. “What do you think you are doing?”

  His harsh tone brought her chin up. She knew her wishes would not matter, but some small spark of perversity made her try. “I wish to wait here. These are your men, are they not?”

  “Yes, they are, but you will not.”

  “Why do I need to see this Jephthah?”

  “He is the only one who has the authority to punish Pelet, and under our law the one wronged must bring the complaint.” He reached for her hand, catching it firmly. “Now come with me. We have no time to delay.”

  He walked on again, and she had to step quickly to keep up with his long strides.

  Ahead in the darkness, a campfire sat off to one side. She knew instinctively that was where they were headed. She slowed her steps, her weight pulling at Javan’s arm. It made no difference. Javan did not slow, but moved stubbornly forward.

  The lone man sitting beside the fire rose as they drew
near him, dark hair beginning to gray, eyes reflecting gold from the fire, tired and careworn. A big man. whose sword would be nothing in his hands. This one was a soldier through and through. He greeted Javan warmly, and then turned a frowning face on Taleh. She quailed under his stern gaze. A slow smile lit his face, and unnerved her with its unexpectedness. It only deepened as he turned to Javan.

  “I understand now,” he said.

  The two men prepared to sit down, and Javan tugged gently on her hand so she sat with them, distinctly uncomfortable. Their customs were so unlike what she was used to. She had never felt as odd as she did now, sitting on the ground with two Hebrew soldiers at the edge of a vast encampment, with no other women in sight.

  She folded her hands in her lap. She wanted them to finish their talk so she could be taken to Jephthah, and get this ordeal finished. How many times would they repeat this scene, how many more men would have to approve her, before she met Javan’s commander?

  “Taleh.” Javan said her name. “Taleh, meet Jephthah, leader of this army. Jephthah, may I present Taleh of Minnith?”

  This was Jephthah? This man had terrorized her country, burning cities one after another, wiping out their whole populations? He was the oldest man she had seen in the army, as befitted his rank. Despite the evidence of age manifest in his gray hair, he still looked strong. He did not have four arms and four legs and fangs, as the stories had said, but he was certainly big, massive arms, broad-chested, and shoulders even wider than Javan’s.

  He seemed not to mind her scrutiny. His eyes drew her own, and she was reminded of her initial impression. He was tired, his responsibilities sitting heavily on his shoulders. His face became surprisingly kind as he looked back at her. Then he smiled again and his face creased easily in comfortable lines.

  “I understand your fear,” he said. “The stories I heard about myself frightened me, too.” He chuckled, deep and rich, the sound warm in the cold night air.

  His laughter hurt. Did this man, who had terrorized her whole country, possess a sense of humor, or was he laughing at her people? She looked over at Javan for assistance and saw his answering smile. She relaxed slightly, but she would not join in. Her people were the tellers of those stories Jephthah found so funny, and they had been left with nothing to laugh about.

  Jephthah’s laughter tapered away. He made no apologies. He slapped his hands down on his bare thighs, leaned toward Javan and said abruptly, “Tell me why you brought her into my presence.”

  “There is a problem,” Javan returned quietly. “My wife . . . my woman was abducted this night. She was being removed from the camp by force, against her will.”

  The older man’s eyes widened. He quickly masked his reaction, but Taleh saw it. Then Jephthah turned his attention back to her, and his eyes pinned her as surely as a stake. Whatever she said, she knew it had better be the truth.

  Women had just died today for attempting to conceal their actions.

  “You have agreed to become his wife.”

  Now that it was time to speak, Taleh felt, not fear, but shyness. Jephthah arched a thick eyebrow and waited. “Yes.” The word sounded too plain, and she added quickly, “Yes, I have agreed.”

  “The soldier who was taking you away, did he know you were to be wed? Think carefully before you answer. Much depends upon it.”

  She hardly needed his cautionary words. Did he really think she had forgotten her place, who and what she was? She turned her mind back. They had almost reached the edge of the camp, she remembered, before she had said a word. The soldier named . . . Obed, he was there. “He did not know at first,” she answered honestly. “But even after I told him, he would not be stopped.”

  Jephthah absorbed her answer in silence, his gaze never wavering from her. After a moment, he sighed. “Tell me the story as it happened.”

  Taleh looked over at Javan. At his nod, she began. “Tonight, I was lying down in the camp of the captives and I felt someone walk up next to me. I thought it was Javan coming back. But it was not.” She went on, slowly and carefully, watching the faces of the two men and leaving out nothing, how she learned Pelet’s name, and tried to point out the direction he first took her. The darkness made it difficult. When she repeated the words Pelet had used to threaten her just before Javan arrived, something she only then realized she had not told him before, she could feel his anger building. His jaw clenched, his hands tightened into white-knuckled fists, and a small twitch started by his eye.

  Jephthah turned to Javan. Something passed between the two men, something she did not understand. Neither spoke.

  Worries danced through her brain and coiled in her stomach. Was a woman allowed to bring an accusation against a man? She was not even of their people. Did that matter? Her side ached again. Javan caught her hand. At his touch, she realized she had been rubbing at her wound without thinking.

  Jephthah finally spoke. “Taleh, I must have words with Javan alone. I will send one of my own guards to watch over you. You may sleep safely. No one will be able to disturb you.”

  Taleh nodded obediently, although she did not want to leave Javan’s side. A short, over-muscled man came in response to Jephthah’s signal.

  “Go with him.”

  She stood, giving Javan one last look before being led away. The firelight gave a warm glow to his brown hair and softened the strong bones of his face. She wanted to believe that more than the fire was responsible for the brightness of his eyes as he looked back at her.

  “He thought she lied, Javan.” Jephthah waited until she was barely out of hearing before he spoke.

  “It is he who lied.”

  “Indeed? And who told you this?”

  “I need no one to tell me. Look at his actions! He was taking her out under cover of darkness. Is that the action of an innocent man? I should have killed him where he stood!”

  “You would take the Law into your own hands? And then who would be punished?”

  Javan refused to answer. Jephthah tried again. “Who know you two were to wed? I knew only because you wished to get my blessing. Did you announce it to your men?”

  Reluctantly, Javan answered. “We had told no one.”

  “Ah. Yet you would kill him for what he did to your woman. On what charges would you claim your right to do so?”

  “Abuse of women captives is forbidden.”

  “True. But he did not get that far, did he? I know he has chosen his own woman. What would he need with yours?”

  He had? “And who is she?”

  “I have not seen her.” Jephthah held up a hand. “But until tonight, I had not seen yours.”

  Javan knew he had justification for his anger, yet his chief would not act in his behalf. His chief would not act in his behalf. He glared at his commander. “My lord, under what grounds do you defend him?”

  “Javan, I was not given an army to control simply for my strong arm, nor for my skills at war. I was given an army because I could think when it was difficult, and know when not to act. You are letting your emotions guide you. You must learn to be calm in the face of provocation, and to direct your anger to have the most effect.”

  He leaned back and watched Javan. “Believe me, Javan, I do understand your desire to get revenge against him, but there is little I can do. I saw the blood on her robe, so I know she was hurt, but I also saw the wound did not cause much harm. However angry it makes you, there is little I can do against him. He believed she lied about her betrothal to you. Now he knows she did not.”

  Javan saw Jephthah grow serious. “Javan, I do not take Pelet’s actions lightly. Pelet is dangerous. I have never liked him, but he is a good soldier. I needed good soldiers. Your woman is in the most serious danger, as long as Pelet is around. Perhaps he thought to take two wives for himself. I could hardly forbid it when the Law permits it. But now he knows he must content himself with just the one.”

  Javan listened solemnly. “Tell me how I can protect her. Tell me how I can keep her safe!”


  Jephthah regarded Javan with compassion. How like a son he was, the son he never had. “There are no answers to your questions, Javan. I have said I will speak to Pelet. I will do so. There is one thing I would have you remember. You are in this situation by your own choice. Did you think, when you first spared her life, that no one else would see what you saw in her?”

  Javan did not have time to find an answer, Jephthah was not finished. “My friend,” his commander said softly, “you will always have men take a second look at your wife. You will never get used to it, so you will have to win her heart. It may not be so hard a job as you think. I believe she is already learning to trust you.” He gave a laugh. “She would not like to hear me say that. She is a stubborn one, your woman. Still, I think it is true. Trust is a very good first step.” With a great yawn, he sat back. “It is very late. I must speak with Pelet, and you must get rest. Go. I will send for you if I need you.”

  Javan nodded and stood. However badly he wished to be there when Jephthah confronted Pelet, it would not happen. He left. His steps took him past his own men, asleep by their fading campfires, and into the group of sleeping women.

  Jephthah’s man stood in the darkness, watchful and imposing. Nearby, on the hard ground, he saw Taleh’s yellow dress peeking out from under her cloak. Was she asleep already?

  He stepped closer, his sandals nearly soundless on the dusty ground, but Jephthah’s guard whirled to confront him. Beyond the guard, he saw Taleh cringe. He would not leave her like this. He wanted her to know he had not left her completely in the care of others.

  At the sentry’s nod, he walked over to her side and knelt on one knee, ready to rise at the first threat. Her eyes were open and frightened. When she saw it was him, she gave a soft sigh of relief. “Javan,” she whispered. “I thought it might be . . . him.”

  “I wanted to tell you it is safe for you to sleep. Jephthah has assigned his best man to watch you, and will soon speak to Pelet.” He hoped he convinced her. The dark hid her expression, leaving only the glistening of her eyes, but he thought she relaxed a little.