Temper The Wind (Ancient Israel)

by Boyd, Mary Ellen

  “Will you be here during the night?” She asked the question shyly.

  “No. I have my own place, my own responsibilities.” He did not want to leave her yet, and searched for something else to say to prolong his visit. “I will come to see you tomorrow when my duties permit.” Was it wishful thinking, or did her eyes beg him not to leave? “Perhaps there will be some time to tell you about my home.”

  “I would like that.” She did not take her eyes off him, glowing against the darkness.

  “Yes, well, I bid good night.” She was safe and he could thing of nothing else to day. “I will see you tomorrow. I promise that.” He rose to his feet.

  “Tomorrow, then. And, Javan?”

  “Yes?”

  “Thank you – for everything.”

  He knelt again. “Taleh, you are to be my wife. It is my obligation to protect you. I owe you an apology for failing that duty to you.”

  “No, you must not blame yourself.” Taleh sat up abruptly. “I should have told you before this happened that he had been . . . watching me. For several days. I did not think it would turn into this. I had been afraid of him – a little. If I had told you earlier – ”

  “We both made mistakes,” Javan interrupted. “We will take extra care that nothing like this happens again.”

  “Yes.”

  Javan smiled at her in the dark, touched her hand gently, stood and walked briskly away.

  The guard remained in his place, a silent sentinel, and under his watchful eye Taleh felt comforted, and drifted into sleep.

  C H A P T E R 10

  Pelet stood before his commander. Anger sparked behind his eyes.

  “I have received a report about an event this night. I would like to give you a chance to tell me your side of it.” How easy it was, Jephthah thought, to show favoritism. It was common knowledge that Javan and he were old friends. They had been together since the early days of training in Tob. Jephthah had a marriageable daughter of his own. He had held dreams . . . A daughter was a good thing, but ah! to have had a son.

  “Can I be told the nature of the report? It would help to know what I stand accused of. Much happened this day.” Yes, anger’s edge was in Pelet’s voice.

  “I have been informed you were stopped with another man’s woman this night on your way out of the camp.”

  “Why do you take his side before hearing mine?” Pelet demanded.

  “Did I take Javan’s side? I will gladly hear yours.”

  Pelet glared at Jephthah, anger and betrayal pouring off him. “You told me I could take a wife! That woman, the one you so easily turned over the Javan’s care, is the one I chose! You let him have her! How else was I to get her? You gave me your word!”

  Jephthah looked at him, startled. “I did not know.” He caught his tongue before he said more. This needed thought. After a pause, he asked, “Why did you not come to me with this before? He has informed her, she has agreed.”

  “Did she know I also had appealed for her?”

  “Do you think she will change her mind after this night?” Jephthah snapped back at him. “I cannot believe you thought to win her over by your actions. There are plenty of other women, if you must have one from Ammon.”

  “I acted rashly. Perhaps, if I could explain . . .”

  “No! I have made my decision. There are plenty of other women, if you must have one from Ammon. Choose one of them.”

  “There are no others I want.” Pelet sounded like a sulky child.

  “You do not even know her. It is true, she is exceptionally beautiful, but no one can know what kind of wife she will be. She might not want to obey our Law. Javan may wish he never saw her.”

  But Pelet only stared stubbornly ahead, not meeting his eyes. A pity Pelet had not revealed this rebellious side of his nature before now, Jephthah thought. He could only hope a warning would suffice. “Javan spoke for her first, in front of his men. His is the better claim. I am sorry, Pelet, I know this grieves you, but I say again, if you want a wife from Ammon, you still have many to choose from. I do not recommend that path to anyone, but it is permitted. That is all I have to say.”

  Pelet did not stay to argue. Jephthah watched him go uneasily.

  Jephthah’s guard did not have to awaken Javan, for he had not yet slept. His eyes, when he arrived at Jephthah’s fire, were red with dust and exhaustion.

  “You sent for me, my lord. I am here.”

  Jephthah motioned Javan to sit. When they were both settled comfortably, Jephthah said, “My friend, I have seen your woman and heard her story. While I had enough evidence to believe it, I will not take action against Pelet.” Even Pelet deserved to keep his pride, he thought. It would do no one any good to air his humiliation. If Pelet had told any of his close associates of his woman, he would have to find his own way. Jephthah would not add to his burden by sowing any more seeds of enmity. If Javan were to find out, nothing good would come of it.

  Indeed, Javan glared, disbelieving. “Do you think he will stop? Or will he bide his time until he sees a better opportunity?”

  “I can no more see into his thoughts than I can keep the sun from rising. But neither can you.” Jephthah paused, giving Javan time to let it settle past the still-simmering anger. “He has been warned. He knows we will be watching. I do not think he will attempt another abduction.”

  “I have another fear, Jephthah.” Javan’s voice was tense with an inner struggle. Jephthah imagined he wanted badly to rail at the decision. “You know the army will disband soon. What will stop him from waylaying my party on our way home?”

  Jephthah shook his head. “You are the best soldier I have. Do you have less trust in your skill than I have?”

  Javan had to smile, although it looked reluctant.

  “I will not send you on your way alone. Obed, too, comes from your village. If your party travels with his, surely no one, not even Pelet, would attempt to attack. Are we agreed?”

  “Yes. There is no one I would rather have at my side than him.” Javan’s smiled more easily this time. “Other than yourself, of course.”

  Jephthah laughed, and the sound lightened the darkness. “Of course. When you say it like that, I might even be able to forget it is flattery.”

  Javan’s smile stretched into a grin. “I would never attempt to flatter you, Jephthah. I said it because it is true.”

  The night did not bring Javan peaceful rest. Repeatedly, noises jerked him from sleep into full wakefulness, his dagger already in his hand. Each time, he found nothing amiss. The early light of morning brought an end to the attempts to coax his body into relaxing.

  The activity of breaking camp that morning kept Javan from attacking Pelet. He had hoped the light of day would cool his temper, but it did not. Somehow their paths, while coming close, never crossed. He strongly suspected Jephthah had a hand in that.

  Javan watched Pelet during the day’s journey for signs of danger, but found nothing. The other man kept himself very busy and out of Javan’s way. As a precaution, Javan spent what little time he had free with Taleh.

  He worried about Taleh’s growing friendship with Obed’s woman. Merab made him nervous. She stared at him with undisguised longing and slow, measuring looks when she thought no one else watched. When he saw her cast the same hungry looks at another soldier, and then another, he feared for his friend.

  Her eagerness to please must have charmed Obed away from his good sense, and her care never to play her games when either Obed or Taleh were around. Perhaps his friend would catch her at her ploys, and finally see beyond her pretty face. Failing that, he hoped when Obed was free finally to take her to wife, if he did, that she would keep her eyes to herself.

  But the uneasy feeling that the woman would only bring misery persisted, growing like an unreachable itch.

  He wanted the journey to be over. They were back within the boundaries of Israel again, and he wanted to be home. He wanted to be on the land of his father, to see the village of his youth.r />
  Most of all, he wanted the time of waiting for his bride to be over.

  C H A P T E R 11

  The scenery changed so gradually that Taleh was surprised when she first realized it. She knew for a certainty, without having to ask, that they had left Ammon. The hard-packed ground looked the same, but there were more plants underfoot, dried and stubbly from the summer heat but enough to add a cushion to each step. The grasses beneath her sandals were longer, thicker, and even in the prickly brown stalks she could see the promise of lush growth after the rains came. In the darker shadows of the deepening valleys ahead of them, she thought she saw trees growing tall and thick. The air held more humidity, mixing with the heat of the day to cover her with a sheen of moisture.

  They had been going uphill all day, and her legs knew it. When they reached a stretch of land that was flatter than anything they had crossed, Jephthah called a halt. Taleh sat down for a few moments to rest while the camp took a semblance of order. It was too early in the day to stop. What was ahead?

  She struggled back to her feet, looking from their camp out at the horizon. At the very edge of her sight, beyond the rolling hills ahead that rose ever higher, she saw a faint ridge. Were they heading toward mountains?

  After the relatively flat land of Ammon, the steep hills came as a surprise, as did the green haze that tipped the shadows. It was almost . . . pretty.

  She heard footsteps coming up behind her. Whirling around, she sagged with relief. Javan smiled down at her. “I did not mean to surprise you. I am sorry.” He stretched a hand toward the view. “What do you think of my land?”

  “It is so very green. There are lots of trees. I did not expect that.” She turned back to the horizon and pointed to the faint blue ridge. “What are those mountains called?”

  “They are not mountains,” Javan answered. He smiled. “Those mountains, as you call them, are the edge of a deep valley. At the bottom, the river Jordan runs.”

  “Oh.” His smile pleased her. She was tired of being guarded by strangers. “Will we go that way? Will I get to see it?”

  He shook his head. “Not this time. Another time, perhaps. We are going that way,” and he turned her slightly, facing toward the hills of green. A happy smile lit her face as she drank it in.

  Javan wrapped his arms around her and held her close. His coat of mail was not uncomfortable against her, or else she had grown used to its feel, the cool circles of metal and the thick strips of leather. He rested his chin on the softness of her hair, and that, too, was familiar. They both stared out at his homeland, waiting in the distance for them.

  “Tomorrow we will be leaving,” he said into her hair, and tightened his hold at the sudden spasm that shook her. “No, do not try to get away. Let me tell you what will happen. Everyone will leave for their own villages. We are within our own land now, and there is no longer a need to travel as an army. After tonight, I will no longer be a soldier. I will be a farmer again.”

  Panic and relief pulled at Taleh. Eight days had passed since she took her first step away from her burning city, eight days that had taken her far into a new land and a new life.

  There it lay, stretched out before her. Was she ready?

  Javan slowly turned her to face him. She kept her eyes lowered, afraid her thoughts and fears showed on her face. Javan must have seen something, a thought she had not the skill to hide. A strong finger tipped her chin up in that way he had. At last she looked into his eyes.

  A deep sound rumbled in Javan’s throat. “Taleh, Taleh, when will you trust me?” His lips came down on hers, giving her comfort. Surprise became pleasure, breath melded and merged into something of both of them.

  He pulled away. The noise of camp penetrated with annoying persistence. In his arms, Taleh trembled. Guilt consumed him. He had swept her along with him, loosing newborn passion, and neither of them had an outlet for the raging desires he had stirred up.

  “I am sorry, Taleh. I am sorry. I had no right to do this to you,” he murmured in her ear. His hand rubbed her back, up and down the slender spine, hoping to soothe her ragged breathing.

  “Do what to me?” Her eyes were unfocused pools of dark. “Why do you apologize?”

  He stroked a tumble of hair off her forehead and kissed it, puzzled and uncomfortable at the odd clenching in his chest, a quick sensation of lightness, of disconnectedness. He forced his mind back to the question she asked.

  “The kind of kissing we were doing has its ultimate end in the marriage bed. Without satisfaction, it leads to . . . frustration.” More for him than for her at this early time, he suspected. “Do you understand?”

  “Of course I understand. I merely asked why you felt pressed to apologize.” Her midnight eyes met his own, and then embarrassment colored her cheeks. “You did nothing that . . . I, well, I do not think you need ask forgiveness.” She said the last words to the ground.

  He grinned down at the top of her head. “You are very kind.” He struggled to cover the amusement in his voice. She looked up at him, waiting, but he had age and experience on his side and kept his face under control. “I think we should get rest. We will be on our way early tomorrow, and we have given everyone enough to look at for one night.”

  Taleh seemed to suddenly remember that they stood within the middle of the camp. Heat flooded her cheeks with red. She covered her face in embarrassment.

  Javan laughed out loud. “There is no need for that, lamb.” He tugged lightly on her hands. “Everyone knows we will be husband and wife soon. No one will mock you. I happen to know I am the envy of every man here.”

  Her head lifted, confused eyes peeking from behind her fingers. “How do you know?”

  “They told me,” he answered, waiting for her reaction with something very like delight. The flush that had barely faded bloomed again, up past her eyebrows. They had spoken often, but never with such enjoyment, such intimate freedom, and he was pleased.

  She dropped her gaze at his answer. In a small voice, she said, “Oh. I did not know. I wish people would not watch me like they do. I hate it.”

  So do I, Javan thought. Aloud, he said, “You handle it with grace.”

  “I try not to handle it at all,” she returned sharply. “For as long as I can remember, I have tried to ignore the looks and comments. I could not even go out of my house without having people whisper and stare. I thought, if I acted as though I did not notice, it would no longer bother me. I was wrong.”

  Javan listened to her in surprise. He had never thought of what it was like to be so beautiful, so out of the ordinary. He himself had chosen her for her beauty. And naturally she knew that. He found that realization uncomfortable.

  He resented the looks the soldiers cast in her direction when they thought he was not watching. If it bothered her so as a young woman, what had her childhood been like?

  How did a child cope when strangers suddenly began to stare? He would love daughters that looked like her, but now he knew how vigorously he would have to guard them. Even in Israel.

  The camp stirred into life early again. After so many days of sameness, from the beginning this day was very different. Taleh watched as the soldiers claimed what was theirs and said farewells. Men were paid in gold and jewelry, seed and donkeys, cloth and cattle. Javan had brought over several bundles when he woke her, and she sat on the sturdiest one while she waited for him to come back for her. A number of women wept quietly, clinging to each other. Taleh tried to ignore the pangs of longing. She had no friends other than Merab, whose interest in her she suspected was only on the surface. Taleh felt no need to seek her out, for Merab and her soldier were continuing the journey with them.

  She knew she should be pleased that Merab was coming. Another woman, another Ammonite woman bound for the same fate, could mean companionship and commiseration. Taleh did not think it would work out that way. Merab’s initial happy acceptance of her circumstances showed signs of souring. No longer notable for being picked as a wife, unhappy that she
was not exempt from the daily chores, she complained whenever Obed was out of hearing. Poor Obed, Taleh thought. Eventually the scales would fall from his eyes. What would he think then?

  She lost track of Javan. Men milled about, and animals complained noisily. Hooves churned up dust, men chased wily creatures as they tried to escape, and shouts and laughter rose from the din. Javan had told her he needed seed, sheep and goats and slaves as well. She did not know when he would be back, so she sat and watched and tried to be content.

  Groups of soldiers and slaves began to separate from the main body, pulling donkeys laden with goods and driving flocks ahead of them. The air rang with the bleating and lowing of the protesting animals. Good-natured shouts and laughing clung to the breeze, lifting above the other sounds as the soldiers took their partings with a joyous spirit notably missing from the women and slaves. Taleh looked on, her emotions a tangle. Her own turn would come shortly; she, too would leave the meager support of her fellow captives.

  One of the soldiers stopped, a stillness in a sea of movement. The contrast caught her attention. Pelet, with his leering face and evil grin. Regardless of the distance between them, she jumped to her feet, tripping over the bundles as she backed away.

  Pelet winked at her, and her skin crawled.

  A group of men passed between them, cutting off her view. When they moved on, Pelet was gone.

  She turned around in a frantic circle, wondering which direction he would choose to come at her. She was safest when he was in plain sight.

  Through the throngs of men and animals, she found Javan, at last coming back.

  Her mouth went dry. He no longer wore his armor. Knots of muscles once concealed by his mail rippled under the lightweight linen tunic stretched tightly across his chest. His legs covered the ground in a vigorous stride, the muscles flexing with every movement.