“And you will tell him the Ammonites killed him. Am I right?” Taleh thought she could come to hate her own people, if this kept happening in this village where she somehow had to find her way.
Leah gave her son a piece of bread and set him on the floor. He plopped down on his swaddled bottom, and concentrated his entire being on eating.
“Taleh, I know you have wondered why, out of the whole village, only I held no grudge against you. Yes, your soldiers killed my husband. I did not live here, we were living in his village.” She seemed to brace herself, then continued. “I was very unhappy there. I could have stayed after he died, but I did not know I was pregnant. His family paid little attention to me when he was alive. The thought of staying after he died was intolerable. So I came here, to my own family.”
“You have family here?” Taleh was surprised. Leah had never mentioned them before.
“Yes, I do. They are all well. Somehow they survived each attack. My parents live in the house next to mine. They wanted me to stay with them. I said no. I needed time to recover, and I discovered that I liked freedom. They adore my son, and it is a good arrangement. This was originally a slave’s house, but it is just the right size for us now. When he gets older, I will have to decide what to do, but I will not worry about that yet.
“But we are off the subject. Taleh, my husband was a cruel man. He abused me constantly. He beat me. There was no pleasing him.” Her voice grew fierce. “When he died, I was glad. The Ammonites did me a favor by killing him. I know the others suffered horrible things, but it was a blessing for me. I sometimes think I will never be able to marry again, for I can never live like that again. Taleh, I am no rival for you. Please believe me. I have no interest in your husband.”
Her eyes met Taleh’s without evasion. “I like my freedom. I glean our food from the leftovers of the harvest. I weave cloth and bake bread and am free to sell whatever goods I make. I have no one telling me what to do.” She smiled suddenly. “That is not precisely true. My parents try to tell me what to do all the time, but I no longer am required to obey. I have never told them what went on in my marriage, but I think they suspect. They want more grandchildren, but they will have to look to my brothers and sisters for that.”
Taleh struggled with her shock and surprise. She had not expected such a tale from Leah. How could any man do that to her? But then, what man spent time worrying about the happiness of his wife? “I am sorry. In Ammon, I feared all the time that my father would sell me into that kind of marriage. My father was not cruel, usually, but he wanted the money he could get for me more, I think, than he wanted me to be happy. Some of the men who came to look at me frightened me so. But I knew I would have no choice.”
“It is not quite like that here,” Leah protested. “If my father had known what my husband would turn out to be like, he would never have permitted the marriage. But my husband had everyone fooled.”
“Thank you for telling me this.” Taleh could only guess what it had cost Leah. Surely such honesty deserved honesty in return. “You were right. I did worry that you might supplant me. No, that is not quite right. I think I knew from the beginning that you would never force me away. It is more that I thought Javan might want someone other than me, someone who fit in here, who already had a place. I feel the danger constantly. I do not know if he still wants me.”
She went on, more to herself, struggling to put her torment into words. “I am so confused and afraid. Nothing is right. Nothing I do is right. I no longer know what it feels like not to be afraid. Perhaps I never did.”
“Do not let the people here intimidate you. It is hard for them, too, but they are good people. No one will poison you, or creep into your room at night and cut your throat. Once you learn our ways, you will be happy here.”
Taleh managed a watery laugh. “I never thought of being killed in my sleep. I have spent most of my time waiting for Javan to send me back. I never see him any more. He is trying so hard to avoid me. He has no use for me at all.”
“Oh, Taleh, you are so young!” Leah grinned at her, then laughed merrily. “Do you truly not know why he stays away?”
“I have been afraid he has either forgotten me, or wishes he could. I know I do not fit in here. I know none of your laws, and your customs confuse me. I do not know whether I speak when I should be silent, or if I am silent when I should speak. People ignore me every time I leave Sarah’s house. I am afraid to go to the market. No one will talk to me. It is bad enough to be ignored by one or two at a time, but a whole marketplace? So I stay at Sarah’s and help her cook meals, and watch her watch Merab and me.” Her throat tightened again, and she whispered, “And I wait for Javan to decide he no longer wants me here.”
“Silly Taleh,” Leah said. She looked to be on the verge of another outburst of laughter.
Her humor hurt. How could she make light of something so painful?
“You really know very little of men, do you? You think he stays away because he does not want to see you? My husband was not much of a husband, but even I know what the problem is. Do you sleep near him?”
“Sarah has given us one of the rooms in her house. Javan and I have no choice but to sleep in the same room.” Taleh could feel her cheeks warm, as though confiding something most private.
This time Leah did laugh. “I could almost feel sorry for him. Taleh, he stays away, not because he no longer wants you, but because he still does.”
Taleh started to protest, but Leah motioned her to silence. “He did explain that he must wait a month before he can lay with you?”
Taleh nodded.
“Taleh, he wants to make you his wife in his own house. He is hurrying to finish so that the first time will happen under his own roof, not under another’s.” Leah still grinned, full of secret merriment. Then she grew serious. “Taleh, it is not so hard for you, because you do not know what you are missing. If he were around you constantly, his desire for you might become too strong, and he could abandon all his cherished principles.”
Lean leaned forward. “Javan is who he his because he believes and respects our Law. If he were to break it, he would violate all he holds sacred. So to protect his conscience and keep his desire under control, he must stay away. He works himself into exhaustion. He avoids you as much as he can. But men dream about women, and he wakes, and finds it was only a dream, but he wants it. Do you understand?”
“A little, I think.” No one had ever discussed men with her. Taleh wished she knew what questions to ask. She was consumed with curiosity. She looked at little Isaac, happily smashing bits of bread into the floor. She knew that laying with men produced children. But birthing children in Ammon often brought heartbreak. “Javan told me that I would never to be asked to sacrifice my child. He told me the truth?”
Leah looked shocked for a moment. “Sometimes I forget,” she said under her breath. “Yes, Taleh, he told you the truth.”
“Ask your question, Leah. I see it in your eyes.”
“I am sorry, it is not my place to sit in judgment upon your traditions, but, Taleh, how could your people do such a thing? I see Isaac and I think if anything were to happen to him, I would not be able to bear it. I could never hurt him. Never!”
“I stopped going to the sacrifices.” Taleh spoke quietly, feeling her way past the sense of betrayal that stabbed at her. “I could no longer endure it. At the end, the priests were taking so many children, I wondered if there would be any left.” The words spilled out, after being trapped inside, eating away at her. “They marched the processions through the city, so everyone would see. I could tell which were the mothers. They looked so . . . broken.”
She wondered, briefly, how long she had needed someone to confide in, a real friend. Her mother had not understood, despite her own loss. It was the way things were done and the gods were happy and the rains came, that was all that mattered.
The words kept coming. “I think it is one thing to see it happen to others, but how can you survive
when the priests come in and mark your child for death? How do you live through that night? How do you say goodbye? My parents told me if the Hebrews conquered the city, it would be my fault, because I defied the gods.” She heard Leah gasp. “But I could not believe my actions made any difference. Why would the gods demand so many babies? And why punish a whole city because of me?”
“Your parents told you it was your fault?”
“Yes.” Taleh reached out and covered Leah’s hand with her own. “Do not feel bad for me. I did not blame them for feeling that way. They were only repeating what the priests had told everyone. We must support the gods and the sacrifices or we would block their protection. It was to be everyone or no one.” She stopped to think. “It was no one, was it not?”
“You lived.” Leah shook her head. “Such a life is inconceivable to me. But we can discuss this another time. Right now, we have a meal to eat.”
C H A P T E R 18
Gleaming white limestone walls rose in a perfect square, each side boasting a window opening. Javan swelled with pride as he looked at his handiwork. He had had help, to be sure, but so many skills learned at his father’s side came back once he got started.
The door revolved smoothly on its solid pegs. The lattices could be opened wide to greet the day, or pulled shut to keep wet out and warmth in.
The flat roof was on, the parapet around its edge strong and sturdy. All around the top of the house’s walls, the strong poles stuck out at precise distance from each other, providing support for the roof, announcing to all that the roof and walls were secure.
Even the sheep and the goats had homes. Javan had helped the slave boys build them, as well, two three-sided sheds with sloping roofs to let the wet weather drain off. The fourth side of each shed faced a pen protected by a pole fence. Gates on either end of the pens led into the pasture, grasses brittle in the late summer heat but showing promise of lush growth with the first rains.
The orchards stood in neat-rowed, if a bit sparse, lines of trees marching to the unplowed fields that lay on the far end. Rock fences built up thigh-high marked the boundaries where house land met orchard, and orchard met field. The pasture ran along the west side of Javan’s land, the pole fences placed to stop the animals before they reached the forest. Javan expected to have to enlarge the pasture in the years ahead, but for now, the space he had would suffice.
Even the slaves had neat houses, built along the rock wall that edged the orchard. They were of wood, with wooden floors, but white-washed with lime to keep the wet out. Each house had a window to let the smoke out in the winter. Warm woolen blankets waited on shelves for the cold nights to come, and more shelves held pots and bowls, clay water jars, and cups.
Yes, almost all was in readiness.
Javan found the easing of his workload these past days both a relief and a burden. He no longer had an excuse to keep himself away from Sarah’s house – and Taleh. Lately, as he finished so early, he had been arriving at Sarah’s in time to catch the preparations for the evening meal, and to be further tormented by what he could not yet have.
He liked to stand just far enough away to be unobserved, while his woman and Obed’s helped Sarah cook. From his vantage point inside the house, he could watch Taleh, framed in sunlight, as she bent over the kettle. The heat from the fire and the warmth of the day gilded her face with a sheen of moisture. She did not complain, at least not that he heard.
He knew Sarah was aware of his presence, but she had not given him away.
He stood again in his spot. This day, Sarah caught his eye and motioned for him to follow her. They met by the stairs to the upper level, out of earshot.
“I need to apologize to you,” she said in her abrupt way.
“For what?”
“I spoke some cruel words to you the first day you came. I wish to take them back. You chose well. Your wife – I could wish she had been born here, but she will bring you happiness, I think. She is trying to adapt to our ways, but she has much still to learn. As for the other, pooh! She is not for our land. She does not know how to make herself happy. How can she be good for anyone else?”
A deep unease filled Javan. Again. “What has Merab done?”
“Done? Nothing. It is not so easy to describe. She sows discontent wherever she goes.”
“Perhaps she simply needs more of Obed’s attention,” Javan offered, knowing it was a pitiful explanation.
“Perhaps.”
Javan could tell Sarah was unconvinced. He was unconvinced. He felt Obed’s presence in the conversation, his reputation hovering above their heads. He did not want to discuss this with Obed not there to defend his choice.
“You must not be too hard on her,” he tried again. The words were distasteful in his mouth, but he continued. “People adapt in different ways. It may be taking her longer to adjust.”
“I do not believe she is trying to adjust at all.” Sarah seemed to mind her tongue, for she shrugged. “Well, not many more days and it will no longer be my concern.”
“You have been most kind to all of us. We are grateful for your hospitality.”
“It has not been all burden.” A faint blush rose up Sarah’s wrinkled cheeks. “It is good to be needed sometimes.”
Javan surprised them both by drawing the old woman into his arms for a gentle hug. She soaked it up before pushing him away.
“Well,” she fluttered, “I have no time for foolishness. There is much to do for the meal. I am very busy.”
Javan grinned after her as she scurried away, not fooled at all. She had needed that hug, more even than he needed to show his gratitude – and affection. He knew she worked Taleh and Merab hard, but it did them no harm, and probably much good. There was much more work with five people in the house than there had been with one, but he seriously doubted Sarah felt the brunt of it.
He followed Sarah’s path to the doorway in the back of the house, and stood, watching. Again. That was all he did any more, he thought. He watched, and lusted.
A slight breeze toyed with Taleh’s hair. The women no longer wore their all-concealing headdresses in Sarah’s presence, perhaps because their hair now covered the scalp. Merab’s hair was coming in faster than Taleh’s, thick and straight. She often ran her fingers through it, and had developed the habit of pushing it back even though it was not long enough yet to hang in her eyes.
Taleh had no such reward. Her hair was coming in with tight black curls that tucked close to her head. He knew her hair was full of bends and waves when long, but these curls tugged at something deep inside him. They framed her face to perfection. While he missed the shiny black length, he was surprised anew each day at how much he enjoyed watching it come back.
He had not realized how much a woman’s hair meant to her until he saw the reactions of these two.
Merab brushed at a lock of hair, just to feel it. He heard a soft chuckle behind him, and turned to see Obed at his side. But he had not missed the look of pure envy on Taleh’s face just before Obed made his presence known, a look of feminine desire and need and pain.
He could not bear it that she felt hurt still.
He walked over to her. A startled look flashed up into her face. What had his selfish avoidance done to her these past weeks, that she would be so surprised with such a simple thing as seeking out her company?
Javan leaned over her and she tilted her head back, staring up at him with huge, uncertain eyes. He smiled and enjoyed the blush that crept up her cheeks. Unable to resist, he dropped a quick kiss on her lips, and heard her soft gasp of surprise.
He blew lightly on her hair, and watched it flutter with his breath. Reaching out slowly, he touched a curl, and it wrapped around his finger. It felt like a caress, as soft as a sigh. His hand trembled, and he looked at it in shock.
They had only three more days.
Her eyes were so expressive, so vulnerable. Did she think he had stayed away because he thought her no longer beautiful? Could it be she really did not kn
ow the perfection of her face, the allure of her body?
He took a chance, gritted his teeth, pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her. He cupped her head with his hand and drew it down to his shoulder. A fine sheen of sweat broke out, sending chills down his spine, but he did not let go, not this time. She needed this small moment. Saul had told him, and Leah.
Her head fit under his chin, then slid into the hollow of his shoulder, nestling there, the soft curls tickling the bare skin of his arm. Her heart beat a soft rhythm against his chest, thrumming in time to his own.
It was too much.
He let go of her and stepped back, too quickly. Taleh looked as if he had slapped her. Perhaps he had, but his breath was still too fast.
They were alone. The others had already taken the meal inside.
A tear trickled down his wife’s cheek, and his heart cracked. “Taleh, I do not have enough control to touch you again,” he said. “Please do not cry. I am not rejecting you. If I touch you again, I fear I will not be able to stop, and I cannot do that yet. Please be patient just for three more days. Will you help me on this?”
She nodded, and hiccupped with a soft inhale, but her face cleared and the emptiness left her eyes.
Taleh awoke early to watch Javan leave, and felt a pain in her heart. It worried her, and worse even, it nearly terrified her. It was harder to see him leave now than it had been in the first days.
And she finally knew why.
Javan had held her yesterday, and she knew.
She had fallen in love with him. But had he, with her?
What did it feel like for a man when he fell in love? How did he act? Did men fall in love? She did not think her father really loved her mother, or had their feelings for each other died that day when their son was put to death? She knew her mother had not loved her father all the years she was growing up. Oh, she had done her duty as a wife and mother, but Taleh had never seen any signs that resembled what she felt.
Temper The Wind (Ancient Israel) Page 18
