Temper The Wind (Ancient Israel)

by Boyd, Mary Ellen

  How strange she must look. What would she say to Javan if he found her? It humiliated her, this odd behavior. She did not mistrust her instincts. She knew the threat existed.

  The day was hot and sunny, the sky a sultry blue blanket. Burdened by both her awkward bulk and the heat, Taleh struggled to cook the meal. The fire under the heavy iron pot added its own oppression. Sweat trickled down her face. Her hair stuck to her neck. Even the child within was quiet.

  She needed to add the vegetables to the stew. The meat was tender, ready for them. They sat, cut into neat pieces, on the table in the house – leeks, carrots, turnips, parsley. The boy was still in sight, carrying buckets of water from the cistern for the animals.

  It would be perfectly safe. Just go inside, get the vegetables, and come back out.

  She hurried. Everything was in the tightly woven basket of reeds, right where she remembered.

  A footstep crunched behind her. Before she could turn around, a thick, hairy arm wrapped around her throat.

  God, help me, she thought, and opened her mouth to scream.

  A cloth was shoved inside. “Do as I say, and you will not be hurt,” a deep voice growled in her ear.

  She could not breathe! Ignoring his warning, she clawed with her fingernails at the arms that held her, a big arm with dark hair.

  Her captor grabbed her hands and pulled them behind her. Taleh screamed against the gag, her cries for help trapped in her throat.

  Rough rope scraped against her wrists as the man tied them together. She lost her balance and toppled. Cruel hands caught her and jerked her back upright.

  Make noise! She had to make noise!

  He held her by the wrists. He could be her balance. She lashed a leg toward the bench, ignoring the tearing pain in her shoulders. The bench scraped against the stone floor, but did not tip over. The man jerked her roughly away.

  “Where is your cloak?”

  The harsh voice rasped in her ear. Where had she heard it before? From the corner of her eye, she saw dark hair and high cheekbones. He moved and even that much was gone.

  Who was he?

  “Where is your cloak?” He pulled her arms up and muscles spasmed with the pain. Taleh choked against the gag. He stood still. Taleh could almost feel him thinking.

  It terrified her.

  “Come.” The brutal hands jerked her again, this time toward the bedroom.

  What she had felt until now paled before the horror that surged through her. She would die rather than submit.

  Then the baby would die, too.

  The man fought to hold her. Rope pulled skin off her wrists. A large leg swept her feet from under her, and she fell forward. Heavy hands pushed her face into the bed. The scent of rushes filled her nose.

  “If you want to live, do not try to look.” His breath was hot on her cheek. Cold chills raised bumps on her skin.

  Her belly pinned her down. Without her hands, she could not rise. The man pulled her head back only long enough to tie something rolled thick over her eyes. Taleh heard him grab at a pile of robes that lay over the low chest. From the sound of his careless speed, he took whatever lay in easy reach. With rough hands, he pulled her back up by an arm and exited the room.

  As he moved through the house with more haste than thought, he bumped heavily into the table. Taking her chance, Taleh pulled violently against his grip. Something ruffled softly to the floor, but he did not let go. She heard the small water jar tip, heard the first splashes fall on the floor.

  But it was not enough. Taleh could not hear any sounds after they passed through the door. No one called out. No one waited to rescue her.

  No shouts followed them around the back of the house and into the thin woods that grew close by.

  He pushed and dragged her through the trees, into the thicker cover of the forest. Branches slapped her, roots tripped her. Pain lanced through her side as she fought to breathe. Her awkward steps slowed him. Her awkward steps slowed their flight. He took pity on her sightless fumbles and peeled the blindfold off, tearing out strands of hair as he did so. Always he stayed behind her, guiding her by tugs and pushes. Several sharp slaps taught her not to try to look back.

  Finally he stopped. Taleh’s last hope fled.

  Two horses stood ready. He hoisted her clumsily onto one, and mounted his own with menacing skill. Taleh stared in horror at his back, feeling recognition tug lightly at her. She knew him from somewhere . . .

  When he turned to grab the reins of her horse, Taleh screamed into the gag.

  She looked into the face of Pelet.

  C H A P T E R 26

  The slave ran in great strides across the field, his arms flailing the air. Javan watched him come.

  He did not like the feeling building within.

  “Taleh! My lord, your wife . . . gone . . .”

  Gone? On legs that could not move fast enough to keep pace with his fear, Javan ran from the field. The slave followed on his heels, exhausted but struggling gamely to keep up. All the others stopped what they were doing to watch

  The stew bubbled the last of its moisture as he slowed for a look. He burst through the open door of their house, and stopped. He did not see her. He had no breath left to call her name.

  His mind knew what his heart rejected. The house was empty of her presence. To another’s eye, little seemed wrong, but Javan had lived with her too long to miss clues. A cloak flung upon the floor, a bench pulled awry, the jar of water dripping its last slow drops onto the stone.

  He smelled her fear, faint on the air.

  Taleh was gone. He walked with heavy feet across the room and picked up her cloak. Her scent wrapped around him, squeezing his terrified heart. He prayed she would be warm enough until he could find her. Night would be here soon, and even this late in the summer, it would be cool.

  Why had he not listened to her worries? Why had he been so quick to blame the pregnancy?

  His hands were shaking, he noticed with a sense of shock.

  Where was she now? Was she alive? Was she hurt?

  Taleh – Taleh, come back to me. Taleh, be safe, Taleh, be brave. Taleh, hold on. I will find you.

  He could not think. What had happened to his mind? Where did he start, to find her?

  Had he ever told her what she meant to him? He could not remember saying the words.

  Would he have time?

  He turned to the breathless slave who had followed him. “What did you see?”

  The boy’s shoulders sagged, and his eyes were filled with shock and fear. “She had been here, cooking. I saw her go into the house. Then I saw a lamb stuck in the far fence, and I went over to get it free. When I was done, I turned to look again. She was not outside. I did not think anything of it, until later. I do not know how much time passed before I realized she would not leave the stew for so long. I heard nothing. When I decided to take a look, I did not find her. She was nowhere.”

  Javan barely absorbed his words. He could not be still, could not stand still, could not concentrate. He scanned the room for more clues. The cloak, the jar, the bench, - there must be something else, something they were missing.

  Think! He had to think!

  Taleh could not be ripped out of his life without leaving a hole so big everyone could see it.

  He moved to the room where they slept, afraid to push aside the curtain. His legs trembled now, too. He held his breath as he shoved the divider aside.

  No body met his eyes, no bloodstains, no death. He could be grateful for that much.

  Where did he start? Images flashed through his mind: Taleh screaming, Taleh hungry, Taleh hurt.

  Taleh dead.

  He could not do this alone.

  “What do you mean? What kind of story is this?” Obed stared at him over the leather he was cutting. The shutters had been thrown open to catch every bit of light and the lowering sun cast strange shadows. He squinted at Javan again, and waited.

  “Taleh has been taken! I have the slaves starting
the search, but I will need your help.” Javan fought down the urge to grab Obed by his belt and drag him along. With every moment that passed, he could feel Taleh moving farther away. He found a fragment of calm somewhere inside. “She insisted for several days, ever since the last caravan came through, that someone was following her. I thought it was some strange effect of the pregnancy. But obviously, I was wrong!” The urgency burst past his fragile restraints. “Will you help me or not?”

  “Of course, I will help you. You came with me to get my wife. It is the least I owe you. But, Javan, think – who would do this thing? I cannot seriously believe her family survived. We know her sister did not. If her father was in the army outside the city, none of them survived. No one in our village could mean harm to her. She is winning over even the hardest of hearts.”

  That came as a surprise to Javan. “She is?”

  “Certainly. She is one of us, now.” While he had been listening, Obed had tossed the last of his tools away, and shoved aside the leather pieces. With no wasted movements, he removed his leather apron and threw it toward a peg. “I am right behind you.”

  A crowd waited outside Obed’s shop door. Javan stopped in surprise. Questions pelted him.

  “What has happened?” “Is it true? Your wife has been kidnapped?” “Do you wish for assistance? I will be happy to help.”

  The concern of the crowd touched him. “Please, I must know. Has anyone heard of a plot against my wife?”

  Heads shook all over the gathering. “No!” “I have heard nothing.” “Who would want to harm her?” “Why would we wish her evil?”

  Javan asked everyone’s question. “But if no one here did this thing, who did?”

  Saul worked his way to the front of the crowd. “Javan! Is it true? Taleh has been kidnapped?”

  “Yes. It is true.”

  “God have mercy on me!” Saul tore at what was left of his hair. “I should have said something!”

  “What?” Javan grasped his arms.

  “It was when the Midianites were last here, when Obed sent his wife away. A man, a voice I did not know. He came into my shop, and asked if you lived here. He said he needed work, and wanted to work on a farm. He mentioned you by name. I thought little of it at the time. It did not occur to me that there should be no more displaced people. The Ammonites have been vanquished. So why is he not on his own land?”

  “A good question.” Javan thought hard, his mind finally having something to pursue. “Did he have an accent, a lisp, anything about his speech that you marked?”

  Saul shook his head. “He sounded like an Israelite.”

  “He never mentioned my wife?”

  “No, I do not think so. Only you.” Saul held a hand up, his brows furrowed in thought. “There was something more. I cannot remember . . .”

  Javan kept still, afraid any word would block the memory trying to surface.

  “Yes! I remember now! He asked about Obed, by name. And when he turned to leave, something thumped against a table, something metal. I thought it an unusual sound, a sword perhaps..”

  Javan turned around and stared blankly at Obed. “Who would hate me so? He knew us both by name. What madness is this?”

  Another time, Taleh’s frightened face. In a single, blinding flash, he knew.

  “Pelet! It is Pelet. It must be.” Javan’s tongue felt thick in his mouth. “Did you hear what Saul said? He mentioned both our names, and now my wife is missing. It is like before. Who else could it be?”

  “Why would he wait so long?” Obed asked.

  “I do not know. But Taleh has been so frightened. Who knows how a warning comes?”

  The deep pulling began again. Taleh leaned on the horse’s neck, holding the mane tightly, and braced herself to endure. Pelet had removed the gag and retied her hands in front when they were far from the village and no one could hear. She had to remind herself to breathe, to remain calm. It did not hurt yet, but she was very afraid it would, and soon.

  Pelet continued to push them onward, taking her farther and farther from her home, from anything familiar to her. The land grew steeper, the trees they passed were thicker. She had not seen any signs of people, or cultivated land. There were no fruit trees in neat rows here, only some wild figs, and some cedar. Occasionally she heard the screech of wild animals, then low growling that stood the hair on her neck on end.

  Yet there had to be people around somewhere, for they followed a path that showed someone had gone this way, but who, and when?

  They stopped at a stream to fill the water skins that hung almost dry from his saddle, and to walk and water the horses. Taleh relieved herself then. They stopped once more to take care of their bodies’ needs. The new sensations in her womb continued, but still without pain. She wished she remembered more of what Sarah had told her of birth. She wished she had paid more attention when Merab’s daughter was born.

  What would Pelet do if he found out she had labor pains? Would he help her? Or would he leave her beside the road?

  No, not that. He had not come this far to abandon her now. He had spoken little, and Taleh could not fashion a single safe question. There were too many of them, and no right way to ask.

  By now, Javan surely knew she was gone. What was he doing? Would he be able to follow their tracks? Pelet had made no effort to disguise their movements, or so it seemed to her inexperienced eyes. He was concerned only with speed.

  They had pulled up for quick moments during the course of their day to allow him to look around. He never told her what he sought, nor did he allow her off her horse at those times. She had tried it once. It was not a mistake to make twice.

  She struggled to hold in her panic as they moved onward, leaving her heart farther behind.

  The sun lay low on the horizon. The horses could no longer keep the pace. They tried valiantly, but it was no use. Pelet was forced to allow the animals to slow.

  Taleh hid her relief. This was the first thing all day that had gone right, the first thing that gave her hope she could be rescued.

  The pulling came again, suddenly sharper, taking her breath away. She did not even have time to gasp. She knew now, with absolute certainty, that there was no turning back.

  Javan’s child wanted to be born.

  From deep within herself, Taleh found a well of strength. Javan would come. She would bear his child and keep it safe.

  The tired horse slipped on a rock, and the tightening came again, too soon, too hard, wrapping around her swollen belly. For a second time, she could not breathe. Her fingers clenched in the horse’s mane. Her shoulders sagged as she curled inward. I will not fall off, she said to herself, I will not, I will not.

  After a frighteningly long time when she was certain Pelet would see and guess, it eased. She felt limp, and tired to her very bone. Every movement of the horse jarred, leaving echoes in her teeth. I must be strong. I can endure this.

  Javan will come.

  Pelet glanced over then, but she had herself under control. “Are you tired?”

  Taleh longed to say yes, but she did not trust his eyes. She spoke before the tightness reached its peak and words would be impossible. “I can go a little farther.”

  “I think we are far enough for today. It is getting dark. I will look for a place to hide until I am ready.”

  Ready? For what?

  They went on slowly, heading into the trees. The horses carefully picked their way through hanging branches, beneath twigs and around rocks and brush. The trees’ covering added to the dimness, as twilight settled slowly. The pains came ever closer. Her hands were swollen against the binding around her wrists. Taleh did not know how much farther she could ride. She was grateful Pelet had not listened to her and kept going.

  At last, through a haze of pain, she heard Pelet say, “We will camp here. There is a small stream, and no one will be able to find us easily.”

  She could not open her mouth to respond. If she tried, she surely would scream. It was trapped there, lo
cked in her throat, fighting to get loose as the pain reached the apex. Her legs would not move, her hands could not let go of the mane tangled within her fingers’ tight grasp. The only way off the horse was to fall, and she did not dare do that.

  “Get down now.”

  The pain released its grip, fading slowly and leaving a hollow behind, a hole where the agony belonged and which it would soon fill again. Despite the early chill of evening, perspiration formed between her shoulder blades and in the space between her breasts.

  Sarah, Javan, help me. What do I do now? She thought of their God, and begged a silent plea. Help me save the babe. Help him find us. Please, Javan’s God, please protect us.

  Pelet grabbed an arm and pulled. Taleh tilted toward him, and let go of the horse. Her leg slid over the horse’s back under his relentless force.

  The pain came again, wrenching her without warning. The scream came out limply, only a moan on an outrush of air, as her unprepared body absorbed this latest, too sudden convulsion.

  “What is wrong? What is the matter? Are you sore? I cannot make allowances for you.”

  Her legs buckled when they touched the ground, and without his firm hold on her, she would have fallen.

  “Stand a moment and then walk until all the stiffness eases.” His voice held an odd kindness, the first she had heard all day. “Walk now.”

  “I cannot,” she gasped.

  He began walking, holding her tightly to his side. Taleh wanted to push him away, ill at the thought of his closeness, but her body clung to his support.

  “See? Is that not better already?”

  She turned her head to stare at him, oppressively near, smiling down at her.

  “No, do not make me do all the work. You must walk with me. Now, move your legs.”

  “I cannot!” The words ended in a shriek when the next pain twisted through her. She arched away from it, from him.

  Pelet stared at her, not releasing his hold, disbelieving the evidence of his own eyes. “Are you having labor pains?” His face held shock.

  “Yes.” She could barely groan the word.