Temper The Wind (Ancient Israel)

by Boyd, Mary Ellen

“You cannot be!”

  She did not answer, absorbed within herself.

  Pelet shook her viciously. Taleh wanted to scream from the agony in her legs and hips, in her womb, in her back and arms, but there was no room on her lungs for the effort.

  Her legs buckled. She slipped through Pelet’s hands like water. He grabbed at her, but it was as though, despite her bulk, there was nothing solid to hold on to. She landed on her hands and knees, one more pain piling on the others. The ground was damp. She felt the moisture clammy on her gown, seeping darkly through the robe. Torment piled upon itself, chilling her bones while the sweat beaded on her skin.

  She wanted to pull away from it, but it was stronger than she was. Her travail held her unmoving, caught in sharp talons.

  He knelt beside her, and pulled her head up by her hair. His face was blurred and dark. “What are you going to do to me?” She had to speak quickly, before the next pain could come.

  “Things have not gone well for me. I saw your – Javan’s – farm. He has not suffered this past year. He has not had to fight for everything, he was not attacked on his way home. He did not arrive at his village beaten and robbed, with barely enough to buy food. No! Fortune smiles on him. Well, you should have been mine. I spoke for you, did you know that? But everything comes easily to Javan. He did not have to struggle.”

  Taleh remembered those lonely first days, when Javan worked until he could sleep where he stood. Another wave of agony spun her thoughts away before she could speak.

  “I was to have you. Twice, I tried. I spoke, then I took. Now he can pay. Either way, whatever he decides, he will have to pay. If he does not want you, perhaps he will pay for the child. But heed me well. He will pay. I will have compensation, one way or another.”

  What was he talking about? “Javan found me first. I will go with him. You cannot keep me –” The next pain cut off her words. Her arms gave way, and she fell onto the ground, rolling away from the racking misery, curling into herself for protection. Someone whimpered nearby, a pitiful sound against the still night.

  A waterskin was shoved against her mouth, and she gagged. The scent of wet leather overwhelmed her. She gave in to the nausea, vomiting what little remained in her stomach. It burned her throat.

  The pain gave way bit by bit, leaving her wet and dirty from the forest floor. The air was cool, and she began to shiver, despite the heat inside her body. She was both hot and cold, and her belly felt like ice.

  “Can I please have my cloak?” Surely he would not deny her that.

  Pelet moved toward the horses. She could no longer keep her eyes open. She heard his steps get dim, and then reappear. The cloak dropped heavily upon her where she lay on her side upon the moist ground.

  Javan’s scent filled her nostrils. The chill deep within eased, pushed aside by the memory of love. In his hurry to get her out of the house, Pelet must have grabbed Javan’s cloak instead of her own. It comforted her now, wrapping her in warmth both inside and out.

  Javan would come for her. There was no room in her mind for doubt. Pelet had gone mad with bitterness, or maybe he had been such all along and no one had noticed. Surely a madman could not outwit Javan. Her husband was wise, and careful, and still retained the skills of a warrior. He would be here soon.

  She had to take care of their child, keep it alive and safe until he found them. She would not let Pelet harm the baby, would defend it with her very life if necessary.

  The pains came in rhythm, closer now, and strong. She could not move without help, could not turn over , could not stand to walk to the bushes to relieve her bladder and bowels unless Pelet helped her. The aura of bitterness and revenge that emanated from him no longer bothered her. She needed assistance, and he was all she had.

  Pelet stood impotently by, doing what she needed him to do, but otherwise lost. Whatever plans he had made were held in abeyance by the needs of Taleh’s birthing.

  He lit a fire for her, for she told him she was still cold. He removed the brush from their campsite to make a place for her to lie. He saved moss from the nearby trees to tuck inside the swaddling clothes. Taleh knew she would have to tear her robe into pieces to make them. It did not matter.

  Nothing mattered now except the relentless course of the labor, and the wait for Javan.

  C H A P T E R 27

  Obed and Javan stopped at the same moment, holding their camels in place. The night was quiet, except for the wind against the leaves, and the crickets and night bugs. A small animal scuffled through the woods nearby.

  “Do you smell it?” Javan allowed himself to feel excitement for the first time.

  “Yes. Fire. Green wood.”

  “It must be them. Who else could it be?”

  Obed could think of many people it could be, but he, too, wanted to believe, so he said nothing.

  Javan turned and sniffed the air, and turned again. “It is coming from that direction.” He pointed into the woods.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” Javan’s teeth glinted in the faint glow of the moon. His smile held only menace. “She had better be alive. I will kill the man regardless.”

  Obed cut him off. “Javan, we have Law for this. Be careful of your speech.”

  Javan clenched his jaw to keep the rest of his hot words inside. Remember Taleh, he reminded himself. She was all that mattered.

  The two men hobbled the camels’ legs, and made their weapons ready. With only their noses to guide them, they eased carefully through the dense woods. Pungent with rotting leaves, the tang of cedar and musk from the animals that made this area home, Javan only noticed the smoke that clung to the damp night air. Even in the dark, there was evidence someone else had gone this way, and recently. Broken limbs from bushes still bore fresh leaves. Whoever passed here, the leaves had not had a chance to dry.

  To Javan’s cautious ears, their movements made far too much noise. Every footstep sounded like the beat of a drum now. Even the pounding of his heart was too loud.

  The scent of a campfire grew stronger. He motioned Obed to slow. Like shadows in the dark, they slid through the trees, finding their old skills again.

  A faint glow showed a clearing in the trees. A man strode past the fire’s light.

  Pelet.

  His instincts had been correct. But there was no time for self-congratulation. Javan watched in horror as Pelet paced back and forth like an animal in a pit. He saw no sign of Taleh. Killing rage swept over him. His hand clenched around his sword before logic cooled his mind. He wanted to shriek a battle cry, to leap forward, to put a knife into Pelet and force him to confess that he had done with her. Was she still alive? Where had he hidden her?

  Instead, he forced himself to stay, to watch, to plan.

  A soft moan shivered on the air. A woman’s sound.

  She lived!

  A whisper, barely a sound, came. Obed’s whisper, barely a sound, came. “I can see her! In the dark, beyond the flame. I think she is in childbirth.”

  Childbirth. “We must keep his attention away from her. He cannot fight us both and guard her, also. You guard my wife. Keep him away from her. I will do the rest.”

  Obed nodded. “Give me time to get to her before you move.” He slipped away, fading into the cover of trees and dark.

  Javan counted slowly, keeping his eyes on Pelet as he paced. How much time would Obed need? He still could not see his wife. If not for that one sound, he would not know she was near. She was birthing? He could not think of that.

  A branch swayed across the camp, on the opposite side of the fire.

  Pelet whirled around, even though he had made no sound. “Javan? Hiding like the thieving jackal that you are? Take care what you do, I have your wife!”

  Javan said nothing, his silence goading Pelet.

  “You thought you had her so safe!” The mocking voice polluted the air. “You are not too clever for me! I found her.” Pelet paused, standing there, still. Javan could feel his waiting, hoping for a wro
ng move. “Perhaps I will keep her. I should. I deserve her.”

  Javan did not move, did not speak. Rage tore at him with bitter claws, but he held it at bay. He would not play into Pelet’s hand.

  “How much value do you put on your woman?” Pelet’s sword was in his hand. Javan prayed Taleh stayed calm, that she had faith in him. He prayed he deserved that trust.

  “You do not answer? Is she not worth a sheep? A goat? A camel? Truly, how much is she worth to you?”

  Obed needed a distraction to get into place. Taleh needed to hear his voice. Javan rose. “Why Taleh? Why my woman? Why this long? I expected you to lay in wait for us on the trip here. That would have been a challenge worthy of your skills, taking both Obed and me. You could have had two women, all our animals, our seed for your fields, our slaves to add to your own. Why did you wait this long?”

  “I was robbed on the way home after the wars. I had no time to come for Taleh.” Pelet’s sword came up. Behind him, Javan could see Obed in the shadows. He still had not seen what he truly wanted to see, his wife. And he could not look. Pelet was watching him too closely. Did Pelet really think Javan would come alone?

  “You know I claimed her? Did Jephthah not tell you?” The sword was absolutely steady, the only movement on it the flickering of the fire. Pelet had not grown soft. “He offered me other women, my pick.” He spat the word. “But I wanted her. She was my choice, from the very first. I almost had her that night. If I had not been stopped by Obed’s men, we would have been long gone.”

  “Obed’s men did not stop you. Taleh did not want to go. Now you think to steal her a second time?”

  The sword shivered in the air. The man was not as calm as he wanted Javan to think. “You call it theft?” Pelet leaned forward, and laughed. “I have her now. Perhaps I could say she wanted to come, she was eager.” He threw back his shoulders and stood proudly.

  Javan jerked before he could stop it.

  Pelet had not turned to check on Taleh. Javan could not plan his attack if he did not know where she was. Pelet went on, mockingly. “I am surprised at how quickly you came after her. She must be a prize. I had thought, after this much time with her, you would have had your fill. I heard rumors in the village as I waited. A wife sent back? Only they did not say which wife. Not yours, I see.” Pelet shifted.

  It was quiet on the other side of the fire. Obed had not moved. Javan wanted to start the battle. The cold night chilled his muscles. He would need to be loose to hold his own against Pelet. He took a step out from the shelter of the trees. A sword swing needed room.

  “So you come for her. You track her through darkness.” Pelet laughed, but it was strained.

  “You knew I would come.”

  Pelet nodded, a bare bend of his head. “I hoped. You see, it is very simple. If you wanted her gone, perhaps you would pay me to take her. One Ammonite wife discarded, why not another? Or you would want her back, and pay me to return her. You see, I win every way.” Pelet’s voice was chillingly reasonable. “As I said, I was robbed on the way home after the wars. The thieves missed very little. You, no doubt, arrived to a great welcome. I had barely enough to repair my home. I had no time to come for Taleh.” He gave a bitter snort of laughter. It was the only sign of emotion. Javan went cold at that calm voice. “Your cattle are healthy, your sheep are fertile. Your land is rich. You had so much. You could share. There were not even women in my village to choose from. And why should I? I had a woman claimed already. All I had to do was go get her.”

  Javan took another step.

  “But I need gold, and I did not know where you hid it. Then my house burned. There was no more time. It was very simple. If you did not want her, I would ask money to keep her, I would buy her from you. I needed a wife, I did not care that she belonged to you first. And if you did want her back, you would pay handsomely. I would be gone before anyone would find me, but for you! You, always you!”

  Pelet’s eyes were black with hatred. “The child was a bonus. An instant heir for me, or more money if you wanted to keep it.” He was poised on his feet. “You see? I win!”

  The sword came so fast it split the air. Metal clanged. The ground was slippery. Swords flashed, the fire sliding down the blades, making the sound of vicious bells as they rang together again and again.

  Suddenly Taleh was close behind Pelet, Javan saw her at last on the ground, Obed behind her in the thick brush. A sword came too close in Javan’s distraction, the tip burning his skin as it rushed past, and Pelet’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction.

  Javan pretended retreat, anything to get the battle away from his wife, hoping Pelet would follow.

  He did. How had he not seen Obed?

  There was no time to think. The swords rang again and again. Javan’s skin shivered with the vibrations from meeting Pelet’s mighty swings. Pelet had forgotten nothing. Javan had to trust Obed to keep Taleh safe.

  The battle went back and forth. The ground turned into mud as they churned it, and dug it up, feet cutting in for purchase. Javan stepped into the fire, and smelled the hair on his legs singe. He leapt aside and kept swinging. Sweat broke out.

  Taleh moaned. Javan blocked his ears.

  And then Pelet’s foot slipped, his sword dipping down for one blink of time. Javan found his chance and drove home one last swing, all his strength in one blow. Pelet’s sword cracked, but held Javan off for one instant. Javan saw a knife in his other hand just before Pelet tossed the broken sword aside. Javan dodged, felt the wind as the knife went past. It slammed into a tree, imbedding itself, and hummed, trembling like a live thing.

  Pelet suddenly froze. He held his hands out to either side in surrender. Obed stood behind him, his sword against Pelet’s back.

  “You think you’ve won. I will plead my case before the village.” There was evil in Pelet’s grin. “You think I am beaten? I still have a chance.”

  Obed grabbed a hand, jerked it behind him and twisted it up. He was fresh, Pelet was tired. Pelet rose on his toes, and made himself settle back. He still grinned.

  Javan grabbed the other hand. He stuck his sword in the ground, and pulled a rope from his belt. With Pelet bound, he knelt beside his wife, and watched her breathing in little pants, soft whimpers, and pitiful moans.

  “Oh, wife, this is not how it was to be.”

  Her eyes opened, and his heart ached with joy as she smiled up at him. “I knew you would come. I knew you would find me.”

  “I will always find you, do not doubt it. You are mine.”

  Another spasm swept her away from him, and he could only watch helplessly as she endured.

  “You must get her to Sarah,” Obed said.

  “How? How can I move her like this? What if I hurt her?” It was easy for Obed to speak so easily. It was not his wife at stake.

  “Leah says first births are often long. If she tries to give birth here, what chance will either have? She needs Sarah.”

  Javan gave him a panicked look. “But the trip! Will she survive the trip?”

  “She has survived labor pains in the company of Pelet and his madness. Women are stronger than we think. Better the journey with you than a birth here.”

  C H A P T E R 28

  Javan forced the camel at full speed into the sleeping village. It was much faster coming back than trying to follow hints of a trail, not knowing where it led. The sun was near enough to the horizon to take the edge off the darkness. Taleh twisted in his arms, fighting another pain. Sweat beaded on her skin, and soaked through her robe. He had wrapped her warmly in his cloak. He had wrapped her warmly in his cloak. He did not know if that was the right thing or not. Too hot or too cold, which was right?

  He guided the camel around the curving streets, glad of the emptiness, for he could never pull the animal up in time to stop. Sarah’s house appeared, and he hauled back on the reins with one hand while the other held desperately to his struggling wife. They stopped in front of Sarah’s door. The camel folded its ungainly legs, and Java
n wrestled himself and his precious burden off. His arms were full of his wife, so he kicked at the heavy door, and yelled for Sarah.

  His frantic voice echoed down the quiet streets. “Sarah? It is Javan. I found her! Please let us in. We need your help!”

  A lattice creaked open. “God be thanked, it is you!”

  The lattice closed again, and Javan leaned against the wall for support. His arms trembled from the strain of holding her for so long. Wrapped in her pain, Taleh stiffened in his arms, adding to his burden.

  The door opened much too slowly to suit Javan. His feet dragged against the threshold as he stepped inside.

  “Be careful! Do not trip.” Sarah raised a sputtering oil lamp, its scent thick on the air. She held it close to Taleh, and Javan thought he heard her gasp. One wrinkled hand moved against Taleh’s flushed cheek. “Poor dear child,” she whispered. Then she became commanding. “Bring her into my room. It is on this floor.” She led the way.

  The early meal came and went. The village stirred into busy life. Someone brought word that Obed had arrived and delivered Pelet into the custody of the elders. The sun rose higher in the sky, the air warmed. Morning dragged by, while Javan walked outside and then back in, unable to decide what he should be doing. Whimpers and moans coming from Sarah’s room sent chills down his spine. Every whimper stuck like a dagger in his heart. He ached at what she must be enduring. Had he hurt her by the awful journey to bring her here? He wanted to go and ask Sarah if this was normal, if she was well, if the child still lived within her, but he was more afraid of the answers, so he did not.

  Every whimper stuck like a dagger in his heart. How could she endure this? How long had it been, how much longer could it go? He had some idea of what went on, for he had held her during the journey and had seen her torn with pain, trying not to cry out.

  Women died giving birth. Was not the history of his people filled with such stories?

  She could not die. How could he live without her? How had this happened, that a young woman from Ammon of all places should take total possession of his heart? When had he started loving her? Why had he never told her? He needed to tell her now, needed her to hear it. He wanted his child to be born into that love, to feel its warmth sheltering him.