A Light on the Hill

by Connilyn Cossette

  My father looked at me with curiosity. “Moriyah? Are you well?”

  I nodded. Then doing my best to keep my lips from quivering, I spoke, my voice thin and wobbly. “I must speak to you. It’s urgent.”

  “I’ll leave you to it then! I’ll be expecting that delivery in the morning.” Eleazar waved to my father with a chuckle. “And make sure there is an extra jar or two for me in there as well.”

  “Of that you can be certain, my friend. Yuval, give the man your torch. It will be dark soon.”

  After accepting the torch from Yuval, the High Priest walked away, his long white garment swaying gently in the evening breeze.

  “Daughter. You look distraught.” My father slipped his arm around my shoulders as the priest disappeared around a bend in the trail. “What is the matter?”

  “You must send someone to help Raviv. The boys . . . Zeev and Yared are gravely ill. They are . . .” My voice shattered. “Dying.”

  “Dying?”

  “They ate my stew and then both of them fell to vomiting.” Tears blurred my sight. “They are in such pain.”

  “Yuval,” said my father. “Go, take a couple of men and find out what is happening.”

  Yuval spun around, ducking back into the storehouse and calling out for two of the workers, Baz and Aviram, to come with him. The three men sprinted up the trail toward our home.

  My father turned to me and placed his hands on either side of my face. “Moriyah. Tell me what happened.”

  With tears soaking my veil and my stomach threatening to release its own contents on the ground, I relayed what had happened in our home. “There is nothing more deadly than oleander, Abba. Ohel told me that back in Jericho. And when Eitan picked it today I was so distracted that I tossed it in my basket with my other herbs. I must have grabbed it when I was upset after Zeev and Yared left the house and chopped it up with the garlic.” My legs wobbled as my strength ebbed. “I killed them. I killed two children.”

  My father held onto me, his iron grip keeping me from crumbling to the ground. “Shh, daughter. We don’t know that they are dead. Perhaps they will recover.”

  “No. I killed them,” I moaned. “And when he sees the oleander in the stew, Raviv will demand justice. He will demand my death.”

  “No. I won’t let that happen.” My father pressed me away from him and then gripped his forehead with his palm. “Let me think,” he rasped.

  Yuval returned, his two men at his flank. “One boy has already died, and the other is vomiting blood. He will not survive much longer. Raviv is beside himself. Blaming Moriyah. Oleander leaves were discovered in the stew.”

  My father stared at me, his gray eyes pale in the lamplight. “We must take her down to the Mishkan.”

  “What do you mean?” I gripped my father’s tunic.

  “You have to go. The next of kin has every right to take vengeance. Raviv can cut you down without retribution. But a killer can plead for mercy by grabbing ahold of the horns of the altar, demand a trial.”

  Killer. The word reverberated like a shofar call ringing across the hills. All my blood rushed to my feet, my vision going black as my knees finally buckled.

  When my eyes opened again, Yuval was shaking me, calling my name. “We must go, Moriyah.”

  My father, too, stood over me, his palm flat against his chest. “Please, daughter. Hurry! Yuval will take you down there much quicker than I can.”

  Blood rushing and legs unsteady, I pushed myself to stand, then clung to my father as another torrent of tears burned my cheeks. “Abba, are you having pains again?”

  “No. I am fine. Just worried for you.” He pressed me away with gentle hands. “Go with Yuval. He, Baz, and Aviram will ensure you get down there safely. I’ll be along soon.”

  “Abba. I am so sorry!”

  “It was an accident. And that will be proven, I will make sure of it. But now, you must go, or you will never have a chance to defend yourself.” He yanked me into a fierce hug and kissed my veiled cheek, and then lifted my headscarf to place another firm kiss on my bare forehead. Then he pushed me toward his steward. “I am trusting you with my precious daughter. Protect her, Yuval.”

  Yuval’s voice wavered with emotion. “With my own life.”

  My father waved his arms at us. “Go!”

  Yuval tugged on my arm, and I took a few steps before turning back. I could die tonight. “Abba. Take care of Eitan and Ora too. Please.”

  “Of course.” He flung his hand at me. “Go, Moriyah! Run!”

  Trusting Yuval to drag me along, I craned my neck to look back until the trees obscured my view of my father standing just outside the storehouse door, but before they did, he slumped to his knees and laid his face in the dirt, arms outstretched in supplication. Would that be the last view I’d ever have of my abba?

  CHAPTER

  Ten

  The other two men who’d run to aid Yuval were waiting for us behind the workers’ quarters at the edge of the vineyard.

  “There you are!” The younger one, Baz, offered me a woolen cloak, which he wrapped around my shoulders. The brawny Hebrew was known for his ability to carry full wine jugs without a bead of sweat moistening his thick black curls. With a reassuring pat to my back, he pulled a tight half-smile. “My wife insisted you take this mantle. It may be a long night.” A glut of burning tears blocked my attempt at thanks.

  Aviram, a man near my father’s age who’d fought alongside him in many battles, had a sword in hand for Yuval. With the awkwardness of someone accustomed to farm tools instead of instruments of war, Yuval accepted the weapon and slid it into his belt. Yuval’s lean-muscled frame was a stark contrast to those of Baz and Aviram, both employed by my father as guards for his precious store of wine. However, what Yuval lacked in brawn he made up for with intelligence. My father was reliant on him for the daily business of the vineyard, expertise in cultivation, and the organization of the many field hands.

  These men were loyal to my father, and I had no doubt they would do their best to protect me as he’d asked, but my whole body screamed to run for Ora’s home nearby, to hide in the safety of her arms until I awoke from whatever nightmare had swallowed me whole. Instead, I had no choice but to let Yuval usher me toward the Mishkan in the valley.

  He pressed me ahead of himself on the narrow trail that led down the hill. With my head down, I followed as close as I could behind Baz. Aviram led the way, his bald head covered with a brown headscarf that matched his beard so well I could not tell where whiskers began and cloth ended.

  The trail curved downward, snaking back and forth along the hill and leading us near a few small mud-brick homes at the edge of the valley—some left behind by the former occupants of Shiloh, and some freshly constructed.

  The windows already glowed with internal lamplight, families inside most likely sitting down to enjoy their Shabbat meal, blissfully unaware that two boys had just partaken of their very last one. Tears tracked down my face as I relived the hollow-eyed horror on Raviv’s face as he gripped his dying child to his chest.

  Behind us, farther down the trail, a man’s voice rang out, calling out to someone to ask if they’d seen anyone coming this way. Every bone in my body turned to water—they were nearly upon us.

  With alarm in his eyes Yuval grabbed my arm and dragged me off the trail, heading for a waist-high pile of wood behind a small group of mud-brick homes. Aviram and Baz followed close behind, weapons unsheathed. The four of us crouched behind the loosely stacked firewood tangled in the long weeds.

  A gap in the wood afforded me the sight of a young woman with a water jug on her hip near one of the homes, her gaze pointed directly at our hiding place. Rimona.

  I slumped forward, sick with dread, and leaned my forehead against the acacia wood, ignoring the prick of the thorny bark against my skin. Without a doubt she would reveal us to Raviv. My instinct was to silently cry out to Yahweh, but especially after what had happened tonight, the useless plea withered away bef
ore I let it take breath.

  Raviv and a few other men approached her, their faces dimly lit by the glow of two torches.

  Raviv approached Rimona. “Did you see a veiled woman pass this way?” His question was a demand. “Accompanied by two or three men?”

  “You mean Moriyah?”

  A war drum thudded in my chest. She’d been vocal about her hatred for me; now she’d have the satisfaction of turning me over to Raviv and watching as he cut me down in vengeance. My remaining heartbeats were few.

  “You’ve seen her tonight?” Raviv’s furious voice sent gooseflesh up my arms and across my back. He’d be merciless when he found me.

  She flipped her palm, as if dismissing him. “She came traipsing through here not long ago, with a few of her father’s men.”

  “Where did she go?” Raviv pressed, stepping closer to tower over her. “Tell me now!”

  Rimona took two steps backward, clutching the water jug closer, her jaw agape.

  Another man moved into the torchlight, arms outstretched, placing himself between Raviv and Rimona. A shiver ran down the length of my spine. Darek.

  “Calm down, Raviv.” The appealing face that had visited my thoughts continually for the past four days was transformed by a mixture of irritation and anger. “Rimona, how long ago did they pass by?”

  She shrugged. “Not long ago. They went that way.” She pointed toward the trail, the only clear route to the Mishkan. What was she doing? Why hadn’t she revealed us?

  Darek nodded his thanks before he and his brother jogged on down the trail, six other men following close behind them. Eight men, all searching for me, for the sole purpose of preventing me from reaching the altar.

  Perhaps they were fully justified in doing so. I’d killed Raviv’s sons, Darek’s nephews. Those poor boys—their pale faces floated on the edges of my vision, announcing that truly, I deserved to die. Body trembling, I began to rise, Raviv’s name building in my throat.

  Yuval yanked me back down. “Don’t even think about it,” he whispered. “There will be a trial, and you will have the chance to explain that this was an accident.”

  “But those boys—” my words choked off.

  “It is awful. But you did not mean to kill them, and I will not allow you to suffer a murderer’s consequences. I made a promise to your father, and I mean to fulfill it.”

  I slumped back to the ground and watched as the two torches grew smaller and smaller and then disappeared into the gathering darkness.

  “There is no way we will reach the Mishkan before them now,” Aviram muttered. “They’ll block her way.”

  “There must be a different path,” said Yuval.

  “None shorter than that one.”

  “We can fight them while Moriyah runs,” Baz said, his tone suggesting he favored the idea.

  “No,” said Aviram. “We need to take her to Shechem.”

  “Shechem?” I stuttered. “No. . . . I cannot . . . I can’t leave my father.”

  “Shechem is a city of refuge. You can run to safety there, just as to the altar.”

  “But they’ll see us,” said Yuval. “The only road to Shechem goes directly in front of the Mishkan.”

  Rimona appeared next to the woodpile, suspicion in her expression. “Shechem? What did Darek and those men want with you, Moriyah?”

  “Why didn’t you—?” Blinking in confusion, I could barely push the half-formed words past my trembling lips as I looked up at her.

  Ignoring my question, she narrowed her eyes. “That man looked like he was ready to kill you. Why?”

  I pulled in a shuddering breath. “They want—”

  “That’s a story too long to be told now,” Aviram interrupted, as he stood and sheathed his sword. “There’s a trail that winds around behind the vineyard and meets with the trade road south of here. We can’t delay.”

  As we emerged from behind the woodpile, I snagged Rimona’s wrist. “Thank you.”

  She shrugged, brushing away any hint of personal concern for me. “I owed you. For the burn.”

  My eyes dipped to her side, where the linen bandage I’d wrapped around her forearm stood out against her dark tunic and where, I knew, those three yellowing bruises curved around her arm. She shifted, as if to hide them from me, even though her sleeve covered them well.

  I stared into her shimmering green eyes even as Yuval pulled me away with a command to hurry. “Remember what I said. If he hurts you again, go to Ora. And please tell my father where I’ve gone.”

  CHAPTER

  Eleven

  With a shiver, I tugged my borrowed mantle closer around my shoulders, as if it alone could shield me from whatever awaited me this night. The shadows deepened as Yuval and I descended the hill behind our vineyard on a trail that, although lit by moonlight, was dappled with dark shadows and plagued by overgrowth. I skidded on a patch of pebbles and fell to the ground. Yuval gripped my arm and pulled me back upright, but doubts nipped at my heels as we continued our descent. How would I keep up with these men? And when I reached Shechem, what would be my fate?

  Baz and Aviram waited for us at the bottom of the slope, impatience in their taut posture, both continually glancing toward the thick trees that cradled the foot of the hill. I followed their line of sight, seeing nothing but a wall of blackness. Yuval guided me the rest of the way, his hold on my arm offering me a small measure of safety—a feeling that disappeared as soon as he let go at the bottom of the path. If only I could run back to bury my face in my father’s chest, hide from the world in his arms, block out this night.

  I brushed the dirt from my dress, wishing I’d worn something other than this simple sleeveless gray shift, but cooking all day over a hot fire had forced me to shed my outer garment. Chill night air swept through the valley, and I breathed a prayer of thanks for Baz’s wife and her willingness to loan me her own mantle.

  Aviram scanned the starry sky, then pointed to the northwest along the dark ridge that lined the valley. “We need to travel through here to the west. Our path will cross the main road. Hopefully they won’t realize we’ve gone to Shechem until it’s too late to catch up with us.”

  And slay me, my mind finished for him.

  I shivered again, but not from the cold. What if Raviv takes out his anger on these men too? Aviram and his wife had five children: two young daughters and three older sons who still needed him to guide them along the road to manhood. Baz’s young wife was expecting their first child in a few months. Yuval was unmarried but certainly did not deserve to be placed in such a dangerous situation either.

  “I’ll go alone,” I said. “Just point the way.”

  All three men burst into simultaneous disagreement, angry voices layering over one another.

  “You’ll do no such thing.”

  “When you step over my corpse.”

  “Not an option.”

  I took a step back, overwhelmed by their vehemence. “But you need to return to your families. This is my fault. I will run, I promise.”

  “And you think we have such little respect for your father that we would let his daughter run off alone into the night?” Yuval’s tight mouth and narrowed eyes proclaimed offense at such a thought.

  “No . . . But . . .” I stammered to a halt.

  “Exactly.” Aviram gestured to Baz to lead the way. “Then let’s go.”

  Stripped of arguments, I followed in the wake of Baz’s torch, keeping my eyes on the ground and my mantle tight around me.

  Had I truly offended Yuval with my suggestion that I flee alone? I had not meant to question his loyalty to my father, for that was far beyond question. When his indenture contract was up, I had little doubt he would continue to work alongside my father. Or at least, that had been my thought before all of this began. Before my father’s health began to fail and he became desperate to provide for his cast-off daughter. Before he insisted I marry a stranger who would have control over the vineyard after his passing. Before I’d murdered the
man’s two boys with my carelessness.

  Tears blazed down my cheeks. I’d ruined everything. One foot after another after another I followed the men through the night. I counted each step until I ran out of numbers and then I counted them all over again, wishing each one could take me closer to home and not farther away.

  The northern road was wider than I’d expected, and once we’d left the rugged path and moved onto its well-packed width we were able to move with more speed. Such a clearly defined road must have been used for countless years by numberless caravans and Canaanite iron-wheeled chariots as they defended their city-states against Egypt, the Hittites, and eventually, we Hebrews.

  Mind numb from the endless cycles of numbers I’d counted, my tired body moved only by habit. The world was still and quiet around us. As we veered to the left at the split in the road, Aviram informed us that the other stretch led toward the Jordan Valley.

  My father and Aviram had been among the men that claimed the city of Shechem a few years ago, so I had no doubt Aviram was well-acquainted with all the strategic routes in this area and that my father would trust him to ensure my safe arrival at Shechem.

  “Which cities are along that road?” I asked Yuval, my curiosity piqued.

  “It doesn’t matter. As soon as we get you to Shechem and sort out this confusion, we will go back home.” His voice had a hard edge I’d never heard before.

  “She will not be returning,” said Aviram.

  “What do you mean?” My voice pitched high.

  “After she reaches the safety of Shechem, she will be returned to Shiloh for a trial by the elders,” Aviram continued. “To determine motive.”

  “But I had no motive! It was an accident!”

  Aviram’s mouth pursed in sympathy. “I know, Moriyah. But if you are found guilty of manslaughter, you will stay the rest of your life in Shechem.”

  “The rest of my life!”