A Light on the Hill

by Connilyn Cossette

  “And yet,” continued the king, “reports have come, time and again, that their commander, this Yehoshua, is still determined to find a way to infiltrate Megiddo. To bring this city—my city—to its knees as he did Hazor.” Danger brooded in the set of his jaw. “And I will do anything to ensure that does not happen. One day—” His eyes narrowed, sliding to the window beside us. “One day Yehoshua and his men will hang from those ramparts. I will slit their bellies and spill their cowardly innards for all the world to see.”

  Adjusting my seat to mitigate the terror creeping up my back, I folded my hands in my lap. “Well, you can be assured, my lord. I am simply a business woman, set on purchasing a new inn in Beit She’an and certainly not a spy for those Hebrews.” I spat out the word, as if it were disgusting to me. “My grandfather was a vintner for Pharaoh himself. What reason would I have for throwing in my lot with the people who destroyed my land and killed so many of my ancestors?” I forced a sneer. “I’d rather die.”

  He rolled an olive around his plate with one finger, toying with it. “And what then of your slave?”

  “I told you, I sold him. He is useless as a bodyguard now.”

  “And who did you sell him to?”

  “Some man in the marketplace,” I fluttered a dismissive hand.

  “And he is not Hebrew?” He pinched the olive between his thumb and forefinger, then raised it in the air, peering at it as if examining for blemishes.

  The pit of my stomach turned to stone. “Hebrew? Of course not. He was born north of Tyre, if I remember correctly, taken as a prisoner of war as a child. I purchased him two years ago in Yaffa.”

  “And you are certain he is not Hebrew?”

  “Of course not. What would give you that idea?”

  He popped the olive into his mouth and crushed it between his teeth. “Tell me, Masaharta, what did give you that impression?”

  Everything inside me went silent as the Egyptian physician came up beside me. How long had he been in the room? I attempted to sift through everything I’d said to the king and measure it against my explanations in the Healing Chamber last night. Had I contradicted myself? Given us all away with some slip of the tongue?

  The physician bowed his bald head to the king. “Of course, Moriel seems nothing but sincere. But . . .” he put out his hand and then slowly unfurled his fingers, revealing a blue-knotted tassel. One of Yuval’s tzitzit, cut from his garment and hidden in the small leather pouch he carried around his neck.

  The king turned those strange blue eyes on me. “It seems, my dear, you might be hiding something after all. Perhaps I should send my men to find this Hebrew slave you sold?”

  From behind my chair, where I’d nearly forgotten he stood, Darek spoke, his lilting accent giving little doubt to his heritage. “No. It is mine.”

  CHAPTER

  Twenty-Seven

  Helpless to prevent Darek’s foolish interjection and whatever consequences that would follow, I sat perfectly still, my fingernails digging grooves into my thighs through my dress. What was he doing?

  “The tassel is mine. I gave it to Yuval for safekeeping. I am Hebrew, my lord. But I am no spy.”

  “I knew it!” spat out Masaharta, gold bracelets jingling as he slapped his leg. “I knew their story was not truthful.”

  The king ignored the physician and glared at Darek. “And what possible reason do I have to believe you?”

  “I may have been born among that horde of slaves, but I have no interest in living among them.” Darek’s voice was strong, full of such convincing disdain that I nearly believed it. “They killed my mother, murdered her for nothing—accusing her of adultery even though she was innocent. As soon as I was old enough, I walked away from them and their false morality.”

  Knowing the true pieces of the story, I wondered if Darek had ever considered doing just such a thing. “I keep that—” he pointed to the tzitzit with a grimace—“to remember where my loyalties lie and what miscarried justice looks like. I’ve lived as a mercenary since my fifteenth year. Sold my services to whoever paid the most. Fought against the Hebrews among the armies of Canaan and repaid them well for what they did to my mother.”

  The king studied Darek for a long while before dropping his gaze to me. “You knew this man was Hebrew and yet you brought him to my city?”

  “I did. Forgive me for deceiving you, my lord. But it is the absolute truth that we were set upon by a lion on the mountain. We merely came here to ensure my slave lived, out of gratefulness for his loyalty in throwing himself in front of me during the attack—nothing more. I sold him to a man who assured me he’d be treated well. I am most grateful to Masaharta for his excellent skills.” I bowed my head toward the Egyptian, who grimaced at me. I ignored his revulsion and turned wide eyes to the king, feigning an innocent plea. “I humbly beg your mercy, my lord.”

  The king placed his elbows on the table, leaning his chin on his folded hands, his eyes flicking back up to Darek. “And you walked away from a lucrative career to be bodyguard for this young priestess? She certainly cannot reward you as well as an army commander.”

  “Of course not.” Darek paused, and then his words came slow and measured. “But it makes little difference.”

  The king’s brows shot skyward. “So she pays you in favors?” Disgust curdled in my stomach at the accusation.

  “No. She does not pay me at all. I vowed to protect her not long after I met her in Yaffa, after I escaped the loss at Lachish.”

  “Oh? And why would you do such a thing?”

  Darek slid his hand down my neck, his fingers brushing against my bare collarbone in an unmistakably intimate—and possessive—gesture. My skin tingled beneath the touch, and I held my breath. “Because there is nothing I would not do for her,” said Darek, his voice strong, yet tender, as he spoke words that I somehow felt inside my bones. “I would not hesitate to stand against anyone who dared to lift a hand to hurt her—even if that man were connected to me by blood. My loyalty lies with her alone.”

  Knowing that his declarations were false did nothing to allay the swell of emotion that lifted in my chest; neither did it mitigate thoughts of Raviv and his plan to kill me. Even if we were connected by blood. Was that a message to me? Would Darek be willing to defy his brother and put himself between us? No. Certainly not.

  Darek had said he wanted justice carried out lawfully, meaning that if I was found guilty I’d be turned over to a death sentence. He knew that as well as I did. There was undoubtable attraction between us, but certainly nothing that would cause him to jeopardize his connection to his brother.

  “And the map Masaharta showed me?” The king’s sharp question cut into my rambling thoughts. “It seems your mapmaking skills are as well developed as your mercenary acumen.”

  “I met an Egyptian during the campaign in Lachish. The siege seemed to go on forever when the Hebrews cut us off. The man used to be a mapmaker and taught me how to create such things as a way to pass the boredom while we waited for the Hebrews to advance. I also have a knack for remembering places with clarity, which has served me well over the years.”

  “Then you will take me?” said the king, his tone brightening. The man’s mercurial moods made my head spin.

  Darek’s hand remained on my shoulder so I felt him twitch in surprise. “My lord?”

  “To that lioness. She’s the last of them.” The king’s pale blue eyes narrowed. “I want her pelt at the foot of my throne. Somehow she’s eluded every scout I’ve sent up there. Killed two of them, in fact. But if you know right where she nests then I should have little problem dispatching her.”

  The king’s eagerness was so bright on his face that I could not stop my mouth from gaping a bit. He’d gone from accusing us of treachery to pleading for help with the lion? Had Darek’s false declaration of devotion to me convinced the king so thoroughly?

  The king clapped his huge palms together, his light eyes full of anticipation. “Excellent! I’ll have a chariot
brought to the front of the palace and we will go.”

  “We?” Startled as I was, the word slipped out of my mouth.

  “Of course, my dear. I won’t let that lioness slip away again. I want to behead that beast myself, just as I did the other two I killed. And your man can lead me to her. Surely you want to see the animal that attacked you destroyed.” He lowered his chin, pinning me with a stare. “Unless you are lying to me about the lion as well.”

  “Of course not,” I said, glad that I could be fully confident in such a statement. “We can lead you right there. I look forward to seeing that creature done away with.” An image of the lioness’s pronounced ribs pressed into my head. That part at least was a lie. I had no interest in watching such a majestic, starving animal slaughtered.

  “Perfect,” the king pushed his chair away from the table, the sound of scraping chair legs on limestone grating against my ears. The lion cub bounded to his feet and ambled over to rub his tawny body against the king’s legs.

  “Oni,” he said, as he scratched the animal behind the ear. “It’s time to take care of your mother. I can’t wait to send word to Pharaoh that every one of those beasts is destroyed. He will be so pleased that the trade route is safe again.”

  “And perhaps,” he said to Darek, “I will send along a few well-crafted maps from my new mapmaker? One with intimate knowledge of Hebrew territory?” The last words were lifted, an offer to Darek.

  “I would be honored, my lord. And grateful for any way to ensure that my enemies receive the justice my mother did not.” The vitriol in Darek’s statement sent shivers up my back.

  “Then you both will stay here? In Megiddo? We may not have a garrison like Beit She’an but being the crossroads between Tyre, Acco, Damascus, and the coastal cites, I am certain you will find plenty of travelers willing to stay at your new inn.” The king smiled at me, his meaning clear. “In fact, I know just the building that might suit your needs. I’ll have my steward see to the details,” he said as he strode to the door, holding the end of Oni’s chain in his hand.

  He turned, grinning over his shoulder, the move grotesque on his bruised and swollen face. “Let’s go hunt a lion.”

  CHAPTER

  Twenty-Eight

  For the second time in one day, Darek and I left Megiddo. This time, however, we descended the sloping road in the back of an iron-wheeled chariot. The clattering beast jolted us over the muddy trade-way with terrifying speed. The king rode ahead of us in full bronze-scaled armor, driving his own gold-plated battle chariot, obviously quite proud of his ability to maneuver the Egyptian-style vehicle as he pushed his horses ever faster. Two more chariots followed behind us, carrying the rest of the king’s heavily armed guard.

  Our driver vowed to be gentle as we traveled, but standing upright on the platform as we bumped along the heavily rutted road was a near impossibility. I gripped the rail with both hands, planting my feet shoulder-width apart and praying I would not topple off the back to be consumed by the thundering hooves of the other chariots.

  When the driver broke his word and hit a large bump, nearly sending me flying, Darek moved to stand directly behind me, arms placed on either side to grip the rail, his body bracing me. His nearness simultaneously relieved my fear that I’d fall off the chariot and sent nerves fluttering through me like a flock of startled doves. I could still feel the way his palm curved around my neck and collarbone, warming my skin and my blood, fitting there as if that place were its natural abode.

  Faster than I thought possible, the mountain loomed ahead of us, bright green in the brilliant sunlight, its beauty concealing the sharp-toothed death that lurked among its oaks and cedars. The sight of Yuval’s blood on the muzzle of the lioness fought its way into my head, and on impulse I shivered.

  The jangling reins and the thunderstorm of wheels and hooves disguised Darek’s voice as he leaned down to speak in my ear. “We must get away.”

  I turned to reply and found his lips near my own. “How? He’s brought six men with him. He’s enormous. And the guards confiscated your weapons.”

  “I don’t know. But you must be ready. Keep a watch for any opportunity. This man is not interested in setting you up in some inn.”

  I twisted around farther to look up at him. “What do you mean?”

  “Did you not see the way he looked at you? He wants you for himself. Men like him take whatever they please, from whomever they please . . .” His brown eyes narrowed, assessing whether I understood his meaning.

  Lightheaded, I swayed as I thought about the Mittani man he’d flippantly discussed slaying this morning. What had I done? I gripped the railing even tighter, my knuckles white. “He plans to kill you, doesn’t he?”

  His mouth pursed, and he dropped a quick nod. “I practically dared him by laying claim to you like that. But it was either that or vault over that table and use his meat fork to spear him in the throat and get us both killed.” His eyes drifted shut. “Watching him touch you like that was more than I could take.”

  The meaning of his quiet statement, and the note of jealousy contained within it, sent the doves fluttering through my veins again.

  “You must be ready to run.” He gestured toward the mountain with his chin. “No matter what happens up there.”

  I shook my head. “I won’t leave you.”

  He turned his brown eyes on me, his expression fierce. “Then all of this will have been in vain, Yuval’s sacrifice included. You are one of the most quick-witted people I’ve ever met, man or woman. You can find your way to Kedesh, I know it. Approach the city from the north. Raviv won’t expect it—”

  “No.” I cut him off, shaking my head. “Not without you.”

  “Moriyah—” The chariot jerked again, tossing me against him. He slipped one of his strong arms around my waist, anchoring me, his hand warm against my hip. “Whatever happens on this mountain, I need you to know . . .” He brushed his lips against my cheek, the slightest touch against the scar, and his voice dropped so low, I barely heard his words in my ear over the noise of the chariot and my insistent pulse. “I wish it had been me who came for you that morning.”

  His arm tightened around me, drawing me back against himself as we approached the foot of the mountain. Although my mind raced, working through what the king might have planned, being locked in Darek’s embrace was enough to slow the galloping of my heart. Assured that he would not let me fall, I released my grip on the side of the chariot and laid my hand atop his where it lay against my hip, braiding our fingers together and hoping that the gesture would express what I could not.

  The king stepped into the cave behind us, sword drawn, his height filling the entrance and blocking the light. “There is nothing here,” he said, stretching his neck to survey the shadows.

  “This is the cave where we stayed the night.” Darek pointed to the remains of our fire. “There can be no doubt. And look there in the corner. Her latest kill.” He pointed toward the shredded carcass of a small animal. She’d found food, but not enough to satisfy an animal of her size.

  “Perhaps she left?” My question echoed off the cave wall. “Gone somewhere else to search out a better source of prey?”

  “Could be, but if she is indeed all alone, she might return to a familiar place.” Darek toed the charred sticks he’d arranged during the storm.

  The king scratched his head beneath his golden helmet. With such Egyptian finery and the dark kohl around his eyes, he looked much more like a king than the man who’d met us in his throne room, and somehow even larger. “What we need is bait to draw her here.”

  “Where would we find such a thing?” I scrubbed my arms against the chill that had taken up residence beneath my skin.

  “If she truly is starving, it shouldn’t take much.” The king swirled around, the bronze-scaled armor flashing in the sunlight and with a move so fast I had no time to call out, slammed Darek against the entrance of the cave with his arm. The sound of Darek’s head hitting the rock ja
rred my bones. “A little blood, perhaps?” said the king as he pressed his forearm against Darek’s neck and the tip of his short sword against his ribs.

  Darek was right—the king had determined to kill him. Since he’d ordered his men to wait twenty paces away while we scouted the cave so as not to scare the lioness off, he must prefer to execute the plan himself—his second brutal murder of the day.

  “I’m sorry to have to dispatch you. Your mapmaking skills truly are fascinating. But I cannot take the chance that you are a spy. I won’t lose my city. Not to your kind and not to Pharaoh. This truly is the only way.”

  “Please don’t hurt him,” I begged, my palms outstretched in supplication. “He is not a spy, I swear to you. I’ll go with you, whatever you want. But let him live.”

  The king pressed out his bottom lip as he glanced at me. “It truly does not matter, my dear. I’m keeping you anyhow. It’s too bad you are marred, but—” his eyes traveled the length of my body with excruciating slowness as Darek fought for breath. “I will not pass up the chance to have the favorite of Tabaal. The man was mad, of course, practically out of his head, but his choice of women was exquisite. If the king of Jericho had you in his bed, then there must be a reason.”

  Bile seared my throat. My lies had overtaken me. Yahweh! Please! Save Darek. He does not deserve to die this way. He has done nothing but protect me when he had no cause to do so.

  Could I attack him? Wrestle the sword from his hands so Darek could slip away? Before I could second-guess my desperate decision, I sucked in a breath and took two steps toward the king.

  BE STILL.

  I stopped. Blinking through my tears at the silent order.

  “No—” Darek rasped through the suffocating hold the king had on his throat. “Mor—”

  The king jerked against him harder. “Don’t move, girl! Or I will make your lover suffer.”

  I lifted my hands in submission, obeying the plain words that had been spoken to me—not audible words, but a command to my very spirit.