Prize of War

by Carole Towriss

  “You know Caleb is planning to attack Kiriath-Sepher.”

  Salmah picked a ripe fig from the bowl and peeled it. “It’s one of the only cities left.”

  “He wants help.”

  “No surprise. He was injured so badly, I'm amazed he wants to take part at all.”

  Othni winced at the mention of Caleb’s injury, then shoved it from his mind. “Amazed?”

  “I guess not. I'd be more shocked if he were willing to stay behind.”

  “He’s looking for a commander. He’s offered an … incentive.”

  The older man raised a brow. “Silver?”

  “No. He has offered Acsah as a bride to whomever conquers the city.”

  Salmah let out a low whistle.

  “He did what?” Rahab’s sharp voice came from the doorway. She’d been listening?

  Othni spoke over his shoulder, repeating what he’d told her husband. “I’m not sure why he would do that.”

  Rahab returned and sat next to Salmah. She rested her chin on her hand and pursed her lips, but said nothing. Next to Salmah’s husky build, her tall, slender frame was even more striking.

  “Well?” Salmah eyed his wife.

  “I know she has refused others.”

  “You’ve talked to her about that?” Othni knew Rahab and Acsah had been close when the Canaanite woman first came from Jericho years ago. Before she’d married Salmah, she’d lived with Caleb’s family. But they’d stayed that close? Then again, he’d been up north, so how would he know?

  “I see her often. She’s found no one she wishes to marry, although I saw nothing wrong with any of the young men.” She drew circles in the dirt. “I’m not really sure what she’s looking for. I'm not surprised Caleb finally stepped in. She’s nearing an age when most men would no longer consider her.”

  “She’s not as old as you were when I married you.” Salmah winked at his wife.

  She grinned. “Yes, but you’re smarter than most men.” She turned to Othni. “You still find her desirable?”

  He nodded. “And beautiful.” Her face drifted though his mind. “Salmah, will you help me plan an attack on Kiriath-Sepher? You went with him the first time, so you must know everything I need to know, yes?”

  Salmah nodded.

  “I must take this city. Many heard Caleb’s offer. Groups of men huddled up right away, starting on their plans. They have Caleb’s ear.” He didn’t need to expound on Caleb’s opinion of him. “I need all the help you can give me. I love her. I always have.”

  Salmah searched his face. “I’ll help you. And I’ll go with you.”

  Othni’s gaze darted to Rahab. Her eyes closed for a moment, perhaps contemplating yet another battle for her husband. She opened them and smiled at Othni. “You will both be in my prayers, and in Yahweh’s hands.” She returned to her son.

  Othni watched her leave. “Her faith is amazing. Especially considering she’s a Canaanite.”

  “I think that’s why it’s so strong. She had to trust Him for her very life, before she even knew Him.” Salmah played with the seed from the fig. “Here’s what I learned about Kiriath-Sepher. For the Canaanites, it’s a royal city. Bigger, and more important than Hebron was, at least to them. The walls are higher and thicker than Hebron’s, and about as high as four or five men. They’re made of enormous stones, perfectly shaped to fit together without mortar of any kind. There is an earthen revetment outside the walls, going up about two-thirds of the wall and not quite as wide. There are many towers, and there are gates on all four sides.”

  Othni blew out a long breath. “A direct attack would never work.”

  “I think the only way is by a protracted siege or by trickery.”

  “Like Joshua took Ai? Or Bethel?”

  “Not Bethel.” Salmah waved away the suggestion. “We’ll certainly never find a traitor there.”

  He nodded. “True. Which leaves a siege or a ruse.”

  “Or someone, somehow, getting in and opening the gates.”

  Othni frowned. “If the giants built the walls and the gates, wouldn’t the locks be much too high for one of us to open?”

  “Also true. So that’s probably not our best option.”

  Othni reached for a date. He ripped it in two and removed the stone, then put one half in his mouth. The fair-complexioned giants of Hebron invaded his memory. Twice as tall as Othniel, thighs as wide as his body. Joshua’s armies had expelled them once, nearly six years ago after Israel first conquered Jericho. But as Joshua and his men moved on, the Anakim moved back in, and Caleb was forced to defeat them again in order to claim the city Moses had promised him.

  “Let’s see.” Othni tore the other piece in half again. And again. “A siege will deplete our resources as much as theirs, maybe more. But if we attack and then fake a surrender, we can send in a good number of men, perhaps with gifts, hide more men—armed men in baskets. It’s been done before.”

  Salmah shrugged. “It has. And if we hadn’t been at war with every other city around here, and if they weren’t giants, that might work. But I think it’s far too risky here.”

  “What if we attack, then retreat and draw them out …”

  “That might work better. Or we could trap them between two forces.”

  He nodded. “We have to see how many of them there are. They can defend the city with very few as long as they’re inside. Once we draw them out, we have the advantage.”

  Salmah grasped his shoulder. “You might make a good commander yet.”

  If Othni wanted to win Acsah, he would have to make certain Caleb finally could see that as well.

  Othni had left Salmah’s house as soon as the sun peeked over the eastern mountains in order to make the long walk back to Hebron before the evening meal. A hearty meal, a good night’s sleep, and perhaps he’d have a decent chance to impress his uncle.

  The next day, the would-be commanders gathered in Caleb’s massive courtyard to present their plans one by one. Othni watched as man after man was sent away after failing to meet Caleb’s expectations.

  One young man—barely a man—flailed his arms like a baby bird trying to fly the first time. “But it worked before. We march around once a day for six days—”

  Othni did his best to suppress a laugh. He glanced around and noticed several others hiding chuckles as well.

  “We are not doing as we did at Jericho.” Caleb’s face reddened, his hands splayed at his sides. “Go.” Eyes closed, he growled the word.

  The young man slunk out through the courtyard.

  An older, chubby man advanced. “If we gather men from all of Judah, we can attack them with full force. With Yahweh’s help this will work. We can use battering rams—”

  “Battering rams will never be successful,” Caleb said, “against the stones in Kiriath-Sepher’s walls.”

  The man looked baffled.

  Caleb hadn’t revealed much about Kiriath-Sepher in his speech to Hebron’s men, but he undoubtedly would have told anyone who’d asked anything they wanted to know. That would be just like him, to see who would gather the information they needed before formulating a strategy.

  The mighty warrior took a deep breath. “The stones in those walls are as wide as the height of two men. They are far too heavy to be dislodged by a battering ram.”

  “But we have Yahweh—”

  “And we must also use common sense.” Caleb pounded a fist into his palm. “Yahweh’s power is not an excuse to be foolish. Next.”

  The portly man left, and a tall man Othni had seen talking to Caleb the day he made the announcement—obviously a favorite—sauntered over. Othni’s chest burned. What made that man so special? He was tall, sure, but not that good-looking, at least not to Othni. Hair too straight. Nose too big. Laughed too loud.

  Caleb’s weathered face brightened. “Enosh. What is your plan? I’m sure you have thought it out well.”

  Enosh puffed out his chest. “I suggest a siege. It’s the only reasonable option. We cu
t off their water supply. They get all their water from the two wells nearby—one north of the city and one south. Without water, they cannot survive.”

  “Won’t they have supplies in the city? Water? Food?” Caleb arched a brow, accentuating the scar that ran from above his right eye to the corner of his lip.

  “Cisterns full of water, I’m sure. But how long can that last?”

  “Wait over there.” Caleb pointed his chin toward the largest pomegranate tree in the courtyard.

  Enosh's smirk as he passed fanned the fire in Othni’s chest. Why was he so cocky? Did he know something the others didn’t? He was the first Caleb had asked to wait, so maybe he did possess some secret information.

  “Othniel.”

  Snapping to attention, Othni turned to the soft but firm voice. “Uncle.”

  “I’m surprised to see you here. A little young, aren’t you?”

  He fought a sigh. “I fought in Hebron, Gibeon—”

  “That didn’t work out so well, did it?”

  Othni clenched his jaw. “I’ve fought for Benjamin the last four years, in Mizpah, Ramah, Beeroth, more. Did you speak to the commanders there?”

  Caleb tilted his head. Was that a smile? Surely not. “What’s your plan?”

  Othni repeated everything he had discussed with Salmah.

  After an almost imperceptible nod, Caleb gestured toward the tree. “All right, wait with Enosh.”

  Caleb dispatched the last two men quickly. His limp was slight as he joined the pair in his courtyard. “You two have the best plans. I shall need to consider them further.”

  Movement inside the house drew Othni’s vision.

  Acsah. His heart beat faster, and heat crawled up his neck. How beautiful she was—full lips, cheekbones set high against her dark eyes, a touch of pink on her cheeks. He hadn’t seen her since … when? Since before they left Gilgal to defend Gibeon.

  She accepted a platter from a young girl, probably a servant, and stepped into the courtyard with bread and cheese and a pitcher of juice. Locks of her long hair slipped out from under her scarf, and she tossed her head to get it out of her face. She neared them and set the food on a pedestal.

  Caleb beamed at her. “Thank you, motek.”

  “Would you like anything else, Abba?”

  “No, thank you.”

  “Thank you, Acsah. How very thoughtful of you.” Enosh touched her arm and grinned.

  Othni tensed, his teeth grinding together.

  Not that he had any more right to her than Enosh. In fact, Enosh probably deserved her more. He lived here in Hebron, likely saw her every day, knew her.

  But he hadn’t loved her his whole life, like Othni had. Spent the last four years trying to earn the right to ask Caleb’s permission to marry her.

  Acsah smiled weakly at Enosh, glanced briefly at Othni, and retreated. She didn’t recognize him—at least she didn’t appear to. He’d grown a cubit or two, added a good bit of muscle and a beard. He was no longer a boy.

  “Anything else either of you’d like to say?”

  Neither Enosh or Othni spoke.

  “I’ll have my decision tomorrow morning. We’ll leave the next day.” He turned toward his house and Enosh strutted from the courtyard, as if he had the command in hand already.

  Othni snatched a piece of bread and trudged toward the street.

  Caleb’s voice stopped him on his way out. “Othniel, may I speak with you a moment?”

  “Yes, Uncle.” He ripped the food into pieces as he stared south toward Kiriath-Sepher.

  In the morning Caleb would decide who would lead the attack on the Canaanite city—which in turn would decide who would marry Acsah.

  For Caleb, an important decision, of course.

  For Othni, nothing less than his entire future was at stake.

  Chapter 2

  And Caleb said, "The one who attacks Kiriath-sepher and captures it,

  I will give him Acsah my daughter as a wife.”

  Joshua 15.16

  “Othniel?” Acsah stomped her way across the roof. “Othniel.” When she reached the far edge, she whirled around and slammed her arms across her chest. “Surely you mean a different Othniel and not my cousin.”

  “Of course I mean your cousin. I know of no other man named Othniel.” Abba waved his hand in dismissal.

  “But Othni? He’s shorter than I am! And skinny.”

  Abba laughed. “He was the last time you saw him. That was what, four years ago? After we conquered Jericho? He’s grown, just like you.”

  “But he was older than I am, and still I was taller.”

  “Girls always grow faster than boys. But the men catch up. Trust me, he’s taller now. Bigger, stronger, braver.”

  She scrunched up her mouth, trying to imagine him as anything but the scrawny little boy she remembered. “Still …”

  “Acsah, I have not yet decided whom I will choose. It will either be Enosh ben Terah, or Othniel ben Kenaz. Enosh you know. Would you like to see Othniel again in case I choose him? There will be no time tomorrow.”

  She might as well.

  Abba grinned. “He’s in the courtyard.” He limped down the stairs, leaving her standing on the roof, alone with her worst imaginings.

  When she’d agreed to meet him, she didn’t mean right now. Perhaps later. But there was no time for later. She groaned and moved toward the stairs, took them as slowly as possible, then stepped into the large room on the lower floor.

  A deep, easy laughter caught her attention. A tall, broad-shouldered man stood in the courtyard with Abba, his back to her. Abba said something, and the man chuckled once more. The sound was … almost musical. Bubbly, but deep, like the springs outside Hebron’s walls.

  Abba left the courtyard, and the man turned and moved toward her, his easy stride belying his bulk. His light brown hair was unruly, reaching the neck of his tunic. A shiver raced down her back at the sight of sandals laced up to his shins—soldiers’ footwear.

  Othniel?

  Couldn’t be.

  “Acsah.” The man smiled, and her heart fluttered. This could not be Othni. This was a man, not a boy. His bronzed skin boasted of hours in the sun. A strong jaw showed off a gentle smile.

  Shallow breaths denied her a chest full of air. Her heart pounded in her ears. Why should she fear him? He had done nothing to threaten her, but he was a stranger to her. She walked past him into the shade of pomegranate trees, her mind racing. She wanted—needed—proof he was Othni. What piece of information, what object could Othniel possess no one else could?

  It hit her, and she whirled to face him. “Show me your knee.”

  “Excuse me?” He raised a dark brow. “Why should I do that?”

  “Show me your right knee!”

  He lifted his foot.

  She bent to examine it. “Ha! There is no scar there! You are not Othni!” She backed away and folded her arms over her chest. This man was an impostor. She would never marry him—he was a liar.

  “Scar?” His brows furrowed, then his face relaxed, one corner of his mouth tipping up. “Oh … from the race, our last race. When I fell.” He bent to bring his face nearer to hers. “When you tripped me, which was the only way you could win.”

  The blood drained from her face. How could he know that?

  He lifted his leg again and pointed to a spot below his knee. “It moved when I grew taller.”

  She stared at the white, raised mark. She winced as visions flashed through her mind—Othni on the ground, blood running down his leg. Her stomach soured. “I’m sorry. I really didn’t know there was a rock there.”

  He laughed. “I know. You told me. Repeatedly.”

  Her face heated, and she became once again the young girl kneeling before her best friend, blood on her hands, her tunic, the grass.

  Othni touched her shoulder.

  She raised her face to his, sure to find him laughing at her. Instead, his graceful smile greeted her.

  “How about a walk?�
�� He gestured toward the gate. “You could show me the orchards outside the walls.”

  She stepped in front of him. If she stayed ahead of him, she wouldn’t have to look at him—or let him look at her. In one long stride he was beside her. She tried to keep her pace steady, resisting the urge to race ahead of him. They passed the first hundred cubits assigned to the Levites and came to a grove of fruit trees. “There were already some trees growing here. Would you like a plum?” She reached toward one.

  Othni leaned against a tree. “You didn’t recognize me at all? Earlier?”

  She glanced sideways at him. When had she seen him last? In camp at Gilgal the summer after Israel had conquered Jericho. They’d been about the same height then. Now her head came to his shoulders. Muscles bulged under the short sleeves of his tunic. A beard covered his jaw.

  Perhaps he had finally grown into his name—lion of God.

  No, he looked nothing like the Othni she chased rabbits with on the other side of the river.

  “Where have you been?”

  “Away.”

  “Where? I thought you were fighting with Abba.”

  “Just away.” He flinched, then smiled again. “I recognized you immediately.”

  “How?”

  “You look the same. Just … softer. Curvier. Maybe a little taller.”

  Heat flamed her cheeks. “You shouldn’t say things like that.” She averted her gaze.

  He ran his finger along her jaw and turned her head to face him. “Don’t you think I should find you pretty? We’re going to be married.” He drew even nearer, his breath warm on her face.

  Her thoughts scrambled. Her gaze locked on his—eyes the color of midnight. “If Abba chooses you.”

  He straightened. “Do you want him to?”

  She shook her head. “I have no say in the matter.”

  “That’s not what I asked.” He placed a hand on her face.

  She trembled under his touch. How could she answer that? Tell him she didn’t want to marry any warrior?

  Because no matter how much he made her heart flutter, she would still do everything she could to get out of this marriage.

  A drop of sweat rolled down Othni’s neck. The muscles in his back and shoulders tensed. He slid the shaft of the arrow along the string of his bow until it was stopped by its bronze head. Bracing his thumb against his jaw he carefully aimed, released his fingers, and let it fly, satisfaction taking over as the weapon sailed through the air and slammed into Enosh's chest.