“I’ll do it.”
“No, I need a couple men.”
Dania laughed. All our men are in Anab.”
“We have the older men. And I think there are one or two newly married men. I remember one being furious when Othni wouldn’t let him go. I think he’d be delighted to help in another way.”
“How can I help?”
“Can you find them for me? Ask them to come here? I’m exhausted, and I need to rest a while.” She wrapped one arm under her belly and with the other rubbed her side.
“Are you all right? Is the baby coming?”
“No, he’s not supposed to be here yet.” She opened the gate and waddled into the courtyard. “I’m going to sit down.” She leaned against the wall and slid down, bracing herself with her hands and feet, until she was sitting against it.
“Do you want to wait until morning?”
She shook her head. Morning might be too late, if these pains didn’t stop. “I’ll be fine in a moment. See if you can find Micah. He lives at the north end of town with Rebekah. Remember her?”
Dania nodded.
“And then find Samuel. He lives about four or five houses farther down. Micah can help you.”
Dania scampered off.
Acsah let out a long breath and winced at another pain. She probably did too much today, but she had to keep Dania’s mind off Siah.
She closed her eyes.
“Acsah?” Dania shook her shoulder.
Had she drifted off?
“I brought Micah and Samuel. And Rapha is here, too.”
“Good.” She braced her feet to stand.
Micah placed a weathered hand on her shoulder. “I think you should just stay down.” He had a soft smile and kind eyes that reminded her of Abba.
Samuel, newly married, was quite a bit shorter than Micah but had a strong build.
Rapha waited with Dania.
She was too tired to disagree. “All right.” She gestured toward the grain silos near the center of the city. “We’re running low on grain. In fact, I’m not sure we have more than a few days left. We don’t know how long it will take to rid Anab and Debir of the Anakim, so I think while it’s safe, we need to get more.”
“And how will we do that? Wine is one thing. But grain? No city can afford to give enough away to supply a whole extra city.”
“Right, so we’ll buy some, in Hebron. Then they can replace it when the traders come through.”
“What will we trade for it? No one here has that kind of coin.”
“I know.” Acsah beckoned Dania close enough to whisper in her ear, then the girl hurried up the ladder.
“I’ll give you something to trade. But Micah, I’m counting on you to get the best possible price and bring back to me whatever you can. They’re very special to me, and not because of how much they’re worth.”
Samuel huffed. “Can’t we just ask your abba? Isn't he rich enough to help you? You’re his daughter, right? He’d probably buy the wheat for you.”
Acsah drew in a long, deep breath.
Micah shifted his weight uncomfortably.
“You’re right. He probably would. But you are not to go to him. Go to the market, like anyone else would. Debir is not his responsibility, it is ours.”
Dania’s feet hit the ground, and she hurried back to the group with a small pouch in her hand.
Acsah took it from her and untied the string. She opened it and poured out a stack of silver bracelets, then held them in her open hand. “Use these to buy the grain. Barley if you can, wheat if not. Go to Neriah in the market and tell him I sent you. He should give you a fair price. Rapha can take you to him.”
Micah accepted the pouch and bracelets. “I will. We’ll leave first thing in the morning. Shall we meet at the east gate?”
“I want to stay here.” Rapha spoke firmly. His face and arms still bore multicolored reminders of his encounter with Gilad.
“You do?” asked Acsah. “You don’t want to visit Hebron?”
“I want to stay with you. There will be no one in the house with you if I go.”
Sweet boy. “Then of course you may stay.”
Micah grinned. “You have a good man here.”
“I know.”
“I’m sure we can find Neriah without him.”
“If you don’t want Caleb to know, where can we spend the night?” asked Samuel.
“Ask Neriah to direct you to the house of Judith the widow. She’ll be glad to let you sleep in her courtyard. Do you need a donkey? To carry the grain?”
“I have one,” said Samuel. “We’ll see you in two days.”
They turned to go.
“Micah?”
He looked back.
“Can I have just one of those?”
“Of course.” He removed one and knelt, holding it out for her. “Your abba give you these?”
She nodded, unsure of her voice.
“I’ll bring back as many as I can. I promise.” He spoke gently.
She shook her head. “Food is more important.”
Dania came near as they left. “Can I get you something to eat?”
“I’m not hungry. Just tired. And I cannot climb those steps tonight. Can you bring a mat and a cushion down here?”
Dania quickly ran upstairs, and came back down with three mats.
“What … what’s this?”
“When Rapha saw what I was doing, he refused to let you sleep down here alone, so I though we might as well all sleep down here.”
“The rest of the city will think we are not in our right minds.” Acsah laughed. “But I am too tired and too uncomfortable to care.”
Dania spread out the mats, and Acsah allowed her to help settle her for the night.
It was too early for Rapha and Dania to sleep, but Acsah lay down and closed her eyes. She fingered the bracelet as she drifted off.
Yahweh, protect Othni and Siah and all the others. Bring Othni home to meet his child.
Chapter 20
Just as I have been with Moses, I will be with you;
I will not fail you or forsake you.
Joshua 1.5
Acsah squatted before their goat and placed a bowl on the ground. Reaching under, she began milking, but before she could extract much milk, a sharp pain ripped through her. Doubling over, she grabbed her belly.
The baby? No, it was too early. Her hand on the ground to steady herself, she drew a few deep breaths until the pain subsided and managed to finish milking both goats.
She did a little weaving—the basket was nearly finished. She washed the goat hair from the recently shorn animals. She went through her day gingerly, but the pain did not return. Maybe it hadn’t been the baby after all, and just the pear she’d eaten earlier was a little too unripe.
Rapha was never more than three steps from her all day.
That afternoon an even stronger pain than before caused her to cry out. Her belly contracted. She grabbed the shelf in the broadroom.
No, not yet. It was not time for the baby. She’d known something bad would surely happen, but not this. A leak in the cistern, a sickness, an injury, but not this.… Already she would have this baby without Leah, without Rahab, now without Othni?
The pain abated, she stumbled out of the back room and into the courtyard. “Rapha!” Her voice cracked as she called again. Where was he? All day like her shadow, and now she couldn’t find him?
She went back inside. Her belly contracted and more pain coursed through her. She leaned against one of the stone pillars, wrapping an arm around it for support. Her other arm cradled her belly.
He raced in from the street. “Acsah!” He rushed to her side to help hold her up. “The baby?”
Grimacing, Acsah managed to nod.
“Simona?”
“Will you … help me to my room … first?” Her words came between pants.
He slipped an arm around her and led her to the back, then leaned her against the doorway.
; Acsah sank to the floor. “Go!”
Dania passed him on his way out. Her eyes widened. She grabbed an armful of straw from the stable and spread a heavy layer in the women’s half of the broadroom, then settled Acsah on top of it. “I’m going to braid your hair quickly to keep it out of your face while we wait.” She ripped off Acsah’s headcloth and tossed it on the shelf above her.
The soft movements of Dania’s fingers against her head were a startling contrast to the sharp pains in her belly. She fisted her hands with each one, her entire body tensing against the onslaught of agony.
Simona entered. “Rapha tells me the baby is coming. At least I think that’s what he meant. He was a bit at a loss for words.” She glanced around. “Dania, you’ve done well. Have you assisted at a birth before?”
“Not really. But I’ve been nearby. I’ve got the straw, the cloths from the time of her monthly flow, and lots of water ready.”
Sitting on the straw and leaning back on her elbows, Acsah grimaced through a small contraction.
“Very nice. I brought the bricks, but we won’t need them for a while.” Simona set the bricks on the shelf.
They continued chatting as if she weren’t there. She considered saying something, but in the end, didn’t feel like talking.
“You could get some juice, too. She’ll need something to give her some energy if this goes on for a while.”
She gritted her teeth and closed her eyes. Goes on for a while?
“How close are the pains?” Simona asked.
“Not that close yet.” Dania answered as if the pains were her own.
“Well, let’s get settled in, then. Looks like we’ll be here all night. Maybe longer. The first one usually takes the longest.”
Acsah let out a growl as she collapsed back on the straw. Why would Yahweh do this to her? She would never make it through this.
“This can't be happening. The baby is too early.” Sweat beaded Acsah's upper lip.
“Babies come when they come, motek.”
“I knew something terrible would happen. I should never have married him.” She grabbed her tunic, twisting it in her fists.
“That is the labor speaking.”
“I mean every word.”
Simona sent Dania for the juice and leaned close to Acsah, drawing a cool cloth across her cheeks and forehead. “Be careful what you allow from your mouth right now. The emotions feel real, but they are intensified by what is going on inside you. Happy turns into ecstatic, annoyance to loathing, anger to rage. Do not cause injury that cannot be healed."
Othni climbed to the top of the tower and stared into the distance as far as he could see in dawn’s gray light.
Nothing. Morning of the third day, and still the Anakim made no move. A common siege tactic. They knew how much water the reservoir and cisterns could hold, and how long it had been since anyone had been to the well.
The Israelites might outnumber the Anakim, but without water, it would hardly matter.
Acsah rested against Dania between contractions. Dania knelt behind her, supporting her back as she squatted on the birthing stones. With the back wall being part of the city wall, there was only one window and the door, and the heat in the back room was getting to her. She was covered in sweat, and the straw underneath was soaked with blood and water.
Simona’s hand pressed on Acsah’s belly as waves of pain racked her body. “The baby is almost here. One more push.”
She bore down, willing this person to leave her body so the agony would be over.
“No! Stop!”
Stop? Why stop? It was almost over. She wanted this finished. She pushed again.
“Acsah, you must stop. The cord is wrapped around the baby’s neck. You must give me a moment to free him before you continue, or he will be strangled.”
The words sent fear into her heart. Terror expanded until it pushed out her breath. She couldn't speak, couldn't breathe.
After all this, was this how it would end? After the weeks of nausea, months of wondering if she would keep this baby, if she was capable of raising a child?
Dania held her close and placed her mouth next to Acsah’s ear. “Do not worry,” she whispered. “Simona has delivered babies for over half her life. She can fix this.”
A shallow breath escaped.
Dania lifted a bowl to Acsah’s lips and tipped it. Juice dribbled into her mouth. She was thirstier than she realized, and drank it all.
“Good, good.” Dania refilled the bowl and gave her more.
A tear rolled down her cheek. Why was this happening? Would her baby die moments from life? Before ever drawing breath, before she held him in her arms?
“There. You can push again.”
Acsah relaxed, but only for a moment as another contraction crashed through her. She grabbed Dania’s knees and cried out.
“The head is out. You’re doing fine. One more and he will be delivered.” Simona’s gentle voice failed to calm her.
“He?”
“Once more, and we’ll see.”
She breathed deeply and bore down.
“There he is.…”
“Can I hold him?”
“Not yet … just a moment.”
“What’s wrong?” Panic took over again. “Let me see him.” She craned her neck to see over Simona’s arms. She tried to push herself up, but her thighs were too weak. “I want to see him now!”
Simona turned slightly. The infant lay on her lap, her hands massaging his chest, which was alarmingly gray. His entire body had a bluish tint.
In one instant, from threat of strangulation, to safety, to this … this … what was this? “What’s wrong with him?” She grabbed fistfuls of straw in a vain effort to hold on to something, anything tangible.
“He’s not breathing. We need to get his lungs working.”
Enosh paced along the walls. His shoulders ached from the tension. Anything was better than waiting, imagining ...
How many were there? They knew they had gone to Ashdod, but no one knew for certain how many had come back with them.
And when this was all over, what would he do then? Go back to Debir? Was there anything there for him? Dania wasn’t speaking to him.
Would he go north? Keep fighting?
Or was he finally tired of it all?
Not breathing? Acsah collapsed into Dania, her eyes closed. But the image of her son, an unearthly ashen color, remain fixed in her mind.
I knew this would happen. As soon as he left, I knew it. I am alone. Imma is gone. Abba is not here, Leah is not here, Othni is not here.
I cannot do this alone.
Even her tears had left her.
How could Simona be so calm at a time like this? Her baby wasn’t breathing. Her world had collapsed on her.
Why would Yahweh allow this to happen when she was alone?
You are not alone. I will never leave you.
The pungent scent of olive oil and salt permeated the air as Simona rubbed the mixture into the babe’s chest.
Simona should give up. It wasn’t working. How long had it been? It felt like days.
You are not alone. I will never leave you.
A whimper.
Had she really heard it? She lifted her head from Dania’s chest.
His skin was less blue. Simona kept her massage up. Blood pulsed from the cord that attached the baby to Acsah. The babe drew in a shuddering breath.
Acsah gasped. “Is he…?”
Simona smiled. “Yes, motek, he is breathing.”
His breathing became regular. Quicker. His skin pinked up.
Acsah’s heart raced, afraid to hope. “May I hold him now?”
“Just a couple more things.” She cut the cord, spilling blood onto his torso. After she washed it off, she finished applying the oil and salt to the rest of his skin and wrapped him in cloths. She laid the boy in Acsah's arms and placed his mouth at her breast. He shook his head a few times, but then found his place and began to suckle.
Acsah gasped at the strange sensation. She looked to Simona. "He's suckling! But I can't tell if anything is coming out."
Simona laughed. "It is, don't worry. It's not exactly milk yet, but it's very important for him. It will help him recover from his ordeal. He'll drink a little, and then you both can rest. But first, you must deliver the afterbirth.”
“I’m not done yet?”
More pain followed as the placenta was delivered. It took much longer than she’d thought it would, but finally she was finished. Exhaustion beyond anything she had ever felt cloaked her body. Her arms and legs felt like rocks. It took enormous effort just to breathe. Or blink.
Simona gently shook her shoulder. Had she drifted off?
“We’ll change your tunic and the straw, then you can sleep.”
Dania backed up, gently laying her down on the straw. Simona and Dania cleaned her up while she examined her son. She drew her fingers over his tiny face. Such perfection.
Joshua’s words at the wedding came into her head.
“Yahweh will be with you. You may not be the ruler of the city, but you will be the ruler of your home, of your children. Of your own heart. And you must know that Yahweh will always be there for you. You will never be alone.”
Had she never really learned that until now? She had told Joshua she believed him, but the first time she really needed those words, she had completely forgotten them.
Even when Gilad had taken her, she had counted on Othni, not Yahweh.
She was not alone. Yahweh had been with her the whole time.
The sun set on another day of waiting. Othni savored his ration of water. Enough to wet his tongue, barely enough to swallow.
“I always thought I would die by the sword, not shriveled up from thirst.” Enosh laughed wryly as he stoked the fire they had built in the town center.
Three days. Othni had been here for three days doing nothing when he could have been home with Acsah.
Enosh glanced up. On the walls above them, Siah strode back and forth, eyes on the mountains. “He’s been doing that all afternoon. What’s his problem?”
Othni drew in a deep breath. “He’s worried about making it back, I suppose.”
Prize of War Page 27
