Between the Wild Branches

by Connilyn Cossette

  “Can I offer you some wine?” Mariada said, as if she somehow knew my mouth had gone dry.

  “I would be grateful,” I replied and carefully sat in the chair Savina had vacated. It was so delicate that I worried it may collapse beneath my weight, so I did not relax into its cushioned hold, instead remaining at the edge of the seat, palms splayed on my knees to keep them still.

  Mariada poured both of us a generous portion, and I noticed that her hand trembled as she did so. Was she afraid of me? Or perhaps just nervous, as I was? She had to have guessed the reason for this private conversation, after all.

  I turned my gaze to the sea in the distance and the gold-limned horizon beyond. “This view is second to none. Do you often take meals here?” I asked, trying to set her at ease. And truly the spot was a perfect one, above everything and so quiet in its hidden location. It made me wonder why I’d built a home in the very center of town, where a constant drone of voices and animal noises entered my windows at nearly all hours.

  “Yes,” she replied, “when the weather agrees.”

  A long beat of silence vibrated between us as we both took another drink of wine, but then we spoke at the same moment.

  “Do you—?”

  “I saw—”

  We both smiled at the awkward exchange. I’d never been so unsettled around a woman and wondered whether it was because I knew she was to be my wife or because she was the king’s daughter.

  “Please,” I said, “go ahead.”

  “I was going to say that I enjoyed the match yesterday.”

  “Is that the first time you’ve seen a fight?”

  “No, I’ve seen a few others. My mother does not care for such things though. The blood makes her ill, so it is the first time I’ve seen you fight up close. Usually we watch from a high balcony.”

  “And what did you think? Is the sport too bloody for you as well?”

  She bit her lip in an attempt to hide her smile and shook her head. “I found it quite exhilarating. I could barely breathe at the end. The way you knocked that Phoenician senseless with that final blow—” She sighed. “It was all so very exciting. My sisters could not stop talking about you all through the rest of the festivities. They say there is no better fighter anywhere and that everyone fancies themselves in love with you.”

  “Do they?” I lifted a brow and then pounced on the chance to gauge her interest. “And what of you?”

  Pink suffused her cheeks and her long black lashes fluttered. “Me?”

  I should feel bad that I’d embarrassed her, but instead her reaction emboldened me. “Did you participate in these discussions with your sisters?”

  “I . . . I . . .” she stuttered, her blue eyes going wide.

  I leaned forward, giving her a little grin. “I am only teasing. Did you enjoy the rest of the festivities?”

  She let out a relieved huff of laughter. “I did. I loved the acrobats, and the bull-leaping was thrilling to watch. When that last man managed to flip all the way over the spotted bull with only one hand—” She pressed a hand to the base of her throat. “I felt as though my heart would pound its way right out of my chest!”

  “I am sorry to have missed it all,” I said. “I left after my match.”

  Her brows drew together. “You weren’t injured, were you?”

  The concern on her beautiful face made a rush of something warm fill my veins. How long had it been since anyone had truly cared about my safety? Mataro worried about injuries only because it might affect my ability to fight. And for as much as the crowds screamed for me, they seemed nearly as enthralled when I was bloodied as when I inflicted the wounding blows.

  “No more than usual,” I said. “I’ve been fighting since I was a boy.”

  “Truly? How old were you the first time?”

  “Seven.”

  Her eyes went wide. “So young?”

  “It was only a scuffle in the street with some older boys. Not one of the arranged matches.” But I would never forget the feel of those two crumbs of silver I’d earned for beating up a boy three years older than me in my palm, even if my sister had been horrified when she found me afterward, bloodied and bruised and grinning ear to ear.

  Mariada’s expression remained troubled. “Was no one looking out for you? Your mother and father?”

  I decided to offer enough of the truth that it would satisfy her. “My mother died in childbirth. And my father boarded a ship one day and never returned.”

  “You had no one?” Her gentle question unsettled me enough to say the name I’d not spoken aloud for ten years.

  “My sister, Arisa.” And Azuvah, but memories of the Hebrew slave woman only stirred up confusion and guilt, so they would remain where they belonged, buried deep in the past.

  I allowed myself a bitter smile. “I thought perhaps Risi might thrash me herself when she realized I’d been fighting. She made me promise to never do it again.”

  However, I’d not kept that promise for any length of time and had continued tussling with the other boys and blaming any scrapes or bruises on climbing trees or falls during footraces. But I would never forget the day she’d seen me fighting with Medad in Kiryat-Yearim when I was fifteen and the horror on her face when I came out of the dark place I’d gone while I beat him half to death.

  “I should like to meet your sister someday,” said Mariada.

  I stiffened, frowning. “She does not live in Ashdod.”

  “Oh? Did she marry someone in another city?”

  The question hit me like a spear to the chest. But for as innocent as her curiosity was, I had no interest in spilling the contents of my bitter soul. I was not here to dredge up my messy past, only to build my future—a future that now included this lovely young woman in front of me.

  Mariada would join my household within a few months, after the first of the intercity games we would host in Ashdod. Perhaps within a year or two, the enormous house I’d built would no longer be filled only with the gentle shushing of servants’ bare feet, but with the voices of my own children. A son, perhaps, a boy I could raise to step into my position one day. Or a daughter, a sweet little girl with hazel eyes and freckles that multiplied in the sun.

  No. A child of Mariada’s would have blue eyes and alabaster skin, like her mother’s. I blinked away the traitorous thought and brought my attention back to my soon-to-be bride.

  She sat watching me with furrowed brows, and I realized I’d been so wrapped up in my own thoughts that I’d not answered her question.

  “My sister is gone,” I said, not willing to explain any further.

  “Oh.” She placed her fingers on her lips, emotion rising in her eyes as she made the exact assumption I’d intended. “I am so sorry for your loss.”

  I stretched a tight smile over my face, grateful she did not press upon the subject. “It was a long time ago,” I said, and then to further push away all the conflicting emotions that thoughts of Risi stirred up, I decided that it was past time for me to tell Mariada about the agreement Nicaro and I had made. “I suppose you may suspect the reason for my presence here this evening.”

  Even though twilight had fallen and I could only see her face by lamplight now, the color of her cheeks deepened drastically. “I can only guess that you have spoken with my father about me.”

  “Indeed, I have.”

  “I did not know that you had even noticed me at the harvest festival.” She lowered her gaze to where her hands were fidgeting in her lap. “There were so many desirable women around. Many far bolder than me. I cannot understand how I could have caught your eye.”

  That small indication of insecurity gave me pause. She seemed to have little idea of just how beautiful she was. I decided to let her think that this betrothal had been entirely my idea and not Nicaro’s.

  I reached for her hand, which was cool to the touch, either from nerves or the chill of the evening. “Out of all the lovely women who were at that feast, it was you who I could not keep my eyes aw
ay from, Mariada. And when I had the chance to speak to your father, to plead for your hand in marriage, I took it with great pleasure.”

  A noise, like the sound of someone stifling a gasp, caused me to look over Mariada’s shoulder to where a maid stood in the shadows holding a length of cloth in her hands, presumably the wrap Savina had promised to send.

  I wondered for a moment whether the girl had been embarrassed that she’d intruded on a private moment or simply startled to find Mariada alone with a man who looked every inch the brutal fighter. But then, with slow steps, the maid came forward into the glow of one of the lampstands flickering near the entrance to the terrace, and there was no more question as to why she’d been so stricken.

  The ghost I’d seen on the balcony yesterday had not been an illusion at all. Standing ten paces away from where I sat confirming my betrothal to a Philistine woman was Shoshana, the Hebrew girl I’d loved since I was eleven years old. The girl I’d vowed to spend the rest of my life with. The girl who’d abandoned me and left me so broken and desperate that I’d run away from Kiryat-Yearim, leaving everything behind. How could she be here? Not just in Ashdod, but in the palace of the king? Blood rushed through my body in a painful torrent, my heart pounding with the same ferocity as it had during the few rare times when an opponent managed to trap me in an inescapable hold.

  “Lukio?” Mariada’s sweet voice broke into the thoughts careening about inside my head, drawing my attention back to her. For as much as I wanted to leap to my feet, drag Shoshana away, and demand to know everything that had happened to her since the last moment I’d seen her in the middle of a forest clearing, I’d made an agreement with the king of Ashdod. I’d pressed my own signet ring into the clay, and there was no erasing that without losing everything I’d worked for over the past ten years.

  “As I was saying,” I continued, making certain that none of the shock and confusion I was experiencing was revealed in my voice. “I would love nothing more than to make you my wife.”

  Her free hand went to her mouth as she stared at me wide-eyed. “You truly want to marry me?”

  I nodded, not trusting my tongue and forcing myself to not dart a look toward Shoshana who was now as still as one of the columns that held aloft the roof of this magnificent palace.

  “The betrothal contract has already been prepared and will be announced tomorrow,” I said, then gave her an alternative that I’d not planned to offer until my past had crashed into my future. “But I certainly won’t force you if it is not your desire to complete this union.”

  “Of course I would be honored to marry you,” Mariada said, her words bubbling out like a wellspring as an enormous smile stretched across her lips. “I cannot believe this! My sisters will be so surprised! In fact, every woman in Ashdod will be faint from envy.” She let out a little huff of surprised laughter. “Me—married to the champion of Ashdod!”

  All the pleased anticipation I’d felt on my walk up the stairs beside Nicaro was gone. For as angry as I’d been when Shoshana had thrown me aside, I could do nothing to control the flood of memories of our childhood together. The laughter. The games in the woods. The whispers in the moonlight beneath our tree.

  By appearing here now, she’d stolen what should have been the satisfaction of my most hard-won victory. I needed to find out how she’d come to be here—and I would do just that, very soon—but nothing would change what she’d done back then and what had just happened here tonight.

  I stood, pointedly avoiding Shoshana’s stricken gaze as she stepped forward to fold her mistress in the wrap she’d brought to the terrace; for it was clear that the girl I’d spent years with, secretly traipsing all over the mountain I’d once called home, was now the handmaiden to my betrothed.

  “Your father is planning a feast to celebrate our betrothal in a few days, so I will return then.” I bent to kiss the back of her hand, knowing the small affection would be expected of me now that we were to be married.

  “All right,” she said, obviously confused by my hasty retreat after such a significant conversation. “I’ll look forward to seeing you.”

  I forced myself to give her a tight smile and went to take my leave, but not before I made the mistake of lifting my eyes to those of the girl I’d loved with every fiber of my being when I was young. The collision of our gazes felt like two ships ramming each other at full speed, and the shimmer of grief in her hazel eyes stripped me to the bone.

  Then, just like she’d done the day she’d left my hopes in ashes beside a smoking charcoal mound, I walked away.

  Six

  Shoshana

  Now I knew exactly how Lukio had felt the day I’d told him I was marrying someone else. How his chest must have felt like one enormous gaping wound as I’d walked away. I now fully understood why he’d taken his ax to the charcoal mound he’d spent days building with such vehemence that I’d heard his guttural cries halfway down the mountain as I fled, even above the sound of my own anguished sobs.

  No wonder he’d packed a bag and run away to Ashdod a couple of days later, desperate to leave behind the pain I’d inflicted on him. If I had the ability to escape this palace right now, I would already be gone, dragging my shredded heart behind me in the dirt.

  But not only was I not free to wallow in the agony of hearing Lukio profess his adoration for another woman—my mistress, no less—but I didn’t even have the right to feel such things.

  I’d left him. Married another man. In fact, the same one who’d tormented him in childhood. Lukio certainly did not have to answer to me, of all people. And even though it seemed that he had taken that same ax to my rib cage the moment he’d announced his and Mariada’s betrothal, I could not let the devastation show on my face.

  “Can you believe it?” Mariada said, practically vibrating with excitement as she pulled the soft woolen wrap I’d brought tighter about her bare shoulders. “Demon Eyes wants to marry me?”

  I tried not to flinch at her choice of words. She did not know how hurtful that term had once been to Lukio. She was simply a very young woman, awed by the idea that a famous fighter had settled his affections on her.

  She spun in her chair to look up at me, her blue eyes glittering. “My sisters will turn every shade of envy when they hear that he’s chosen me.”

  I had no doubt they would. After Lukio’s match yesterday, Mariada’s sisters shamelessly had talked of little else than the champion of Ashdod and just how much they would welcome his attentions, regardless that Tela was married and Jasara was betrothed.

  “You must be tired, mistress. Would you like to return to your chamber now?” I gave her a half-hearted smile, hoping she would not notice the abrupt change of subject. I was desperate to be away from this terrace and the memory of Lukio’s beautiful mismatched eyes meeting my own and how the shock in them had so swiftly cooled into apathy before he’d turned away.

  But now that he’d seen me for certain, I could breathe easier. He’d made it very clear that he wanted nothing to do with me and that was as it should be. I was determined to be content with the many wonderful memories I had with him when we were young and to remember that we were no longer children dreaming of an impossible future while tromping about the woods. He was Philistine. I was Hebrew. He was wealthy and famous. I was a slave. And nothing would ever change those facts.

  Besides, I had much more important things to worry about than the boy I’d fixed my affections on when I was barely old enough to understand what transpired between men and women. I’d been summoned to a meeting tonight and needed Mariada to be asleep before I could slip away. Usually by now she was already well into her dreams so she could wake with the sunrise, a habit she’d learned from her mother, who abhorred the dark.

  “I am tired,” Mariada replied, stifling a yawn and rising. “Especially after staying up through most of the festivities last night.”

  I was even more weary, not only because it had been expected that I continue serving Mariada until she finally we
nt to bed sometime before dawn, but because I’d been on edge the entire time, worrying that Lukio might reappear in the royal hall during the drunken revelries. I’d not allowed myself to relax until I lay my head down on my pallet in the corner of Mariada’s room, and I had paid for such exhaustion by not being on my guard when I stumbled upon Lukio’s speech to Mariada.

  To hurry along the process of returning to Mariada’s chamber, I began to snuff out the remaining lamps around the terrace while my mistress talked of her betrothed.

  “Have you ever seen a more beautiful man, Shoshana?” she asked. “There is something so arresting about his face.”

  I hummed a non-response but could not disagree. I’d always been drawn to him, even when I was a girl, and could not explain what it was about him that was so interesting to me. In comparison to the other boys in Kiryat-Yearim, his skin was lighter, his curly hair was a fascinating golden-brown, and his dual-colored eyes were entrancing. But far more than the unique looks that had initially captured my attention, it had been the sweetness of his soul that had ensnared me, a hidden depth that he revealed only to me and his sister, along with the feeling that he needed my friendship as much as I needed his.

  As we made our way toward her rooms, Mariada continued to talk, seeming not to notice that I hadn’t answered her question. “I heard that his home is beyond compare as well. He purchased three smaller houses and had a team of men tear them down to make room for his own. There was no expense spared in the construction either. It is rumored to be the most richly appointed home in Ashdod—next to this one, of course.” She giggled and grabbed my arm, gasping in delight. “I cannot believe that within a few months you and I will be living there!”

  My blood went still. For all the revelations this evening had brought, the realization that I would be forced to serve in his household hadn’t yet occurred to me. How could I possibly endure such torture?

  Thankfully, Mariada was so caught up in dreams of her future husband that I was able to usher her down the stairs and to her chamber quite easily. I hoped that once I helped her undress and tucked her into her bed the excitement of the day would wear off quickly and she would succumb to sleep. My friends would wait for a while but certainly not all night. There was too much at stake to be careless.