Between the Wild Branches

by Connilyn Cossette

  I had no idea how Oshai and Avel had befriended the guard, nor why he’d become our silent and nameless protector, but after months of navigating this strange and secretive routine without incident, I’d learned to trust yet another man whose face I’d never seen.

  “Watch over him, Yahweh,” I whispered as I carefully unlatched the door and slipped into the cool darkness. Knowing the room almost as well as I did Mariada’s in the blackness, I felt my way past enormous jugs of wine, taking exactly fifteen paces from the entryway to the back wall. Just as my hand met limestone, the lock clicked on the door behind me, a sound that always made my heart stutter, but which was actually a blessing. The guard had locked us in to protect us from any intruders on our meeting, or at least to give us time to hide in the narrow space behind a row of enormous wine jars in the deep shadows while he stalled with the pretense that the lock was jammed. We’d practiced the routine together before a number of times and knew our part well.

  A few moments later, a flame burst to life, throwing the cluttered room into dim outline and illuminating the face of Oshai, a Levite who’d served in the stables of the seren for almost as long as I’d been alive. Taken as a sixteen-year-old boy during a raid, he was the only one of us with enough knowledge of the sacred ways of Yahweh to lead us in worship, and he also had the ability to spy on the soldiers whose horses and chariots he tended, bringing us word of any new captives brought to Ashdod.

  As Oshai lit the small oil lamp, the rest of my friends’ faces were made visible. Two men and two women smiled at me from their little circle on the hard ground.

  “Shalom,” said Galit as I took my place on the ground next to her. The young woman was a kitchen slave who’d lived in the palace for nearly half her life after being kidnapped during a berry-picking outing with her family.

  “We weren’t certain you were coming,” said Kina, another half-Hebrew who’d been brought along with her mistress, one of the king’s concubines, to the palace a couple of years before. Only fourteen years old, her sweetly ebullient demeanor and bright brown eyes reminded me so much of Miri, Lukio’s adopted younger sister in Kiryat-Yearim. Although I did not know Kina as well as I did Galit, I felt especially protective of her for that reason alone.

  “Mariada took a long while getting to sleep tonight,” I said.

  Galit scooted closer, slipping her hand through my arm as she pressed into my side. A couple of years older than me, we’d struck up a quiet friendship during the many times I was sent to the kitchen to fetch meals or drink for my mistress, but it wasn’t until I’d been in the palace for a few months that she decided she could trust me and invited me to be a part of this group—the main purpose of which was to help defenseless slaves escape abusive masters.

  “Did you lace her wine again?” Galit asked.

  I should feel guilty that I’d tainted Mariada’s drink to ensure she would sleep quickly and deeply, but I’d used it before when I needed to slip out of her room at night.

  “I did. I couldn’t chance her waking up. She’s been far too restless and overexcited since her betrothal to the champion.” I swallowed the bitter words down and hoped no one noticed my sour expression.

  It had been two weeks since I’d spoken with him under the stars, since I’d told him to leave me alone and consider us strangers, but somehow I’d felt like I’d left a piece of myself behind on that terrace. It had hurt to walk away from the man who’d once been my closest friend and leave him with no explanation for why I’d done so. But the less he knew about my complicated reasons for remaining here, the better.

  Kina sighed at the mention of Lukio, her wide-set eyes sparkling in the lamplight. “What a fortunate girl. He may be a Philistine, but there’s no man in Ashdod like Demon Eyes. My mistress is practically seething with jealousy.”

  Although her statement was guileless, I stiffened without thinking. Galit must have felt the tension in my body, the way she pinned her eyes on my profile. Even though we’d only known each other for a little over a year now, she was my first true sister-of-the-heart. Along with being an inordinately perceptive woman, she was also one of the most stubborn, so I doubted I would be allowed to leave without being thoroughly questioned about my reaction to mention of my mistress’s betrothed.

  “Yes, well, I think we can save palace gossip for later,” said Oshai in a fatherly tone. Kina reddened and pressed her lips together, but her eyes still danced with humor as Oshai continued. “Before we begin worship, Avel has some news for us about the attempt to free that last group of slaves.”

  All levity dissipated as Avel cleared his throat. He was a quiet man, tall and lanky for a Hebrew due to his partial Egyptian heritage, and he was one of the many skilled gardeners who tended to the extensive gardens on the south side of the palace as well as all the many lovely plants and flowers that grew within the courtyards and in pots on all the terraces and roofs. It was he who’d taught me to make a harmless sleeping elixir for Mariada and provided me with the powder. Also, his eyes followed Galit everywhere, whether she realized it or not.

  “One of the boys who was taken to the house of Kaparo was freed and by now has been returned to his family in Yehudite territory,” said Avel. “However, the other child and one of our friends was caught during the escape attempt.”

  Our quiet gasps echoed off the limestone walls.

  Avel’s expression was pained. “We know nothing of what happened after that. My contact said only that our friend has disappeared.”

  “Will they be executed?” I asked, my throat tight. Although I did not know the name of the person who’d been involved, nor even if they were a man or a woman, grief welled up in my soul. They were one of us, doing anything they could to help free vulnerable women and children, at the risk of their own lives.

  When Oshai proposed that I carry messages about new captives to a man who would pass them to others outside of the palace, he’d said that because of my position as handmaiden to a king’s daughter, and the unparalleled freedoms Mariada gave me, I was the perfect person for such a task. When I asked why he or Avel could not do so, he said that the balance between secrets and risks was very delicate and everyone had their own job to perform. His was to gather information and lead us in worship. Avel’s was to receive news of the repercussions of our efforts from a source whose appearances in the gardens was unpredictable. Galit’s was to listen in on conversations during meals and report any pertinent news. Kina’s was to do the same whenever her mistress participated in palace gatherings. And mine was to meet the anonymous man in the shed whenever Oshai summoned him. After all, it would be fairly easy to pretend that the unnamed man and I were there for personal reasons instead of nefarious ones. Few would question, or even care, if an older man took advantage of a slave in a dark room.

  Of course, I’d had to trust Oshai’s assurances that the man I’d been sent to meet was of the utmost character and would not actually do such a thing. The first few times I’d gone, I’d taken a small knife Galit had pilfered from the kitchen with me. But the man had never even crossed the small room while we spoke, almost as if he knew I needed the reassurance that he would not touch me and that I would have plenty of time to reach the door if he proved false.

  It had taken at least four meetings before I stopped trembling when I met him and six before I stopped bringing the knife. But I’d quickly learned that he expected only swift delivery of the messages I carried. We spoke of nothing personal and did not exchange names. The last time we met, when he’d asked about the winner of Lukio’s match, was the first time he’d ever spoken of anything else. And each time I left him behind with the lives of women or children in his hands, I prayed that Yahweh would protect him and guide him. It was only by Adonai’s mercy that this network had not been discovered before now, and I hoped that would continue to be the case.

  “An execution is possible,” said Avel. “But I doubt Kaparo would bother to make it public. It would only serve to show that his household was vulnerab
le to intruders, anyhow.”

  Indeed, the High Priest in the temple of Dagon was one of the most arrogant men I’d ever seen. His vivid disdain for anyone below his status was matched only by Amunet, the king’s first wife, so he would certainly not want anyone to know of a weakness in the security of his home. Nor that we’d been successful in rescuing at least one child from his clutches.

  “It is more than likely,” said Oshai, “that we will never know what happened to our friend.”

  “What of the girl?” I asked, remembering that I’d carried news to the man in the shed about three captives that day. She’d been purchased by Rumit, the king’s scribe, a notoriously lecherous man whom I’d seen eyeing Mariada a number of times during his palace visits.

  “She remains enslaved,” said Oshai. “In fact, we have been told that the scribe’s wife has been unable to bear children, so it is likely he is attempting to get a babe from her.”

  My heart squeezed with empathy for the poor girl’s humiliation. “Is there nothing that can be done for her?”

  “He’s treating her as a concubine for now and therefore she is guarded well. We will keep trying to get someone inside and find a way, but it will be especially difficult if she conceives. Rumit is desperate for an heir and will go any length to protect his line. And as awful as it is, we must put our efforts toward those who are in the most danger. For now, she is well fed and cared for by his servants.”

  “So, we will leave her to be abused by him?” I said.

  Oshai’s voice was laden with remorse. “As much as it grieves me, yes. We will keep an eye on her. But for now, our focus must be on the most vulnerable ones. Our resources are limited and our friends few.”

  He sighed and went silent for a few moments, allowing us all to consider, once again, whether our participation was worth the cost. My own risk was great. If I lost my position with Mariada, I would be forced to leave the palace, which would tear me to pieces. But I also could not justify standing by while my fellow Hebrews—especially children of similar ages to my own—were suffering.

  “Does anyone have anything else to share?” asked Oshai.

  “I overheard a conversation,” said Galit, “between two of the commanders the other night at the celebration. It sounds as if there is another attack planned on the territory of Dan within the next few weeks.”

  Oshai nodded. “I’ve heard whispers of this among the soldiers as well. I’ve passed on what I know to someone who is able to carry the message to the Hebrews. We can only pray that it reaches the right people at the right time.” We all nodded in response, knowing that the only thing we could do was play our part and hope it was enough.

  “However,” Oshai continued, his countenance brightening, “I do have some encouraging news on that front. As I’ve told you in the past, although there have been a few losses to the Philistines, especially in the territory of Dan, there have been victories as well. At least three raids by the king of Gath were thwarted by the Yehudites, with the help of the Simeonites. And the tribes have been working together more in order to regain some of the ground we’ve lost over the past few years. It seems as though the leadership of Samuel has been increasingly effective.”

  I’d never heard of Samuel when I was a girl, but after he appeared at Kiryat-Yearim on the night Eliora’s husband and his cousin had attempted to steal the Ark of the Covenant, I’d come to learn quite a bit about the man purported to hear directly from Yahweh. I’d been fascinated by stories of a young Samuel, who’d grown up serving within the Mishkan itself and had been directed by the voice of the Eternal One to rebuff the High Priest Eli for the wickedness of his sons.

  However, Samuel’s chastisements of our people for mixing worship of Yahweh with that of the Canaanite and Philistine gods and intermarrying with the idolatrous people who lived among us were divisive, to say the least. By the time I’d been taken captive, half the people were calling for Samuel to be installed as king, while the other half, especially those in the south, called for him to be silenced. From what little we heard here in Ashdod, it sounded like attitudes toward the prophet of Yahweh had been shifting among Samuel’s detractors. But it would take a miracle for the tribes to finally cease bickering amongst themselves and join together as one under his leadership.

  “Will Samuel lead the tribes in war against the Philistines?” Galit asked, as if she’d heard my musings.

  “That is not for me to guess. Samuel does not hold himself up as a military leader but as a seer and a priest. And there are many among the Hebrews who are still clamoring for a king who will stand strong against the kings of Philistia. However, my friends tell me that our people are turning back to the ways of Yahweh like never before. Although it has taken decades for Samuel’s message to reach their stony hearts, there is an ever-growing fervor for pure worship and increasing intolerance for idolatry. Thanks to the efforts of Samuel and his disciples, many ancient Canaanite high places have been destroyed and the ground consecrated to worship of the Most High instead.”

  On that note of inspiration, Oshai led us in prayer for our people, pleading with the God Who Hears to listen to our cries and to rescue our brethren from increasing attacks from the Philistines, and thanking him for preserving us, even in this pagan city. By the time he recited the priestly blessing over us, tears were spilling down my cheeks. I would never have imagined finding friends like these in Ashdod when I was brought here, demoralized and broken, and I could never thank Yahweh enough for the gift.

  Before I even had a chance to dry my face, Galit tugged at my elbow, wordlessly insisting that I follow her to the opposite side of the room while ignoring curious looks from the others. Of course, I’d known she would not let me walk away without explaining my odd behavior earlier, so I’d already resigned myself to the conversation.

  “We don’t have much time,” she said, “so tell me quickly what is burdening you.”

  “There’s nothing to say—”

  She put up a palm, her dark eyes relentless. “Do not dance around it, Shoshana. I know you.”

  And she did. From nearly the first day I’d met her, as she helped me pick up the shards of a beer mug that I’d dropped on the floor in a corridor, I’d felt a kinship with Galit. We both had lost so much. Although she’d not been married when she was taken captive, she’d watched her parents be slaughtered by the three Canaanites who’d come across them while they picked berries on a hillside. And although she’d not said as much, I guessed she’d suffered many of the same indignities at the hands of our captors as I had.

  “Your heart is written on your face as surely as if it were lined with ink, my friend. I saw it the moment Oshai lit the lamp. I do not have time to pull the truth from between your teeth, so save me the hassle.”

  It was useless to stall; Galit was relentless. So, in low, quick tones I told her everything. Of my childhood friendship with the champion of Ashdod. Of my stumbling into his announcement of the betrothal. Of our midnight meeting on the terrace and my resolve not to repeat it.

  If I was honest with myself, I was actually glad to finally tell someone about it all. I’d spent the last two weeks wrestling over my cold dismissal of Lukio when he’d seemed truly concerned for me, a fact that had startled me so much I’d nearly given in that night under the stars and told him everything.

  “And why would you not meet again with someone who means so much to you?” Galit asked.

  “It’s fruitless to pretend he is the same person he was when we were barely more than children. And besides, it could endanger what we are doing here.”

  “How so? They seem separate things to me.”

  “He is a Philistine, Galit. And he is dangerous.” Both to my heart and our mission.

  “But what if Yahweh brought him here for a purpose?”

  I flinched at the question. “What reason would that be?”

  “I don’t know. Only time can make that clear if it is true.”

  “Knowing Lukio, he’d be determi
ned to get me out of the palace and out of Ashdod. He never was one to sit idly by.” I could not count the times I barely restrained him from crashing down the mountain to dole out retribution on my father for his harsh treatment of me.

  “That would be wonderful!” she said. “You could go back home!”

  “No,” I said, my voice firm. “My place is here.”

  Galit knew very well why I could not leave.

  “But your children . . .”

  My hand flew to my chest in a futile attempt at keeping it from splitting wide open again. “I know in my bones that the boy I sent them away with got them to safety.”

  My heart throbbed as I allowed myself one excruciating moment of memory. One sight of my sweet Aaliyah, with her little arms wrapped around fourteen-year-old Yoash’s neck and Asher’s small hand gripping that of the young man as they fled up the narrow path behind the city and into the forest, away from a horrific fate at the hands of the Philistines. I’d begged Yoash, Medad’s apprentice, to get them to safety, and he’d barely hesitated, even knowing that he would likely never see his own parents again.

  If it had not been for my elderly neighbor pleading for my help in escaping, I would have followed close behind. But I could not leave the terrified woman, especially when she’d been one of the first people in town to show me kindness, even though my husband was a selfish wretch.

  Once it was apparent that she could not easily traverse the rocky path, the woman had begged me to leave her behind. But I couldn’t bear to leave her to be slaughtered, so I’d continued on while the city behind us burned. The fact that one of the Philistines found us before we’d even made it fifteen paces past the tree line was inevitable. That he’d immediately slit her throat, even more so.

  But when he’d caught sight of the two sets of footprints, one larger and one smaller, in the mud on the trail, I’d had no choice to distract him by fighting my way out of his hold and running the opposite direction. I paid dearly for the decision, but Aaliyah and Asher had remained safe. Not that soldier, nor any other, pursued them, so I believed with every part of me that they were safe with Elazar’s family in Kiryat-Yearim, where I’d sent Yoash to plead for their protection. I certainly could not have trusted my father with their care and who knew where my brothers were, or if they even remembered me.