To Dwell among Cedars

by Connilyn Cossette

  “I know,” she said. “My father told me you were coming with the others.”

  A strange response, as if she expected me. As if she knew me.

  Intrigued, I ventured closer, leaning my hip against the wall beside her and relaxing my posture. “I don’t remember meeting you when I was in Kiryat-Yearim last time. And I thought I’d met all of Elazar’s children.”

  Her lips quirked. “Don’t you?”

  “I would remember you,” I said, allowing another slow smile as my eyes traveled over her face with its high, wide-set cheekbones, narrow chin, and full lips. There was something so unique about her, more than just the color of her hair or the paleness of her skin. Whatever had snagged my attention as she danced had not relented.

  She huffed a soft laugh and shook her head, as if she suspected the game I’d barely begun to play. “Perhaps your memory is not as well-honed as you think it to be.” She lifted her brows, and somehow I felt she’d turned the game board around on me and now awaited my next move.

  As tall as she was, she was almost able to look me in the eye, so I leaned forward to search hers in the meager light from the oil lamp sitting between us on the wall. Her eyes were large, almost impossibly so, and a deep green color that I’d only seen one time before.

  The truth struck me so suddenly that I gasped out a name I’d not uttered in all these years. “Arisa?”

  She dipped her chin in acknowledgment, those green eyes now alight with laughter.

  My jaw gaped as I conjured up my memory of the Philistine waif I’d discovered behind the sheepfold. I would have guessed that she and her brother had been escorted back to Ashdod long ago, as Abinidab had promised them.

  “But . . .” I sputtered, remembering the way she’d danced with the sisters of the bride. “But you aren’t Elazar’s daughter.”

  A flash of hurt crossed her face before her chin lifted and her gaze hardened. “Natan and I were adopted by Elazar and Yoela and have the same rights as any of their blood-borne children.”

  Again I lifted my hands in apology. “I meant no offense. I am merely surprised. I did not expect you to still be here.”

  The nearby flame reflected against those luminous eyes as she spoke. “They saved us,” she said softly, her body relaxing into the wall again. “Took us in and from the very first treated us with unwavering kindness. Never once did I feel like an enemy. After a few weeks, they asked if we wanted to stay. Not only did we have nothing to return to, but by that time I was desperate to remain with such generous people. When Elazar came to me with the proposal that we become part of the family a few months later, I accepted without a thought.” Her gaze floated back toward the dark tree line. “Natan still struggles with that decision. But it was the right one.”

  “So Natan”—I gestured off toward the path she’d been keeping vigil over—“is Lukio?”

  She nodded. “We both were given new names—Hebrew names—when we became part of the family and joined in the covenant with Yahweh. A reminder of our new identity.” A distant look came into her eyes. “The old Hebrew woman who cared for us, Azuvah, used to call me her light. So I took Eliora, God my Light, as my name. And Lukio was always my most precious gift, so I named him Natan.”

  Still stunned from such a revelation, I remained silent. How strange that the same girl that had followed the Ark from Philistine territory would be here when I returned. Somehow, I was unsurprised that the boy had grown into a troubled young man. I well remembered the suspicious looks he’d leveled at me as we journeyed, even after I’d enticed him to take a closer look at my lion’s claw necklace. It wasn’t until I’d engaged him in a game of dice that he’d ceased to cast threatening looks at me behind his sister’s back.

  “I have you to thank,” she said in a more mature version of the sweet voice I remembered from eight years ago. Then it had reminded me of a wounded bird, but now it was more like a gently plucked lyre, soft and melodic, the sound stirring a peculiar melancholy I’d not felt in years.

  “If you did not find us,” she said, “or bring us to Abinidab that day, we would have likely perished out there alone. And I certainly would not have the family I do now. When my father told me you were among the group of Levites coming to Kiryat-Yearim for the festivals, I was so glad that I would finally have the chance to express my gratitude.”

  Again her attention darted toward the forest, her expression shuttering. Whatever was going on with her brother must be more than just a young man avoiding a wedding feast, and the instinct to fix whatever might be broken welled up with surprising strength in me. Somehow, even after all this time, I felt responsible for the two young Philistines I’d found in a field.

  But thoughts of that day near Beth Shemesh also reminded me of my purpose for following Eliora up here, and my hands clenched around the stone wall. My mission was vastly more important than contending with a boy’s rebellious ways or a misplaced urge to soothe the pain I saw in his sister’s deep green eyes. No, these plans had been in the works for an entire year, and I could not allow anything to take my focus from my duty to my family or my people.

  Elazar had refused to listen to reason since Abinidab had died, obeying the commands of Samuel the Pretender instead of the priests who were the rightful authority over the holy implements—and who would soon return the center of worship where it belonged. And so, it did not—it could not—matter whether Arisa-turned-Eliora called the man who guarded this mountain Father.

  The time had finally come to steal the Ark of the Covenant.

  Fourteen

  Eliora

  Ronen had changed, although it had taken me no more than a few moments to recognize him when he’d arrived. His beard was thick and full now, and he’d added more breadth to his shoulders and a handspan of height, but those dark brown eyes that had been full of such mischief as he told Natan stories and indulged him in games of dice were still just as captivating, even more so now. I’d thought of him often over the years, every time I heard a pleasing melody plucked on a lyre or strummed on a lute, or whenever I’d sung with my sisters as we scrubbed laundry in the stream. I’d wondered where he was, whom he’d married, if he had children—silly thoughts of a girl who’d been enthralled with an older boy who had twice come to her rescue.

  To avoid making a fool of myself any further, especially knowing that he’d watched me dance with all the grace of a camel, I put my eyes back on the path down below, praying for the thousandth time tonight that Natan would appear at the head of the trail.

  “Much has changed here over the years,” said Ronen, waving a hand toward the shared courtyard situated at the center of our compound. “I could not help but notice there are a number of new buildings.”

  “There are indeed,” I responded, the sounds of joyful revelry below making my lips curve upward, in spite of how much Natan’s absence weighed on me. “Not only has our family grown, but with the Levites who guard the Ark living here, along with a few of their families, there was a need for more rooms. Most of them live down in Kiryat-Yearim, though.”

  “How many are there?”

  “Levites?” I paused, counting in my head. “There must be at least thirty or so who reside here full time.”

  His brows rose. “So many?”

  “Although it’s doubtful that anyone would be so foolish as to approach the Ark, my father wants to ensure that it is well guarded, day and night.”

  “A wise decision,” he said, his eyes tracking off in the direction where the Ark was hidden—a coincidence, since only the Levites who had charge over the sacred vessel knew the exact location. With the exception of myself and a few other members of our family, of course.

  In the silence that followed, I searched about for something to say, realizing that for as many years as I’d daydreamed about Ronen, I actually knew very little about his life other than that he was a Levite and had come to Kiryat-Yearim with his uncle.

  “And your uncle, is he well?”

  Ronen flinche
d at my question, perhaps startled by the abrupt change of subject. “Abiram? Oh . . . yes. He is fine. Busy with his duties as an elder of the Levites.” His answer was strangely stilted. Perhaps there was some sort of rocky ground between them.

  “And the rest of your family? Your wife? Children?” I asked, foolishly dreading the answers on both accounts. Ronen’s eyes snapped to mine. Surely he could see the pool of embarrassment I’d had to swim through to even ask such a question.

  “I am not married,” he said. “I still live with my uncle’s family.”

  “Oh . . . I did not know. . . .” Sensing there was pain beneath that statement, I fumbled about for a response, grateful that the twilight would hide the rush of heat to my cheeks. “I apologize for—”

  “My father and brothers died in the war at Afek,” he said, speaking over me. “And my mother remarried shortly after, so she and my younger siblings went north with her second husband’s clan.”

  My heart flipped over in my chest, all mortification forgotten as I realized that when he’d found Natan and me in that field, he’d just lost one parent to death and the other had left him behind. He had been as much an orphan as we were back then. Yet he’d been so kind, so gentle, not displaying even a hint of resentment for the part that our own people had in the destruction of his family.

  “Oh, Ronen, I am sorry. You must miss them so much.”

  He brushed away my concern with a swipe of his palm, affixing a smile to his lips that in no way reached his eyes. “My uncle’s family has been more than generous. I owe them everything.”

  “Just as I owe Elazar and Yoela,” I said. “Without their kindness to us, we would have had to return to Philistia and survive on our own. I thank Yahweh every day that Azuvah told us to follow the Ark.” I repressed a shudder as the horrific moments following her command welled up in my mind.

  “And what of the Ark? Have you seen it again since the day we—?”

  His question was cut off by a strident call from Miri. “Eliora! You must come!” She bounded across the rooftop, one hand outstretched in supplication. The urgency in her tone made my stomach curl into itself. Natan!

  “What is it?” I ran to her, heart pounding.

  Miri’s frown, and the way she gripped my arm, did nothing to quell my panic. “He’s back, but he’s not alone,” she said. “Abba is speaking with the men who accompanied him here.”

  Without a thought I flew down the stairs, trying not to trip over my feet as I wound my way through the wedding guests and toward the back door to our home. When I arrived in the front room, my father and Gershom were standing with a filth-covered Natan, whose arms were crossed over his chest and who was glowering at the floor. Three strangers stood nearby with matching scowls on their faces as they regarded my brother with disdain. Two of the men sported darkening bruises on their jaws and looked nearly as grubby as Natan.

  “This had better be the last time,” said one of them. “I cannot be held responsible for what will happen if they go after our livestock again.”

  “It is only because he told us that he belongs to you that he is not in shackles,” said the third man, who appeared unscathed by whatever tussle had taken place.

  “I appreciate your grace in this instance, my friends,” said my father, a deep pinch of frustration between his silvering brows as he spoke with firm authority. “I assure you, this matter will be dealt with immediately. Please, help yourself to food and drink. We are celebrating the marriage of one of my daughters.” He laid a palm on Gershom’s shoulder. “And my eldest here will ensure you have a place to pass the night so you may return to your village after you’ve rested.”

  The three men reluctantly accepted my father’s offer without further argument, but all of them shot disgruntled looks at Natan as they trailed out behind Gershom.

  My mother bustled into the room just as the door closed behind them. “What happened? Natan!” she exclaimed, rushing to examine him head to toe. “Where have you been? We’ve been so worried!”

  Natan accepted her fussing for a moment, but when she started wiping the dirt from his face, he took a step backward, pulling away from her insistent hands. “I am fine. Just a misunderstanding.”

  “Misunderstanding?” said my father, incredulous. “How can theft be a misunderstanding?”

  “We stole nothing,” snapped Natan, stretching to his full height, which topped my father’s by a full hand. It was no wonder it had taken three men to accompany him home when his height and bulk made him appear so much older than his years. It always had. “It was nothing more than a jest. Padi and Adnan thought it would be amusing to hide a few sheep in a cave. We had no intention of taking them for good. If those men hadn’t appeared out of nowhere and wrestled us to the ground”—he gestured to the muck that stained his tunic from neck to knee with abraded knuckles—“it all would have ended harmlessly.”

  My father regarded Natan silently for a few very long moments, the silence in the room ripe with unease as my brother held his gaze with shocking audacity. Elazar was a fair man, but one who did not hesitate to discipline those under his command—or his children, when it was warranted. I knew this well because I’d dreaded such discipline since I’d stepped foot in his home eight years before, and I worked hard to avoid provoking the kind of intense expression he was leveling at my brother right now.

  My stomach churned as I anticipated whatever well-deserved words of chastisement would soon follow. But to my surprise, instead of blistering Natan’s ears, my father sighed, the sound weighted with disappointment. “We’ve all been very concerned for you, son. Your mother has been nearly ill with worry, and I don’t think Eliora has slept for the past two nights. And, of course, you missed Safira’s wedding. Your sister is wounded that you found other pursuits more interesting than joining with your family in this celebration. She’s asked after you a number of times when she should instead be focusing on the joy of her new marriage.”

  Only a tiny twitch of his cheek hinted at Natan’s guilt over hurting Safira, but then he pursed his lips and looked away, as if determined not to let it affect him. There was no contrition in his posture, but I knew Natan better than anyone and felt sure that he’d not meant to hurt Safira, even if his actions of late had become increasingly thoughtless and brazen.

  “We’ll discuss this tomorrow,” said my father. “Now is not the time to deal with the consequences of your actions. Go wash yourself. And then apologize to Safira. She’ll be relieved that you are safe.”

  Without a word, Natan left the room and with him the strong smell of animal waste. Whoever had discovered my brother and his unruly friends must have wrestled them right into a manure pile.

  My mother went to my father’s side, winding an arm about his waist. “This will pass, Elazar. You are doing your best with him.”

  “I cannot help but feel that my best efforts fall far short.” He shook his head, then without another word or even a glance at me, turned and went back out into the courtyard, his shoulders slumped in a defeated way I’d never seen before.

  “This is my fault,” I mumbled, staring at the door he’d exited and feeling the weight of his disappointment in Natan on my own shoulders.

  “Your fault?” exclaimed my mother, sounding scandalized. “Eliora, that is nonsense. You’ve been that boy’s moon and stars since he was born. No one has loved him better than you, nor cared for him more selflessly.”

  “I cannot help but wonder . . .” I began, but my voice trailed off. Because although I’d asked myself many times what I could have done to keep Natan from becoming so bitter, I would not change a single decision I’d made from the moment Azuvah told us to flee. Everything I’d done had been only to protect him, and I desperately wished he could see it all through my eyes.

  Sometimes Natan seemed to forget whatever burdens he carried. There had been years, even, when I’d felt like he’d finally allowed himself to be one with the family who’d embraced us so thoroughly. From the beginning, o
ur older brothers had included him in all their romps through the woods and in every game and wood-sword fight and good-natured tease. For a long while, I’d been relieved when he seemed to transfer his affections from his distorted memory of Mataro to Gershom and Iyov. But with seven years between him and Iyov, and nine with Gershom, they’d grown out of boyish escapades far before Natan, and eventually he turned to boys outside our home to seek out adventures. And as each of our older brothers began training for their future Levitical duties, Natan slipped further into an attitude of belligerence, which seemed to only be worsening with time.

  My mother reached up to cup my cheeks in her palms, her diminutive size no match for the large heart that lived inside her chest. “No more of this, Eliora. Natan makes his own choices. He is no little boy who you must protect anymore. You are not to blame for his actions, nor for whatever pain he is harboring deep in his soul. Besides, both Gershom and Iyov were no gentle lambs at that age either. He’ll find his way to manhood, even if it is a rocky journey. We must trust Yahweh to watch over him along the way and guide his steps.”

  I let her pull me down for a kiss to my forehead, as usual feeling a tinge of embarrassment that I, too, towered over the women of my family. No matter how long we lived here and no matter how much Elazar and Yoela enfolded us into their clan, we would never look Hebrew. The golden-brown hair, pale skin, and peculiar height our birth father had passed to us from his far-northern ancestors would always make us stand out as different. It had done so even among our own people.

  But my mother was right. I’d learned over these past years that it was the Eternal One who directed our path. He’d inspired Azuvah to teach us the ways of the Israelites and their language. He’d protected Natan and me as we walked through treacherous country unscathed. And it was he who led us to Elazar and Yoela’s doorstep.

  Therefore, tomorrow I would go to my special place and plead for my brother once again. For if there was one thing I knew after years of being witness to my parents’ distress over Natan’s increasingly volatile behavior, it was that only Yahweh could rescue my brother from whatever had such a grip on his troubled spirit.