21

Adah cupped Telem’s face in her hands. She was a fool to leave her friends. Not only did the enemy soldiers breech the Dung Gate, they also sneaked undetected into the city from the second wagon and laid siege to the low-lying areas of the wall. Lord, why was I the one who had to spy their deception?

“Forgive me,” she said to her mason. Now was not the time to explain the reason she abandoned her post. Telem’s wound needed to be closed. She swallowed the spit pooling in her mouth and willed her stomach not to empty. In the intimate space, it smelled like a calf had been butchered. “Did the blade go all the way through?”

“Can’t look.” Telem grimaced. He held Judith’s head covering over the puncture. “I am dizzy when I lift my head.”

“No. No it didn’t.” Judith’s eyes were as big as walnuts. “I did not see the tip, and I was at his back. Jehuliel had called for me to return.”

“Praise God he did.” She motioned to the brothers who stood slack-jawed near the fire. “Grab a mat or a blanket. We must get him to our home. Hurry!”

Adah sprang to her feet and untied her sword. “Take this,” she said to a laborer perched on the wall. “Keep watch. If so much as a mouse scurries over the wall, slay it.”

The man regarded her as if she was possessed, but he accepted the weapon with a gleam in his eye.

Judith’s head and shoulders swayed to an imaginary song. Adah hurried to her sister’s side and patted her cheeks. “Run home and find me a needle and thread. Have a servant warm some water. Do you hear?”

Judith nodded, tears staining her cheeks. She stumbled toward their dwelling.

Jehu and Jehuliel maneuvered a blanket under her mason.

“We will need a jug of wine too,” Adah called after her sister.

“Are you celebrating?” Telem rasped.

“Later. When you can join us.” Adah’s smile trembled. She placed pressure on the soaked veil. “Piercing your skin will be painful.”

“I don’t think it can get any worse.” He trembled as the brothers shifted his torso.

“Think again. The best seamstress in our household is my blind mother.”

Telem groaned.

Adah jogged to keep up with the brothers as they carried Telem through the streets. “Move aside,” she shouted to anyone in their path. Her hand stayed flat upon Telem’s chest, forcing his lifeblood to stay inside his body.

Guilt clung to her like a wet garment. “I’m so sorry, Telem. I should never have left my post and gone to the gate.”

“If you had stayed. You would be dead.” His head rolled to the side. “How,” he released a few short breaths, “could I tell your mother I allowed it?”

“My mother knows how persuasive I can be. If sighted, she would have joined me in guarding the city. This is our home.” Now was not the time to argue her reason for standing sentry.

As they approached her home, the door whipped open. Judith stood just beyond the threshold.

“We have cleared an area in the front room.” Her twin sister held up threaded metal. “I have mother’s embroidery needle.”

“It’s bent like a hook,” Adah said while the brothers gently lowered Telem to the floor.

Her mother, hand to the wall, shuffled closer. “You will never close the skin with a straight one. Flesh is too thick.”

The ground beneath Adah’s feet began to roll like the sea. Blood stained her fingers, hands, and arms. Blood. Everywhere. Blood. “God of Jacob give me strength and skill,” she muttered.

Adah sat next to Telem on the floor. She clenched her teeth and blinked like she was caught in a dust storm. Lord, get me through this. Judith handed her the threaded needle.

Lifting the soiled rag from Telem’s wound, she beheld the sword’s damage, and swiftly pinched the skin together. Sweat dampened her forehead. “I was never the best at sewing.”

“Unfortunately, it was a skill I possessed.” Her mother braced herself against the wall, her face drawn as if she could see the injury. “You will do fine. It’s a simple pattern.”

Judith pressed a cup to Telem’s lips. “Drink. You’ve braved enough pain.”

“Begin then.” Telem clenched his teeth. “Before I become accustomed to it.” His head fell backward and he faced the ceiling.

Adah pierced Telem’s skin with a quick thrust. His flesh was solid. A bubble of blood oozed from her puncture. Her body chilled. Be strong. She looped the thread and pulled it tight, but not too tight to overlap the skin. She tied it. Knotted it. One stitch was finished. A drop of water snaked down the side of her face.

When she jabbed Telem again, his back arched slightly. Judith offered more wine. The scent of salted meat set Adah’s throat ablaze. She swallowed fast and hard. Thankfully, she hadn’t eaten much since the bread and cake she shared with Othniel. Be courageous. She continued, stitch after stitch, closing Telem’s wound until it no longer gave up fresh blood.

Judith faced Adah, lips moving, but with no prayers spoken out loud.

Adah splayed her bloodstained fingers. “Sister, I need you to go to my workshop. Bring me turmeric. Mother will have honey.” She could not allow redness and swelling to set into Telem’s flesh.

Her sister nodded and hurried toward the door.

“First row on the shelf. Fourth jar,” Adah said.

“Am I a delicacy?” Telem’s booming voice was but a vapor.

She should tease him and say no, but his suffering was the result of helping her fulfill a vow. With tears threatening to spill, she said, “Yes. I don’t know where I would be if you had stayed in your cave.”

“It seems God has blessed us both.” He swallowed. “And Adah,” he continued.

Leaning in close to hear her mason’s words, she placed her unclean hand on a soiled rag.

“Have your sister care for me while I recover.” Telem closed his eyes. A hint of a grin lingered on his rugged face.

Adah sat back and stared.

If she hadn’t fought the enemy with her own sword, Adah would have believed Telem had planned his own injury so he could receive Judith’s attention. She dabbed his skin with a clean cloth. Would her sister consider Telem suitable for a husband?

“Daughter, you must wash.” Her mother received a folded tunic and veil from a servant. We will burn your garments and forget this night. I can help your sister tend to Telem’s skin.”

“Yes, let us forget this day.” She thought of Othniel. She didn’t even know where he laid his head this night. Would his presence at their station have kept Telem from being wounded? Or would he have been struck down defending the city? Her cheeks grew hot. Pressure tingled behind her eyes. It was no use crying. She had spoken her peace about the injustice to the governor, the rulers, and her father. What was done could not be undone.

She went outside into the cooking courtyard to wash off Telem’s blood. Her mother’s servant followed carrying unstained clothing. Thankfully, a sheet hung in the back corner to dry. She could change unnoticed.

Other servants had filled jars with water for cleansing—water that would need to be dumped outside the city once it had turned the color of a tuberose.

When her skin was clean and her dress did not reek of death, she hurried out from behind the sheet to check on Telem and Judith. This cursed day could not end soon enough.

“There she is,” a man’s voice called.

Her father and that fool of a priest Delaiah strode down the street in her direction.

She left the courtyard and greeted them.

Delaiah pointed a finger at her face. His other hand rested on the ram’s horn slung from his shoulder. “This is the wild woman who attacked me.”