Miriam and Samara sat in the small shed beside the cattle enclosure chewing on kernels of wheat and sipping cow’s milk. “I don’t know how this escaped the soldiers’ torches,” Samara said as she looked about the small shed with its stacks of wheat and barley.
“Probably because it was down the hill and out of sight,” Miriam replied with a shrug of her shoulders. “They destroyed everything else, so if they had seen it, they would have torched it as well—and killed the cows.”
“I’m grateful they didn’t find it. At least we have water from the well, milk from the cows, and wheat and barley, even if the grain is full of weevil.” Samara lightly blew away the weevil from another handful of wheat before putting it in her mouth. It was the first thing they’d eaten in two days, and in spite of the tiny insects, they voraciously ate.
The sound of rocks sliding down the path behind them made both women exchange alarmed glances and instantly dash across the shed and beneath a pile of flea-infested sheepskins on the floor. With hands pressed to their lips to muffle their shallow breathing, the women closed their eyes and offered silent prayers that whoever entered would somehow overlook the fresh milk in the two earthen cups that sat on the shelf.
The sound of sandaled feet rapidly entering the shed caused both the women to involuntarily suck in a breath of air and hold it. In the semidarkness, Miriam could hear the sound of a stool—the very stool on which she had been sitting only a moment before—being dragged across the hard-packed dirt floor until it stopped only inches from the sheepskin under which she was hiding. At that instant, a small flea dropped from the sheepskin onto her cheek. It worked its way across her upper lip and into her nostril. The sensation of the pest’s tiny feet in her nose tickled, and she involuntarily blew a snort of air through her nose in an attempt to dislodge the bug. Alarmed at the noise she’d made, she silently inhaled another breath and listened carefully, hoping the thick pile of sheepskins had completely muffled the sound. Soon she heard one foot and then another step on the stool. Someone was rummaging through containers on the shelf almost directly above her head.
A slight sense of relief swept over Miriam as she heard the sandaled feet step down from the stool and walk back to the door. Holding her breath again, she listened as the unseen scavenger stopped. And then she heard the unmistakable sound of one of their milk-filled cups being lifted from the shelf on which she had placed it. After a brief pause, she heard it being set almost noiselessly back down.
The sound of the sandals walking across the room toward the pile of sheepskins made Miriam’s heart race uncontrollably, and her palms grew even more moist. The feet stopped so close to where she was she was certain that if she lifted the corner of the sheepskin, she would see every detail of the person’s toenails. And then, without warning, the feet abruptly turned around and hurried from the shed.
Miriam and Samara breathed a collective sigh of relief, but neither flinched nor moved; except for shallow breaths, the women were as silent and motionless as stone for several more minutes. When they could hear no other sounds, Miriam cautiously lifted the edge of the sheepskin ever so slightly and peeked out. From where she lay, all she could see was the floor, but not seeing any feet or legs, she whispered, “I think they’ve gone. Stay here, and I’ll check.”
Easing herself from beneath the sheepskin, she crawled to the center of the shed and looked out the doorway. Seeing no one, she cautiously inched her way toward the door and stuck her head outside.
“Mother!” Caleb shouted as he jumped up from his hiding place behind a bush just outside the door. Before Miriam could overcome her shock, Caleb raced toward her. Miriam managed to rise from a crawling to a kneeling position before Caleb crashed into her and wrapped his arms so tightly around her that she couldn’t breathe. “You’re alive. You’re alive,” he repeated over and over as he clung to her.
Small tears formed in Miriam’s closed eyes as she hugged her youngest son close to her. Blinking repeatedly she managed to ask, “Are you hurt?”
“No,” Caleb said as he relaxed his hug and stepped back slightly. “I’m fine. And you? What about you?” he asked.
“We are well,” Miriam said.
Samara crawled out from under the sheepskins. “Is Hanan with you?”
Caleb looked first at Samara and then Miriam and back at Samara as he slowly shook his head back and forth.
“Where is he?” the two women said at almost the same instant, one with anxiety and the other with hope.
Caleb let out a deep sigh and said softly, “He is . . . dead.”
Samara’s hopeful smile vanished only a fraction of a second before both of her hands flew to her mouth to hide her quivering lip, but she said nothing.
Rising to her feet, Miriam gripped Caleb’s arms in her hands. “No, he can’t be!”
Except for a slow nod, Caleb stood motionless looking into his mother’s grief-stricken eyes. In an even voice, lacking any emotion, he said, “I found him yesterday morning near the entrance to the cave.”
Miriam felt her knees go weak, and she slumped down on a half-filled bag of wheat and dropped her head to her chest.
“Yesterday morning?” Samara asked.
“Yes,” Caleb replied. “I had—”
“What of Gili and Uzzi?” Miriam interrupted. “Do you know anything of them?”
Caleb looked at his mother’s dirty face with its drawn and pale skin and considered what to say. Her natural cheeriness was gone, replaced with sadness and despair. Her hair was matted against her head, and she looked much older than she was. A dull emptiness had replaced the bright sparkle that usually radiated from her deep brown eyes, and every fiber of her seemed to yearn for some thread of hope to cling to. “Uzzi is alive,” he said with genuine enthusiasm.
It was the right thing to say. The gloom on Miriam’s face was suddenly swept away and replaced by a small sense of relief. “Alive? Where is he?” she asked.
“He’s in an old shed on the far side of town, directly below the cave.”
“Is he hurt?” she asked cautiously but still with a sense of relief in her voice.
“Yes, Mother, he is hurt,” Caleb replied. “That’s why I’m here rummaging through some of the old ointments and salves we kept for the animals.”
“How badly?” Miriam demanded with the anxious worry of a mother.
Caleb hesitated and once again debated how he would respond. He decided the honest truth would be best. “He’s very bad. He’s been shot with three arrows.” Miriam drew a breath as if to ask another question, but before she could, Caleb continued. “All the arrows have been removed, and I’ve been able to stop the bleeding, but he’s weak, very weak, and I’m worried about infection in his wounds.”
Miriam squared her shoulders and let out a sigh. Weakness and infection she could deal with; another death she could not. “That’s all right,” she said in a determined tone. And then as if imploring good news, she asked, “And what of Gili? Do you know where she is?”
The momentary small spark of hope they had felt about Uzzi was about to be hopelessly drenched, and Caleb dreaded the words he was about to utter. Bracing himself for the shrieks and tears he was sure would come, he calmly said, “She’s been taken as a slave.”
Rather than wailing and tears, there was only silence. There was no flinching or sagging shoulders, no grief-stricken expression on Miriam’s face. There was nothing. She sat there as if she hadn’t heard what had been said. Finally she looked at Caleb. “But she is alive; do you know if she’s alive?”
“I’m quite certain she’s alive. I watched soldiers carry her toward where other villagers were being gathered. She was kicking and screaming, but she was alive.”
Caleb watched as a strange sense of peace enveloped Miriam’s countenance. In a clear voice, she said, “As long as she is alive, I have hope.” She rose to her feet with an aura of resolution Caleb had never before seen in his mother. “Is it safe to go to Uzzi?”
Even though he didn’t mean to, Caleb chuckled and said, “Safe? With the exception of a few dogs, some chickens, and a couple stray sheep, there is nothing and no one left in Edrei. Yes, Mother, it is safe.”
“Good.” Dragging the stool back to the sheepskin pile, Miriam reached up on the shelf and took down two earthen pots with lids. “I’m not sure what ointments you took,” she said, holding out the pots. “But what Uzzi really needs is what’s in here.” Turning to Samara, Miriam said, “I will need some help tending to Uzzi. Will you come with us?”
Samara wiped back the tears that were still rolling down her cheeks since she’d heard the news of Hanan’s death. “Yes, I have no other place to go, no one else I can turn to.”
Walking over to Samara, Miriam put an arm around her shoulder and gave her a consoling hug. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I understand your pain.” And then in complete confidence, she added, “We will get through this. Somehow, we will get through this.”