CHAPTER
Five
I led the four strangers through the vineyard to my home. The mud-brick and stone dwelling, which once belonged to the Amorite master of this vineyard, was nestled within a tall stand of poplars whose silvery leaves rustled in the night breeze.
The house was dark, as my father had not returned from the wine storehouse, where his men took turns guarding the many jugs of precious wine as they aged in preparation to be taken to market. Generously ensuring that all his workers were able to participate in the festival, he and Yuval had taken the watch tonight.
Once I’d lit oil lamps in all three rooms, I invited my unexpected guests inside and asked the man to lay Rimona down on my own bed.
“Thank you—” I let the question hang in the air, since I did not know his name.
“Darek,” he supplied, one corner of his lips lifting.
“Thank you, Darek. My name is Moriyah,” I said, working hard to contain an answering smile and determinedly turning my attention to Rimona. I pulled up the blackened sleeve of her dress, and she hissed in a breath as I examined the flaming red skin, a few small blisters already bubbling to the surface.
“Forgive me.” I dipped a linen cloth in some water from a jug that had been buried neck-deep in the cool earth and then laid the compress on her wound. “The burn is more extensive than I thought. I have only a small bit of calendula ointment.”
“Why did you bring me here then?” Her lip curled with contempt.
“I don’t have the ingredients to make more now. But . . .” I murmured to myself. “Perhaps Ora has some left from the batch I made for her.”
“Is this Ora nearby?” Darek’s brows were drawn and a slight frown tugged at his full lips as he leaned against the doorway where he’d been watching me tend Rimona.
“At the other end of the vineyard.”
“I’ll walk you there,” he said.
I hesitated to be alone with this strange man, but his concern for Rimona, and her obvious pain, brushed away my hesitations. Without an herbal poultice, the skin would blister more and might leave her with open wounds, an invitation for infection. Besides, the storehouse was not so far away; one loud scream from me would bring my father and Yuval running.
So, leaving Rimona’s friends with instructions to keep her as still as possible and to keep the cloth cool and wet, Darek and I plunged into the dark vineyard with an oil lamp to shine light on our path.
“Will she be all right?” he asked.
“I’ve found that a calendula, aloe, and myrrh ointment does wonders for burns. She will heal quickly, I am sure of it. There will be no scar.”
“You seem well-acquainted with such things. Are you trained as a healer?”
“Not really. I had a . . . a friend who taught me, long ago. My skills are put to better use in the kitchen.” Early into the long months we’d spent confined within Rahab’s home in Jericho, Ohel, her Nubian servant and bodyguard, had discovered my interest in cooking.
Delighted by my willingness to learn, he made a game of bringing a new herb or ingredient each time he and Rahab ventured to the market, challenging me to use it in a dish and teaching me ways each could be used for healing as well. Even though my early attempts at cooking failed, Ohel refused to let me give up, and soon I was able to turn nearly any ingredient into a tasty meal.
In Ohel’s memory, I’d revived the game since living in Shiloh, and each time I invented a new recipe and offered it to my family or friends, I imagined his black eyes glistening with pride as he tasted whatever dish I’d prepared. Spare with his praise, he’d simply say, “Well done, Moriyah” as he served himself another generous helping.
I blinked the sheen of tears away before Darek could catch sight of them. I missed the big dark-skinned man who’d taken a thirteen-year-old girl under his wing and blessed her with the knowledge he’d accrued over his too-short life. We’d been an unlikely pair, but his friendship had been a gift.
“Ah. I wondered what that delicious smell was in your home.” Darek lifted a long grapevine that had sprung free of its mooring and drooped across our path, allowing me to pass beneath the leafy arch.
“Nothing extravagant,” I said, as I ducked beneath the vine and did my best to not brush up against the man who held it aloft or the flickering lamp in his hand. “I made my father barley, leek, and lentil stew before his guard duty at the wine storehouse.”
“Sounds delicious.” He smiled as he lay the unwieldy vine back on the path. “And will I be able to partake of these skills of yours?”
Struck by his easy familiarity, as much as the way his smile had the effect of spiced wine in my belly, I stammered. “Oh. I have some left over. I would be happy to warm some for you all after Rimona is tended to, of course. Unless you need to return to your own friends?”
He’d surprised me by refusing his companions’ offers of help back at the festival, but none of them had seemed offended and they’d melted into the crowd as we left.
“I only met those men tonight after I was separated from my friend Aron. Just a few soldiers, trading war stories.” He waved a dismissive hand.
“And looking for wives among the maidens?” Shock flooded through me at my bold question.
Darek laughed. “Perhaps they were, I didn’t ask. Although I am certain Aron had his eye on someone or he would not have abandoned me tonight.”
“Well, I am glad you were there, or Rimona might have been more severely burned.”
“What happened between the two of you?” he asked. “You seemed to be having some sort of disagreement.”
My pulse rushed in my ears, but surely he could not have been close enough to overhear what she’d said to me or how I’d responded. “A misunderstanding.” Although I did not chance a look at him, I could feel his scrutiny on my face, even through my veil.
“She said some fairly harsh things for a mere misunderstanding.”
My knees wobbled and my stomach roiled. He had overheard.
“Rimona has been ill-informed about my past, and for some reason she felt the need to bring it up tonight.”
“No doubt to impress her friends,” he said. “And it seemed as though she’d had a bit too much wine.”
“Perhaps,” I said, still preoccupied with wondering exactly how much he’d overheard.
“You held your ground like a soldier,” he said, admiration in his voice. “You remind me of someone I knew once . . . someone with extraordinary courage.”
More embarrassment washed over me. Had he been standing behind me the entire time I’d dealt with Rimona?
“It was only a disagreement between foolish girls.”
“Perhaps, but I saw men march on Hazor with less backbone than you displayed tonight.”
The compliment curled itself into my chest, warming my core.
We walked in silence for a while, the sounds of the revelers down at the festival floating up the hillside. The glow from the many braziers lit up half the valley. How many marriage matches would be made tonight within that circle of firelight?
“I saw you dancing tonight,” Darek said.
My blood stilled at the revelation, and I stumbled to a stop. “You did? How did you know . . .” My question trailed away.
With one corner of his full lips uplifted, his gaze flicked to the top of my head. My hand followed the gesture. The band of yellow flowers—I’d forgotten it still encircled my head over my white headscarf. How had it not fallen off in all the commotion with Rimona?
“Oh, this isn’t mine. Another girl gave it to me.”
“I know. I saw when you joined her on the dancing ground.”
“You did?”
One dark brow twitched. “Or should I say, I saw you lurking in the trees before you joined her.”
Heat flooded my face. He saw me before I noticed him? While I’d struggled with my memories and fears?
“I saw you there . . .” He tilted his head to the side. “I wondered why you were hiding and thought you might just slip away. But then to my surprise, you strode out there and joined in.” He paused, lifting the oil lamp higher, as if to scrutinize my expression. “What changed your mind?”
I considered deflecting the question for a moment, but the open curiosity in his expression drew out the truth in a near whisper. “I needed . . . I needed to dance.”
“That’s what I thought,” he returned, his husky tone echoing mine and his eyes holding a steady gaze.
A buzz of awareness traveled down my arms and to my fingertips. The same I’d felt in that brief moment by the brazier. The effect was heightened as we stood under the moonlight in the center of the field with the deep green smell of the earth and vines around us. I tried to blink away the sensation. One I’d never felt before. And should not. My father had already promised me to someone.
The moment of ethereal silence shattered as the warbled call of a night-bird brought me back to earth. “We should . . . go,” I said, disoriented and breathless.
With the ghost of a smile, he nodded and continued walking, the oil lamp guttering low as he moved.
Grasping for conversation to distract from whatever had just happened between us, I blurted, “Of which tribe are you?”
“Naftali. And you?”
“My father is joined to Yehudah by marriage. And my sisters married fellow tribesmen. They moved south into the highlands near where my friend Alanah and her husband Tobiah settled with their own family last year.” It still pained me to remember the sight of their wagon as it disappeared from view, knowing I’d likely never see my red-haired friend again. Without her protection, I’d never have survived Jericho.
“Ah, yes. Those highlands are beautiful. When we passed through in the spring kalanit flowers flooded the hillsides with red. With such a large portion of land and those wide pasturelands, the tribe of Yehudah is fortunate indeed.”
“You’ve traveled there?”
“I’ve walked from the southern desert to the edge of the sea, to the far north almost to Damascus, and nearly everywhere else within the land promised to Avraham. I was part of Yehoshua’s surveying team for the past few months. ”
“You were?” I layered my palms on the center of my chest. “How I wish I could see what you’ve seen.”
“Do you?” His voice arched with humor. “Even though many of those places are still volatile? Bandits are common. And even a few Anakim still roam the coastlands.”
I restrained a shiver at the reminder of Kothar, the giant descendent of Anak who’d taken part in my abduction from the Hebrew encampment—the first step on the path that led to Jericho.
“Of course,” he continued, “our forces have done much to push out the enemy, but there are still many Canaanite-held cities.”
“Will they attack?”
“I don’t think so, at least not for now. We’ve intercepted a few messages from the city-states to Egypt, begging for help and reinforcements, but so far it seems Pharaoh has little interest in engaging us.”
“I would imagine Egypt has a long memory, and it was not fifty years ago that we left them in tatters.” I marveled at how easily I’d slipped into conversation with Darek. Other than Ora, my father, and Eitan, I had so few people to talk to, and Yuval might as well be mute for all he spoke to me. Despite the fact that Darek was a stranger, I found curiosity bubbling to my lips. “What is the most beautiful place you’ve seen?”
He stopped again, the full moon highlighting contemplation on his face. “Not too far from here, a mountain towers over a fertile valley that spreads out as far as the eye can see. It was late spring and the foothills were covered in regal purple flowers—and blooming trees decorated the hillsides with pink, white, and yellow.”
He gazed into the distance, as if transported to the valley in his mind, and I held my breath as he continued, seeing the picture he’d created in my own. “And not far from Beit She’an is a place where hot springs bubble out of the ground, gathering into pools so blue they look like turquoise jewels embedded into the ground. Tall date palms surround the pools and tiny fish nibble at your toes when you wade in. The water is so clear you can see all the way to the very depths. ”
“It sounds lovely,” I whispered, enchanted by his descriptions. I could almost smell the sweetness of spring blossoms, feel the warm water on my legs, and hear the breeze through the palm branches. “I’d love to go there someday.”
“However, by far, the lands our tribe was given, when the lots were cast, are the most beautiful. There are so many waterfalls around Har Hermon, ones that gush fresh water melted from the heights of its summit. The cedars there are so tall they defy the imagination, and the valleys are lush and fertile, many with overflowing fields left behind by the Canaanites who abandoned them years ago. It will take much work to restore them, but they will thrive again. My father is to be given one of the choicest pieces of land, since we were part of the surveying team, and in honor of his military service.” Darek’s chest seemed to lift with pride. “Someday I will inherit some of the most abundant olive groves I have ever seen.”
“Your father was on the team as well?”
“No, he was injured in the Battle of Ai. Such a long journey would have been difficult for him. He has been here in Shiloh, waiting for us to return.”
A wisp of intuition feathered through my mind. “Oh? And what is your father’s name?”
“Pekah.”
The echo of my father’s words slowly unfurled itself inside my head like a scroll. “He is one of the men who has been surveying the land for Yehoshua for the past few months. His father, Pekah, is a reputable man of the tribe of Naftali.”
I restrained a gasp when the revelation pierced through the fog. Darek was the man I was to marry?
I could not make my mouth work in any coherent way, so I pressed it closed as a thousand thoughts layered one atop the other. I’d spent the last few days dreading to meet the man my father had chosen, and here he was, standing in front of me. A man to whom I’d had an immediate attraction on the dancing ground. A man who would walk away from fellow soldiers at a festival to aid a stranger. A man whose warm, affable manner and vivid descriptions had put me completely at ease—even in the midst of a dark, empty field.
Had Yahweh provided a man who might accept me for who I was despite what my face looked like? Or would Darek’s appealing smile devolve into disgust when he saw behind the veil? By instinct my hand brushed my cheek.
“And what about your father, Moriyah?” The sound of my name on his lips made a pleasant shiver slide up my neck. “Does he work here in the vineyard?”
“The ointment. For Rimona,” I said, dodging the question while brushing off the reaction his moonlit gaze and this revelation had caused on the speed of my pulse. “We really should hurry.”
“Of course.” He gestured with a flourish toward the end of the row. “Lead the way.”
Should I answer his questions? Make it known who I was? Or should I allow my father to make the introductions? For the first time since the words had passed my father’s lips, the idea of being betrothed gave me a spark of hope. Glancing away, I smiled to myself, glad that Darek could not see.
We retrieved the ointment from Ora, who whispered a sly remark about my “new friend” in my ear as she handed over the small pot, causing my face to flash burn.
To avoid any more scrutiny as Darek and I walked back up through the vineyard, I asked him more questions about his travels. He indulged me, describing the barren beauty of the desert, mountain goats that performed feats of agility on the rocky cliffs, the turquoise waters of the sea where Pharaoh’s army had met its end, and the flaming, sunset-gilded cliffs that lined its beaches. As he spoke, he gestured with his hands, his face animated, even in the pale moonlight. I laughed as he described the way the men indulged in a swim in the Salt Sea, their bodies floating on the briny water as if they were hollow logs.
The more he spoke, the more I enjoyed his smooth tones rising and falling with enthusiasm. I’d already begun to crave the sound of his voice. I startled at the inward thought as I opened the door to my home, as if he could hear my embarrassing conclusion, and more than a little disappointed that my time alone with him had been so short.
“Where have you been?” Rimona glared as I entered my room. Propped up on her untouched elbow, she divided an annoyed look between us.
“I’m sorry it took so long,” I lied, as I approached the bed. “We had to walk all the way to the far edge of the vineyard.”
Remembering my promise to Darek, I gestured back to the oven. “There is some lentil stew left in that pot among the coals. It may not be hot anymore, but you three are welcome to help yourselves.”
I removed the lid to the ointment, and the scent of myrrh colored the air with warm sweetness as I knelt and applied the balm to Rimona’s skin, using a light finger to avoid causing her more pain.
As they partook of my stew, the two girls chattered about the festival and the dances they’d enjoyed the most and then asked Darek about the interesting places he’d seen over the past few months. His wide gestures and infectious laughter drew my attention time and time again. I found myself darting a gaze every so often through the doorway to catch a glimpse of his handsome profile as he spoke, marveling at the thought that I would soon be betrothed to him.
From across the room he caught me looking at him, and one corner of his mouth lifted. His animated brown eyes held mine hostage for a long moment before one of the girls asked him a question about his father’s injury in battle, and the brief, yet strikingly intimate, connection was severed.
Forcing my attention back on Rimona, I removed the rest of her ruined sleeve with a pair of shears and carefully turned her arm over to ensure I’d covered the entire burn with the ointment. Three dark shadows curved around the back of her arm, like the mark of large fingers, gripping too tightly.
I sucked in a small gasp and my eyes flicked to Rimona’s. I lowered my voice. “Who did this?”
“Tend to your own affairs,” she snapped. “And finish wrapping my arm. I’m ready to go.” Whoever had gripped Rimona’s arm with enough force to elicit bruises had a tight hold on her tongue as well. Was this girl in danger?
No wonder Rimona’s tongue was swift and cutting; there must be many sharp splinters inside her. Ignoring the blare of warning in my head, I blurted, “If he hurts you again, come here. We will keep you safe.”
Confusion registered on her brow for a moment, but then she rolled her eyes with a scoff. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“Perhaps not,” I said, as I finished covering the wound. “But the same can be said of what you know of me. Regardless, you are welcome here if you have need of refuge.”
As I stood, my gaze again landed on Darek in the other room. With his rich laughter and expressive stories, the man reminded me of all the best of my father and my older brother mixed together—an honorable warrior who could protect me and a natural kindness that gave me hope that he might someday see me, and not my scar. He would be coming soon to claim me as his bride—a thought that lifted my spirits, even after the terse interaction with Rimona. Tonight, as we’d walked through the dark vineyard, my vision of marriage had transformed from apprehension to tentative anticipation.
Darek lifted the bowl to his lips, tipping it back to drain the last of the stew as he caught my eye over the rim, his expression communicating appreciation of my cooking skills. Warm pleasure flooded my body at his approval.
“He’d never want you,” said Rimona quietly, jerking my attention away from Darek and back down to the sneer on her beautiful face. Some shard of bitterness seemed to have shifted in her, and her words had whipped out like a lash.
She jerked her chin toward Darek. “I’ve heard what’s truly behind that veil. And if he ever saw it, he’d have nothing to do with you.”