Leah
In a much-appreciated display of gentleness, Judah placed me on his white stallion and let me ride back to Modein. I had hoped he would walk beside me so we could talk, but instead he wandered from family to family, checking on his men, congratulating them on their bravery, and reminding them that the praise for the victory belonged to HaShem alone.
From my seat atop that magnificent beast I watched my husband and thought that Judah would make a very good king. The man I married was many things—stubborn, gentle, tough, and pious—but he was not ambitious. Yet his virtues were surely what a king needed. The world had too many grasping, ambitious, greedy kings, and Judah had none of those qualities.
Furthermore, he had promised he would stop fighting when the war was over, and I had decided to believe him. I was not happy being a warrior’s wife, but he would not always be a warrior. He would soon be a father, and that fact alone ought to keep him home where he belonged.
In truth, I had wanted to conceive a child in the hope that it would change Judah, but the reality had changed me. I could no longer see myself without a husband, wandering from village to village with my mother. I had to think of the baby now, and a baby needed a home, a father, and an extended family.
I pressed my palm to my belly where my hope resided. Morit had told me that men often changed once their infants arrived. Her Simon, she said, had become more thoughtful and more careful, and I would be happy to see those changes in Judah. I would be thrilled if he hesitated before going out to practice archery or stone-slinging. My heart would melt if he wanted to stay home and play with his baby or spend time with his wife.
I did not worry about the coming birth. Though I knew women who had died while giving life to their babies, I came from sturdy stock and had never felt stronger. I had not experienced a single day of sickness since the child’s conception and had in fact found it difficult to believe I carried a child until Morit assured me that three months without bleeding meant I was either pregnant or quite sick indeed.
I counted the remaining months on my fingers. In six months, more or less, I would bear my child, and Judah would become the husband I really wanted.