Defending David Read online

  “Do not mind him. You are going to the king’s palace. Your mother would be pleased to see you in the City of David.” Leah rested her head against Rimona’s shoulder.

  The scent of wisdom and wildflowers comforted Rimona’s angst.

  “Seek out a scribe or a nobleman to wed while you are there.”

  “I am too weary to seek out a man. A quiet room with food that I do not have to roast would be a blessing.” Rimona relished the warmth and bony stature of the woman who had loved her since she was born. She avoided the scowl of the escort who balked at her tardiness.

  “Hurry, woman. You are wasting daylight.” Eglon whistled, spooking Rimona’s donkey tethered to an acacia tree.

  Rimona dutifully bobbed her head, making sure her curls did not spring forth from beneath her head covering. As the day grew warmer, her ringlets would grow tighter. “The road should offer us some speed.” A three-day ride with Eglon was punishment fitting a criminal. But Eglon had sailed with her father, when she had a father, so she withheld her complaints.

  Leah embraced her and gave a forceful kiss. “Remember me, but only until you find another home and a husband.”

  How could she let go of this woman whom she knew in her heart she would never lay eyes on again. She prayed the soft, yet withered feel of Leah’s lips would never fade from her memory. “Please, let me celebrate one more Sabbath here.” Her request was wispy and barely spoken aloud, but it reached Leah’s ears.

  Leah’s chest shook. “I hope there is an opening in the palace courts for you. You never tire of arguing.” Covering her face with her veil, Leah said, “Go now. Sing to God in the flatlands. I will pray a blessing on your journey.”

  As Leah rushed toward her dwelling, Rimona ambled toward her mount. She wouldn’t look back. She couldn’t glance at the stone threshold where her mother’s image would always remain. She had her memories tucked away deep in her heart, and those pieces of her past would travel with her to Jerusalem.

  At a full stomp, and coming face-to-face with her, Eglon muttered, “Get on that mount. Murderers wait in the dark. You’re not worthy of my life.” He grasped her arm, pinching her flesh.

  No scream fled from her lips. She met his narrow-eyed scowl. “Release me. I am your kin and a recent orphan. Didn’t you receive payment from the elders?” Her voice rose in defiance of his touch.

  Eglon released his hold with one last twist of her skin.

  She would not give him the satisfaction of a flinch.

  When she was reunited with her uncle, she would recount Eglon’s insults and serenade anyone who cared to listen. After her confession, Eglon had better flee from the City of David, or he would spend the night in prison. Some privilege had to come with being the niece of a royal official even if her uncle had shut himself in the palace and forgotten his family.

  Before mounting her donkey, she rubbed the leather satchel covering its haunches. The satchel held her mother’s striped veil and a single golden earring embedded with three emeralds. Her father had brought the gems from one of his voyages. Over the years, one earring had been lost. Rimona treasured the bold green stones. A series of three jewels, one for a mother, a father, and an only daughter.

  With every clop of her donkey’s hooves, she bid farewell to Beersheba. Her heart couldn’t bear glimpsing her home one last time. Ghosts lived there now. Memories of loved ones buried in the hills. She scanned the road ahead of her small caravan. Her new life loomed before her.

  Traveling with Eglon had one benefit: the man wasted few words on her. She and her escort plodded north toward Jerusalem. The northern route through the mountains bustled with lines of camels and merchants who were intent on selling goods and bedding down at towns along the way.

  Under the midday heat, her veil soaked and weighed heavy upon her curls. When moisture trickled down her face, it seemed each ringlet of hair grew tighter like a possessed vine. Later, as the sun began to set, no village came into view.

  Halting his mount, Eglon pointed at some caves located west of the next incline. “We will camp in the crags for the night.”

  “Would it not be safer to sleep within city walls?” Rimona glanced at the foreign landscape. Burlap brown hills. No waves or water. No gulls squawking overhead. Her nostrils itched from the day’s dust.

  “An inn will cost me, and the elders were not as generous as you seem to believe.”

  “Surely, the innkeeper would be respectful of my uncle’s position at the palace?” Any mundane chore she would be called upon to perform for a wage would be preferable to resting out in the open with Eglon.

  “We are a fair distance from Hebron. What is one night for a fisherman’s daughter? Pretend you are on a boat.”

  Throwing you overboard. How did her father ever work alongside this fool? She dismounted and gave her donkey a drink from the half-empty waterskin. No doubt, the animal thirsted from her escort’s stingy stops.

  Movement on the trail caught her attention. Eglon turned from atop his donkey.

  A stranger approached. He trotted his mount closer.

  From where had the man come? Most people found shelter when the shadows of darkness dimmed their route. No caravan followed this lone traveler. She did not remember passing him earlier in the day.

  The stranger nodded to Eglon. “Where are you headed?”

  “Jerusalem. But we will camp for the night.” Eglon indicated the covered caves. “Ahead.”

  “Perhaps we could join together. I’ve had a long trip from Lachish.”

  Lachish? Sweat did not stain this man’s tunic. If he’d come this far east, he should glow like an ember.

  Eglon kicked his mount and trotted forward. “Come along if you like.”

  “No.” Her refusal rose toward the vanishing sunset. She sprinted to catch up with her escort and blocked his path. “We have not been properly introduced to this traveler. How do we know a band of raiders does not hide in those hills?” She indicated the ominous caves that Eglon embraced with delight.

  “Hah. Do not be troubled.” The stranger lifted a golden emblem hidden beneath his collar. “Does a bandit wear such wealth? If I have faith in you to show you my medallion, you can trust me to cause you no harm.”

  Was this man more of a fool than Eglon? Who wore gold without an army of servants to protect his wealth? A rich man surely had slaves to carry his load. Only one saddlebag and two small skins hung on the back of the man’s donkey.

  “I don’t—”

  “Follow me.” Eglon motioned toward the crags. “I am in need of food and drink.”

  Passing by her, the traveler bowed his head. “I am in your debt.”

  Her stomach fluttered as if it contained a startled pigeon. Their visitor seemed too sure of his welcome. Her escort was eager to eat, but what about his duty to protect, not only her, but their mounts?

  Squinting toward the north, she tried to spy the lamps of Hebron. Could she make it to the town on her own? Not in the dark. A few missteps and her donkey could pull up lame. Pressure mounted behind her eyes like an afternoon squall. Why did You send me from my home, Lord? Why couldn’t I stay with Leah? What welcome did an estranged uncle offer?

  “Girl, our friend has wine,” Eglon called as he trotted his donkey toward the caves. “Come and fix us a meal from his provisions.”

  Friend? What had happened to Eglon’s grumbling spirit?

  She led her donkey toward the crags and secured her mount next to the others. She made sure the animals were far enough away from the ledge and a steep drop to the flatlands. The poor beasts needed straw as much as she needed nourishment, so she gave them some of what Eglon had stored for the journey. A jut between the caves made for a nice trough.

  Eglon whistled. “We grow faint.”

  Why should she hurry to feed her guide? He treated her like a slave. O’ Jerusalem, you will be a haven.

  “I will see to our meal, but we do not want to walk to Jerusalem leading sick livestock.”

  She made a stone fire pit and prepared a meager stew in a small pot.

  Her kinsman approached and placed a wineskin at her feet.

  “Drink. You look as sour as the grapes.” The scent of fermented fruit hung in the air.

  She shooed Eglon away. “Let me work in peace, and then I will drink.” She gave a nod to their guest who lounged against a large rock. “After such a long ride, we shall not sup on burned food.”

  The stranger chuckled, but his gaze lingered too long for her liking.

  Her flesh pimpled under her robe. Would Eglon be steadfast in his protection of her? Do not delay sunrise.

  “What is one swallow? Join us.” Eglon would not be deterred.

  Grabbing the wineskin, she feigned a sip. The tangy liquid did not wet her throat. She would keep her wits under the starlight.

  “Shhhh.” Eglon pointed to a lizard perched atop a rock. “An unclean guest comes to steal our warmth.”

  “Thief.” The prominent traveler hurled a rock at the curious skink.

  The lizard scurried away.

  Eglon flung a pebble at their guest and laughed. “Your aim was never any good, Nalib.”

  “And yours is better?” The traveler held his palms close together. “I was not far off.”

  Rimona stilled. Eglon knew this man? So, why had he acted as if the man were a passerby? Her hands shook as she stirred the stew. Think. Were they plotting a scheme? Here in the hills or in Jerusalem? The night air became a heavy drape suffocating her breaths. If these men were plotting evil this eve, she needed to be near her mount so she could charge the road and race toward Hebron.

  She picked up the wineskin and feigned another sip. Her teeth blocked the fermented juice, but she was sure they carried a stain as if she imbibed. Positioning the foo
d between the two men, she offered them bread to dip and backed away toward the other side of the campfire.

  “I am tired of traveling.” She stretched her arms to the stars and yawned, displaying her violet teeth. “I will rest my head on a blanket and let the breeze cool my body.” Fanning her face with her hand, she pretended to stumble her way toward a cave beneath the cliffs. Her mount waited nearby, tied, and slumbering with a full belly.

  God, watch over me this night.

  Slipping between the donkeys, she untethered her mount in case she needed to flee.

  Sandals scuffed behind her.

  “What are you doing?” the traveler asked.

  Her heart rallied against her chest. For a moment, she forgot to breathe. Turning, she gave a giddy smile. “I am checking on the animals. They must be rested so we can be on our way in the morning to see my uncle.”

  “We will be on our way.” Eglon slurred his affirmation.

  “Toward Jerusalem,” she added.

  “We will go north.” Nalib stepped too close. “But not to see your uncle.”

  Heat flooded her face. A high-pitched hum wailed in her ears, drowning out his lie. “Eglon promised the religious leaders he would take me to Jerusalem. To the palace.”

  “That is what Eglon promised. I did not give my word to the elders.” Nalib leered like a mad man. “Your father owed me money. And you will be sold to pay his debt.”

  “Liar.” She fisted her hands. “That isn’t true. I would know of such a debt. I shall testify against your lie.” Spittle chased her furious words.

  Nalib unsheathed a long thin blade from his belt.

  Rimona’s heartbeat boomed to her temples. She attempted to shift away from Nalib, but her sandals and feet seemed to be floating above the ground.

  “That is why we shall cut out your tongue. Slave masters don’t read Hebrew.”

  The darkness became a dream that captured all her senses. She forced words passed her lips, but her lips had become boulders, unmovable and heavy.

  “Wa-wait.” She forced a swallow. The smoke from the campfire choked her plea. “Don’t you fear God?”

  Nalib drew closer. “Which one?”

  He and Eglon blocked her path toward the main road. Donkeys on each side of her hemmed her in tight. Her only escape was down a steep hill. But how high had she climbed? She was intent on the safety of her donkey, not on assessing the height she trekked.

  She glanced ever so briefly at the ledge. Unknown terrain waited below. What could be worse at the bottom than what she faced at the top?

  “My uncle can pay… more….”

  “And he can have the palace guards arrest us at your testimony.” Eglon jerked his head in her direction.

  “I won’t speak one word.” Her throat clicked with her confession.

  “Exactly.” The lust for blood in Nalib’s grin sent a chill rippling over her flesh. “The blade is sharp. The pain will be swift.”

  Her stomach heaved. She needed a distraction. If only she hadn’t left Leah and her village. Leah.

  Finding her footing, Rimona forced a gleeful smile and fluttered an arm in the direction of the campfire behind the men. “Leah, you came.”

  Eglon and Nalib turned around at her screech.

  She pivoted, ducked under her donkey’s jaw, and raced over the rocky ledge.

  2

  East of Hebron

  Ittai perched his sandal on a rock jutting heavenward from the hill. The sparse lights of Hebron flickered in the distance like obscure outposts. In two days, he would face a warrior king he had not seen in decades. Not since he was a boy. Would David remember his allegiance? Or would the Philistine kneeling at David’s throne be struck down in earnest.

  Gazing at the drape of black sky overhead, He prayed. God of David, I defied my own king because of You. Go before me to Your servant David. Spare the lives of my men. If blood needs to be shed, let it be mine, and mine alone.

  The lithe form of Hamuran, his fiercest and most loyal warrior, settled a breath from his left shoulder. “You should rest and let a few of us stand guard. Do you think the men of Hebron know we are waiting behind this hill?” Hamuran words were barely audible, but Ittai knew every nuance of his companion’s voice.

  “If they suspected we were here, the town would be ablaze with torches,” Ittai whispered. “The women and children will sleep soundly tonight.”

  “Will you? We are not on the coast protecting Philistia anymore.” Hamuran edged forward without the sound of a scuff. Ittai swore his fellow warrior hovered above the dirt when he marched.

  “Blame the king of Gath.” Blood pulsed through Ittai’s veins. At least his lifeblood wasn’t pooling on palace stones in Philistia. “Exile is better than a beheading.”

  “What about in Jerusalem?” Hamuran crouched as if welcoming one of his sons. If Ittai didn’t have thirty pounds and a few inches on his friend, he could prance around like a lynx, too. “You’re sure King David will welcome us?” The flash of moonlight in Hamuran’s eyes spoke of uncertainty or the thirst for a fight.

  “I will be soon.” Ittai fingered the hilt of his sword. “Do not fret. I will not accept anything less than a celebratory kiss of welcome from our future sovereign. We will dance like virgins on the stone streets of David’s city.”

  “I would pay thick coin to see you dance.” Hamuran strutted toward the crest of the hill and cocked his head. “Shall I get rid of the spies?”

  “No spy shouts curses.” Ittai assessed the movement on the slope below.

  “Merchants then?”

  Ittai dipped his head at the shadows. “Our closest visitor breathes like a storm gust. I will send him on his way. I’m sure you could persuade the other travelers to settle elsewhere. I do not desire to spill Hebrew blood. I desire to live among them.”

  Hamuran nodded. “I’ll be less of a fright than the six hundred men you have camped in the valley.”

  “We might need a judge to decide that my friend.”

  Grinning, Hamuran turned and disappeared down the side of the slope. Those caravan deserters were in for a shock when Hamuran emerged with his weapon drawn.

  Stifling a laugh, Ittai surveyed the approach of the closest stranger. Why was anyone traipsing over rock and crevices in the dark when sunlight wasn’t far off? Some men had no sense. How many fools had he encountered in battle? Too many and they were dead.

  Crouching near a tower of rocks and a spindly sapling, Ittai unsheathed his blade. He breathed in cool air untainted with kicked-up camel dust. His eyes overcame the darkness to rest on a form breeching the top of the hill.

  Sandal slaps. Wheezing. One fool had made it to the crest. Hamuran would cut off the others.

  Nearer and nearer the climber came. Ittai swallowed. The sour taste of bile pulled his jaw tight.

  Lord, give me victory.

  The man stumbled over a rock and whimpered.

  Ittai lunged.

  He grabbed the stranger and pulled the thin frame taut to his chest. His knife rested against the flesh of the prowler’s neck.

  “Stay silent, or I will send your head thumping to the dirt.”

  His captive turned to stone. Trembling stone.

  A swell of breast rose and fell beneath Ittai’s arm. No stench of sweat or body odor offended his nose. This quivering climber smelled of scented soap even after a trek up a hill. An abundance of soft curls tickled his chin.

  He’d caught a woman.

  What was a woman doing out at night? In the wilderness? In his arms?

  He eased his blade from her neck. “I mean you no harm. I am not a foe. I will release you if you keep your voice low.”

  She nodded ever so slightly. A tiny whine escaped from her lips as if she were agreeing to his demand in earnest.

  He loosened his hold but kept her upright with a commanding grasp of her arm. A crazed or enraged woman could do harm. He had learned that in the most difficult of ways. He gave her enough slack to turn and face him in the shadows.

  “Help me,” the woman rasped. “Men are chasing me.”

  Securing his weapon, he kept his gaze centered on the gleam in her dark eyes.

  “They mean to cut out my tongue.” Her chest rose and sunk like the sea. “And sell me as a slave. My father is not a thief.”

  The woman’s eyes blinked without rest. He had only seen someone so undone under two circumstances—when he told his mother he was going off to war, or in war, when a man was pleading for his life. His mind became a fog of memories. His calm, tranquil night had been set ablaze.