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He raked a palm over his face and felt the swelling and bruising. He must look a beast, he knew, but in his heart he could never act one. He’d killed her mother for the good of Judah. It was a just cause, but he could not, would not, leave Abigail to the hands of Suph’s evil, for Jesse knew the wounds he sported were no more than child’s play. If this woman did not do as Suph wished, he’d no doubt leave her scarred much worse.
“After the care you and Dara have given me, how could I not forgive you?”
The soft glow of the firebrands bathed the smoothness of her skin. Slices of light reflected in her eyes. “My thanks.”
He reached for her hand, the hitch in her breathing tumbling in his gut. “I should be the one thanking you.”
“Ach, I knew I should not leave you two alone.” Dara bustled between the flaps, a linen bag hung down her side. “Your people are dropping off to their sleep. Soon my boys will gather the horses and we’ll be on our way.” She dug into the linen bag, pulled something out and thrust it at Abigail. “It’s the best I could find. There aren’t many women as tall as you are.”
Twin roses painted Abigail’s cheeks. Did her height embarrass her? It shouldn’t. Jesse found it appealing, especially since he wouldn’t have to hunch over too far to press his lips to hers. Aye, where had that thought come from? The old woman’s herbs must have dulled more than his pain.
“I’m sure it will be fine.”
“I’ll cover his eyes while you change.”
Abigail’s gaze darted to him; her cheeks brightened further.
“You’ve no choice unless you decide to stay.”
Abigail nodded. Dara dropped to her knees beside Jesse and draped a cloth over his eyes. Her gnarled fingers poked a cut. Jesse gritted his teeth. “The honey works. I’ll be binding the rest of your wounds now.” He felt her move closer, and the smell of decaying teeth permeated his air. “Do not think to peek at the princess, or I’ll leave you to rot.”
“You’ve my word, old woman.” Jesse waited in anticipation as Abigail’s soft movements filled the tent enclosure. He tried to tell himself that it had more to do with their need for haste; however, he knew otherwise. He wondered if her green eyes would dominate her face once her hair was veiled, making them even more luminous. Aye, he could not fathom such a thought. The woman already lured him to think upon things like marriage and children with her innocent glances. He was so distracted by his thoughts he barely noticed the old woman hovering over him, binding his wounds. If this was how his thoughts turned with only a short time spent in her presence, how was he going to endure their travels to Jerusalem without becoming completely enamored with the princess?
Chapter Six
Abigail dropped the tunic over her head. The scent of sandalwood cloaked her. Embarrassment stained her cheeks at the awkward intimacy of wearing a man’s garment, but it was quickly replaced by curiosity and delight. She hadn’t looked forward to her skin being chafed by a rough-spun garment, especially traveling in the desert, but this... She raised her arms, the fabric falling to her ankles, and then wrapped her arms around her waist. The linen, a finer weave than that of the tunic she’d just discarded, was like being cloaked in fleece. She dropped her gaze to the hem pooled at her feet. Where had Dara found such a garment?
“What is this?” She held up a worn leather strap.
Dara looked over her shoulder. “A belt.”
“Oh.” Abigail inspected the wide material. A tanner had taken great care to pound out the designs. “What do these symbols mean, Dara?”
“Ach, how should I know? They belong to your prisoner.”
Abigail’s fingers trembled. The belt slipped to the ground. She bent and picked it up. She stood over the man whose belongings she now wore and removed the cloth over his eyes. “Jesse, what do these symbols mean?”
“Do you not know your father’s language?”
She glanced at the belt. Her fingers traced the indentations. Some of the symbols looked familiar, but nothing she would have learned from her father.
Rather Shema. Abigail tried to recall the time she’d spent with her nurse. The woman had always smiled at Abigail whenever she entered her chambers. Had always embraced her. Those were the things she remembered most. Perhaps because Shema had made Abigail feel loved.
An image of Shema drawing her fingers through a box of sand forced its way into her thoughts. “See this one here, Abigail. It is Ya.” It was no more than a curl of Shema’s finger, much smaller than the other characters, much like the one carved into the leather. Abigail could not remember what it meant but knew Shema had thought it important.
“This one, what does it mean?” She pointed to the indented symbols as she held it before Jesse’s face.
“Yahweh.”
Dara clapped her hand over her mouth and began muttering beneath her breath. The adoration in Jesse’s voice as the word rolled off his tongue left a hunger in Abigail’s stomach, a pang in her heart and a thirst for something she did not understand.
“But what does it mean?”
The healer turned a dark eye on her as she held a shaky hand toward Jesse. “It is well we rid our camp of him before Suph gets his hands on him again. We’ll all perish of fire and brimstone if he dies. No more questions, child. Some things are best left unspoken.” She turned to Jesse. “And you, you should not encourage her. Her life is precarious as it is.”
“I want to know, Dara.” She glanced at the belt in her hand before turning pleading eyes to Jesse. “I need to know.”
His gaze danced between her and the healer. His lips parted as if he were about to say something, but they were interrupted as Bilhah ducked into the tent.
Abigail turned toward her. “Are all asleep?”
Bilhah nodded. “Those that linger are too drunk to have their wits. Let’s hope Suph will not chase after us for some time.” Her eyes twinkled with mischief. Her cousin had never liked the captain. “Grab your things.”
“What of my uncle Elam?”
“He is drunk.” Bilhah picked up a bag and draped it over her shoulder.
“Here.” Dara thrust a plain tunic at her. “You must change.”
“Of course.”
Once again, the healer covered Jesse’s eyes. Abigail wrapped the belt around her waist and clipped it closed. She slipped the wooden box with Jesse’s gem nestled inside into a bag. It was all she needed, nothing more. Bilhah tugged the veil from Abigail’s head and wrapped her hair into a knot. She then tied a plain linen cloth around her head much like Dara’s. A piece braided over the top of her head and tucked in the back.
“Come, Abigail. Micah is waiting.” Bilhah parted the tent.
Shaking her head, Abigail rooted her feet. “Not without him.”
Bilhah dropped her hands to her sides. “We cannot take him with us. He’ll slow us down.”
“He has given his word to help me.”
Bilhah assessed Jesse. “He cannot even lift his head from the pillows, how is he to help?”
“He’ll guide us and he’ll tell me the truth.”
Bilhah’s eyes widened. “I will tell you what you want to know, but we must go. Now.”
“Not without him,” she repeated.
Bilhah paced to her and grabbed hold of her hand. “Why is he important to you, Abigail?”
Abigail’s lashes brushed against her cheeks. How could she explain to Bilhah, a woman who’d served her mother’s false gods all this time, that this man could tell her the truth not only about her family, but about his God? She pressed her fingers against the indentations on the belt and bit down on her lip. She opened her eyes and looked at her cousin. They’d shared the same nurse. Perhaps Bilhah would remember Shema’s words, as well. “Because he knows,” she whispered as she eyed Dara.
“Knows what?”
“Yahweh.”
Dara began another fit of muttering. Bilhah looked as if she did not believe her. She glanced at Jesse. Abigail willed her cousin to believe. To hope in the stories told them by a beloved nurse as she had tucked them into bed.
Bilhah shook her head. “The people believe this God of his is dead.”
“It is not so.” Jesse’s voice cut through the silence.
“You are nothing but a rebel, willing to sacrifice Abigail’s life to meet your end.” She looked at Abigail and squeezed her hands. “When the temple guards stormed the palace, there was a moment when I thought...” Her gaze darted to Jesse. “I thought He might live, that his God might rescue us, but here we are cast from our home and at the mercy of a madman if we do not leave now.”
“Bilhah, you said earlier this God would show no mercy.”
Her cousin gave her another reassuring squeeze. “You are correct. I did say such things, but now I have to wonder...”
“In time, you will see God has never left Judah.” Jesse eased off the pillows.
“I cannot risk Abigail’s life. If Suph discovers what we’ve done this night, he will kill her.” Bilhah wrapped her arm around Abigail’s shoulders.
“Ach, he’ll kill all of us, no doubt.”
Her cousin leaned away from her and peered into her eyes. “It is why we must leave now.”
“Bilhah, I will not leave him.”
Her cousin sucked in a breath. “He cannot even stand on his own. How is he supposed to travel across the rough terrain?”
“The old woman is quite the healer,” Jesse said as he rose to his full height.
“You—you are well?” Abigail trembled. She wrapped her arms around her waist. The musky scent of sandalwood cloaked her. She felt protected in his tunic.
Hard lines formed on his brow and near the corners of his eyes. He swayed and she reached out to steady him but he waved her off.
“I am well enough to leave this place.”
Bilhah nodded. “Fine, we will take him. However, if he falls he stays where he lands. We will not stop.”
Sweat beaded on his face and he swayed once again. “I would not expect you to.”
Abigail knew better than to argue, but if he fell, she’d stay with him, no matter what Bilhah thought.
* * *
Jesse sucked in a breath and girded his loins. He pressed his palm against the stabbing in his side. It took all his strength to stand, even more to speak without slurring his words. The pounding in his head roared with a vengeance and the pain in his ribs felt as if he were being severed in two. He was beginning to think the old woman’s herbs hadn’t dulled his senses and perhaps he’d been knocked in the head too hard.
“Ach, are you able to walk?”
Clenching his jaw, he nodded. The old woman must have seen the way he gripped his side for she dug into her bag and pulled several long strips of linen from its depths.
“Bilhah, hold on to him while I wrap this around his ribs.”
“We do not have time.”
The old woman’s beady eyes pierced the shrine priestess. “He’ll move quicker if I bind the breaks.”
“Very well, be quick.” Bilhah wrapped his arm around her shoulder to steady him.
“You were more charitable earlier.”
Bilhah glanced at Abigail and then glared at him. “That was before I discovered you would have us killed.”
“He cannot help his wounds. It is not Jesse’s fault Suph captured him.” Abigail twisted her hands together.
Jesse growled. It was his fault. He should have been alert to his surroundings and taken heed of the warnings that there was a faithful remnant to the deceased queen who would seek to harm King Joash and remove him from the throne. Jesse shouldn’t have stopped for rest and fallen asleep before returning to Jerusalem. However, Jesse had not been wise to the threat. In his arrogance he believed all of Judah celebrated the new king and the removal of all idol worship. How wrong he had been. As each of his wounds testified.
“That does not mean we have to save him, Abigail. You always were one to rescue the weak.”
Her taunt wounded his pride. He puffed out his chest and quickly deflated it when his ribs sliced at his innards.
“Hold still, boy,” Dara said as she began wrapping the linen. “Suck in your air and hold it.” She pulled the linen tight. After wrapping three layers and tying the ends, she held out a tunic to Bilhah. “Can you—”
“I’ll do it.” He grabbed the tunic from Dara’s hands. “If I cannot dress myself, I might as well wait for your captain to sleep off his stupor and kill me.”
He gathered the ends of the tunic to the neck and dipped his head, thankful Suph had not crushed his hands. He slipped the tunic over his head. Dara handed him a braided belt, which he tied around his waist with great effort. Every movement caused him discomfort, but the bindings around his ribs seemed to sturdy his midsection and lessen the pain. At least now he could breathe without too much difficulty.
Bilhah stuck her head out the tent flaps and then waved them forward. Abigail, seemingly anxious and excited, if the curve of her lips was any indication, rushed out behind her. Dara held the opening of the tent back and motioned for Jesse to exit. He ducked, the movement causing him to lean a little too far forward. Digging his feet into the ground, he rocked back to steady himself. Dara’s aged palm flattened against his back. “Do not crush me, boy.”
He smiled. “I will try not to.”
They skirted along the edge of the tent and made their way out of the silent camp. The large crackling fire cast their shadows before them as if to lead their way. A horse whinnied, another snorted as they proceeded through the maze of tents with as much silence as possible. Warmth rushed into his cheeks; if they got caught escaping he knew it would be his fault, considering his gait was unsteady. How was he to protect this queen’s daughter, a shrine priestess and an old woman?
Sweat beaded on his forehead and he raised the back of his hand to wipe it away. Soon they’d take on Micah and Dara’s two boys. If God had any mercy, they’d be of some help. However, he had a feeling the boys were no older than Micah.
After what seemed like half an hour’s time but was mayhap only ten laborious minutes, Jesse spotted a lone tree. Shadows began to separate from the trunk, appearing now as if there were three trees. Jesse swiped at the sweat pouring into his eyes and tried to focus on the images. One tree, not three. He gritted his teeth. His brothers had given him beatings during training when he was a boy and he’d received many wounds in battle, but he’d never been sliced open so many times at once. The wounds must be taking their toll if he was imagining things.
His muscles began to shake more viciously with each step. His legs reminded him of honey outside an earthen jug, with no real substance to hold its shape. He was about to give up and lie down on the rocky desert when an odd noise pierced through the thundering ache in his head. He narrowed his eyes into the dark and fought for focus.
Bilhah and Abigail halted their steps. Dara ran into his back. He clapped his hand over her mouth before she could “ach” him and waited. Another low-pitched chatter skirted down his spine. The mimicked sound of a bird did not belong to an animal, but a human. He grabbed for his sword and met his hip before recalling Suph had taken his weapons when he’d captured him.
Biting back his foolishness for once again letting down his guard, he pulled Abigail and Bilhah behind him. It was one thing to be captured while in the presence of his traitorous uncle, quite another with harmless women. He motioned for them to crouch low and was surprised to find even Dara do his bidding. Two behemoth-sized apparitions separated from that tree. Swordlike shadows rose from their sides as they crept toward where Jesse and the women crouched. God, I need Your help.
Jesse moved forward. His gaze focused on the armed men. “Who goes there?” He mustered the strength to keep his voice steady. Blood pumped hard in his chest as he waited for their answer. How was he to take on two armed men in his condition?
“Nathan and Jonathan.”
“Ach.” Dara’s whisper rippled through the tension. She rose and tried to rush past Jesse.
Jesse grabbed her arm. “Do you wish to meet your Maker?”
She swatted at his hand. “From my own sons? I think not.”
Abigail’s quiet laugh caused him to relax as she and Bilhah skipped behind Dara. He tried to keep his eyes on Abigail’s proud shoulders, on the veil swaying across her back, but his vision darkened. A tremor raced over his muscles and his legs quaked.
“The horses are beyond the rise. We did not think it wise to keep them within sight of the camp,” one of Dara’s boys said.
