Love Amid the Ashes (25 page)

A deep, resonant chuckle erupted from Aban’s chest and vibrated Dinah’s shoulder. “All right, little Cushite. Where shall I put this mistress of yours?”

Nogahla chattered on about Widow Orma’s hospitality and their sleeping arrangements. Dinah glanced over Aban’s shoulder, and there at the bottom of the stony path were two filthy vagabonds crouched behind boulders. When Aban stooped to enter the cave, Dinah looked once more, but the beggars were gone.

Perhaps my eyes are playing tricks on me
, she thought.
A head wound can do that sometimes.
Thinking no more of it, she allowed loving hands to minister to her weakness and praised El Shaddai for Sitis’s safety among them.

~Job 2:12~

When they saw him from a distance, they could hardly recognize him; they began to weep aloud, and they tore their robes and sprinkled dust on their heads.

Widow Orma’s cave was cool and dark, every patch of dirt covered by a sleeping mat, a woman, or a basket filled with Nada’s food. Smudge-faced children peeked through the tattered curtain. Some even scooted a finger or toe under the obstacle to snitch a cake or date from the piles. Giggles and gasps erupted from the little residents of Uz’s first sector vying for a glimpse of the widow’s newest guest. Sitis pretended not to notice, but it was hard to ignore in a space only slightly bigger than the sleeping room she had occupied at Bela’s palace.

“Shoo! Get away from there!” Nada patted at the curtain, chasing away prying little eyes. “Mistress, how can I leave you here in this . . . this . . .
cave
?” Tears brimmed as she embraced Sitis for the hundredth time.

Sitis soaked up the love of Nada’s soft arms. “Aban says this is the safest place for me now. Sayyid may still try to kill me if I show myself publicly, and then he’ll shift blame to the Nameless Ones.”

“Are you afraid?” Dinah whispered. The question seemed to capture everyone’s attention. The widow, Nogahla, and Nada leaned in close to hear.

“I suppose I’m a little afraid,” Sitis said, “but I’m so relieved, I can feel little else.”

“Relieved?” Nada laid the back of her hand against Sitis’s forehead and guided her to a mat to sit down. “I think you must be ill, my Sitis. No one can feel relief in your situation.”

Sitis nudged away Nada’s hand, and the others chuckled as they nestled beside her. “I am relieved that Sayyid’s anger has finally turned away from Job—even though I’m now his target. I’m relieved to see my precious Nada again.” She cupped the woman’s cheek and held her gaze. “I’m immeasurably relieved to be at peace with God, and I would be even more relieved . . .” She paused, her fingers now brushing the feathery wrinkles of Nada’s brown face. “If my friend and nursemaid would discover the true God as well.” Nada’s gaze fell to the red dirt floor, and the other women grew uncomfortably silent.

Aban’s large brown hand drew back the curtain. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I must return with Nada before Sayyid realizes we’re gone. Bildad and Eliphaz’s army will arrive soon, and I must accompany Sayyid with our troops.”

Sitis let her hand fall from Nada’s cheek, but the woman clasped it tightly and kissed it. “On my next visit, I’ll bring your favorite fruit gruel, my Sitis-girl.”

“On your next visit,” Sitis said, “we’ll talk more of El Shaddai.”

Nada grinned and labored to her feet. After one last embrace, Sitis pulled the curtain aside and ushered her lifelong friend into the dusky shadows of the day’s end.

When Sitis tried to follow a few steps, Aban halted her gently. “Please, mistress. Remain inside as much as possible.” He pointed to the surrounding caves carved into the mountain face. “I can’t tell if these beggars belong to the first-sector caves or if the Nameless Ones have discovered your location. I’ll send a few of my trusted guards to stand watch.”

Sitis trusted Aban’s judgment and his caution. His warm smile reminded her of one of her own sons. “Thank you, Aban. I don’t know why you’ve chosen to be so kind, but I’m grateful.”

Astride his new Egyptian stallion, Sayyid cast a long evening shadow against the vacant merchant booths, and Aban’s sleek dapple gray mount stepped in flawless cadence alongside. One hundred of Sayyid’s guards, dressed in fine black cloaks, emerged from the siq on camels draped with red-and-yellow braided mantles. Sayyid was determined to impress the opposing army, even if his hopes of victory were slim. If Bildad the Ishmaelite and Eliphaz the Edomite could not be bribed or duped, Uz would be bathed in blood tonight.

The worn and weary inhabitants of Uz’s first sector watched as Sayyid’s entourage paraded through their midst. Women gathered children into their small tents and caves, and men stood guard with roughly hewn weapons. Sayyid sneered.
A lot of good those silly spears will do if Bildad’s troops have come for retribution.
The first sector lay exposed on the eastern side of the narrow siq and therefore unprotected by its natural fortification.

Signaling his men to a halt just outside the city gate, Sayyid rehearsed the plan with Aban a final time. “Remember, if Bildad and Eliphaz have come in peace, we’ll lead a small contingent through the siq tonight. However, at the first sign of aggression, we must begin our defense plan. If an enemy sword is drawn or an arrow flies, I’ll circle to the rear while you and the men make an initial surge. Then you must retreat through the siq into the second sector. When their army pursues us through the siq, I’ll signal our waiting troops on top of the mountain to rain down boulders on their men below. When the last of our guards have safely exited the siq, we’ll seal off the opening with a rockslide and escape through the western mountain range.”

Aban’s suspicions kept his voice low. “How do I know you won’t seal off the siq before
all
of our men are safely through it—
Father
?”

Sayyid smiled. “I suppose we’ll have to trust each other,
Son
.” Aban’s graying complexion was just the response Sayyid expected. “Like I trusted you to order the Nameless Ones to kill Sitis this afternoon.” Clucking his tongue, he dug his heels into his stallion’s side and proceeded toward the oncoming army.

“Wait!” Aban followed on his dapple gray. “What would you have had me do?” he whispered when his horse pulled alongside Sayyid’s stallion. “Elihu arrived just as the men would have slaughtered her. Even the Nameless Ones aren’t foolish enough to murder the great lady of Uz in front of a reputable witness.”

Sayyid responded with one lifted eyebrow. He would let his captain squirm. Aban need not know that while he’d been playing hero to the three women this afternoon, the leader of the bandits had come to Sayyid with the details of Aban’s betrayal and had suggested a delightful alternative plan.

“Come, Aban. We have guests to welcome. Or perhaps a battle to fight. Hi-yah!”

Sayyid’s horse tried to bolt, but he calmed the beast to a noble gait. As they approached the oncoming sea of animals and riders, Sayyid wished his heartbeat was as easily controlled. The enemy’s army of camels stretched as far as the eye could see, walking three abreast along the winding mountain paths. A smaller caravan of donkeys, carrying supplies and a few riders, meandered at the rear.

“Have you ever seen anything like it?” Sayyid breathed more to himself than to Aban, who had ridden up beside him.

“No, and I wish I weren’t seeing it now.”

Sayyid and his captain rode in silence until no more than ten paces separated the opposing leadership. Sayyid stayed his courage, determined to impress Sitis’s brother. “Greetings, Prince Bildad.”

The setting sun and forty years had only heightened the Ishmaelite prince’s nobility. His robe of sky blue linen and the deep purple sash distinguished him as a son of Shuah. His beard was longer, grayer, but he was still handsome. Beauty also seemed an inheritance of Sitis’s family.

As a boy, Sayyid had been forced to bow with his nose to the ground each time Bildad visited their village. Not anymore. He sat a little taller in his Egyptian saddle. “It is an honor to welcome you after all these years.”

“We are here to rescue my sister from your abuse, Sayyid.” Bildad’s obsidian eyes stared through Sayyid, not at him.

“And my nephew!” The old man on Bildad’s right erupted with a thunderous voice like Esau’s. No doubt this was Eliphaz, Esau’s firstborn. He displayed none of Zophar’s or Bela’s ruddy Edomite coloring. Rather, his face resembled a dark raisin with a long white beard. “El Shaddai will rain down His vengeance for your violence against Job,” Eliphaz shouted, shaking his gnarled fist.

He certainly has Esau’s temper
, Sayyid thought, wishing he could hoist a javelin into all their bellies. Instead, he inclined his head and spoke somberly. “I understand your concerns, brothers. However, I fear you have sorely misjudged your family’s circumstance and my participation.” Before any of the men could draw breath, he pressed his defense. “Your sister is not well, Bildad. She has lost all her children—even her three precious daughters, named after the Ishmaelite goddesses.”

Sayyid saw his first arrow hit its mark. Bildad blanched at the truth of his sister’s idolatrous penchant.

While the others shifted uncomfortably on their saddles, Sayyid continued. “In a single day, Eliphaz, all of Job’s wealth was destroyed either by raiding parties attacking from opposing ends of the earth or by the fire of God. The following day your nephew was struck by wasting boils.” Hesitating only slightly, Sayyid leaned closer, as if sharing a secret. “I can assure you, I am a powerful man in Uz, but I can neither rain down fire nor inflict boils on a man’s flesh.”

Sayyid’s gaze fell on Zophar, Job’s favorite cousin-brother, the great spice trader. “Even as Job draws his last breaths, he casts aside your advice, Zophar, and clings to the harlot of which you warned him.”

Shock shattered each man’s stony expression at the pronouncement, and then Sayyid added his final blow. “Elihu, student of the Most High’s teachings, your ima Sitis sold her hair today in the marketplace for three loaves of bread.” He held up the long, ebony locks he’d sheared off Sitis’s head earlier. “She asked me to take it to the temple of Al-Uzza in Moab as an offering.”

“You are a liar!” Elihu shrieked, eyes wild, spittle spilling onto his beard. “Ima would never—”

“That is enough, Elihu.” Bildad spoke with the regal calm of a man accustomed to being obeyed, and Elihu fell silent immediately. “Elihu’s passions carry him away, but I trust his integrity completely. He has accused you of falsehood, Sayyid.” Bildad pierced Sayyid with his gaze. “Which of your statements would he have judged false?”

Sayyid smiled but felt the left side of his mouth twitch nervously. He inwardly cursed his weakness.

“My father lied about Mistress Sitis’s desire to make her hair an offering at the temple.” Every eye darted to Aban, the source of the confession, but the captain’s gaze was fixed on Bildad. Sayyid glared so hotly, he was certain Aban’s face would burst into flames. Alas, it did not.

Bildad lifted one gray eyebrow. “Sayyid is your father?”

“By the gods, Aban . . .” Sayyid’s voice was low, menacing, daring him to continue.

“Yes, from an Egyptian handmaid. Much like our forefather Ishmael was the son of Abram’s Egyptian woman, Hagar.” Sayyid noted Aban’s respectful, intense expression and felt a stab of envy. How could Aban hold Bildad’s gaze without flinching?

“How do you know Sayyid lied?” Bildad asked.

“I am Sayyid’s captain, and we have issued a detachment of guards to protect Job. Those guards reported to me a conversation between Mistress Sitis and Master Job that would preclude your sister from requesting such an offering.” For the first time, Aban looked away from Bildad and glanced in Sayyid’s direction. “My father didn’t want to tell you the truth because . . .”

Sayyid glared at Aban, forbidding him to speak. Begging him to keep silent.

“Sayyid—my father—well, he is a liar. It’s what he does.”

The four visitors couldn’t have looked more shocked if they’d swallowed their camels’ cud. Sayyid’s face blazed like an inferno, humiliation kindling fury.

Bildad laughed so hard, he nearly fell off his camel. “Well, Captain, at least you don’t seem to have inherited your father’s treachery.”

Sayyid considered running his sword through Aban’s heart then and there, but his personal humiliation seemed to be placating the leaders of this great army. “My son paints a dreadful picture of a grain merchant’s life,” Sayyid said, shrugging his shoulders good-naturedly while glaring daggers at his son. “Aban has the luxury of a soldier’s life, black-and-white, right and wrong.” Looking at Zophar, Sayyid included the spice trader in his generalization. “We merchants understand that in order to survive, one must sometimes sculpt the truth to accommodate the situation.”

“And what situation confronts us that you felt the need to sculpt such a lie, Sayyid?”

Though Sayyid was growing weary of Bildad’s incessant hammering, he noted the prince’s hardening features and decided humility was the best approach for the final negotiation. “I thought if you believed Sitis to have embraced idolatry, you might accept hospitality from an idolater.” Sayyid bowed his head and opened his arms wide. “My home is open to you and to as many of your troops as you deem worthy.” Sayyid’s stallion pranced nervously, but its master maintained his penitent pose, waiting.

During the long silence, Sayyid watched Aban’s hands on his reins, clenching and unclenching, twice, three times. His captain was nervous, but still he’d proven himself a fine negotiator. He obviously couldn’t be trusted in matters related to Sitis, but even in that circumstance he’d proven useful to unwittingly lead the bandits to where she was hiding. The Nameless One’s visit had been timely and his predictions as insightful as a sorcerer. He had assured Sayyid that half-truths and lavish hospitality would win these men’s favor. And so far . . .