Love Amid the Ashes (26 page)

“Lead us into the city, and we will camp on the plains,” Eliphaz commanded as though ordering his own troops. “You are clearly not a man to be trusted, Sayyid, and I intend to speak with Job before any agreements are struck.”

Sayyid’s head snapped to attention, and he drew breath to match the venomous tone of Esau’s firstborn. But Aban interrupted, showing infuriating tact and diplomacy. “My father would be happy to lead you and a
detachment
of your men into the city, Master Eliphaz, with an equal number of Prince Bildad’s soldiers. Our cooks have already begun preparing a meal for one hundred extra mouths.” Aban started to turn away but snapped his fingers as if remembering something at the last moment. “Master Zophar?”

The merchant looked startled to be addressed directly. “Yes?” he said, glancing cautiously at his father and his teacher.

“I wouldn’t presume to instruct you on tending to Job, but if your caravan holds herbs that might help him, you should bring them when my father escorts you.” Aban nodded respectfully to the three elders and then shot a hostile glance at Elihu before turning his dapple gray stallion in the direction of the city gate. He then issued the retreat signal to the first two rows of guards, and the ornately adorned camels and riders returned to the city with their captain.

“Well, Sayyid,” Bildad said, reminding him that nearly two thousand men awaited his instruction. “I hope your fine son is a testament to your changed character. I remember you as a scheming peasant boy, but perhaps you have improved, as you say, to a conniving grain merchant.” Bildad and his three friends sniggered.

Annoyed, Sayyid returned his attention to the siq entrance. The guards on camels had disappeared through the siq, but Aban’s dapple gray stallion was tethered at the base of a rocky mountain path.
Where have you gone, my son? And why are you in such a hurry to get there?

The night sky gulped away light, and every heart throbbed with tension, waiting for the cries of battle or some word of aid from Job’s and Sitis’s relatives. Around the soft glow of firelight, the four women chatted quietly until the cave exploded with a muscular figure dressed in black. After reflexive gasps, the ladies stood to welcome Aban—three offering smiles of relief. One, not so relieved.

“What brings you back here when it’s almost dark?” Dinah said, hands balled on her hips. “And you could have been followed by any number of Sayyid’s men or Nameless Ones.” The words tumbled out much harsher than she’d intended, but this man was still untried. Granted, he’d proven a godsend earlier today, but what would he prove tomorrow and the next day and the next?

Aban looked as if he’d been slapped, and Sitis gently placed a hand on Dinah’s shoulder. “I think she’s asking if you’ve come with news about Sayyid’s meeting with my brother and Job’s uncle.”

Dinah crossed her arms and set her feet like a commander waiting to hear a scout’s report. She sensed Sitis’s disapproving frown and was certain Nogahla and Widow Orma shared the woman’s adoration of their new champion.

Aban suppressed a grin, which only stoked Dinah’s fire. “Sayyid is leading a hundred of the visiting army through the siq, where they will make camp in our canyon and see Job for the first time.” He sobered and turned to Sitis with concern. “My father’s words dripped with honey. I’m sure he plans to smother them with hospitality and win them over to his version of the truth.”

“I must go! Job’s throat is too raw to speak,” Sitis said, grabbing a cloak to throw around her shoulders. “We can’t let Sayyid interpret the last year’s events. You know his silver tongue twists the truth.”

“No!” The cave resounded with the answer.

Dinah pulled Sitis into a fierce embrace. “Please, Aban, remind her of the dangers. Tell us what Sayyid is planning.”

She watched a cloud of sadness darken his features. “I’m sorry, Mistress Sitis. I don’t know what Sayyid is planning anymore.”

Dinah glared, silently accusing him of lying.

He raised his hands, pleading his case. “My father discovered that I tricked him earlier and has now changed his plans with the Nameless Ones. I’ve positioned my most trusted guards around this cave, but I cannot protect you, mistress, if you leave here.”

A stream of tears flowed down Sitis’s cheeks. “But who will speak for Job?”

“Elihu is among them, Sitis.” Dinah gently grasped the woman’s shoulders and faced her. “Elihu knows Sayyid’s treachery. He will recognize it and speak out.”

Aban spoke softly but firmly. “I’m sorry, Dinah, but I believe Eliphaz, Bildad, and Zophar see Elihu as an impetuous, emotional boy. His opinions seem to matter very little among them.”

Anger rose inside Dinah. She knew Sitis was hanging on by a thin thread of hope. How dare Aban cut it off so carelessly! “Well, Aban, do you have a better idea?”

“I will speak for Master Job and Mistress Sitis,” he said simply.

Silence reigned.

Dinah’s heart nearly stopped when she saw the inner battle raging on Sitis’s features.
Surely you won’t place your life in the hands of this stranger
, she thought. Trying to spare Sitis from a dire mistake, she turned to the captain and said, “Please, Aban, don’t take offense, but . . .”

“You don’t trust me to speak the truth because I’m Sayyid’s son.” His voice bore a tinge of anger mingled with defeat. “Why do you allow my past to eliminate the possibility that I have become a man of integrity?”

Dinah felt the blood rush from her face. Had she become like those who judged her? Unwilling to forgive? Unable to see beyond her past? Yet something about this man held her back. His integrity had not been tested over time.

“I’m truly sorry for the way I’ve treated you, Aban, but please understand. My friends’ lives depend on this moment. I would even go myself if it would help.” She chuckled at the thought.
Wouldn’t that cause a stir, if Dinah appeared beside Job at the ash heap?

“But who will go if Aban doesn’t?” Sitis whispered in Dinah’s ear as the two women clung to each other.

“May I go, mistress?” Nogahla’s quiet voice came from the darkness of the cave, and Dinah turned to see her beautiful round eyes.

“Nogahla, my friend, they will not listen to you.” Dinah exchanged a knowing glance with Sitis. “Though we know you are a kind Cushite girl with great wisdom, those men would not hear your words.”

“No, I don’t intend to talk to Master Job’s relatives. I mean to go with Master Aban to set your mind at rest that he is being truthful on Master Job’s behalf.” Nogahla blinked several times, punctuating her request, and Aban raised pleading eyebrows. Dinah thought he resembled a wolf ready to devour her little lamb.

“I don’t think it’s proper for a young girl to be traipsing alone with a soldier after dark.” Dinah sounded like her ima—scolding, nagging, chiding. But if she’d listened to Ima Leah, she might not have landed in Shechem’s bed.

“Nogahla can tend Job’s wounds with the supplies Zophar is bringing,” Aban said a little too quickly. But Aban’s mention of medicinal provisions sent Dinah’s mind humming with hope, and now Sitis also pleaded silently with her. Only Widow Orma remained neutral, warming herself by the fire.

Dinah’s heart squeezed at the thought of sending her precious friend with a man she didn’t fully trust, but what else could she do? “All right, Nogahla, you’ll need to take this basket of supplies with you for the first visit.” Dinah began filling it with some of Nada’s food provisions and the few small jars of herbs they had left.

Widow Orma handed Nogahla a rock-hewn pitcher insulated with woven mesh. “I’m sending the last of our mint tea. Have Master Job drink it while it’s still hot,” the widow said. “It will help soothe his throat and stomach so he can tell his own truth soon.”

Nogahla nodded, but Dinah wondered if she truly comprehended any of their instructions. The girl was smitten—deeply, completely, undeniably.

Dinah held Aban’s gaze, and to the man’s credit, he didn’t flinch. “She’s ready, Aban. Nogahla is my most treasured friend. You will keep her safe.” It was a command, not a question, and the big man nodded. “I will join Nogahla and Job at the ash heap when the moon is at its peak. By then the visitors should be sleeping, and I can sort through the new supplies to find the best herbs for Job’s sores. I’ll tend his wounds and move him to a dry pile at night so as not to offend . . . anyone.” Dinah’s voice broke, and she looked away. Why did she have to sneak like a thief to tend the wounds of her dear friend, and why did Zophar still frighten and shame her?

“We will be waiting for you there, Mistress Dinah.” Aban’s voice was gentle.

She nodded, emotion strangling her voice. Nogahla kissed her cheek and scooted down the incline of rock toward the path. Dinah watched Aban hoist Nogahla onto his sleek stallion and then disappear into the siq.

Nogahla felt like a queen. Never had she dreamed she would ride a stallion as beautiful as Aban’s dapple gray. “My first childhood memories are of my father’s stables,” she said, hoping Aban would speak freely about the new revelation of his father. Nogahla hadn’t heard Aban’s first declaration to Mistress Dinah and Mistress Sitis, but the women had told her later while tending Dinah’s head wound.

“You mean, you remember horses when your father worked in a master’s stables?” Aban’s tone was easy, conversational, as if they were strolling through a quiet meadow rather than emerging from the great siq toward a visiting army.

“No, my father was the master of a grand Egyptian estate, one of Pharaoh’s officials, and my mother was a Cushite slave in his household. My father’s wife hated my mother and sold me to Ishmaelite slave traders when I was five winters old—just to be mean.”

Aban walked beside the horse, loosely holding its bridle in hand. “I’m sorry, Nogahla.”

“It’s all right.” Nogahla looked up at the moon and stars. “The last words my mother said to me were, ‘My little princess, the night sky will always unite us.’”

Without altering his stride, Aban turned and offered up a smile. “So I was wrong before when I called you ‘little Cushite.’ I should have said ‘Egyptian princess.’” His eyes sparkled even in the dim shadows of dusk, and Nogahla thought her heart might burst.

He resumed his forward gaze and reached a brawny arm under his stallion’s powerful neck, patting the other side. Bowing his head, he spoke in soothing tones to the beast, and Nogahla wondered what secrets they shared. Suddenly mesmerized by the sinewy muscles of his back, she noted the proportions of his shoulders and waist like a finely shaped funnel.
Oh my!
She clapped her hands on her burning cheeks.

“Nogahla, are you all right?” Aban turned, stopping in a warrior’s stance, his eyes darting in every direction.

Nogahla squeezed her eyes shut and tried to calm herself. Now she really felt foolish. “Yes, Aban. I’m just a little frightened.” It was the truth—though he didn’t need to know why. What if Dinah was right and Aban could not be trusted? What if her heart was leading them all astray?

Nogahla met Aban’s gaze and saw only tenderness and sincerity there.
Please, El Shaddai, let me return with a good report to Dinah and Mistress Sitis about this man. Let his words be true and his heart pure.

As the final words of her prayer ascended heavenward, Nogahla heard terrible wailing echoing from the canyon.

“Hold on to the riding blanket!” Aban shouted to Nogahla as the stallion broke into a trot to keep pace with the soldier’s long stride. They weaved through the visiting army, whose shmaghs and keffiyehs were pulled over their faces. Some of the soldiers within sight of Job were even coughing and retching.

Nogahla soon spotted the source of the keening. Three exquisitely garbed older men tore at their robes and threw dust on their heads, while Elihu faced Job’s ash pile, his head bowed.

“Are those his relatives?” Nogahla asked, leaning across the horse’s neck. Aban slowed his pace as they drew near the display, walking now between the front lines of soldiers. “Why are they remaining so far from Master Job?” she whispered. “They’re not even as close as your four perimeter guards.”

Aban hesitated, and Nogahla wondered if he was winded from his run or searching for polite words. He leaned close so she could hear him over the wailing. “I’m guessing they’re not accustomed to the odor.”