The Journey Begun (34 page)

He’d been watching the house now for over three hours from behind a thick row of old vines bordering the path. The nagging pain in his head that began two days earlier continued unabated, and it was driving him mad. And that voice! Its power was irresistible, although he had no idea what it was. He only knew he must obey it.

“The girl. He will not leave if the girl is in danger. You must take her.”

“Why don’t I just kill him?” The man whined through the pain.

“He is protected. You will fail. Curse those who serve Yah!”

The foreigner clenched his teeth. “Who is Yah?”

“The Master of the Hebrews. He directs the prophet and his minions protect the word the prophet carries.”

“Why does it matter so much that—” The man jolted at a searing bolt of pain piercing his temples.

“You need to know nothing else! You will do as I command.”

The tormented man gasped for breath, trying to recover from the white-hot pain that ripped through his forehead and deep into his skull.

“Take the girl. The prophet won’t leave her
.
”

Lll

Moshe leaned back and accented his yawn with an arm stretched out to his side. “Time ta turn in.”

“You slept most of the way from Megiddo,” Jonah chided his friend.

The old warrior glared at him. “I had a rough night last night.” The welt on his forehead from Jachan’s board still showed a livid purple.

Jonah laughed and indicated his intention to do the same by pushing his chair back from the table.

Hadassah frowned. “We have room for one more sleeping mat inside, but I’m not sure where to put both of you.”

Moshe waved her concern off. “I’ll take the back o’ the cart. Straw’s comfortable an’ it’s not a cold night. The blanket’s still in the back if I need it.”

Hadassah nodded gratefully and began clearing the last of the dishes and cups from the table. After checking on Leah one last time, she set to preparing a straw tick for Jonah. Benjamin banked the coals of the cook fire for the night while Jonah checked the reserve in the oil lamps.

“Should we leave one lit? You know, in case she wakes up and forgets where she is, or wants to know where we are?” Hadassah looked anxiously at the little girl curled up under the light blanket.

Benjamin shrugged. “That might be a good idea. The olive oil is in the jug by the table there. Will the light bother you, Jonah?”

“No, not at all. Let me trim the lamp nearest the door. It’s the largest and should hold a flame until morning.” The prophet set about the task of recharging the oil in the squatty earthenware vessel.

Moshe stumped to the door. “See ya in the mornin’ then.” He pulled the door open and stepped out. With a creak of the hinges, the door clicked shut and the home was once again separated from the night.

Lll

The stalker shrank back against the vine stand when a sudden burst of lamplight spilled from the open doorway of the house. He watched as Moshe’s stooped figure stood silhouetted against the glow, and then disappeared as the door pulled shut behind him. Although it was the new moon, the stars were brilliant and his eyes were well accustomed to the darkness, so it was not difficult to follow the limping form descending the stairs. He studied the gray-cast figure as it hobbled to the side of the cart, which had been pulled to the side of the house and loosed from the donkey. He heard the weathered wood creak under the weight of the old man as he pulled himself into its bed. After a few moments of rustling straw and a hoarse cough, all went quiet.

The young foreigner leaned back against the vine and pondered his next move. The pain in his head had subsided but was not completely gone. It made concentration nearly impossible, but he had no choice. He would have to wait until everyone fell asleep, especially the old man in the cart, if he was going to succeed in kidnapping the girl. There would be no point in killing her because then this “prophet” would have no reason to stay past burying her. No, he had to get her out alive and escape for the plan to work. But how? His muddled mind searched for a course of action as the night wore on.

The evening star poised to sink below the ridgeline across the valley when he decided it was time to move. A thin line of yellow light seeped beneath the door and over the threshold. A lamp had been left lit. Perfect! He needed just enough light to make his escape, but then the cover of darkness would help conceal him, should anyone try to pursue him.

He struggled to his feet and stretched kinked muscles and stiff joints that nagged at him from their long wait crouching in the shadows. Keeping his eyes on the cart for movement, he crept toward the doorway.

The crunch of shifting straw and a guttural cough halted him in his tracks. He squinted for any movement from the back of the cart. He hesitated, then remembered the spectacle of Jachan’s lifeless body suspended from the old man’s staff in the stable. Maybe there was more to this broken-down old mule than met the eye. He looked around and spotted the outline of a wooden mallet propped up beside the water basin next to the building. Creeping over to the basin, he grasped the tool by the handle and tested its weight in his hand. Slipping around the harness fork, he edged along the side of the cart until he came abreast of the old man stretched out in the straw-covered bed. The young man hefted the mallet over his head and brought the peen down onto Moshe’s brow with a dull crack. The old veteran jerked and then went still.

Startled by the noise of the impact, the assailant dropped to a crouch and stared at the door, straining for any sound of movement inside the house. Hearing none, he slinked to the stone steps leading up to the doorway and stepped onto the top riser. He nudged the latch peg up and leaned his shoulder into the door to ease it open. As the door creaked on its hinges, his mind amplified the noise to a screech, sending his heart into his throat. He was sure everyone in the house would surely leap up and be on him in an instant. He stopped and held his breath, waiting for the inevitable shout of alarm, but there was nothing. He eased the door inward further until he could see into the room. A lamp on a wall shelf remained lit, allowing him to determine the layout of the room and note where everyone was sleeping. He counted three adult forms, but couldn’t make out the young girl.

Cursing under his breath, the intruder stepped onto the matted earthen floor of the house, his eyes flitting around the room for a glimpse of his prey. Finally, in the dim light he noticed a small lump nestled under a blanket in the corner next to one of the larger sleeping figures. He narrowed his eyes and sidled closer to where he could make out the sleeper as that of a woman. She had apparently left her place at the side of her husband—probably the man lying closest to the door, as evidenced by an empty space on the mat next to him—and moved over to the floor beside the girl. The woman and the girl slept hand-in-hand. That would go poorly for her, he decided with a frown, as there was no way to grab the girl and hoist her out of the corner without rousing the woman. Checking over his shoulder on the two men one more time, he lowered himself over the prostrate woman and reached for her throat. He knew how to snap a neck quietly. It would be quick.

As his hand reached the smooth skin of her throat, a crash at the door shot him back to his feet. He spun around to see the bulk of the grizzled old man struggling on his knees with one arm over the threshold.

“No!” Moshe roared, his eyes rolling and his split forehead draining blood down his face. The old soldier grabbed a chair and pulled himself to his knees, then collapsed into the table, upending it onto the floor.

Jonah, who was lying closest to Hadassah and Leah, jerked himself up onto an elbow and drew up at the sight of the stranger. The kidnapper spotted his movement and swung the mallet around, connecting with the prophet’s forehead. Jonah collapsed onto the mat.

Hadassah’s eyes flew open and she rolled aside. The mallet narrowly missed her, pounding a deep cleft into the clay surface of the floor where her head had rested a moment ago. Leah struggled to her knees and cowered in the corner, the blanket pulled around her. Her eyes showed terror as the stranger lunged at her and yanked her away from the wall by her arm.

He had just jerked Leah from the mat when Benjamin tackled him from behind, knocking the mallet from the assailant’s hand. The two men crashed into the back wall of the house and Leah fell into a heap, entangled in the loose folds of the blanket. Benjamin gripped the kidnapper around the waist, but he was not the experienced fighter his opponent was. Bracing himself against the wall with one arm, the intruder brought his elbow straight back with full force into the vintner’s forehead. Benjamin’s head snapped back and he fell away.

Leah pulled herself loose from the blanket and scrambled toward the door, but the kidnapper grabbed her by the hair and pulled her back. She screamed and kicked at the man, but he gripped her around the waist and clamped her against his body while he regained his balance. The man took two strides toward the door, but staggered forward as Hadassah landed on his back, tearing at his hair. He bellowed and shrugged her off onto the upended table by Moshe’s still body.

The kidnapper staggered back to regain his balance. Benjamin lunged toward him again, blood gushing from a split above his eyebrow. The man’s sandaled foot shot out and caught the vintner in the midriff, doubling him over onto the floor. The assailant straightened up and turned for the door when Leah sank her teeth into the flesh of his forearm and tore back with all her might. The fiend roared in pain and flung the girl across the room onto Jonah, who was just struggling to his knees. The prophet broke the girl’s fall, and they both crumpled into a heap.

The intruder grabbed the ragged wound in his arm to stem the flow of blood and looked wildly around the room. He decided he’d had enough.

He spun back toward the door, only to come face to face with the woman, crouching by the table, her eyes wild with rage. She screamed and lunged. As they collided, he cringed as a burning pain ripped into his abdomen. He staggered back against the wall, and they both stared down at her hand gripping the handle of Benjamin’s pruning fork protruding from his stomach. Her arm dripped with blood spurting around the wooden handle. She jerked her hand away and he sank to his knees, grabbing the tool handle with both hands. Dazed, he stared into the woman’s contorted face. His eyes rolled back and he fell onto his side. With a final spasm, he went still.

Hadassah shivered and rocked on her knees, hugging Leah to her chest. She absently hummed an old childhood lullaby as she stroked the young girl’s hair with a hand still stained with their attacker’s dried blood. Leah stared at the far wall unblinking and emotionless, her head resting on Hadassah’s bosom.

Benjamin had dragged the blood-soaked body of the would-be kidnapper out the door and dumped it into a heap at the foot of the steps, not even pausing to extract the tool from the dead man’s stomach. The two men now knelt beside Moshe’s prostrate form. He pressed a piece of cloth against the gash above his eye, as Jonah worried over the old soldier who, save an occasional spasm that shuddered his body, lay still. The fallen warrior’s eyes were cracked open to slits and a widening spot of drool pooled where his parted lips pressed against the floor. Jonah rubbed his friend’s shoulder in helplessness, lacking any idea what else to do.

“As the Lord lives, you can’t die! Come, my friend, try, try!” Tears flowed freely down his cheeks as the men wracked their brains for some way to save Moshe’s life.