Читать книгу The Guardian's Promise - Christina Rich - Страница 11

Chapter Three

“You have eyes for the slave, now?” Rubiel asked. “He is not for you.”

Mira dipped her head to hide the blushing of her cheeks at her sister’s words. It had not been the first time she’d watched him over the years, though she had never before been caught. He was a fine man, as handsome as any. His bearing strong and proud, yet humble and diligent. He was unlike any man she had ever known, free or slave. His heart seemed good. Yet, he angered her often.

True, he saw past her imperfections. He never looked at her with disgust. Instead, he coddled her, suffocated her as if she were...helpless. Defenseless. Of course, today, she would have been at the mercy of the soldiers if Ari had not intervened. She was thankful, yet angry. Why?

“What authority have you to say such things, sister?”

Rubiel gripped Mira’s chin and looked her in the eyes. “He is a bond servant, Mira. You should seek to marry your equal.”

Mira bowed her head releasing her sister’s hold. She recalled the way the corded muscles in his shoulders and arms vibrated. The coldness in his eyes as if he could fell the soldiers with one look. Even armed with their swords they had backed away from Ari as if they, too, thought him deadly.

For a small moment she had glimpsed a different man. A dangerous man, one who was not from humble means. A man far above her status. In that moment he brought to mind the stories of King David’s mighty men. Men who single-handedly defeated great armies. “It does not mean he is any less of a man.”

“Oh, dear. Ari is very honorable, but he will soon leave us.”

The thought hitched in her throat. What would her father do without him? “Perhaps, he might stay.”

“What of his people? Have you thought of them? He might have a wife.”

Although she’d often wondered where Ari had come from she never once had imagined he might have a wife. True, he often left their villa with her father’s permission, but she never thought it was to visit family. Surely, if he’d had one she would have known.

“You need a local man. What of Esha? He seems to like you well enough. He works hard and is handsome.” Rubiel raised the jar full of water from the well.

“Esha works hard on drinking Abba’s wine.”

Rubiel laughed. “What does that matter? He’d be a good husband sleeping all the time as he does.”

“Bah, I would rather have no husband than one of Esha’s character, even if he is handsome enough as you say. I have enough chores to attend. I do not need to take care of a drunkard, as well.”

“Mira, you must truly consider Esha. My Nathan says he is the one man who does not mind that you are maimed. Besides, if Ari stays, he can help you take care of your husband.” Rubiel glanced at the man walking beside her father with appreciation. “He’s certainly strong enough to tend to your future husband. Ari does everything else for you.”

“Esha is not my betrothed, nor will he ever be.” Heat flooded her cheeks. “Besides, if Ari stays it’ll be for Abba and no other reason. He only helps me to repay a debt he believes he owes.”

“For saving his life?” Rubiel nodded toward Mira’s hand. “It is commendable of you, sister, for saving him from those dogs when he was left for dead, especially with your fear of the beasts. Does the slave know? Does he know why your fingers are scarred and twisted?”

Mira shook her head and curled her mangled fingers into the folds of her tunic. If only she had listened to her father when she was but a girl she never would have wandered off alone and been attacked by a wild dog. Then she could have married long ago. Married for love, not for the price of her father’s land, which she had no doubt was all Esha hoped to gain. She closed her eyes and gathered what courage she could find.

“Abba’s patience is at an end. I heard him speaking with Ima. If you do not find a husband soon, he’ll accept Esha’s suit.”

Esha might be handsome, but she didn’t miss the look of revulsion whenever he spied her. No doubt, he would be a cruel husband. Perhaps not abusive, but he would neglect her. Given the way he reacted whenever he glanced at her hand, there would be no union between them. No children. She was certain he only coveted her father’s land and his wine.

“If only there were more men as diligent as Ari. One who has not forsaken God. One who will see Abba’s land become even more prosperous.” One who made her heart flutter as Ari had done when he’d smoothed her hair behind her shoulder earlier. If only he felt something besides pity for her, maybe a little respect for her abilities to care for a household.

“Your slave will be free in a few days’ time. He’ll leave as they all do.”

“Ari will stay,” Mira predicted. “He has to. Abba depends on him too much.” If he didn’t, then she would follow him and convince him to return to her father’s house.

Mira hefted the yoke upon her shoulders. Rubiel attached the jars of water to their hooks, the weight boring into her neck. Before Mira headed toward her father, Rubiel dipped a cup into the earthen jar and placed it in her good hand draped over the yoke.

“Here, take this to Father. He is weakening.” Her sister kissed her cheek. “Mira, I hope for your sake you are right, but please, for me, beware your heart.”

Beware her heart? The man may have caused her pulse to beat a little faster, but she did not love him. He was good. Honest. Hardworking, and he cared for her father as a son should. “It is not for my heart, dear sister, but for Father’s that Ari must stay.”

She met her father and Ari as they reached the bottom of the hill. She gave Ari an apologetic look when he took the cup from her hand and pressed it to her father’s lips. Her father labored to control his breathing.

“You should not be here, Abba,” she chastised.

Ari handed the cup back to her and lifted the yoke from her neck.

“You would deny me your beauty, Sh’mira,” her father said, a twinkle in his eye.

“Father, do not think you can charm your way out of this. Does Ima know you have left your bed?” She wrapped her arm around her father’s frail shoulders and ushered him back toward home.

“It was your mother’s idea I get fresh air.”

“I do not think she meant for you to walk so far. Are you trying to meet your death?”

Ari raised a dark, winged brow. He must have gained confidence from their earlier encounter with the guards if he dared chastise her, even if it was a silent one. It had not escaped her notice over the years that this man’s size could probably command an entire army, especially since he easily managed her father. But now, she had no doubt there was much more to him than servanthood. Knew with certainty he could command respect from his enemies with one look.

“Would it be such a bad thing, daughter?”

“Abba,” she cried.

“Adon, you should not speak so carelessly.” Ari’s words were for her father, but his gaze bored into hers. He seemed to will her strength and understanding. “As much as we would all long to pass from this earth and into the great rest of our God, you would be greatly missed.”

“My apologies, Sh’mira. My bones are weary.”

“Soon. Soon, Abba, you will rest.” She patted his arm. Her father longed for an eternal rest, but a selfish desire to cling to him claimed her. Losing him would break her heart.

Her father halted his steps. The dust covering the pathway swirled over his sandaled feet. “First, I must tend to business in town.” He glanced at Ari. “I need the mind of Solomon and the strength of Samson. I need you to attend me, Ari.”

The corners of Ari’s mouth curved upward. “Of course, adon.”

Panic filled her chest, squeezing and tightening. The guards promised to return. Who would protect her? Certainly not Esha. And what if they accosted her father on the road? Would Ari’s lone strength be enough to see her father protected? “You cannot, Abba. Not until you are much improved.” Mira used her eyes to plead with Ari to not placate her father.

“The matter is of importance. It can wait no longer, daughter. Besides, Hebron is a day there, a day back. Not much at all, you will see,” her father replied.

“But...”

Ari’s brow furrowed.

“The queen’s—”

“She is right, adon. You cannot think to leave your family unprotected.”

She silently thanked Ari for not revealing the earlier events to her father. He’d only fret, weakening his health.

“I would send another, but I do not trust...” Her father began to wheeze and cough. She patted him on the back as Ari held on to his arm.

“We will discuss the matter more after you rest,” Ari said, shadows evident in his eyes. Grim lines etched his handsome face. It was as if the yoke he bore for her was not the only burden he carried. For the first time, with her sister’s words fresh in her mind, she wondered about his days before he arrived on her father’s land, lips parched and body battered. Dying.

Footsteps on the path interrupted her musings. Fear pounded in her blood. Had the soldiers returned? She lifted her eyes, shielding them against the sun with her free hand, and breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of Joash.

He ran toward them, his dark curls bouncing just above his shoulders. His tunic danced against his thighs, exposing his scarred knees. The scrapes the only evidence that this young boy, seven summers old, was but a child. Such a shame he did not laugh and play more. He was too serious, much like the man who diligently taught him God’s Law. Ari’s arrival had truly been a gift from God, not just to her father, but as a mentor to their people during a time when the leader of Judah had banned God from the land.

Joash stopped. And as if in command of all the world, he lifted his head and looked her father in the eye. “Abba, Leah has sent me to fetch you.”

“Is that so?”

“I would not lie,” Joash replied as if offended. Mira wanted to smile at the boy who had filled a special place in her heart, who had placated the emptiness of her womb all these years.

“Of course not, my son.” Her father extended his hand out for Joash to escort him home. “You should do as you are bid.”

“Yes, Abba.” Joash placed his small hand into her father’s frail palm. “Leah has made challah.”

“Has she now?”

Her stomach grumbled at the mention of her mother’s fresh-baked bread. Brushing her troublesome veil back over her shoulders, she fell into step beside Ari.

“That one is too serious,” she said.

“As he should be,” Ari replied.

She tilted her chin and considered the boy. Her cousin had arrived with the boy near six years before, only days after Ari had. She’d claimed the babe’s parents had been killed, left an orphan. Her father took him in and began raising him as his own. “How so? He’s only a child. He should run and play. He takes his studies too much to heart.”

Ari twisted his lips, which she found endearing, although what she really wanted to do was to run her fingers along the seam and smooth them into the heart-warming smile she had found appealing.

“If there were more men such as that child, there would be less horror in the land.”

It was the closest she’d ever heard him come to speaking about the terror ruling Judah. “You speak of our queen?”

He looked into her eyes as if searching her soul. “It does not matter of what I speak. But the boy...it is obvious God has destined great things for him.”

Mira laughed. “It is not likely Joash will rise one morning from tending sheep and become a king like David.”

It was barely perceptible. If she hadn’t made it her duty to memorize Ari’s every nuance and bearing over the years—not because she fancied herself in love with him but rather so she could find his weaknesses, make him feel helpless as he did her—she never would have known. But she saw. It was almost unbelievable. He stumbled. This sure, strong man tripped over his feet and stumbled.

“Be careful, Mira.” Her name, a mere whisper, rolled over his tongue and curled into her heart. Her breath caught in her throat for he had never before addressed her by her name. “Our Lord may decide to prove you wrong.”