Among the Gods (Chronicles of the Kings Book #5) Page 10

  “What are you doing here?” she asked him. “Is something wrong?” It seemed odd that Hadad pulled her aside, away from the guards, before answering her question.

  “I came to check on you and Dinah,” he said in a low voice. “I wanted to make sure you were both safe.” A peculiar fire burned in his dark eyes, and his gaze darted among the shadows, not meeting hers. He seemed different from the Hadad she knew. Was it simply readiness for the approaching battle? Had the knowledge that he soon might die altered him this way? A thick canopy of trees and brush shielded the sky from view, and Miriam shivered in the gloomy darkness.

  “Hadad, why—”

  “Go back to bed, Miriam.” His voice and hands were rough as he pushed her toward the cave. “Stay inside until this is over.”

  She did as she was told but lay awake listening to the murmur of voices outside the cave. Then all was quiet. Miriam waited, watching the entrance, but neither of the guards returned to the cave. When exhaustion finally won the battle with worry, Miriam slept.

  The cave was lit by the approaching dawn when she awoke. Dinah was still asleep beside her, but Prince Amariah was up and moving carefully around the cave, stooping to keep from hitting his head on the low ceiling. When she saw that he was laying out food from one of their provision bags, Miriam scrambled off her pallet to help him.

  “Let me fix breakfast for you, Your Majesty.”

  “This is for Dinah. She’ll feel better if she eats something as soon as she wakes up.”

  “I know, my lord, but I can do it.” She tried to take the bread and the knife from his hands, but he stopped her.

  “I need something to do, Miriam. Waiting like this …” He exhaled. “Waiting is always the hardest part. I’ll be so glad when this is over.”

  She let him finish his task, but even in the dim light she noticed the strain etched on his face and the tremor in his hands as he sliced the bread and cheese. In a few hours he might be the king of Judah, living in a palace again with servants to tend to his every need. Now he sought comfort in playing the role of a dutiful husband, tending his ill wife. Miriam couldn’t imagine how it would feel to be part of a plot to kill her own brother.

  Amariah glanced up, and when he saw Miriam watching him he seemed embarrassed. “It was so good of you to come with us, Miriam. I don’t know how I can thank you for taking such good care of Dinah. I’ve been so worried about her. If I’d had my way, neither you nor Dinah ever would have come.”

  His words surprised her. She repeated them to herself and found they didn’t fit with what she had been told. “Wait a minute, Your Majesty. I thought it was your idea to bring Dinah.”

  “No! Never! I begged them to let her stay in Egypt, where it was safe, but Hadad insisted—”

  “Hadad insisted? But he told me this was your idea.”

  “When did he tell you that?”

  “Before we left Egypt. When he tried to talk me out of coming.”

  Amariah stopped what he was doing and stared intently at her. “Tell me exactly what he said to you.”

  The strength of his gaze flustered her. She struggled to remember Hadad’s words. “He said that Joshua was just using me. He warned me that the mission would be dangerous and said that I shouldn’t—”

  Amariah shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. “Miriam, that doesn’t make any sense. Hadad was the one who insisted that Dinah come with us. If he was concerned for your safety, why wouldn’t he be even more concerned about hers?”

  “But Hadad is concerned about her. He even came here early this morning to check on her.”

  “What? Hadad was here?” Amariah gripped her shoulders so tightly she winced.

  “Yes, he was here just a little while ago. He talked to the two guards and—”

  All the blood drained from Amariah’s face as if someone had removed a stopper. “Stay here with Dinah.” He pushed Miriam aside and hurried from the cave.

  Miriam stared at the entrance in a daze. The fear in Amariah’s eyes had frightened her, but she was unsure what it was she should fear. As she tried to untangle her thoughts, Dinah began to stir. Miriam quickly brought her the bread and cheese, grateful for the distraction of a familiar task. “Your husband thought you might like something to eat right away.”

  “Where is he?”

  “Outside talking with the guards.”

  But Miriam heard no voices from outside the cave. Ever since they’d arrived, the guards had stayed close to the entrance, where they’d be hidden from view yet able to keep watch over the prince. Where had they gone? Hours seemed to pass before Amariah finally returned. When Miriam saw his bloodless face, she sprang to her feet. “What’s wrong?”

  “They’ve disappeared,” he said breathlessly. “The two guards—I’ve looked everywhere for them. They’re gone. So are all the weapons.”

  “But that makes no sense. Where would they go?”

  He moved close to Miriam, peering intently into her face as if he didn’t want to miss a word she said. “Miriam, tell me exactly what Hadad said this morning.”

  Miriam’s heart leaped, and she didn’t know why. Amariah was terribly afraid of something, and she seemed to hold the key to the mystery. She recalled the strange light in Hadad’s eye and shivered.

  “I asked Hadad why he was here, and he took me aside to talk to me so the guards wouldn’t hear us. He looked different somehow—on edge. He said he came to make sure that Dinah and I were safe, then he told me to go back to bed. I heard him talking to the guards for a few more minutes, and when they were quiet again I fell asleep.”

  Amariah paced a few steps toward the cave entrance, deep in thought. “Both guards were awake?” he asked after a moment.

  “Yes.”

  “They were supposed to sleep in shifts,” he murmured.

  “Someone came into the cave and woke one of them. I think it must have been Hadad.”

  Amariah closed his eyes and lowered his head, covering his mouth and chin with one hand. He stayed frozen that way for several long minutes, until Miriam thought she might scream from the tension. Finally he drew a deep breath and faced her again.

  “Before we left Egypt … when Hadad tried to convince you not to come … Did he tell you why it was too dangerous?”

  The urgency in Amariah’s voice told Miriam the importance of recalling every single word. Her heart galloped as she let her mind travel back to the ferry dock, remembering how Hadad had appeared out of nowhere, remembering how inexplicably frightened of him she had been.

  “He told me that the battle might not end once Manasseh was dead. He said that Manasseh’s right-hand man—the one with the strange, crossed eyes—might try to make himself king.”

  Amariah gripped her shoulders again. “He described Zerah?”

  “Yes—that’s what he said the man’s name was. Hadad said Zerah gave him the creeps. That he was always hovering close to King Manasseh, always caressing him.”

  Amariah swayed, and for a moment, Miriam thought she would have to catch him.

  “O God, help us all,” he said. “It’s a trap.”

  “What do you mean? What’s a trap?”

  “We’re all walking into a trap!” Amariah’s wide eyes seemed to fill his pale face. His breathing sounded as labored as Joshua’s when he had one of his attacks. Dinah scrambled to her feet and took Amariah’s arm as if to steady him.

  “How do you know?”

  “I feared this all along,” he mumbled. “I tried to warn Joshua, but he was so intent on revenge that he was blind to all the warning signs, and now—”

  “Amariah! How do you know?” Dinah shouted. She looked as ill as he did.

  The prince forced out the words as if pronouncing a death sentence. “Because Zerah never leaves the palace. He’s rarely seen in public except at night, and even then he’s surrounded by bodyguards.”

  “But couldn’t things have changed since you left?” Dinah asked.

  “Maybe Hadad saw him at a con
vocation … or … or at a—”

  “Hadad could never have gotten close enough to see Zerah’s eyes or to watch how he caresses my brother unless he was in the palace with them. And how else would Hadad know Zerah’s name? No, Dinah, they must have plotted this together. It’s a trap.”

  Dinah shook him, as if to bring him to his senses, to make him admit it wasn’t true. “But why? Why would Hadad go to all this trouble? He could have killed you and Joshua himself if that’s what he’s after.”

  “No, no, don’t you see? This is perfect justice to Hadad. We betrayed him, and now he wants to betray Joshua and me to Manasseh. It’s the ultimate revenge. Hadad will come back here to kill me himself, I’m certain of it. That’s why he got rid of the guards. And that’s why he insisted that you come, Dinah. So he wouldn’t have to return to Egypt for you.”

  “And I’m in his way,” Miriam said. She fit all the puzzle pieces together—the strange way Hadad had acted, the odd look in his eyes, her inexplicable fear of him—and suddenly they all made sense. Hadad knew she would do anything to protect Joshua. He was afraid she would see through his lies. “Your Majesty, you’re right—it is a trap!”

  “Manasseh is probably nowhere near that procession,” the prince said. “And he probably has hundreds of troops swarming all over the countryside, surrounding us. That’s why we saw so many men in the village yesterday. They’re Manasseh’s men.”

  “What are we going to do?” Dinah asked.

  “We need to warn Joshua!” Miriam said. “We need to tell him it’s a trap!”

  As Amariah drew a deep breath, Miriam was amazed to see that he was no longer panicked. He seemed surprisingly calm as he took Dinah’s hands in his, speaking gently to her. “If you stay here, Hadad will very likely return for you. I’m certain he won’t harm you. I’ll understand if you want to go with him.”

  Fear and confusion battled on Dinah’s face. “But I’m carrying your child.”

  “I know,” he said quietly. “I promised you a royal son to replace the one Manasseh murdered. You don’t have to stay with me any longer now that you’re pregnant.”

  Miriam felt desperate. This was taking much too long. “Your Majesty, you need to run! Hadad will kill you if you stay here, and I have to warn Joshua that he’s walking into a trap!”

  Dinah looked as if she might faint. “None of this would have happened if it hadn’t been for me.”

  Miriam suddenly saw the truth with perfect clarity, and it angered her. “You’re wrong, Dinah. This is Joshua’s fault, not yours. If he hadn’t interfered, if he hadn’t been so full of hatred and so intent on revenge, you would have married Hadad and none of this would have ever happened. Joshua manipulated everyone. Now he’s caught in the trap he created himself.”

  “She’s right, Dinah,” Amariah said. “Let’s not make the same mistake twice. Never mind what Joshua wants. Decide for yourself what to do about Hadad. Do you want to go with him?”

  Dinah didn’t reply. Miriam wondered how Amariah could wait so patiently when Hadad might return any minute to kill him. With no guards and only a bread knife for a weapon, the prince was defenseless against a vastly superior foe. Miriam felt a shiver of awe at his tremendous courage. Unlike Joshua’s daring, which sprang from the desire to avenge himself, Amariah’s courage was selfless.

  As Dinah stood twisting her hands, Miriam wanted to shake her and scream at her to hurry. At last Dinah answered her husband. “Did Hadad pretend to be your friend just so he could turn you and Joshua over to Manasseh?” Amariah nodded grimly. “What about all the innocent men who volunteered for this mission? They trusted him as their commanding officer. Is he going to watch all of them die, too?”

  “Yes. God help them,” Amariah murmured.

  “I thought I loved Hadad,” Dinah said. “But I can’t love a man who is capable of such treachery. Please, let’s get out of here before he comes back.”

  The prince seemed to sag with relief. “Miriam, gather all the provisions you can find,” he said. “I’ll try to figure out how to get us back to Jerimoth’s caravan in Nahshon. Manasseh probably has men everywhere, so we won’t be able to take the roads and—”

  “I’m not going with you,” Miriam said. “I have to warn Joshua. Tell me which way to go. How can I find him?”

  “Miriam, I can’t let you do that.”

  “You let Dinah decide what she wanted to do. Give me the same right. It’s my life, Your Majesty.”

  “Manasseh’s troops have Joshua completely surrounded by now. None of you will escape alive. I can’t let you forfeit your life for him.”

  “You would have forfeited your life for Dinah.”

  “That’s different. She’s—”

  Dinah touched Amariah’s sleeve. “Let her go, Amariah,” she said.

  “Yes, please!” Miriam begged. “We’re wasting time!”

  At last he heaved a tired sigh. “If you go straight down the hill from the cave, you’ll come to the road. Turn right and follow it east toward the sun. When you reach the roadblock … No, wait, that’s no good. Hadad is in charge of the roadblock. He’ll never let you through.”

  “Where’s Joshua?”

  “On top of the ridge above the road. But there’s no way around the roadblock—that’s the whole point of it. The hill borders one side of the road, and there’s a cliff on the other side.”

  “Hadad might try to stop me, but I don’t think he’ll hurt me. I have to try, Your Majesty. You and Dinah go without me.” Miriam bent to fasten her sandals, then moved toward the mouth of the cave. As she paused to look back at them, her heart told her that she might be seeing them for the last time. Dinah looked pale and frightened, the prince strangely calm and determined. She could think of so many things she wanted to say to them, but there wasn’t time.

  The prince rested his hand on her shoulder. “May God go with you, Miriam.”

  “And with you,” she whispered.

  Miriam hurried out of the cave and scrambled down the hill through the brush, searching for the road. It had been dark when they’d climbed the hill to the cave the night before, and it had taken Amariah and the soldiers a while to find it. Now she squinted in the brightness, and when her feet hit the rutted dirt track, she turned right and began to jog toward the sun.

  Miriam knew she needed God’s help. Lady Jerusha always assured her that God was always near, ready to answer; all she had to do was call on Him. It still sounded too good to be true, but then Miriam remembered how God had helped her find Joshua at the Temple, how He had helped Joshua survive the explosion, and she began to plead with Him in her heart as she ran.

  O God, I know I’m not a worthy person. I know I was born in shame and disgrace. But I’m begging you … please let me get to Joshua in time. Please don’t let him die.

  The road climbed steadily uphill. After ten minutes of running, Miriam felt a sharp pain knifing her side. She had to slow down, but walking seemed much too slow—she would never get there in time. Tears of frustration blinded her as she began to jog again, ignoring the pain.

  Joshua has done some terrible things, God. I know he has. But maybe if you give him another chance he could make it up to you. If somebody has to die, then why not let it be me? My life isn’t worth much. I’m just a servant girl, but Joshua is the leader of your people. They need him. He knows your Laws, and he can teach everyone. Please, God … please …

  The road snaked in switchbacks as it ascended the mountain. Each time she rounded a curve she expected to see the men guarding the roadblock, but the road climbed on, the sun rose higher. Miriam glimpsed the drop-off Amariah had described, visible through the trees on her left. The houses and animals in the valley below looked like children’s toys. Nearly half an hour must have passed since she’d left the cave. If she didn’t find Joshua soon, she would drop from exhaustion.

  Then Miriam rounded another curve and saw what looked like a landslide spilling across the road ahead. A barren scar sliced down from the
ridge marking the fallen boulders’ path. There was no sign of Hadad or his men. Was this the roadblock or a genuine landslide? Staggering with fatigue, Miriam jogged toward the jumble of rocks. She couldn’t go around them because of the steep slope on her right, the sheer cliff on her left. She would have to scramble over the boulders.

  As she searched for the easiest route to climb, she glimpsed an abrupt movement on her right. Before she could turn her head, someone rammed into her side, knocking her to the ground in the middle of the road. Miriam would have cried out but a rough hand covered her mouth as a man fell on top of her, his weight knocking the wind out of her. She lay stunned, gasping for air.

  “Don’t struggle,” he whispered. “Don’t make a sound.” Miriam was too dazed to struggle, too terrified to scream.

  The man scrambled to his knees, then to his feet, pulling Miriam with him. He kept one hand planted over her mouth, the other clamped so tightly around her ribs she could scarcely breathe. With her head pressed firmly to her captor’s chest, she couldn’t swivel to see his face, but as he dragged her to the side of the road and rolled into the ditch with her, she caught a glimpse of the hand circling her waist.

  Hadad’s hand.

  Miriam recognized his ring—the one that had belonged to his grandfather. He released her long enough to pull a clump of brush over the ditch to conceal them, but the weight of his body on top of hers pinned her in place. She couldn’t move.

  Hadad’s lips brushed against her ear as he whispered through clenched teeth. “What are you doing here, Miriam?”

  Prince Amariah regretted his decision as soon as Miriam left the cave. Hers was a suicide mission. For a moment he considered going after her, but Dinah’s pleas brought him to his senses. “We have to hurry, we have to run. Hadad will kill you!”