Christina Rich - The Guardian's Promise

“Servant, slave, they are one in the same.”

“And soon he will be a free man. What say you then?” Kneeling, Mira began gathering the shards of pottery. A few small pieces clung to her flesh leaving her blood to intermingle with the thickness of the oil.

“I say he no longer belongs to us. He will most likely sell himself to a higher bidder. I hear there are women among Athaliah’s court who would pay a high price for a man as handsome as your slave.”

Her sister’s mean words pierced her heart. It seemed the more she ignored Esha’s marriage pursuit the meaner her sister became. Mira did not like Esha and would not marry him unless she was forced by her father. He was a deceiver and a drunkard, unlike Ari. “Ari’s not a slave, mine or anyone else’s,” Mira argued, knowing it would not matter.

“Daughters!” Her mother clapped her hands together. “There is no need for argument.” Her mother pierced Rubiel with her sternest look. “Child, you must learn to speak with caution. Your tongue is like a viper.”

“Ima!”

Mother held up her hand. “No, Rubiel, I blame myself for spoiling you as I have done. Now, where is your betrothed?”

He was probably hiding near a camphire hedge with Esha. The two, no doubt, were drunk on wine, after all, one of the pitchers was missing, but she wouldn’t speak as harshly as her sister had done. It never did well to give an eye for an eye, although treating her sister with kindness had not gotten her anywhere, either. Besides, Ima’s question was enough to set Rubiel in a huff. It’d take her a few hours to find her betrothed. When she did, she’d suffer angry embarrassment and would hide until her temper cooled.

“Thank you, Ima.” Mira glanced up at her mother.

Her mother pressed her fingers to her temple as if to ward off a head pain. “A blessing it was only a small jar and not a larger one.”

“Forgive me, Ima.”

“You worry over much, Mira. Of course, I forgive you.” Her mother gave her a quick hug, careful not to step in the oil. “Now, go wash your feet. I’ll have someone clean this up.”

“Yes, Ima.”

Mira walked to the cistern. By the time she had reached the well, her feet and sandals were covered in a sticky, dusty mess. Much of the desert clung to her toes. She sat on the rock wall, slipped her sandals off and placed them in a trough of water to soak. She plunged her feet into the tepid water next to her sandals and began to scrub them with the linen cloth tucked in her girdle.

Mira tried to calm her anger. She should not find fault with her sister’s concern, no matter how misplaced it was. Perhaps Rubiel believed Ari would treat her harshly because of her disfigurement as others had done. Could her sister not see Ari had never done so? He was different?

It angered her that Rubiel thought so little of him. Especially when he was obviously a man of integrity who lived by God’s law. He did everything her father had asked of him and more. He held God in the highest reverence, as all men should.

She gasped. All the time he’d offered his help, he had only been doing as God required him and she had treated him with scorn.

“Forgive me, God.” She bowed her head in shame.

She had treated him abhorrently. Lashing out with her tongue because she lacked confidence in who she was in the Lord.

How could she have treated such a handsome man with raven-black hair the color of the darkest night, with a silver shine as if the moon had kissed each strand so awfully? A man with a kind and generous heart?

Her pulse quickened even as the space in her chest closed as if to keep an image of Ari tucked within. It had stung when Rubiel suggested Ari would be willing to sell himself to one of Athaliah’s court for lustful purposes. She knew he would never do such a thing, still...he had had a life before her father took him in. And there was a possibility that he would return to his former life. Perhaps even to a wife.

The sound of feet pounded on the path with an urgency that alerted her senses. She pulled her sandals from the water and with haste wiped them clean, before tying them around her ankles. She rose and found Joash in a frantic run.

“M-M-Mira,” he said in between harsh breaths.

“What is it? What has happened? Is it Ima? Abba?” The shrill screams of women carried to her ears. The rumble of men’s shouts echoed them. All the air left her lungs.

The soldiers had come back. She started running toward her village.

“No!” The fear in Joash’s voice stopped her in her tracks. “Come. We must hide. Quickly. I must see you to safety.”

Mira was torn between helping her family and hiding like a coward with the boy. Something deep in her belly forced her to grab Joash’s hand. He led her along places she had never realized existed. They ran in the heat of the morning through thick brush and over sharp jagged rocks until they came to the edge of a pool so breathtakingly beautiful she nearly forgot they had been running for their lives. Until she heard the thunder of hooves approaching.

“My, Lord, save us,” she cried, yesterday’s fear revisited her double-fold.

“Come.” Joash jumped into the pond and swam toward a wall of falling water. Panic seized her at the threat the water posed. It was one thing to cast out your nets, quite another to step foot in water where you could not see the bottom. Yet, Joash disappeared beyond the falls. Fear for the child’s safety left her to follow him.

She waded through the water, constantly looking over her shoulder. Yet, she also sought the boy’s every movement. Mira stood in front of the water tumbling from the cliff above, unsure of what to do. The bubbling froth roaring in her ears rocked her back and forth. She thought she’d heard the whinny of a horse, but when she turned to look, Joash grabbed her hand and yanked. Mira lost her balance and fell behind the curtain of water.

Smoothing her wet tresses back from her eyes, she could see large, blurred figures through the cascading water, searching the edge of the pool. She stood there, Joash’s hand gripped in hers, veiled by the falling stream, unable to move for fear they’d be discovered. Mira wished for a clearer view of their pursuers, but she could not do so without giving up their hiding place. And the roar of the falls kept her from hearing their words.

After a few moments, when the blurred visions disappeared and all seemed safe, Joash nudged her to follow him as he climbed the rock wall behind the falls. The child slipped into the darkness. She reached up and gripped the rock jutting out from the wall and hefted herself up onto the ledge.

Sitting there, she could see through the waterfall the soldiers had returned. They prowled the edge of the pool. She held her breath when one knelt. But then he rose and left.

A soft glow appeared from behind her. She glanced over her shoulder and gaped. The light illuminated a cave complete with furnishings large enough to hold a small family.

“Who—who showed you this place?”

“Ari.”

Puzzled, she looked at the child. Surely he was mistaken. How would Ari know of such a place? She rose, dripping wet from her seat. Her ears pounded with the water crashing to the pool of water below. But she was sure the sound was not what made her feel faint. She noticed many things that would never have belonged to a man desperate enough to sell himself as a servant.

“You must be mistaken,” she whispered as she tiptoed farther into the cave toward a wooden chest that had caught her attention. She stared at the cedar box with a lion carved into the top. Scared at what she would find, but unable to halt her movements, she knelt on a thick, plush rug. She unhooked the latch and opened the lid. Handfuls of shekels, golden goblets, ornately engraved short swords and swaths of fabric too rich for a man of Ari’s humble standing were nestled within the chest.