My Enemy, My Love (Truly Yours Digital Editions) Page 2

  Pisgah followed Anna to her room. “Wait until Mother hears about this,” she told her cousin. “Wasn’t that the most romantic rescue you have ever seen?” She rolled her eyes, clutching her hands over her heart melodramatically. She dropped to the bed, sighing.

  Anna refrained from comment.

  “He was so handsome and brave.”

  Anna rolled her own eyes, exasperated at her cousin’s continual romanticizing.

  “And Amman was jealous,” she crooned. “Oh, Anna. To think, you have two men fighting over you!”

  “For goodness sake, Pisgah. They were hardly fighting over me. Didn’t you see the Jew’s face when he realized I was from Sychar? He knows I’m a Samaritan.”

  Pisgah took instant offense. “What right has a Jew to condemn us?”

  Anna shook her head, taking off her tunic and laying it on the foot of the bed. “It is the same old bias.” She stared dreamily out the window. “But he was handsome.”

  Pisgah giggled. “Don’t let Amman hear you say that.”

  Turning on her cousin, Anna clutched the girl’s arm. “Don’t you dare tell him!”

  Surprised at the vehemence, Pisgah grew serious. “I would not. Besides, Amman has eyes only for you, surely you know that.”

  Anna kept her thoughts to herself. Amman had eyes only for her father’s money, but no one would believe her if she told them so. Father thought the sun rose and set on Amman, and Pisgah thought him the most handsome man she had ever seen. Only Anna herself seemed to recognize the evilness of the man.

  The light within her own soul rejected the darkness it saw in his, but since Father was not of the Way, he wouldn’t understand. And although Pisgah’s mother, Father’s sister, was a child of Christ, Pisgah herself was not.

  Jerusalem did that to some. Although it was a holy city, it had all the attractions of any large city. Pisgah saw no need of a savior when she had the world at her feet. Both Anna and her aunt had agonized over it for some time.

  “You don’t wish to marry Amman, do you, Anna?”

  The confusion on her cousin’s face was amusing. Although seventeen, only two years her cousin’s senior, Anna felt immeasurably older. Pisgah was like a little child, her curiosity making her reach out to grasp everything in her path. Anna feared for her soul.

  “No, Pisgah, I do not.” She wanted to add that she would as soon marry a serpent, but resisted the impulse.

  Anna poured some water from the pitcher into the basin on her washstand and began rinsing her face and hands, the cool water refreshing after the heat and dust of the city. It had been Pisgah’s idea to go to the Temple today. She had wanted to see the crowd of Passover pilgrims, and although Anna had felt it a bad idea, she had succumbed to her cousin’s pleading.

  “I don’t see why not,” Pisgah argued, returning her to their earlier conversation. “He is so handsome! And when he looks at you, it takes my breath away.”

  It took Anna’s breath away, too, but for an entirely different reason.

  Anna pulled a clean tunic from the chest by her bed. The silky material draped becomingly over her full figure. Although Anna knew she had no looks to speak of, her figure was not displeasing. Still, she had no desire to have a man seek her out for such a reason.

  She turned to her cousin. “Pisgah, I would like to take a nap. I am tired.”

  Instantly contrite, Pisgah got quickly to her feet. “I’m sorry, Anna. You must be devastated by your experience this afternoon. I will leave you now.”

  After her cousin departed, Anna crawled into her silken sheets. She cupped one hand under her cheek and stared out the opened window to the balcony beyond. A soft, warm breeze drifted over her and she felt herself relax. Her thoughts were not on her cousin, nor even Amman. Instead they focused on a strong young Jew who had looked at her as though she were some loathsome thing. The thought shouldn’t bother her, but it did.

  When she had first noticed Barak across the street, she had seen the way he was studying her. For the first time in her life, Anna had felt an instant attraction to a man and her breathing had quickened at his dark-eyed scrutiny.

  Only when his eyes lifted to hers had she seen the light of interest change to one of scorn. Many times had she encountered such contempt, but it had never bothered her. Until now. A lone tear trickled from the corner of her eye, coursing a path along her cheek.

  ❧

  Barak strode along the crowded streets of Jerusalem oblivious to the crush of people. He frowned as he thought of the girl he had just left behind. Her eyes had been almost pleading, reminding him of the lamb he had brought for the Temple only this afternoon.

  He gritted his teeth. This was ridiculous, thinking about a Samaritan woman. It was bad enough that she was a Samaritan, but she was betrothed to that Arab! Was she insane? Being a Samaritan, it wouldn’t surprise him.

  Still, she had seemed genuinely afraid of the man. He could still feel her body curl into his when the Arab approached. Samaritan or no, he had felt instantly protective. Even now the thought of her warmth against him was hard to dislodge from his mind.

  Adonijah would think him insane if he knew. Frankly, he was beginning to think so himself. Perhaps the heat from the sun had affected his reasoning.

  Those strange eyes! They shifted from brown to green. He had never seen anything like them. Only someone of mixed blood could have such eyes, because those of pure Jewish descent had only brown.

  He made his way toward the Court of Gentiles, through the inner courts to the courtyard of women. Here the crowd thinned somewhat because it was forbidden to outsiders. The sign posted on the wall warned of punishment by death for any outsider who entered.

  Barak continued up the fifteen curved steps that led to the Nicanor Gate in the west wall until he reached the Court of Israelites. Here the crowd was even thinner, for no women were allowed at this point.

  Searching the crowd, Barak tried to locate Adonijah among the milling throng. The air grew heavy with the mixed scents of blood, incense, and charred animal fat. Cattle, goats, sheep, and doves added to the cacophony of sound.

  Barak could see the barefooted priests across the stone pavement in the Court of Priests, their tired faces speaking of long hours among the slaughter.

  Adonijah was making his way toward him among the crowd, and Barak was relieved to see that his sacrifice had already been made. They could take the meat and return to their families in plenty of time to observe the Passover feast.

  The waning of the sun told Barak that sunset was not far away, and when the sun set, Passover would begin. His family was waiting for him outside the Jerusalem walls on the Mount of Olives.

  For a brief moment, his searching gaze wandered toward the Upper City. Disgusted with himself, he turned with Adonijah and headed for the gate leading out of the city.

  Two

  Amman dropped the bag of coins on the table, sliding into a seat across from two rough-looking cutthroats. His dark eyes studied both men thoroughly until each man began to squirm under his perusal. All around, the boisterous crowd from the inn was lifting its voice in celebration.

  “Here is the money. You know what to do?”

  Both men nodded, the bolder of the two reaching for the bag. When Amman’s hand came down across the money bag, the other man lifted his one good eye slowly until it encountered the Arab’s. The patch where his other eye had been at one time gave him a sinister appearance, yet still the man swallowed hard when faced with the Arab’s menacing glower.

  “Don’t fail me, Kasim. If you do, there will be nowhere for you to hide from me.”

  Kasim leaned back in his chair, giving back stare for stare. He turned to his companion. “What do you say, Uzzah? Should we accept this gentleman’s kind offer?”

  Uzzah glanced uneasily from one to the other, shrugging his shoulders. Kasim knew the cowardly fool would follow him wherever he led. He turned back to Amman.

  “I’m curious, Amman. Why should you need to abduct the girl wh
en you are going to marry her?”

  The Arab’s eyes darkened even further. There was no way he would tell this ignorant heathen the true reason behind his sudden desperate act. Amman knew that Anna despised him, and being the darling of her father, it was quite possible that she would eventually cajole him into forgetting about their marriage. No contract had been made yet.

  Seeing his chance for old Tirinus’s fortune slip through his fingers had made Amman seek out the two men across from him. He had had dealings with them before and he knew them well. Kasim might seem bold, but underneath all of his bravado, he was a coward.

  “It is of no concern to you. Just do as you have been instructed. Remember, don’t seize the girl unless you are told to.”

  Kasim lifted a finger, flicking it against his forehead in salute. “As you wish.”

  Getting up, Amman crossed the crowded room of the inn and opened the door. He gave one final glare to the two men before he disappeared into the velvety darkness.

  ❧

  “But Father, I don’t wish to marry Amman!”

  Tirinus stared at his daughter, nonplussed. It had never occurred to him that she would decline such a fine offer of marriage.

  “But Anna,” he wheedled. “Amman is such a fine man. And he loves you.”

  Anna turned to her aunt for help. If anyone would understand, it would be Aunt Bithnia.

  “I’m curious, Tirinus,” the older woman interrupted. She reached languidly for a date on the tray by her side. “Why would you choose an Arab for Anna instead of one of our own kind?”

  Tirinus spread his hands apart, confusedly turning from one to the other. “He came to me and asked. He told me how much he loved Anna and that he wished to make her his wife.”

  “And you accepted, just like that?”

  The old man’s brows drew down in a frown, color beginning to creep into his cheeks. His face was beginning to take on the ruddy hue of his tunic. “Amman is an old and trusted friend. Of course I considered it. I haven’t yet given my pledge, if that is what you are suggesting.” He turned to Anna, and she could see the stubborn glint that came into his eyes. “Besides, Anna will do as she is told.”

  Anna recognized the look and knew where this conversation was headed. If she didn’t do something quickly, she would be bound and married by morning. Hastily, she spread a smile across her face. “Of course I will, Father.”

  Suspiciously, he glanced from his daughter to his sister. He didn’t trust the two when they were so agreeable. Seeing nothing in their innocent faces, Tirinus relaxed back against his cushions. “Good.”

  Bithnia smiled at her brother placatingly. “Of course she will, Tirinus. She has always been a dutiful daughter. It just seems so soon. She hasn’t had time to really enjoy her childhood.”

  “Childhood! She’s seventeen years old already, almost past the age of marriage. Honestly, Bithnia. I sent her here for you to teach her the duties of being a wife and mother, and instead you want her to remain a child.”

  Knowing her brother, Bithnia offered her final suggestion. “She is your only child. Would you wish her to leave you so soon?”

  Anna turned pleading eyes to her father. “I only wish to make you happy, Father. I only thought that I would like to spend a little more time with Pisgah and Aunt Bithnia before I. . .before I have children of my own.”

  Bithnia knew that Anna’s words had hit their mark, and she applauded silently when she saw her brother’s face pale. His own wife had died giving birth to Anna, and Tirinus had loved his wife with a passion. He had never found another to take her place, though there had been many willing to try. Instead, he had lavished his only child with the love he would have given her mother.

  Tirinus cleared his throat. “Well. . .I. . .don’t see any reason why you shouldn’t have some time to enjoy yourself. I will speak with Amman.”

  “Father,” Anna pleaded once more. “If we are betrothed, it will mean that Amman has all the rights of a husband.”

  Scratching his head, Tirinus pursed his lips together. “You are quite right.”

  “Quite right about what?”

  Everyone jumped. No one had heard the Arab enter the room. A swift glance at his face assured Anna that he had overheard most of their conversation, though for some reason he was choosing not to admit to it.

  Tirinus cleared his throat again. “Anna was just mentioning that she wished to spend more time with her aunt and cousin. I have decided it is a reasonable request, so I am going to postpone your engagement.” Tirinus glanced quickly at Amman and then hastily looked away. “If your feelings for Anna are as strong as you say, then I am sure they will withstand the wait.”

  Not a muscle moved in the Arab’s face. His very stillness seemed an ominous threat. Anna felt her throat go dry when his dark gaze fastened upon her. Suddenly, his face creased into a smile, and he bowed low to Tirinus.

  “As you say, my feelings can withstand the wait.” When he rose again, his onyx eyes glittered menacingly, and Anna shivered in spite of the heat from the brazier.

  He came to her, bowing over her and lifting her hand to his face. As his lips fastened upon her, Anna was hard pressed not to jerk herself away with revulsion. His dark beard and thin mustache tickled her skin as though a worm were crawling over it.

  Anna and Bithnia exchanged looks. Tirinus, however, was smiling at Amman with relief. “You do not mind, my friend?”

  Amman turned back to him. “Of course, I am disappointed, but her reasons are sound. Shall we set a date then when we will agree to consummate the arrangement?”

  Anna’s eyes flew to her father. He was nodding his head. “That is a sensible idea. Shall we say. . .next Passover?”

  Again Amman went still. His fathomless eyes went slowly over Anna, taking in everything about her appearance. The bright blue of her tunic added a soft luster to her face, which flooded with color at Amman’s steady scrutiny.

  “A long time to wait, but I agree.”

  Weak with relief, Anna turned to her aunt. “You don’t mind me staying with you that long, Aunt Bithnia?”

  “Not at all, child. Pisgah will be pleased.”

  Bithnia was studying Amman, a slight frown marring her features. Unaware of her regard, Amman was in turn watching Anna.

  Rising quickly to her feet, Anna told them, “I will tell Pisgah.”

  “A moment,” her father commanded, and Anna stopped on the threshold.

  “Yes, Father?”

  “Amman and I will be returning to Sychar in the morning. I will wish you good-bye now.”

  Anna crossed the room to his side. She really did love her father and missed him when he was gone. She resented that she would have to be away from him again for such a long time because of Amman.

  Leaning down, she kissed his cheek softly. “Take care. I love you.”

  Hurriedly, she left the room before she lost her composure and began to cry. She made her way quickly up the stairs, turning when she reached the landing. She knew what she would find when she looked down. She could feel his evil eyes watching her even from that distance.

  When her eyes met Amman’s, she knew she would pay dearly for having thwarted him.

  ❧

  Twilight came, and with it the beginning of Passover. Barak glanced around the Seder table at those gathered there. Adonijah was to his left, Uncle Simon to his right, and his mother next to Uncle Simon. Miriam and her father were also among those present, and Barak could feel the Jewish girl’s gaze upon him.

  Since Barak’s father had died several years before, Uncle Simon was the next in line as head of their family. Although Barak was considered a man at the age of twenty and five, he was still unmarried, so it fell to his nearest male relative to arrange a match. Barak and his mother lived alone and were quite content to do so, but Uncle Simon took his guardianship quite seriously.

  Uncle Simon handed round the Paschal lamb, matzah bread, endives, and chicory. He picked up the Haggadah and began to read. As
always, Barak lost himself in the Scriptures.

  As the meal progressed, wine was passed around along with Barak’s favorite fruit, mulberries. Uncle Simon again read from the Scriptures. Unlike many of Barak’s teachers, Uncle Simon always made the story come alive. Barak glanced briefly around the table to see if others felt the same. It would seem so. Even little Josiah, Uncle Simon’s youngest son, sat enthralled. Only Miriam’s eyes were focused elsewhere.

  Barak felt his impatience rise. The girl made her feelings all too apparent. He supposed he should feel flattered, and maybe in a way he did, but these discussions with Uncle Simon about setting a date for marriage to the girl were beginning to wear on his nerves.

  She was, as Adonijah had said, a very beautiful girl. Her dark hair hung past her thighs, its sheen enhanced by the oil she used to keep it soft. Her brown eyes were dark and luminous, her bone structure perfect. Even her skin shimmered in the reflected glow of the torchlight, giving her a radiant appearance. She wore a bold, red tunic that secretly Barak considered inappropriate, but Ahaz, her father, looked with nothing but favor upon his only child.

  Adonijah glanced up, catching his look. A slight smile tipped up the corners of his mouth, and Barak felt himself color hotly. After denying a desire to be married, his friend had caught him gaping at the girl.

  Still, it was Adonijah who loved Miriam, and if for no other reason than that, Barak could not bring himself to agree to a marriage. Adonijah had been his best friend since the boy had come to their home as an orphan with no family. Father had thought it a good idea since the Lord had seen fit to close Mother’s womb and they had never had another child. The fieldwork was hard and required many hands, and Adonijah had been willing and eager. He quickly became a part of their family.

  Every time Barak and Father had come to Jerusalem, Adonijah had had to stay behind to care for the crops and later to care for Mother. He never complained, but Barak knew Adonijah longed to see the great city.

  Since Barak’s home was many miles to the northwest, the trips to Jerusalem had been few and far between. During one of their trips, Mother had developed a raging fever, and when they had returned, they found her recovered from the fever, but permanently paralyzed. This meant that someone needed to be with her at all times, and when it was necessary for Barak and his father to be away for various reasons, that job had fallen to Adonijah.