The Warrior's Vow. Christina Rich

      Abigail’s lashes brushed against her cheeks. How could she explain to Bilhah, a woman who’d served her mother’s false gods all this time, that this man could tell her the truth not only about her family, but about his God? She pressed her fingers against the indentations on the belt and bit down on her lip. She opened her eyes and looked at her cousin. They’d shared the same nurse. Perhaps Bilhah would remember Shema’s words, as well. “Because he knows,” she whispered as she eyed Dara.

      “Knows what?”

      “Yahweh.”

      Dara began another fit of muttering. Bilhah looked as if she did not believe her. She glanced at Jesse. Abigail willed her cousin to believe. To hope in the stories told them by a beloved nurse as she had tucked them into bed.

      Bilhah shook her head. “The people believe this God of his is dead.”

      “It is not so.” Jesse’s voice cut through the silence.

      “You are nothing but a rebel, willing to sacrifice Abigail’s life to meet your end.” She looked at Abigail and squeezed her hands. “When the temple guards stormed the palace, there was a moment when I thought...” Her gaze darted to Jesse. “I thought He might live, that his God might rescue us, but here we are cast from our home and at the mercy of a madman if we do not leave now.”

      “Bilhah, you said earlier this God would show no mercy.”

      Her cousin gave her another reassuring squeeze. “You are correct. I did say such things, but now I have to wonder...”

      “In time, you will see God has never left Judah.” Jesse eased off the pillows.

      “I cannot risk Abigail’s life. If Suph discovers what we’ve done this night, he will kill her.” Bilhah wrapped her arm around Abigail’s shoulders.

      “Ach, he’ll kill all of us, no doubt.”

      Her cousin leaned away from her and peered into her eyes. “It is why we must leave now.”

      “Bilhah, I will not leave him.”

      Her cousin sucked in a breath. “He cannot even stand on his own. How is he supposed to travel across the rough terrain?”

      “The old woman is quite the healer,” Jesse said as he rose to his full height.

      “You—you are well?” Abigail trembled. She wrapped her arms around her waist. The musky scent of sandalwood cloaked her. She felt protected in his tunic.

      Hard lines formed on his brow and near the corners of his eyes. He swayed and she reached out to steady him but he waved her off.

      “I am well enough to leave this place.”

      Bilhah nodded. “Fine, we will take him. However, if he falls he stays where he lands. We will not stop.”

      Sweat beaded on his face and he swayed once again. “I would not expect you to.”

      Abigail knew better than to argue, but if he fell, she’d stay with him, no matter what Bilhah thought.

      * * *

      Jesse sucked in a breath and girded his loins. He pressed his palm against the stabbing in his side. It took all his strength to stand, even more to speak without slurring his words. The pounding in his head roared with a vengeance and the pain in his ribs felt as if he were being severed in two. He was beginning to think the old woman’s herbs hadn’t dulled his senses and perhaps he’d been knocked in the head too hard.

      “Ach, are you able to walk?”

      Clenching his jaw, he nodded. The old woman must have seen the way he gripped his side for she dug into her bag and pulled several long strips of linen from its depths.

      “Bilhah, hold on to him while I wrap this around his ribs.”

      “We do not have time.”

      The old woman’s beady eyes pierced the shrine priestess. “He’ll move quicker if I bind the breaks.”

      “Very well, be quick.” Bilhah wrapped his arm around her shoulder to steady him.

      “You were more charitable earlier.”

      Bilhah glanced at Abigail and then glared at him. “That was before I discovered you would have us killed.”

      “He cannot help his wounds. It is not Jesse’s fault Suph captured him.” Abigail twisted her hands together.

      Jesse growled. It was his fault. He should have been alert to his surroundings and taken heed of the warnings that there was a faithful remnant to the deceased queen who would seek to harm King Joash and remove him from the throne. Jesse shouldn’t have stopped for rest and fallen asleep before returning to Jerusalem. However, Jesse had not been wise to the threat. In his arrogance he believed all of Judah celebrated the new king and the removal of all idol worship. How wrong he had been. As each of his wounds testified.

      “That does not mean we have to save him, Abigail. You always were one to rescue the weak.”

      Her taunt wounded his pride. He puffed out his chest and quickly deflated it when his ribs sliced at his innards.

      “Hold still, boy,” Dara said as she began wrapping the linen. “Suck in your air and hold it.” She pulled the linen tight. After wrapping three layers and tying the ends, she held out a tunic to Bilhah. “Can you—”

      “I’ll do it.” He grabbed the tunic from Dara’s hands. “If I cannot dress myself, I might as well wait for your captain to sleep off his stupor and kill me.”

      He gathered the ends of the tunic to the neck and dipped his head, thankful Suph had not crushed his hands. He slipped the tunic over his head. Dara handed him a braided belt, which he tied around his waist with great effort. Every movement caused him discomfort, but the bindings around his ribs seemed to sturdy his midsection and lessen the pain. At least now he could breathe without too much difficulty.

      Bilhah stuck her head out the tent flaps and then waved them forward. Abigail, seemingly anxious and excited, if the curve of her lips was any indication, rushed out behind her. Dara held the opening of the tent back and motioned for Jesse to exit. He ducked, the movement causing him to lean a little too far forward. Digging his feet into the ground, he rocked back to steady himself. Dara’s aged palm flattened against his back. “Do not crush me, boy.”

      He smiled. “I will try not to.”

      They skirted along the edge of the tent and made their way out of the silent camp. The large crackling fire cast their shadows before them as if to lead their way. A horse whinnied, another snorted as they proceeded through the maze of tents with as much silence as possible. Warmth rushed into his cheeks; if they got caught escaping he knew it would be his fault, considering his gait was unsteady. How was he to protect this queen’s daughter, a shrine priestess and an old woman?

      Sweat beaded on his forehead and he raised the back of his hand to wipe it away. Soon they’d take on Micah and Dara’s two boys. If God had any mercy, they’d be of some help. However, he had a feeling the boys were no older than Micah.

      After what seemed like half an hour’s time but was mayhap only ten laborious minutes, Jesse spotted a lone tree. Shadows began to separate from the trunk, appearing now as if there were three trees. Jesse swiped at the sweat pouring into his eyes and tried to focus on the images. One tree, not three. He gritted his teeth. His brothers had given him beatings during training when he was a boy and he’d received many wounds in battle, but he’d never been sliced open so many times at once. The wounds must be taking their toll if he was imagining things.

      His muscles began to shake more viciously with each step. His legs reminded him of honey outside an earthen jug, with no real substance to hold its shape. He was about to give up and lie down on the rocky desert when an odd noise pierced through the thundering ache in his head. He narrowed his eyes into the dark and fought for focus.

      Bilhah and Abigail halted their