No Woman So Fair (44 page)

Zara was shocked that he knew her name, and then her eyes fell on Agag. But old memories had already begun to stir in her, and fear came over her. She had put away memories of her mother's death, trying never to think of them.

Zoltar laughed. “Well, I found you again.”

“What are you talking about?” Sarah demanded.

“This girl belongs to me.”

And then Zara remembered. She was so frightened she could not speak. It had been a long time ago, but she remembered well that during the war this man had killed her father. She had tried to bury that memory, but she could see him now, a huge man with his eyes flashing fire, who came with a sword and cut her father down. She and her mother had not even had time to weep, for he had grabbed them, tied them up, and marched them out of the camp.

“I took this girl and her mother captive in the war against Kedorlaomer,” Zoltar said.

“You have no claim on her,” Sarah said loudly. She looked around desperately for Abraham or Eliezer and then was startled when Zoltar stepped forward and seized Zara by the arm. “I remember you well enough. How could I forget those eyes? You belong to me now.”

Eli stepped forward in protest. “You can't take this woman. She belongs to—” He did not finish his sentence, for Zoltar reached out with his free hand and struck him with the flat of his palm, driving the old man backward to the ground.

Sarah screamed out, “Eliezer! Eliezer!”

“Shut your mouth, woman! You'd better hope nobody comes. I'm taking this woman with me. She's my property.”

Zara felt herself being pulled toward the waiting donkeys. She cried out and struggled, but his strength was frightening.

As for Zoltar, he merely laughed at her efforts and said, “I like a woman with some spirit in her. It's entertaining! Now, are you going to ride this beast or do I have to tie you on?”

Terrorized, Zara was twisting, trying to get away, when she saw Eliezer appear from behind a row of tents. He had his staff in his hand, and he dashed across the ground, pulling up only a few feet from where Zoltar held her.

“Let her go!”

“Leave or I'll kill you!” Zoltar yanked a sword from his belt and slashed the air with it, taunting, “Come on. I'll remove your head from your shoulders.”

The two men who had come with Zoltar had not said a word, but now Agag bellowed, “Come on. We'll kill this fellow for his insolence.”

Eliezer saw the three men form a semicircle. Agag was grinning and said, “You remember me? You were insolent at the festival, but where's your insolence now?”

Eliezer moved so swiftly that Zara had difficulty catching the movement. He swung his staff and struck one of the men on the shoulder. The man cried out but did not drop his weapon.

“Kill him!” Zoltar said coldly.

“It'll be a pleasure,” Agag laughed. He stepped forward, holding his knife, and the other man approached from the other side. “We'll leave you for the wild dogs,” Agag sneered. Lifting his knife in a practiced fashion, he moved forward.

Suddenly there was a hissing sound, and the man Eliezer had struck grabbed at an arrow piercing his chest. It had gone completely through his body on his left side, and he fell to the ground, kicking and crying in a muted voice. But his cries did not last long, and the blood stained the ground underneath him.

Zoltar whirled and saw the young man who had launched the arrow. He was tall and dark-haired, with wild eyes that now blazed with fury. He nocked another arrow and drew his bow. Zoltar saw that the arrow was aimed right at him, and he immediately loosed his hold on Zara. “Don't shoot!” he shouted.

“Hold your fire, Ishmael,” Eliezer ordered; then to the men, he yelled, “Take that carrion and get out of here!”

Zoltar was a man of rash anger, but he was not a fool. He knew the arrow had gone exactly where the young warrior had aimed it and that his own life lay in the fingers that still held the string back. “We're leaving,” he grumbled, letting Zara go. “Help me get the body on the donkey, Agag.”

Eliezer held out his hand, and Zara fled to him. He put his arm around her shoulders and gave her a quick, reassuring smile. She was trembling, and he whispered, “Don't worry.”

Zoltar and Agag loaded the body on the donkey and tied it down. Zoltar wheeled his donkey around. When they were beyond arrow range, he turned back and yelled, “We'll be back, and we'll bring plenty of help with us!”

Eliezer watched the men leave, then turned to the frightened woman. “You're all right, Zara. They're gone.”

“I remember him, Eliezer. He's the man who killed my father.”

“Well, you're safe now.”

Eliezer dropped his arm and walked over to Ishmael. He was closely followed by Zara. “You saved us, Ishmael.”

“Yes,” Zara said quickly. “Thank you so much, Ishmael.”

Hagar had joined the group. She had come out only in time to catch the last act, but her face was warm. “I'm so proud of you, my son. Abraham will know that you are his best warrior.” She gave Eliezer a triumphant glance, and he knew she was thinking that this would put him in a bad light before Abraham.

****

Abraham listened to the story. Everyone had gathered around him when he had come back, explaining what had happened. He was concerned for Zara when she told him that this man was the leader of a wild tribe. “He's a cruel man, sir, and he said he would come back.”

“We'll be ready for him. Don't worry, Zara.” Abraham turned to Ishmael, and a warm light came into his eyes. He walked over to him and threw his arm around the young man's shoulders. Ishmael was as tall as Abraham now, solid and strong, and a look of satisfaction was on his face. “You're a brave boy. No, a brave man, and you deserve a reward. I'm going to buy you the best bow money can possibly buy.”

“Why, that would be wonderful, Father.”

Hagar was standing close to her son, soaking up the scene. When her eyes fell on Sarah and Isaac, she smiled at them almost cruelly. It was as if she were saying,
Now we see whose son is the best!

****

People in the camp were talking of nothing but Zoltar's attack. Zara said little, for the thought of the huge man dragging her away had frightened her speechless.

The night had come, and she had tried to sleep, but she tossed and was troubled by evil memories of when she was a girl. She could not get the sight of her father being cut down by the huge chieftain out of her mind, and finally she rose, put on her robe, and went outside to sit before her tent.

A chilly air made her shiver, making the night seem cold and menacing. She heard a stirring and turned to see Eliezer. “Not asleep yet?” He sat down beside her, saying nothing for a while, then said, “I know it troubled you, that man coming as he did.”

“Yes. I can't forget how he killed my father.”

Eliezer was close enough he could smell the faint perfume she always wore. He leaned over until his shoulder touched hers. “You're safe, Zara.”

“I don't think any of us are safe. So many things can happen.”

Eliezer was shocked at the depth of her fear. She was not a fearful woman, and now he reached out and took her hand. He held it in both of his and felt it trembling. “You'll be all right.” He patted her hand and then squeezed it. “I can't afford to lose my little sister.”

Zara stiffened. “Eliezer, I'm not your sister! Why do you persist in calling me that?”

“Well, I called you daughter once, and you got upset about that.”

“Of course I did. You're not my father, and you're not my brother!”

“I feel like both of them sometimes. What am I to you, then, Zara?”

Zara felt the warmth and the strength of his hand. “You're my friend,” she whispered. She turned to him, and he saw tears in her eyes. “You're the best friend I ever had, Eliezer.”

“I'm glad you know that.” Eliezer sat quietly and waited until Zara felt more at peace. He could sense it as it came to her, for he had learned to read at least some of her moods. Finally he said, “Do you think you can sleep now, or do you want me to sit and talk with you?”

“You don't have to talk, but stay with me for a while.”

“Of course.”

The two sat there listening to the sounds of the night, and it came to Eliezer that the most peaceful moments he had in his life were times like this when he sat beside this woman. It gave him a warm feeling, and although they said nothing, he felt the goodness, faithfulness, and beauty of this woman next to him.

A faint, wild-scented wind crossed the desert as Zoltar stared up into the bitter black depth of the sky, glaring at the glittering stars. An orange-silver moonlight vaguely diluted the darkness, and the mountains, which lay far away to the east, were solidly black, lending an air of danger and mystery to the scene. The night was cool, but that only affected the outer world. Inside of Zoltar's breast smoldered a heated anger, and only by a force of will did he keep from bursting out and expressing it. Memory of his humiliation at the hands of the Hebrews burned like a white-hot coal, and he seethed with the certainty that only the spilling of blood could wipe out his disgrace. A wild dog lifted a mournful cry far in the distance. Zoltar's ears focused on the sound, listening to it until it faded into the silence. He then picked up a stick and began poking at the fire, sending a shower of dancing sparks swirling upward until they appeared to mingle with the glittering stars overhead. The action brought no relief, and with a vile oath he threw the stick far from him. He watched it cartwheel into the air, throwing off sparks, then fall to the earth, its last glow swallowed by the darkness.

“I'll gather every able man”—Zoltar spoke into the silence, his voice harsh—“and we'll kill every man, old woman, and child in their camp. I'll keep Zara for myself, and we'll make slaves of the rest of the younger women.”

Zoltar's flat lips stirred, and from across the fire a small man with sharp eyes and a heavy black beard studied his leader. Zephir was the craftiest of Zoltar's men. He was not the strongest, and in battle he had been known to hang back when the odds were too great. But for planning, Zoltar needed him.

Zephir spoke, his voice as soft as a summer's wind. “Perhaps there should be another way.”

“Another way? I've told you how it's going to be.”

Knowing his master well, Zephir fell silent for a time. He knew that trying to stop the big man's fury was like trying to stop a raging wind. One had to wait it out. Wait for the proper moment and then plant an idea into Zoltar's head.

Agag had been quiet ever since the fight. He had helped bury their fallen companion, and he had angry thoughts about the death of the man who had been his cousin. He could still hear the hissing sound of the arrow as it sliced the air and heard the deadly clunk as it drove itself through the chest. Agag tried to force the memory away, but cursed with a vivid imagination, he could only relive it in his mind's eye—the frantic grasping at the arrow, the futile attempts to pull it out, and then his cousin's feet drumming a tattoo on the hard earth before he slipped away into that mystery called death.

Agag put the heels of his hands against his eyeballs and pressed, hoping to shut out that vision. Finally he removed his hands and stared at Zoltar. “I think Zephir may have a thought worth considering, master.”

Zoltar stared across the flames, his lips growing even more stubborn. “I told you what we're going to do!”

“No doubt we could defeat them,” Zephir said quietly.

“Of course we can! And I'll have that one called Eliezer staked out on the ground and let the ants eat him. It could take a long time, and I would enjoy watching that.”

Neither man spoke for a time, and then Agag exchanged a fleeting glance with Zephir and nodded slightly. Encouraged, Zephir said, “As I say, we will probably win, but it might be costly.”

“Don't be a fool! They're nothing but a bunch of herders!”

“I think that may not be altogether so,” Zephir warned cautiously. “You should remember back in the war against Kedorlaomer.”

Impatiently Zoltar shouted, “Of course I remember! That's where I got the girl and her mother in the first place. You think I've lost my memory?”

“I know you remember it well, sire,” Agag put in. “You remember Abraham, the master of the Hebrews, took a few hundred men and defeated whole armies. They're shepherds all right, but when faced with battle they go into a frenzy.”

Zoltar fell silent, and both men waited. Zoltar was an impulsive man, ready to jump into the fire if the mood struck him. It took patience and a willingness to endure humiliation to guide the big man's thoughts along safer paths.

Seeing Zoltar pause, Agag argued persuasively, “It would be a lot safer if we just stole the woman.”

“Stole her! You mean right out of the camp?” Zoltar demanded.

“Look, Zephir can follow the camp for a few days. They haven't seen him. We can go back and get more weapons and food supplies and a few more men if we need them.”

Zoltar's first impulse was revealed by his gesture. He threw out his hands in an angry fashion, but then memories began coming back.
Those Hebrews were devils with sword or spear or even their bare hands
. He remembered well how the Hebrews had overcome experienced fighters. He also remembered that he had lost a considerable number of men on his last raid and did not need to lose any more. “Do you think it could be done?” he finally demanded.

“Easily! Zephir will go into camp and pretend to be sick. I assure you it will work,” Agag said quickly. “Those Hebrews slavishly follow the law of hospitality. When he goes into camp, he will be welcomed and treated well and will have the freedom to learn the ways of the woman, sire.”

The two men combined their persuasive powers, and finally Zephir said, “It won't be any trouble. The woman has to be alone part of the time. As soon as I learn of her habits, I'll get word to you.”