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.
Two small black boxes sat on top with leather straps draping down the side. She drew her finger along the beautiful script. The box tumbled and slipped to the bottom of the chest. She reached in to retrieve it. Her fingers brushed against a lumpy leather bag. She removed it from the chest and held it up.
Her heart pounded against her breast bone as she untied the cord. The leather bag opened like a flower. Several stones appeared against royal silk. One of the stones caught her eye and she picked it up with her gnarled fingers. She held it up to the oil lamp nestled into a nook in the wall. The stone lit like fire, flaming to life in her hand.
She glanced down at the other stones. The rushing sound of the falls seemed to grow louder and she swayed. She knew each tribe had their own signet. Her father wore a similar one around his neck. Why would Ari have all of these?
The flaming stone began to warm in the palm of her hand. She laid the pouch down to better examine the fiery stone. She held it closer to the lamp.
“You must be mistaken,” she repeated, her voice louder.
“No. It was Ari.”
With the stone flickering in the palm of her hand, she knew the boy spoke the truth, a truth she did not have time to question. For the next breath had her looking into the eyes of one of the men who hunted them.
Chapter Eight
Mira didn’t think about what she was doing, she only acted. She grabbed one of the weapons lying on one of the benches and jumped in front of Joash. The weight of the weapon wavered in her hands. She braced her feet, lest she fall over. Her heart pounded in her chest. Her breaths were short and quick.
Lord, I am but a woman, and this man is a giant.
Water cascaded over the contours of the giant’s bulging shoulders as he scanned the cavern with an assessing eye. His hands hung loose at his sides. He seemed relaxed, which caused fear to pound a little harder in her head.
His right eye twitched as the corner of his mouth curled. His chest expanded and she thought he might charge at her. Instead he nodded, turned around and left.
The sword began to drop from her hands but she stilled the muscles in her arms. She released a breath of air, and sucked another in. Laying the sword back in its place, she picked up a small dagger and looked at Joash. “Stay here.”
Mira peered over the edge of the rock just as the warrior dove beneath the falls. She climbed down and slipped into the water. She edged around the rocks until she found an opening in the falls to where she could spy the man.
The warrior rose out of the water. Waves sloshed against his shins, rocking him back and forth with the motion. He swiped his hand across his eyes.
“Praise be to the gods you are alive, Ianatos.” A queen’s soldier sat with his legs crossed a good distance from the shore.
Mira’s footing slipped and she sucked in a sharp breath of air as she grabbed hold of a rock. The warrior tossed a glance toward her before jamming his hands on his hips. He glared at her, rolled his shoulders as if to ease the tension. “Your gods have naught to do with my swimming capabilities, Roab.”
Roab’s eyes widened. His lips stilled, but his hands fluttered like a griffin ruffling its feathers.
“Your superstitions are no more than a child’s imagination.”
“The creatures...” Roab crawled forward on his hands and peered into the waters.
Mira dropped her gaze to the water lapping around her waist.
“There are no dangerous creatures in these shallow waters.” Ianatos bent down and snatched a small fish in midswim. “Unless of course, you fear this.” He held the fish eye level and watched as it puckered its mouth. He glanced at his companion. “Hungry?”
Roab’s mouth moved much like their meal, but no sound emitted. Ianatos stepped onto the jagged bank and tucked the flapping fish between the rocks. “Hand me a linen.”
His companion stood to his feet, pulled a piece of cloth from one of the sacks and handed it to him. His gaze scanned the pool of water. Mira pressed back into the shadows. “What did you see, my friend? Did you find the rebels?”
Ianatos wiped the droplets of water from his head and then over his shoulders before drying his chest. Mira held her breath. What would this giant warrior tell the Hebrew? Long moments of silence caused her heart to pound in her ears.
“You were under the water a long while. Longer than any man can hold his breath in a bath.”
True. However, if the Hebrew discovered the warrior hadn’t been in the water the whole time, the queen’s guard would descend upon them. She waited, wondering if she’d have to defend Joash against these trained soldiers.
“You forget my upbringing.”
“Yes, you Philistines have a way with the deep. It’s as if the gods have granted you gills.”
Ianatos laid the cloth over a rock. He eased to the ground and reclined in the sun. “Might I ask you a question, Roab?”
Roab