Jael's Story by Ann Burton

Author:Ann Burton [Burton, Ann]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2006-03-07T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER

16

I spent much of the night praying, lying on my side on my mattress, listening to the others sleep. I did not know how we would cook meals without cookware. How we would find wheat to serve instead of barley. How we would stay safe from Heber.

I could do nothing, so I put everything I could not do into the hands of Yahweh-Shalom.

And at last, feeling lighter, I closed my eyes and slept.

We woke early, to the sound of light footsteps beside our tent, and the voice of Ahm-Amat, wife of one of Pigat’s sons, asking if she might enter.

“I could not help but hear the noise last night,” she said. “And, oh, dear gods, Achaia, your face! I saw the shards of all your cook pots and your tannur on the ground, so that you cannot bake your bread. Something woke me this morning to come to see if you needed anything; obviously, you do.”

Was that how He worked, the One God of Achaia’s people? Was this the answer to a prayer?

As I was Heber’s wife, Ahm-Amat addressed her question to me. I said, “We’ve been feeding so many, we ran out of wheat. I did not know to order so much this season.”

“It isn’t usually like this,” Ahm-Amat said. “And you have borne the brunt of guests. We have so few in our tent. I have extra wheat, and I’m sure some of the others do, as well. If we each give you a little, you should have enough, and we won’t go without, either.” She smiled.

“We have not a single cooking pot remaining,” I told her.

“I saw.” She thought for a moment. “Latiya on the other side of the camp got a new tannur, while her old one was still serviceable. The new one has black birds and a red slip coating on it—she said she saw the pretty birds and she just had to have them.” Ahm-Amat rolled her eyes. “But her extravagance bodes well for you. And I’m sure that Donatiya has more pots than she uses, since it’s just her and her husband now, and all their children are out and have tents and families of their own. Surely there must be others within the camp who have a pot they aren’t using.”

“Thank you,” I told her. “And blessings on you.” I didn’t say whose.

She smiled at me. “We’re family,” she said. “I would not leave you to hurt the way you are. And . . .” She shook her head, her dark hair swinging. “Heber. He was different when he was younger, I heard. But I’ve never known him to be different, and I must admit that I think he has ever been the sort of man we all see now. I simply think that while he still had Pigat, he had moments when he rose above who he really is.”

I hugged her, and she hurried off.

“You can’t go out,” I told Achaia. “Your poor face is a disaster. And”—I looked at Talliya—“you definitely can’t carry water, the way you’ve been.

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