TWELVE

A dog chewed on the leg of a dead woman.

In the harsh sunlight of the field outside the city where the raiders had taken them, Sherizah watched as the dog snarled and pulled, trying to separate a piece of flesh from the leg. She watched numbly, impassively, trying not to care but still feeling revulsion. It was a Philistine woman who had died when the raid began, probably of fear since no soldier had killed her. Before the raid, she had been a foul and ill-tempered woman, frequently stirring up trouble at the well, always inciting people against the Hebrews. She deserved it.

Sherizah squeezed her eyes shut. She would have been appalled at such a scene at any other time, but after the previous night’s terrors it was just another sight, just another horrible image that ran together with the previous one.

There was the image of her home being burned. And the sight of her friends, women she was close to, being pulled away by heathen men who said and did awful things.

The images flashed by, one and another, and there were screams, and there was no end of it, the images of last night running together with those of a time long ago, and there were her girls, lying in bloody heaps, defiled, and her hair kept slipping out of its tie, and it made her so angry so suddenly that she cursed, loudly, drawing faces toward her.

She lowered her eyes to the sand. The terrors and the death had found her once more, even in the place they had gone to escape them. The smells were everywhere, and the screams. Smoke rose over the walls of Ziklag in dark plumes. The distorted air made the sky look like a bed of coals. Their men were gone. The other wives tied up elsewhere. Nothing was left but the dog eating that poor woman’s body. She really had been a wretched woman, though.

Sherizah shook her head and retied the hair over her neck. He always liked it that way. He was gone, though. In the north, away to war, where he always was. Out with the men, away from her and the memories she probably brought to him. She’d once heard that men used to stay with their wives a year after marrying. It was written in the Law. She’d never had the year with him. She did not even know him.

Blinking, she turned away from the dog and curled up on her side, deciding instead to watch the movements of the raiders. They did not behave like Amalekites usually did, running wild with lust and bloodthirsty violence. There were clear orders given by officers who maintained control. It was an army.

One of them, a large man with black markings covering his body, seemed to be in control. He stood nearby, watching it all. Sherizah lay in the sun, in a row of women, and watched the continuing destruction.

The Egyptian prodded a mound of gold coins and pieces of silver with his foot, then walked across the treasure room. This was more wealth than he had ever seen in one place, other than the palace that was Pharaoh’s future tomb. These Hebrews had been very good at their work.

He kicked a stack of gold coins over and watched it spill among the sand on the floor. Dust rose lazily and he wiped his eyes. The gold was good, as was the silver, but those things did not interest him like the iron. He ducked under the beam and waited for his eyes to adjust to the still-dark interior.

In the daylight now streaming through the doorway he could finally see what he’d missed last night. There were piles of it— scraps of discarded weapons and shards of wheel casings from chariots. Scrap iron covered an entire room of the storehouse. Much of it was rusting and no longer useful, but clearly someone had been trying to work it. There was a table in the corner with tools the Egyptian recognized as the tools used in forging. But the room was not an iron forge. There were no signs of a blacksmith shop. It was a mystery.

The Egyptian had been well educated in his homeland and was familiar with the working of metals. He even knew how to smith his own blades if necessary. But this was very odd. The Philistines had plenty of their own blacksmiths that the Hebrews could have used. Why the secrecy? His painted eyes searched the room in the stillness for any indication of purpose.

The Hebrew men living here fought with iron weapons, that much was obvious, and it was also clear that they had them serviced by local blacksmiths in the city. A room full of old and discarded metals, blacksmithing tools without a forge, all of it hidden away. The treasures of gold and silver were in full view, so why were worthless pieces of old iron hidden? With willing and able blacksmiths only blocks away?

It bothered him. Hebrews were an odd race, so unrefined and barbaric. They didn’t even use chariots. They were also one of the oldest enemies of his people and had once been slaves of the glorious Nile Kingdom. The pharaoh had not said so, but the Egyptian suspected his purpose in this country: Pharaoh wanted intelligence for an invasion to reclaim the Hebrews as slaves again.

He walked back outside. Was there some kind of sacrifice to their god in the iron? And why were there Hebrews in this city at all?

A soldier shouted, and Karak turned. Another round of captured females, this time Philistines. Karak had given his men strict orders not to harm any of them, especially the Hebrews. Hebrews were the most valuable slaves when trading because their women never lost spirit. Many foreign kings liked women in their harem with plenty of spirit.

When they made it back to Amalekite lands, the children would be sold, the women put in harems, the men sent to work in the fields, and Karak would be a wealthy man.

As he watched the huddled mass of Philistine women being lined up next to the Hebrews, he reflected on the night before. It had been an incredible, unprecedented success: No men had been lost and an entire Philistine city completely captured. All of the gold and valuables would be removed and the buildings burned. It was too perfect to be believed. And wine! Wine was rare among the Amalekites. The Philistines made marvelous wine. His army would not even be able to continue their campaign without first returning to their lands with the captured bounty.

There were enough captured wives to supply an army. The final count was two-hundred and thirty. Including the children, there were over four hundred captives. The weapons and plunder the Egyptian had found were enough to convince Karak that the city’s men were raiders, and the only explanation was that the rumors of a warlord named David were true. David must have been living among these people, as they’d suspected; he may have been the governor himself and may have marched with his men to war in the north. That explained why a Philistine city was dominated and populated by Hebrews.

On the ground next to him was a Hebrew woman hiding her eyes. He searched for what she shied away from and saw the body of the older Philistine hag who had died in the street during the raid. Except for the Philistine woman, no one had been killed, difficult as it had been to prevent it.

He had heard that the heart can stop in fear. He had never seen it himself, until then. He had often feared that it would be his fortune for the gods to let him die in such a way — no honor or glory on a battlefield, just falling to the ground and dying before his enemies like the old Philistine woman.

He looked down at the Hebrew wife. She was attractive. He had examined all of them. Karak reached down and pulled her up by the hair.

The woman gasped and closed her eyes. Karak pulled her face close to his and smelled her. He waited for her to open her eyes, but she kept them closed. Most women he captured begged and pleaded with him.

He ran his hand up her chest. Then he held her throat. “Where are the wives of the ruler of this city?” he asked. She did not respond.

Karak ran his hand over her body again. He would enjoy her one night soon, when it was her turn. Destroying Hebrews and burning their cities and having their women. He was a happy man.

Karak threw her down and walked away, searching for the Egyptian.