The Journey Begun (32 page)

The old warrior shifted his weight to resettle the girl against his chest. He kicked the base of the door three times. A moment later, Jonah caught a shuffling on the other side of the portal and the latch clicked open. The door swung open to a wide crack throwing a shaft of light into the street. A young boy peered at the two strangers. “We aren’t open—”

“Get yer mistress.” Moshe squinted into the soft lamplight at the boy.

“I don’t think—”

“Get yer mistress!”

The boy flinched and stared for a moment into the scraggly bearded face. His eyes dropped to the partially exposed face of the young girl and widened.

“Now.” Moshe glared at the boy.

The door clicked closed and after a moment or two of silence the latch clicked once more. This time the door swung wide open to reveal Abigail’s broad figure silhouetted against the light, her hands propped on her hips. “What’s this, then, eh? We don’t open until…Moshe?” Her eyebrows raised at the sight of the two men standing in the doorway.

“Abby. We need some help.” Moshe hesitated. At that moment, the bundle in the old soldier’s arm squirmed and the girl turned toward the open door. Abigail gasped at the pale face and haunted green eyes peering from beneath the folds of Moshe’s cloak.

“What in the name of the Almighty—Moshe! Get in here!” She moved back from the doorway and snatched a chair away from the nearest table.

Moshe stepped through the opening and leaned over to settle the girl onto the chair. Just as he was about to release her, two arms shot out of the folds of the cloth and grasped him around the neck. The old man cracked a smile and glanced at the inn’s mistress with watery eyes.

“It’s all right, little one. Ya can let go now. I’m stayin’ right here.” The gruff old warrior’s voice softened as he eased one of her arms from around his neck and settled her against the back of the chair. She huddled in the mammoth cloak and hugged her knees to her chest.

Abigail stooped in front of the chair and reached out to brush a loose strand of hair from the girl’s forehead. The girl flinched away from the older woman’s hand, her almond eyes staring at the matron who studied her back with equal intensity.

Moshe looked down and chuckled. “You’re safe, little one. This is Abigail. Nothin’s goin’ to hurt you while she’s around, ya can bet on that.”

Abigail frowned at the strand of red veil material clinging to the girl’s forehead and the kohl shadowing around her eyes, now faded and streaked with dried tears. She cocked her head at the youth. “You have a name, young lady?”

The girl dropped her gaze and said nothing.

“She hasn’t said anything all night. Nothin’ at all.” Moshe glanced at Abigail, who kept her eyes on the young girl’s face.

“How’d you come across her, Moshe, eh?” There was a sharpness to her tone that creased the old soldier’s brow.

“He was helping me.” Jonah stepped from behind Moshe.

“You?” Abigail looked up, her eyes narrowed in appraisal of the newcomer.

“Yes. It’s a long story—and it’s not what you think,” he added.

“Really? What do I think?”

Moshe met her look. “Jonah’s a friend, Abby. He’s doin’ the right thing. I’ll fill ya in later. Right now, let’s take care o’ the young one.”

She locked eyes with Moshe for a moment, then softened. “All right. We’ll talk later.” She turned back to the girl. “You hungry, young lady, eh?”

The girl’s eyes widened and she straightened slightly in her chair. An easy smile creased Abigail’s eyes into slits. “Right! Breakfast it is, then.” She called over her shoulder. “Eben! Bread’s ready to come off the fire. Bring a loaf and a dish of fresh milk with some honey.”

“Ya got any o’ them baby figs left?” Moshe needled her with a grin. “Yeah, I saw ya handle Levi yesterday. Heh, heh.”

Abigail frowned in mock annoyance. “Hmph! I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” She failed to suppress a smile. “And some figs, Eben!”

The young girl’s eyes rounded when the feast appeared before her. Moshe’s cloak slipped free of her slight shoulders, and she eagerly grasped for a chunk of bread with both hands, nearly upsetting the dish of goat’s milk in the process. Her emaciated arms quivered as she tore a precious morsel from the steaming loaf. The three adults stood behind her and watched as she saturated the crust with milk and honey and stuffed it into her mouth whole.

“Careful, little one. You’ll make yerself sick, if ya don’t choke first.” Moshe chuckled in spite of himself.

Jonah edged over to Abigail. “How old do you think she is?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think she’s seen nine Passovers. It’s hard to tell, she’s so tiny. Doesn’t look like she’s eaten in an age.”

“Prob’ly hasn’t.” Moshe snorted. “Jachan would o’ starved her before spendin’ a shekel on food.”

“Jachan!” Abigail whirled on Moshe. “That’s not the same Jachan who— “

He nodded. “He won’t be a problem ta anyone anymore.”

The stunned matron turned back as the famished girl devoured two figs in one mouthful. “As the Lord lives…” Her eyes brimmed. “In a lifetime no one should see what she must have seen in her tender years.” She shook her head and watched the gaunt youngster tip up the bowl of milk and drain it in a few gulps.

Her meal consumed, the child traced the inside of the honey saucer with her finger and sucked the sweet drippings from its tip. She settled back in her chair, her eyelids drooping as she succumbed to a full stomach and a sleepless night. Abigail reached down and drew Moshe’s cloak back up around the girl’s shoulders. She lifted the drowsy youngster from the chair and cradled her in her arms. “Eben. My room.” Her hushed command sent the servant boy racing ahead as she carried the limp figure to a door near the corner of the back wall. Before taking the child to settle her in bed, Abigail looked back at the two men by the door. With a slight smile she nodded and disappeared into her chamber.

Jonah motioned Moshe to the front door, which was still ajar. The two stepped outside and took in a full breath of fresh morning air

The eastern sky now tinged yellow as the sun poised to break the mountain ridge across the valley. Moshe spoke first. “She’s safe fer now. But what do we do from here?”

Jonah was quiet. A thought fomented in the back of his mind, but he struggled with it at first. Finally he set his jaw and looked at his friend. “Can you get a cart and donkey?”

Moshe looked at him, puzzled. “I got some friends. Shouldn’t be a problem ta borrow one. How long we goin’ ta need it?”

Jonah was still lost in thought. “Umm. Shouldn’t be more than a day, maybe two.”

Moshe nodded. “Sure. When do we need it?”

“A soon as possible.”

“Ya have a plan?”

Jonah nodded. “I think so.”

Moshe shrugged. “All right. This mornin’, then.”

The two men turned to reenter the inn, but Moshe stopped and lifted his head.

“You smell smoke?”

Thirty-three

t’s time for us to leave.” Jonah approached Abigail, who sat mending her work apron. She looked up at him, but said nothing. He fidgeted in her gaze. “Moshe has a cart out front.”

She laid the fabric down and sat back in her chair. “It’s only midmorning. The child still sleeps.”

“I know. She’ll be able to rest as we travel. I’ll make sure she’s comfortable.” Jonah was still unsure what the inn’s mistress thought of him. They’d had little chance to become acquainted, with her morning responsibilities around the inn and his attention taken up in arranging the journey. The circumstances surrounding his arrival at the inn were, at best, suspect and he didn’t blame her for not trusting him.

“Why so soon? Let the girl rest.”

Jonah pulled a chair close from the next table and sat facing his hostess. “Abigail, I know you don’t know me, and with everything that’s happened, you have every right to be suspicious. I would be if I were in your place. I wish there was time to explain, but it’s important that we get the girl away from the city soon. Word is the fire in the low quarter last night started in a building near where I believe we were. Where we found the girl.”

Her raised eyebrow cut him short.

Reading her face, he continued. “No, of course we didn’t start it. I don’t know who did, but if it does involve her in any way, we need to get her as far from here as possible as soon as possible. I have to ask you to trust me—to trust Moshe—to do what’s best for the girl. If the Almighty permits, I’ll be back one day to tell you everything.” He chanced a smile. “Just another one of your breakfasts will be worth the trip.”

She frowned, but her eyes softened at the compliment. “Where are you taking her?”

“I have an idea. I know a place where she’ll be safe until we can find out more about her, maybe until we can find her family.”

Abigail dropped her gaze and toyed with a corner of the apron. After a long moment, she sighed and rose from her chair. She went to the door of her room, but before entering, she paused and looked back one more time. “I’m doing this for Moshe.”

“I understand. Thank you.”

When she disappeared into the back room, Jonah retrieved his walking stick and Moshe’s staff. He opened the door and stepped out onto the pavement where his friend waited. The bed of the cart was half filled with fresh straw, a sack of food tucked into a front corner behind the driver’s seat. Other sundry supplies nestled in the fragrant bedding directly behind the seat. A folded blanket completed the load. Jonah laid the rods in the cart and looked up at his friend hunched on the seat. He steadied the reins of a skittish young donkey that tapped at the pavement with an impatient hoof. “Abigail’s getting the girl.”

“Good woman, Abby.” Moshe grunted and cleared his throat.

Jonah climbed onto the seat beside his comrade. He glanced over at the grizzled face creased with age and shadowed with untold memories. A mischievous half smile curved Jonah’s lips. “Eli once told me there was a woman—and only one woman—who had caught his friend Moshe’s eye. A rare woman, he said, the only one he’d ever met with enough fire to hold her own with a cocky young warrior from the valley.”

Moshe snorted and spat on the side of the road. He kept his gaze ahead.

“As graceful as a young mare, he said she was, and twice as strong. And a wit, yes, a wit that rivaled the legend of Solomon, and a tongue that could soothe the fury of Saul at his worst and lift the music of David at his best.” Jonah stole another look at his friend’s face. The old soldier’s jaw twitched and his eyes glistened in the morning light. “He said she’d have given up everything. All the soldier had to do was ask.”

“Eli always was full o’ stable dirt.”

Jonah leaned back and laughed harder than he had in weeks. “Oh, come now, Moshe, tell me Eli was lying, that there was never a woman who could take your heart and your head and have her way with both.”

The creaking of the inn door interrupted their conversation and both men turned to see Abigail emerge from the doorway cradling the sleeping girl against her bosom. The matron’s careworn face was soft in the glow of the morning sun and wisps of silver-streaked hair that had slipped their binding wafted against her cheeks in the gentle breeze.

“Still is.” Moshe’s voice caught.

Abigail looked at the two men in the cart staring at her. “What?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing.” Jonah coughed and straightened in his seat.

“Then come and get the girl. What are you sitting there for?” She frowned as Jonah stumbled down from the seat of the cart. He stepped over to the innkeeper’s wife and paused, uncertainty creasing his brow as he looked at the frail child nestled in her arms. He reached out awkwardly, then stopped and shifted his arms trying to figure out the best way to hold her. The task was far beyond his aptitude. Abigail sighed. “Oh, for the love of all that is holy, step aside!”

She moved toward the back of the wagon and addressed Moshe. “Get down. Sit in the back of the wagon and I’ll lay her beside you. She still needs her sleep and if I give her to him,” she jerked her head at Jonah, “she’ll end up a pile on the road before you reach the city gates.”

Jonah reddened at the rebuff, but, as Moshe climbed over the back of the seat, the innkeeper’s wife threw a conspiratorial smile over her shoulder and winked. She leaned over the side of the wagon and eased the girl onto the soft bedding beside the old soldier’s lap. The sleeping youth curled onto her side and laid her head against Moshe’s chest. Gone were the tattered red veil and dress she wore the night before. Abigail had dabbed the smeared makeup from her face and clothed her in a soft woolen garment that enveloped the serene young child as she snuggled against the crusty old warrior. Her petite face almost seemed to glow in calm and comfort she probably hadn’t known in years. Moshe hesitated and then tentatively put his good arm around her shoulder for support.

“Go on, she won’t bite.” Abigail cocked her eyebrow at her old heart’s desire, and he pulled the girl close to his side while she slept. The matron stepped back from the cart and paused for a moment, taking in the sight of the old soldier cuddling the young girl. Jonah saw her eyes go distant, glistening through a misty sheen that was not there a moment ago. Rubbing her eye with the heel of her hand, she turned back to the inn. Upon reaching the door, she stopped and looked at Jonah. “Well, what are
you
waiting for?”

He flinched and hurried to the side of the cart. Pulling himself up onto the seat, he took the reins in his hands, and with one more glance at Abigail, he clicked his teeth and jostled the reins. The donkey snorted and threw an irritated look over her shoulder at the unfamiliar driver. With a snort, she set off across the uneven pavement toward the marketplace and the gates of the city beyond.

A light-haired head pulled back around the side of the wall as the cart approached the corner of the inn.

“Keep him in sight! He must not be allowed to continue his journey.”

The foreigner winced and jerked his head.