about the betrothal banquet. The children are all at Ennon’s house celebrating.”
Dinah seemed to snap to attention at the mention of her husband-to-be.
Sitis blurted out the rest of the information as if releasing the hot handle of a cooking pot. “I sent Nada to tell the children we would join them as soon as you both arrived.”
“Now? You expect us to attend a betrothal banquet now?” Job heard the censure in his voice but couldn’t contain it.
Living statues filled the room as Job contemplated his response. The courtyard doors clattered behind him, raging wind and lightning invading their silent world.
That’s when they heard it.
A single voice with low-pitched, tortured howls drew nearer. Every eye turned toward the courtyard entry.
“Nooo!” A herdsman burst through the doorway, the wind slamming the oaken slabs hard against the sandstone walls. Robes bloodstained and torn, Job’s chief herdsman ran across the dining hall and fell at his feet. “Master Job, they’re all dead!” Weeping shook his shoulders.
Job motioned Elihu to gather the women aside, and then he bent down and lifted the bloodied herdsman to his feet. “Shobal, are you hurt? Is this your blood?”
“No, Master Job. I hid in a dry wadi when the Sabeans attacked. They took away all your plowing oxen and the donkeys that were grazing nearby. They put all the servants to the sword. As soon as the Sabeans rode away on their horses, I tried to help the other servants. I tried, Master Job, but I’m the only one who has escaped alive to tell you!”
Job’s mind reeled. He had almost seven hundred servants tending his five hundred yoked oxen and five hundred donkeys. How could they all be dead?
“Shobal, are you sure—” Job’s heart leapt to his throat. He couldn’t swallow. It can’t be. “Did you say Sabeans? On horses?”
Job glanced up and saw Dinah’s horrified expression. She too must have made the connection between Zophar’s Sabean escort at Elath and the Sabean attack. Panic stabbed Job like a bronze-tipped arrow. He shook the bloodied herdsman. “Shobal, did they have any prisoners with them? Did you see a caravan in the distance?” His angry parting with Zophar replayed mercilessly in his mind.
But before the herdsman could form his reply, another voice sounded in the distance and a second servant stumbled through the courtyard entrance. It was Lotan, Job’s chief shepherd, and he collapsed beside his friend Shobal. His clothes were singed, his face, arms, and hands blistered with burns. “Master Job, the lightning! It was so horrible.”
Job bent to inspect his wounds. “Lotan, what happened to you?” Noting the charred skin on the man’s hands, he glanced at Dinah and called her over. “Listen, my friend. I have someone here who can tend to your wounds.”
“No, Master Job. The flocks, the servants.” He gulped for air, delirious, disoriented.
Job looked up at Sitis, her beautiful black eyes wide with fear, her whole body trembling. She stepped sideways without looking. Feeling her way to a bench, she sat down hard. Dread seemed to strangle everyone in the room.
Only Job uttered a whisper. “What about the flocks and servants, Lotan?”
The man’s face twisted into a mask of agony. “The fire of God fell from the sky, Master Job. It burned up all the sheep and every servant tending them.” Sobs garbled his words, but Job understood the last phrase, repeated again and again. “I’m the only one left . . . the only one left.”
The shepherd clutched Job’s robe, Job cradling him. Dinah knelt a few paces away, evidently perceiving Lotan needed compassion more than medicine right now.
“I’m just glad you’re safe, my friend,” Job said.
Dinah turned away, tears rolling down her cheeks. Job saw that Elihu was comforting Sitis, as much like a son as the children of her womb. The young man would make a fine husband to their daughter, but what kind of dowry could he offer for Uzahmah
Dinah seemed to snap to attention at the mention of her husband-to-be.
Sitis blurted out the rest of the information as if releasing the hot handle of a cooking pot. “I sent Nada to tell the children we would join them as soon as you both arrived.”
“Now? You expect us to attend a betrothal banquet now?” Job heard the censure in his voice but couldn’t contain it.
Living statues filled the room as Job contemplated his response. The courtyard doors clattered behind him, raging wind and lightning invading their silent world.
That’s when they heard it.
A single voice with low-pitched, tortured howls drew nearer. Every eye turned toward the courtyard entry.
“Nooo!” A herdsman burst through the doorway, the wind slamming the oaken slabs hard against the sandstone walls. Robes bloodstained and torn, Job’s chief herdsman ran across the dining hall and fell at his feet. “Master Job, they’re all dead!” Weeping shook his shoulders.
Job motioned Elihu to gather the women aside, and then he bent down and lifted the bloodied herdsman to his feet. “Shobal, are you hurt? Is this your blood?”
“No, Master Job. I hid in a dry wadi when the Sabeans attacked. They took away all your plowing oxen and the donkeys that were grazing nearby. They put all the servants to the sword. As soon as the Sabeans rode away on their horses, I tried to help the other servants. I tried, Master Job, but I’m the only one who has escaped alive to tell you!”
Job’s mind reeled. He had almost seven hundred servants tending his five hundred yoked oxen and five hundred donkeys. How could they all be dead?
“Shobal, are you sure—” Job’s heart leapt to his throat. He couldn’t swallow. It can’t be. “Did you say Sabeans? On horses?”
Job glanced up and saw Dinah’s horrified expression. She too must have made the connection between Zophar’s Sabean escort at Elath and the Sabean attack. Panic stabbed Job like a bronze-tipped arrow. He shook the bloodied herdsman. “Shobal, did they have any prisoners with them? Did you see a caravan in the distance?” His angry parting with Zophar replayed mercilessly in his mind.
But before the herdsman could form his reply, another voice sounded in the distance and a second servant stumbled through the courtyard entrance. It was Lotan, Job’s chief shepherd, and he collapsed beside his friend Shobal. His clothes were singed, his face, arms, and hands blistered with burns. “Master Job, the lightning! It was so horrible.”
Job bent to inspect his wounds. “Lotan, what happened to you?” Noting the charred skin on the man’s hands, he glanced at Dinah and called her over. “Listen, my friend. I have someone here who can tend to your wounds.”
“No, Master Job. The flocks, the servants.” He gulped for air, delirious, disoriented.
Job looked up at Sitis, her beautiful black eyes wide with fear, her whole body trembling. She stepped sideways without looking. Feeling her way to a bench, she sat down hard. Dread seemed to strangle everyone in the room.
Only Job uttered a whisper. “What about the flocks and servants, Lotan?”
The man’s face twisted into a mask of agony. “The fire of God fell from the sky, Master Job. It burned up all the sheep and every servant tending them.” Sobs garbled his words, but Job understood the last phrase, repeated again and again. “I’m the only one left . . . the only one left.”
The shepherd clutched Job’s robe, Job cradling him. Dinah knelt a few paces away, evidently perceiving Lotan needed compassion more than medicine right now.
“I’m just glad you’re safe, my friend,” Job said.
Dinah turned away, tears rolling down her cheeks. Job saw that Elihu was comforting Sitis, as much like a son as the children of her womb. The young man would make a fine husband to their daughter, but what kind of dowry could he offer for Uzahmah
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