The Priestess of Malakh

When men began to multiply on the face of the land and daughters were born to them, the sons of God saw that the daughters of man were beautiful. And they took as their wives any they chose. […] The Nephilim were on the earth in those days and also afterward when the sons of God came in to the daughters of man and they bore children to them. These were the mighty men of old, the men of renown.
- Genesis -

No I imply that what pagans sacrifice they offer to demons and not to God. I do not want you to be participants with demons.
- 1 Corinthians -

And the angels who did not stay within their own position of authority, but left their proper dwelling, he has kept in eternal chains under gloomy darkness until the judgment of the great day.
- Jude -

The light of the setting sun, dusky red on the battlements of Raamah, found the youngest daughter of the city’s king skipping down the steps toward the gate. There she fell in with the other maidens and the musicians who were to supply the melodies for their dance of the full moon. A short walk brought them to the designated clearing just as the bright moon cleared the eastern hills. The pipes let out the first sweet notes, and the next Tovah knew, the music sent her spinning around the glade, giving herself to the wild delight of youth and the seduction of the summer night.

Song followed song, and the moon had risen to the top of the sky, when Tovah caught her breath as a sudden chill descended on the clearing. She turned to look back toward the trees, dark and still. For a moment, there was nothing, then she perceived something moving. The head of an enormous serpent, iridescent blue, rose up out of the grass and glided swiftly toward her. Other maidens screamed and the whole party fled, but Tovah remained transfixed, unable to look away from the serpent’s golden eyes. In a moment it had reached her, the head hovering a handsbreadth from her nose. Helplessly Tovah stood rooted as the creature’s gaze bore into her eyes as if to read the secret thoughts of her heart. Then there was a kind of ripple from its head down to the tail and in place of the serpect there stood a large man in blue raiment that shone like the skin of the serpent.

“Who are you?” breathed Tovah.

“I am Malakh,” he said, and his voice was like the waterfall above Pi-Hagihon.

“Are you the great God, the one they say made the sky and the earth, who made the first people and sent them to wander through the earth?”

The man made a sound between a hiss and a snarl. “Who told you that? Do not dare to question me. I am your God, that is all you need know.”

“My God,” murmured Tovah, gazing in wonder at the marvelous being before her. And slowly with a sense of solemn wonder, she knelt down, prostrated herself at the feet of Malakh, and worshipped.

~

“And Malakh commands that we build him a temple,” Tovah finished her story, looking around at her gathered family. At first no one spoke. Her father’s face was calm, but with an effort it seemed. Her mothers huge brown eyes hid nothing of her shock and fear. As for her brother Irad, his face was angry. He jumped up.

“So, Tovah is the special one who has been chosen to be the mouth of the great God Malakh? What an honor for you, oh my sister!” He paced around the room. “As for me, I never heard of any Malakh. What does Raamah want a God for? Long have we been happy enough without any temples for snake-men.”

Tovah broke in, “Irad, no, you don’t understand!”

He silenced her with a wave of his hand and continued, “Hush little girl, and let the men speak. We are not so easily awed by the beasts of the forest, we men. When we see a snake, we don’t bow to it,” he looked Tovah in the eyes, “we kill it.”

A sharp hiss sounded in Tovah’s ear and panic tightened her chest. She wanted to fly at Irad and strike him. She wanted to run away and hide. In the moment all she could manage was to strangle out, “Irad, please…”

He smiled down at her and opened his mouth again, but their father interrupted, “Peace, my children. Tovah’s tale is a strange one, and it requires reflection. Irad is right to say that no one has ever heard of this Malakh. And yet, a powerful being like the one Tovah described would be better to have as an ally than an enemy. I will think on it this night, and we will speak again tomorrow.”

Tovah reached out for her brother’s shoulder, but he strode firmly out of the hall, followed by her parents. Horror at Irad’s impiety and dread of Malakh’s response weighed her down to the floor, where she remained, alone with the turmoil of her heart.

Waking the next morning, Tovah had no desire to go out and face the world, knowing in her heart that no good news awaited her. The world, however, would not remain outside. Her handmaid rushed in, her face streaked with tears.

“Oh my mistress, oh poor mistress!”

Tovah sat up and stared blankly, waiting for the blow to fall.

“It’s your brother, mistress. Irad is dead!”

He had been found in his bed, struck by no one knew what evil, his skin a range of hideous colors and his features twisted in an agonized grimace. The king of Raamah did not deliberate any further but gave the order to build the temple of Malakh even as he wept by his son’s bier.

~

Tovah stood in the shadow of the great stone pillars of the temple of Malakh, gazing up at his golden statue. This was in the form of a large powerful man with the head of a great serpent, unblinkingly surveying his hall. There was a rustle behind her, and for the second time she heard that voice which seemed to resonate in her bones.”

“You have done well. I am pleased.”

The vivid blue serpent circled around in front of her. Its head was lifted up higher than her own, its body thick like the breadth of a man’s shoulders. Tovah fell on her face.

“My lord!”

“This will be my house, and you are to be my priestess and to take care of it. Here I will hear your prayers and accept your sacrifices.”

“I will do whatever you command.”

“Very good. Tomorrow you must prepare a feast in my honor.”

~

“And what does our God Malakh require for the sacrifice?” asked her father.

“Thirty bullocks from the herd, father.”

“He shall have them,” said Javan with a smile. “The cattle have done very well these past months, as have the sheep and the wheat. I don’t doubt that we have our new benefactor to thank for that. He shall have whatever honor he desires.”

~

Smoke billowed from the altar and the savory smell of roasting flesh filled the air around the people of Raamah in the temple square. Prayers had been uttered, worshippers had prostrated, animals had been presented and slaughtered. Now the people were eating and drinking, and the music began to play.

The sun set, and the moon rose, and cask after empty cask of wine was rolled away, and still the people gave themselves to passionate revelry. Tovah watched from the door of the temple as her father picked his way home, stumbling only slightly, and supported by two young women whom Tovah did not know. Others never left the square, and lay here and there overcome by wine or by love.

Tovah turned back inside, and crossing into the hall, she felt a shiver of delight to hear a soft rustle among the columns.

~

The next morning Tovah’s mother, having observed her daughter’s un-slept-in bed, came seeking her in the temple square. She found Tovah coming out of the temple itself, her outer robe cast up over her hair in the manner of married women.

“Did you spend the night in there, child?”

“Oh mother,” sighed Tovah with shining eyes. “I am so happy.”

“Oh, I see. I mean, I didn’t realize that… that is… if you are so happy, then I am happy for you. Come, let’s go home. Come and we’ll see about some fitting garments for a… for a priestess.”

~

New robes she had, and a new life taking care of the temple and seeing to all the necessary rites and sacrifices. Malakh instructed her carefully about these, although she added several elements of her own invention. She could see that he liked prayers and sacrifices very much, but especially being worshipped and having the people prostate before his statue.

Thoughts of all that the last few months had brought filled Tovah’s mind as she wandered home under a star-strewn sky. On a whim, she turned aside into the king’s garden and made her way to a bench by the fountain pool. Here she sat down with her hands on her swollen belly and breathed the fresh night air. A nightingale sang in the branches above, and a thousand stars shone out from the water of the pool.

Basking in perfect serenity, Tovah was suddenly overwhelmed with inexplicable sorrow. There was something sweet and beautiful that she desperately wanted, but she was outside and there was no way in. What was it though? What could she possibly want that she did not have? She peered quietly into the pool, grasping at the beauty of the reflected stars in her heart. Something in the longing she felt made all the other things she loved seem grey and unimportant. Even the wonderful temple of Malakh appeared small and thin in that moment, and to her shock she realized that Malakh himself struck her as hollow and false, like a weak imitation of some greater substance. He was certainly beautiful in an awe-inspiring way, but this longing seemed somehow clearer and brighter.

Tovah felt a tug, a call to follow this longing, and as clearly as she felt the call, she knew that she had refused it. This, here and now, was who she was, what she wanted. The favor of Malakh had elevated her above all mortal women, had given her exactly what her heart desired.

And so the moment was past, the heart-breaking beauty no longer present to her senses, but merely the ache of a memory.

The great feast was repeated on the anniversary of the first one. Tovah directed the ceremony with three-month old Gibbor on her arm. He was big for his age and active, and his mother’s pride in the son she had born to Malakh was immeasurable.

The following week, Tovah’s happy peace was shattered by the passage of a traveller just come from Havilah. He brought the news that a maiden of that city, Tsereh by name, was pregnant by a God who had appeared to her in the form of a blue serpent as she was bathing in a forest stream. Jealous fury consumed Tovah’s entire soul, and the only thought that could bring her the least comfort was that of bringing about the death of Tsereh. In her dreams she killed her rival a hundred different ways, and by day all her thought was bent toward schemes to bring about war between Raamah and Havilah.

Two months later her chance came, and she hired an assassin to murder her father’s chief counselor while he was visiting Havilah. Of course she assured her father that the anger of Malakh burned against Havilah, and that he would surely give success to their army. And so, with satisfaction, Tovah watched the men of Raamah march off to war.

Within three days the report of total victory returned to Raamah. All the men of Havilah had been killed or scattered, the women and children captured, the city burned. However, in the days that followed, despite her many inquiries, Tovah could not find out that Tsereh had either died or been captured. Surely she must have perished, either in the destruction of the city or in wandering in the wilderness. Still, doubt gnawed at her even as there was nothing else to be done about the matter.

~

At fourteen years old, Gibbor was as big as any man in the city, and stronger than any two of them put together. Restlessness drove him often from the city for days at a time where he would hunt and explore, sometimes taking two or three other boys with him. Once he overheard the herdsmen speaking in hushed tones of an enormous tiger that would come into the herd and carry off any animal it chose, even during the day. The next morning Tovah woke to find the tiger’s pelt proudly tacked up to the front wall of the house.

The following year the rumor went out about a gang of vicious brigands way-laying travelers on the Sabteca road. Tovah hurried to find Gibbor to forbid him to leave the city, but he was already gone. For three days, she did not leave the temple, tasting nothing, praying day and night for her son’s safe return. On the fourth day at sunrise, Gibbor entered the city to shouts of astonishment and presented to his grandfather the six heads of the brigands. From then on in Raamah whenever anything needed to be done which wanted courage or strength or cunning, every eye looked to Gibbor.

~

Some years later, the time came for the old king to go the way of all flesh. Gibbor was on a journey at the time, and Nimhor, the eldest of the king’s surviving sons sat on his father’s seat in the king’s hall. A week later when Gibbor returned, he stormed into the hall and demanded the kingship for himself. Tovah too, standing at his side, urged her brother, “My son is the son of our great God Malakh. You have no right to deny him what he seeks.”

“No right, sister? Who is this fellow? He is no son of our father Javan. I am the son of Javan and heir to all that was his. Tell your bastard boy to leave my hall before something bad happens to him.”

Gibbor made an enraged sound in his throat and moved toward Nimhor. Hastily, two guards with spears stepped in front to shield their lord. Gibbor smiled mockingly, and then in a movement that the eye could not follow, he snatched one guard’s spear and slew the other with it. The first guard fled, and Tovah shrieked as Gibbor grabbed Nimhor by the shoulders and savagely head-butted his face. Letting the lifeless body crumple to the ground, he turned to his mother, his face radiating joy, “You warned him, mother, didn’t you.”

~

Gibbor was now king of Raamah, with ambition to be even greater. He set out to bring other cities under his dominion, starting with Pi-Hagihon. This was quickly accomplished, and as the spoils came into Raamah, the people began to think of the abundance of gold and silver and slaves that would soon be theirs thanks to their new king. Flush with confidence, the army soon departed in the direction of Sabteca.

That night, Tovah was trimming lamps in the temple under the watchful stone eyes of Malakh, when she began to hear some distant sound. Was it singing with instruments? The sound grew nearer and turned into a cry of alarm.

“Enemies! Enemies within the gate!”

Rushing to the door of the temple, she looked out into the square. Some few people ran here and there as the clangs and yells slowly worked their way up the hill. Tovah stood frozen in the doorway. What was the use of running? There was nowhere to flee.

Torchlight appeared, flickering in one of the streets, and then the raiders burst into the square. One of them seemed enormous, and for a fleeting moment she almost thought it was Gibbor. They spotted her and the temple, and rushed forward as she sank to her knees. Then they were all around her, and a woman stepped forward, looking down at Tovah with vengeful delight.

“So this is the priestess of Malakh.”

Tovah looked up at her questioningly.

“Your service is finished. Give me your ornaments.”

Tovah clutched at the gold snake pendant she had worn so long, but the woman struck her across the face, and she fell to the ground. The men took the pendant from her and the rings she was wearing, and Tovah looked up again to see the woman placing the pendant around her own neck.

“I am the priestess of Malakh now, and I shall serve him in this house.” Looking down at Tovah she added, “After all, I too have born him a son.”

“Tsereh,” breathed Tovah.

“Yes. We are the survivors of Havilah, and this is the son that I bore to Malakh, Ben-Hanahash. Many years have we longed to exact our revenge on Raamah, and now at last…” She sighed in triumph. Then, considering Tovah for a moment, she gave a command. “Take this one out and tie her to a tree. Let her God decide her fate.”

~

All that night and all the next day Tovah cried out to Malakh, weeping and imploring him to come. They had left her in the very clearing where she had first met the serpent God, and it seemed somehow inevitable that he should reappear exactly where she had seen him before. But no one came, and finally exhaustion overcame her, and she fell asleep.

Tovah woke to find a slave woman working hard to undo the knots that bound her to the tree. The woman looked up briefly and Tovah recognized with a shock the face of her sister.

“Shifhah?”

“Not so loud, yes it’s me.” As Shifhah struggled with the bonds she explained. “The Havilim have taken the city for themselves, and we are all their slaves. I heard what happened to you, and I slipped out here to help you. Told the gate guards I had been sent on an errand… oof, that’s got it.”

The rope ends came loose, and as the coils unwound, Tovah fell to the ground, her limbs completely numb.

“I’ve got some bread here for you. You can hide in the forest. It won’t be long now before your son comes back with my husband and all the men. They’ll send these accursed brigands to a bad end.”

Tovah managed to sit up and take the bread from her sister’s hand.

“I’ve got to get back. It’s probably already a beating for me.”

~

Tovah hid in the forest ten days. One other time Shifhah was able to bring her some more bread. There was a creek for water, and she found a few berries besides. Mostly she sat at the edge of the clearing, twisting and untwisting her hair to the rhythm of the anxious thoughts chasing themselves round and round and round again.

Evening shadows were lengthening on the tenth day when Shifhah reappeared, hurrying through the clearing, looking fearfully over her shoulder.

“Tovah,” she cried, grasping her sister’s shoulders and trying to catch her breath. “The men returned… this morning… oh Tovah…. they were ambushed… in the gate.”

“Gibbor!?”

The pain in Shifhah’s eyes was all too clear. “He is dead my sister, along with my husband and all the men. Their bodies are hanging on the city wall.”

Falling to her knees, Tovah tore her robe and wailed. Her soul was a fountain of agony bursting forth in wretched sobs as she rocked back and forth. Shifhah took her in her arms, holding her head against her chest. Only for a moment, then she spoke urgently into her ear.

“Tovah, you must flee. You must run away from here, Tovah, there is nothing left for you. Go far away and live and carry the memory of our family with you.”

Tovah looked in Shifhah’s eyes. “What did I do wrong? What did I do to displease him? Why is he letting this happen to us?”

“Who knows, Tovah? He is a God. They do not really care for us you know.”

“No but I must have done something. I must have dishonored him. Oh, if only I had known. I would have done anything to appease him. If only I had died and he had lived!” Fresh sobs burst forth and she buried her face in the ground.

“Tovah, it’s no use. Let me have this one comfort, to know that you are alive and safely away from here. I must go back now. Do not delay, my sister, once I am gone. You must flee tonight.”

~

Tovah could not flee that night. She had to see for herself. Silently in the dark, she crept up to the wall. There he hung, his hands suspended, his head limp on his chest. Such a fine, handsome son. Tovah gazed and drank her pain in deep draughts. For hours she stood, looking silently, unable to break her eyes from the horrible corpse, unwilling to leave the child of her womb.

Only when the eastern sky paled did she come to herself. Then panic seized her, and she fled into the woods, running as the antelope before the wolves.

~

When Tovah could run no further, she collapsed and slept where she was. Waking again, she continued her way, neither knowing nor caring where her feet took her. After three days she came out of the forest into a land of grassy rolling hills. For three more days she journeyed, sleeping when too tired to walk, rising and moving when too cold to lie still.

On the third day her drooping eyes failed to notice the gathering clouds before the first drops smote her face. Looking quickly up and clutching her torn robe to her chest she peered anxiously around for any kind of shelter. The empty hills offered her nothing, not so much as a gorse bush. And now the rain poured down in earnest, soaking and chilling her to the marrow of her bones. Grey walls of water closed in around her, and finally giving up the fight, Tovah curled up on the ground and waited for death.

It was the bleating of sheep that woke her. She opened her eyes to find herself wrapped in blankets on the floor of a large tent. How gloriously warm she felt. And how hungry! After a few minutes, a grey-haired woman ducked through the opening in the tent.

“So you’re awake then. Quite some nap you took there.”

The woman handed her a bowl, and Tovah gratefully drank. Immediately she pulled a face.

“Not used to goat’s milk I see,” the woman laughed. “Never mind, it’s good for you. Drink all that up now and I’ll get you some bread.”

Tovah was too desperate for nourishment to object. In a moment the bowl was empty, and the woman was back with a small brown loaf. She was followed a minute later by a man with a grey beard and a weathered face.

“Look who’s awake,” he said with a light laugh. “Go ahead and eat, we’ll get your story later. In the meantime, I’m Mahalel and this is my wife Milcah, and we’re honored to have you as our guest. My grandson Enoch found you while he was pasturing the flock. In a right state you were, and I had my doubts about your pulling through. But here you are and with an appetite to boot.”

He smiled at her in a grandfatherly way, and Tovah, hardly able to bear the kindness of these strangers, burst into tears.

“Hush child,” said Mahalel gently placing his hand on her shoulder. “It’ll be all right there.”

Catching her breath, Tovah spoke in a small voice, “May you be blessed by all the Gods, my lord. You have surely saved my life, and I will be your slave forever if you will take me in.”

“Are you all alone then?”

“I have no one. No family. No people.”

Mahalel looked at her thoughtfully a moment. “You’d better not get up today. Get your strength back, and tomorrow if you’re able, Milcah will tell you what you can do.”

~

The next morning Tovah sought out Milcah and found her with her hands in a kneading bowl.

“Come here, Tovah, you can knead this dough, and I’ll see to the fire. After that I’ll show you how to milk the goats.” Looking at her, she frowned and added, “And we’d better see about repairing that robe of yours too. I can see by your hands that you’ve not worked much, but you’ll soon get used to it here.”

It was indeed long weary days, aching muscles, and blistered fingers, but each evening she received her food gratefully and lay down contentedly. Mahalel, Milcah, and their children worked as hard as any of the slaves, shepherding their sheep and goats, and roaming from place to place in search of pasture. Tovah’s heart was still heavy with all that she had lost, but day by day she began to feel at home among the B’ney-Seth (as they called themselves), and slowly she started to think there may be a kind of happiness for her yet.

~

She still dreamed frequently of Malakh. Sometimes he comforted her and brought her son back alive. Other times he was angry and punished her cruelly. The bright blue head and the huge yellow eyes hovered over her and his hiss was all around her. Tovah jerked awake, and there he was, exactly as she had seen him in her dream.

“What do you want?” she gasped. In waking reality his presence brought no comfort.

His voice filled her head, “I’m here for what’s mine. You belong to me, little priestess.”

“You abandoned us. You let our son die.”

“Silence! I am your God, I do not answer to you.” The serpent rippled into human form and he spoke out loud, “You can never escape me.”

Tovah opened her mouth to cry out, but he smothered her with his hand and whispered viciously, “None of that, now. I wouldn’t want to have to kill your new family.”

Tovah sobbed in her throat, eyes wide in fear.

~

From then on, he was there every time she closed her eyes. No rest did she get at night, anxiety clung to her by day, and under constant strain, Tovah began to unravel. Milcah reproached her more than once for inattention to her work, but Mahalel regarded her with thoughtful concern.

“Tovah, my daughter, come here.”

She stood before him with her eyes down.

“You have heard that tomorrow is our sacrifice to El-Elyon?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Tonight you will hear the tale of El-Elyon, for we always tell it on the eve of the sacrifice. And tomorrow, if you wish, you may be sanctified.”

“Sanctified?”

“I see that you suffer, daughter. Something from past days lies heavy upon you. You need healing beyond the art of men, but El-Elyon will save you if you cry out to him.”

Tovah recoiled, “Oh no, my master! I don’t want that at all.”

Mahalel peered into her face and nodded, then, placing his hand on her shoulder, “As you wish. But tonight you will hear his tale.”

~

The fire rose high in the midst of the family as Mahalel rose to speak, “In the beginning, El-Elyon created the heavens and the earth.

“He made the sun and the moon, the stars, the hills and the trees, the fish, the birds, and the beasts of the field. Last of all he made the man and the woman. El-Elyon put our parents in a garden and commanded them to keep it for him. To them was given the fruit from every tree of the garden, except for the one in the center, the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. This only was forbidden them. There they were, happy in the presence of El-Elyon. But one day a serpent came into the garden and tempted them, and they ate of the fruit that had been forbidden them.”

At the word ‘serpent’, Tovah started and her heart beat faster.

“In wrath, El-Elyon cast our parents out from the garden and subjected them and all their children to a life of toil and pain. As for the serpent, El-Elyon cursed it and declared that one day its head would be crushed by the son of the woman, though his blood also would be shed. Our first parents had many sons and daughters, and these also had sons and daughters, and the land is now full of many people. But most of these have turned away from El-Elyon and forgotten him. They bow before statues of gold and silver and stone and offer sacrifices to evil spirits. In this house however, we serve El-Elyon and look for the fulfilling of his promise.”

“Please,” said Tovah when the story was finished. “What does El-Elyon look like? You have no images of him here.”

“El-Elyon cannot be seen. He is God, and it is forbidden to make images of him.”

“He is a God then, like Malakh?”

“No daughter, he is the God and there is no one like him. We did betray him in the garden, but he has never abandoned us.”

~

Tovah did not sleep that night. She sat and turned over memories and wrestled in her soul. Early in the morning, she left the tent and found Mahalel alone, standing by the altar he had made, a lamb held in his arms.

“Just one animal for the sacrifice, my lord? A lamb?”

“One lamb,” he replied smiling. “And now Tovah, do you choose to be one of the B’ney-Seth and to belong to El-Elyon?”

“Yes, my lord. I would be sanctified for El-Elyon.”

~

The morning was grey, the grass damp with dew as the family gathered around the altar. Tovah stood in the center with Mahalel and the lamb. He prayed, his eyes lifted to heaven, and then he spoke to Tovah.

“Do you choose to serve El-Elyon, and him only, all the days of your life?”

Tovah nodded, trembling.

“You must also renounce the ways of the B’ney-Caïn: idolatry, murder, theft, and sexual immorality.”

Tovah’s cheeks flushed slightly and she nodded again.

“Place your hand on the lamb’s head.” Mahalel sliced firmly with the knife and the red blood poured from the lamb’s throat at their feet. He dipped his finger and annointed Tovah’s forehead and hands with the blood. Then she joined the others while he lit the fire and placed the whole body of the lamb on the altar.

“We’re not going to eat it?” Tovah whispered to Milcah.

“We do not eat flesh. The sacrificial animal is only for El-Elyon.”

After that, they sang songs and danced, holding hands in a ring around the altar. Then there was the feast, and they broke their bread together with warm conversation and bright laughter. Everyone smiled at Tovah, and she felt herself wrapped in a kind of happiness she had never known before.

~

The sky was full of stars and Tovah stood alone by the altar, gazing at the ashes of the lamb. A chill wind made her pull her robe close and, looking up, she quailed at the sight of the blue serpent on the other side of the altar.

“What have you done?” he spat. “Didn’t I tell you you could never be free?”

Tovah shook her head desperately. Clenching her eyes shut and grasping the stones of the altar, she pleaded in a whisper, “El-Elyon, save me! If I am yours, have pity on me and save me!”

The head of Malakh rose up over the altar, and Tovah cowered behind it. Suddenly the ground at her face shone with a clear white light. She peeked up to see the back of a shining figure standing on the altar. Malakh hissed in anger and – could it be – fear? There was a terrific crash like bronze cymbals, and Tovah hid her face again. Silence followed, and she became aware that the light was fading. She looked up and saw the shining figure rising up out of sight into the star-filled sky. There was no sign of Malakh, and Tovah knew she would never be troubled by him again. Still peering upward, she remembered how Mahalel had said that El-Elyon had created the stars. Was it one of them that he had sent to leave off its course through the heavens to come down to her rescue?

Still weak, but filled with indescribable peace, Tovah knelt down and bowed before the altar. In tearful whispers she poured out her heart to El-Elyon, her gratitude for his salvation, her sorrow for her past life, her happiness with the B’ney-Seth, her resolution to devote herself to El-Elyon all her remaining days. Finally, she felt that there was nothing left to say, she had laid all her burdens down, and her heart was light. And only then did she notice how very tired her body was. Slipping silently into the tent, she lay down in her place and instantly fell asleep, her face an image of perfect peace and contentment.

~ ~ ~