The Woman from Lydia by Angela Hunt EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Angela Hunt
- Language: English
- Genre: Historical Fiction
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
APRIL AD 51
I stood in the river shallows, my smile tightening as Syntyche’s little
daughter splashed in the rippling water. “Adonai gave—” I whispered,
pushing past the lump in my throat—“and Adonai has taken away, blessed
be the Name of Adonai.”
I looked away and bent to pick up a gray shape on the sand. Another
snail of the right shape and size.
“I found another one!” A woman emerged from the middle of the river,
her hair wet and her smile exultant. She waved a gray shell. “I thought I had
found every snail in this spot, but the little beasts are good at hiding.”
“You are blessed to be such a good diver,” I called. “Not everyone can
swim so well.”
Behind me, an older woman complained, “My toes are as wrinkled as my
face.”
“I cannot feel my feet,” another worker called, flashing a wide grin. “But
I have nearly filled my basket. My children will eat well tonight!”
Syntyche watched us from the shore. “Fill your basket completely and
your husband will eat well tonight, too,” she yelled, her voice reaching even
the edge of our group. “Be sure to stop by the chicken keeper’s booth at the
market. My neighbor is selling a group of fat hens.”
Syntyche’s comment was unusually encouraging for a woman with a
generally dour temperament, but she was doing exactly what I had hired her
to do. Pleased with her efforts, I continued searching the shallows.
The valuable snails blended easily into the sand, but experience had
taught me to spot them even when hidden among the rocks. I squinted yet
found it difficult to focus with Syntyche’s little daughter scampering at the
river’s edge. How could I spot anything through a veil of tears?
I blinked the wetness away and lifted my head. The sun hovered just
above a bank of approaching clouds, so only two or three hours of daylight
remained.
“Ladies!” I lifted my voice. “We have gathered enough for today. Now
let us count the result of our efforts.”
“And do not forget,” Syntyche shouted, “tomorrow you will receive a
bonus if you bring another woman to join us.”
The women waded toward shore, the younger ones playfully splashing
their friends. Syntyche moved behind the table and pulled the purse from
her tunic, preparing to count the snails in each woman’s basket.
I remained in the water, my eyes fixed on the sky. Behind me, Syntyche’s
daughter began to count the incoming waves of high tide, her childish treble
rising above the softer chorus of women’s voices. “One, two, three . . .”
“‘You have changed my lament into dancing,’” I whispered, closing my
eyes. “‘You undid my sackcloth and girded me with gladness. You
redeemed my soul from the battles that were upon me, for the sake of the
multitudes who were with me . . .’”
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