As she walked they chafed.
They took weight and crushed her breast. And with every sound from
them, she felt Kenkenes' arm about her, her hand lost in his, the
warmth of his young cheek against hers. Never so long as his gift were
in her possession might she hope to put these memories from her, and
she could not cherish them hopefully now. Desperate grief stirred her
into action. She went quickly to the door of the tent and there met
Deborah.
"This is not mine," she said, holding up the necklace. "It belongs to
the young nobleman who brought me back to camp that night."
"Leave it with the tribe and it shall be given him."
"Nay, he may not return to camp. I know where he comes and I can leave
it there. It is not far--only a little way."
Deborah stood in her path.
"Will he be there?" she demanded.
"Nay, that I can pledge thee." She slipped past her guardian, out of
the tent and sped up the valley, determined that Deborah's prohibition,
however just, should not stay her.
The old Israelite turned to look after her, and her eyes fell on Atsu,
his face black with rage, his arms folded, talking with a fat, wildly
gesticulating servitor. At that moment the courier caught sight of
Rachel flying up the valley and, flinging a document at Atsu's feet,
started to pursue.
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