The Serpent and the Staff

Barbara Wood

Description

Holiday season campaign for all Barbara Wood Collection books, now available in paperback
Christmas season promotions with backlist and frontlist tie-ins
Social network promotions
Internet/blog campaign
Reader’s Guide at www.turnerpublishing.com
www.barbarawood.com

NOW AVAILABLE IN PAPERBACK
Set in the tumultuous era when Egypt is on the brink of becoming the dominant world power, The Serpent and the Staff tells the powerful story of a Canaanite family's struggle for survival in a climate of violent change, when cherished beliefs and traditions are threatened.

Ugarit, Syria, 1450 B.C.E. Eighteen-year-old Leah, the eldest daughter of a wealthy winemaker, is past the traditional age of betrothal. Vowed to wed the wealthy but cruel shipbuilder Jotham, Leah declines his offer of marriage after discovering that he and his family suffer from “the falling sickness.” Enraged by her refusal and his ruined reputation, he blackmails Leah’s father, a punishment forgiven only by offering Leah’s hand in marriage. With no more options for another suitor and no male heir for her family, Leah must seek out the cure for Jotham’s sickness or her family will face permanent ruin.

During her quest Leah begins to burn with desire for Daveed, the handsome household scribe whose culture forbids their union. Daveed has been called by the gods to restore the Brotherhood, an elite fraternity of guardians at the great Library of Ugarit, rumored to contain the secret symbol of immortality within its ancient archives. If his plan succeeds, it may also save Leah’s family from disaster. But even Daveed and Leah cannot fathom the extent of Jotham’s sinister schemes to make Leah his bride once and for all.

With rich historical detail, The Serpent and the Staff is a sweeping tale of love, betrayal, and how one family's faith can overcome the obstacles that life has in store for them.

I remember two things about the night Jericho fell.
I remember that I was sixteen years old, and that I was in love.
Thoughts of war were the furthest from my young mind as I tossed and turned in my bed, hearing the sounds of the city beyond my balcony—Jericho on the Jordan River never slept—because I could not put Benjamin’s handsome face from my mind.
I heard distant thunder that night. A spring storm rolling in from the Great Sea, I thought. Black clouds tumbling over the coastal towns, over Jerusalem, soon to quench Jericho’s thirst. Thank the Highest One, I silently prayed. My father’s date groves needed the rain.
He was at that moment in the Temple, offering a fat spring lamb and asking the Most High for relief from the drought. His brother, my uncle, and a physician in high standing, was in the poor quarter where the drought-fever had struck the hardest. He was a familiar sight among the poor, who called him “beloved healer.”
But my thoughts, on that fateful spring night, could not remain on the charitable deeds of pious men. Benjamin came into my vision as I closed my eyes and treated myself to his smile, his laugh, his broad shoulders, the way he walked. I was a girl dreaming of marriage. Benjamin was the son of a wealthy family who monopolized Jericho’s rich textile trade. His father was close friends with the King.
We were betrothed.
That evening, Papa had kissed me good night, promising to speak to Benjamin’s father on the matter of the wedding date. It was to be a summer wedding, for there is no luckier time to wed. My life was perfect. My father was one of Jericho’s wealthiest citizens, and my mother the descendant of a king of Syria in the North. We lived in a palatial house with marble pillars within the high walls of a fortified town. Jericho was the safest city in the world, and our house—which was elegant and second only to the King’s palace—stood in the protective shadow of Jericho’s formidable southwest tower from which soldiers had defended the city through the centuries. We had servants and fine furniture, my sisters and I dressed in gowns of the softest wool. We wore gold. We ate off silver plates. And so I saw before me, like a feast laid out on a table, a life of abundance and joy and possibilities.
No girl in the world was happier than I.
The thunder drew nearer, that night, rolling over the western hills. And when I heard shouts and screams in the streets beyond my balcony, I wondered why someone would be afraid of a spring rain.
And then I heard a cry downstairs. A crash. Feet stamping across the polished limestone floor. I flew from my bed to the inner balcony that ran around the inside of the second story of our house. I looked down at the main hall below, where we received guests and held fabulous banquets. My eyes widened in shock as I saw soldiers rudely striding in. They were not wearing the green tunics of Canaanite troops but white kilts, leather breastplates, and close-fitting helmets. From their speech, as they shouted orders at the panicked servants, I realized they were Egyptian.
I realized, too, that the thunder I had heard was not the sound of rain coming to Jericho but the rumble of war chariots racing across the plains surrounding the city.

Sujets

• Historical
• Barbara Wood
• Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: Turner Publishing Company
• Date de parution: 12 novembre 2013
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781620454633
• Langue: English

Extrait

PRAISE for BARBARA WOOD

"Wood crafts vivid sketches of women who triumph over destiny."
- Publishers Weekly

"Entertainment fiction at its best."
- Booklist

"Absolutely splendid."
-Cynthia Freeman, New York Times bestselling author of
A World Full of Strangers and Come Pour the Wine

"Wood creates genuine, engaging characters whose stories are fascinating."
- Library Journal

"A master storyteller."
- Tulsa World

"[Wood] never fails to leave the reader enthralled."
-Elizabeth Forsythe Hailey, author of A Woman of Independent Means
THE SERPENT ANDTHE STAFF -->
THE SERPENT AND THE STAFF
Barbara Wood
TURNER -->
Turner Publishing Company
424 Church Street Suite 2240
Nashville, Tennessee 37219
445 Park Avenue 9th Floor
New York, NY 10022
www.turnerpublishing.com
The Serpent and the Staff
Copyright 2013 Barbara Wood. All rights reserved.
This book or any part thereof may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
The Serpent and the Staff is a work of historical fiction. Although some events and people in this book are based on historical fact, others are the products of the author's imagination.
Cover by Gina Binkley Jacket design by Mike Penticost Cover photo by Getty Images Author photo by Gabriel Acosta Interior design by Glen Edelstein
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Wood, Barbara, 1947- The Serpent and the Staff / Barbara Wood. pages cm ISBN 978-1-62045-461-9 (hardcover) 1. Forced marriage--Fiction. 2. Extortion--Fiction. 3. Betrayal--Fiction. 4. Syria--Ugarit--Fiction. I. Title. PS3573.O5877S47 2013 813'.54--dc23
2013024463
Printed in the United States of America 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20-0 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
To my husband Walt, with love.
OTHER BOOKS by BARBARA WOOD
The Divining
Virgins of Paradise
The Dreaming
Green City in the Sun
This Golden Land
Soul Flame
Vital Signs
Domina
The Watch Gods
Childsong
Night Trains
Yesterday's Child
Curse This House
Hounds and Jackals
BOOKS by KATHRYN HARVEY
Butterfly
Stars
Private Entrance
THE SERPENT ANDTHE STAFF -->
I remember two things about the night Jericho fell.
I remember that I was sixteen years old, and that I was in love.
Thoughts of war were the furthest from my young mind as I tossed and turned in my bed, hearing the sounds of the city beyond my balcony-Jericho on the Jordan River never slept-because I could not put Benjamin's handsome face from my mind.
I heard distant thunder that night. A spring storm rolling in from the Great Sea, I thought. Black clouds tumbling over the coastal towns, over Jerusalem, soon to quench Jericho's thirst. Thank the Highest One, I silently prayed. My father's date groves needed the rain.
He was at that moment in the Temple, offering a fat spring lamb and asking the Most High for relief from the drought. His brother, my uncle, and a physician in high standing, was in the poor quarter where the drought-fever had struck the hardest. He was a familiar sight among the poor, who called him "beloved healer."
But my thoughts, on that fateful spring night, could not remain on the charitable deeds of pious men. Benjamin came into my vision as I closed my eyes and treated myself to his smile, his laugh, his broad shoulders, the way he walked. I was a girl dreaming of marriage. Benjamin was the son of a wealthy family who monopolized Jericho's rich textile trade. His father was close friends with the King.
We were betrothed.
That evening, Papa had kissed me good night, promising to speak to Benjamin's father on the matter of the wedding date. It was to be a summer wedding, for there is no luckier time to wed. My life was perfect. My father was one of Jericho's wealthiest citizens, and my mother the descendant of a king of Syria in the North. We lived in a palatial house with marble pillars within the high walls of a fortified town. Jericho was the safest city in the world, and our house-which was elegant and second only to the King's palace-stood in the protective shadow of Jericho's formidable southwest tower from which soldiers had defended the city through the centuries. We had servants and fine furniture, my sisters and I dressed in gowns of the softest wool. We wore gold. We ate off silver plates. And so I saw before me, like a feast laid out on a table, a life of abundance and joy and possibilities.
No girl in the world was happier than I.
The thunder drew nearer, that night, rolling over the western hills. And when I heard shouts and screams in the streets beyond my balcony, I wondered why someone would be afraid of a spring rain.
And then I heard a cry downstairs. A crash. Feet stamping across the polished limestone floor. I flew from my bed to the inner balcony that ran around the inside of the second story of our house. I looked down at the main hall below, where we received guests and held fabulous banquets. My eyes widened in shock as I saw soldiers rudely striding in. They were not wearing the green tunics of Canaanite troops but white kilts, leather breastplates, and close-fitting helmets. From their speech, as they shouted orders at the panicked servants, I realized they were Egyptian.
I realized, too, that the thunder I had heard was not the sound of rain coming to Jericho but the rumble of war chariots racing across the plains surrounding the city.
I stood frozen as I watched a soldier seize one of our female servants by the hair and drag her along the floor as she kicked and screamed. A nursemaid appeared below, carrying a baby. My youngest sister, who had yet to be named. A soldier plucked the infant from her arms, grasping its little feet in one mighty hand to swing it against the wall. I saw the soft skull split open. Brains and blood flew out.
When I heard footsteps behind me, I whipped around. It was Aunt Rakel, holding a lamp. Her sandals whispered across the marble floor. Her white robes floated around her like a cloud. Her face was pale.
"Quickly, Avigail," she said. "Get dressed. We must seek safety."
I dressed hastily, and we left the upper floor by a back stairway. I found the rest of my family gathered at the door to a secret passage. My mother had her arms around my two younger sisters. Her eyes filled with fright. This alarmed me. My mother was a beauty and of royal blood. Everyone marveled at her poise, her elegance. But in that moment she was an image of panic.
We trembled and shook as we heard screams fill our house, the sound of things being smashed, men shouting in Egyptian. Surely I was dreaming. It was a nightmare from which I would soon waken. The King had assured us of peace between Jericho and Egypt. A treaty had been signed.
The house steward appeared, his long black robe disheveled, the red sash hanging loosely. His name was Avraham and he had been with our family for two generations. "The house is not safe, my lady," he said to my mother. "The Egyptians are invading all homes. We are safer outside the walls. I will take you to the hills."
"But my husband-"
"Quickly, my lady."
Aunt Rakel took me by the arm. "Come, Avigail, we must save ourselves."
Her face was white. Fear burned in her eyes. Her husband-my uncle-was in the poor quarter. My father was at the Temple. Would the Most High protect them?
We followed Avraham through a narrow passage that had been built into the walls long ago as a means of retreat because Jericho had been raided many times in its long history. We ran in fear, our hearts pounding, our ears filled with the cries of our servants.
We came out into a night of chaos and mayhem. People were running in the streets. Foreign soldiers galloped after them on horseback. We huddled together as we waited for Avraham to find a way to get us to the fields beyond. The city gates were open, and there we saw a horrific sight . . . blazing torches, soldiers in hand-to-hand combat, generals in gilded chariots, unearthly screams, and blood, so much blood . . .
We ran.
The citizens of Jericho were fleeing every which way, down the roads, across fields of spring crops, carrying children and possessions, some half-dressed, while Egyptian soldiers gave chase with swords and spears.
As our group ran across an onion field, the glow from the full moon lighting our way, an Egyptian cavalryman on a mighty horse came from nowhere, galloping toward us. I veered away, just escaping the thundering hooves. My mother darted the other way, safe from the hooves, but the soldier's sword came down in a horrifying arc. The blade sliced through my mother's neck as cleanly as a scythe slicing a sheaf of wheat. I saw her head fly into the air, a look of astonishment on her face. The warhorse galloped past and I watched my mother's white-robed body go down like a toppled statue.
I stopped. My mouth dropped open. I could not, in that moment, understand what I was seeing, what had happened. I looked around for her head. Why I did this I do not know. But in that moment it seemed important that I find it.
All I remember after that is being swept up into strong arms and then blackness enveloped me.
When I regained consciousness I was among a group of refugees in the hills west of Jericho. It was still dark out. A large number had fled to the safety of caves and thickly wooded groves, there to hold onto one another and watch in horror as Jericho fell to Pharaoh's mighty forces.
Out of the darkness a tall, lean figure appeared. Praise the Most High, it was Rakel's son, my cousin Yacov. I learned that it was he who had carried me to the hills, and then he had made his way back to the city, to learn what was happening. "Say a prayer," Yacov said. "The men are dead. They were rounded up and taken to the Temple of the Moon and slain. I saw this with my own eyes."
"Papa?" I said.
Yacov's eyes