Exodus - Leon Uris [152]
The Arab boys who had been waiting quickly made a deal with the miller to steal all Ari’s wheat and sell it to him. The boys scampered out of Aata by a short cut and set up an ambush and road block.
In a few moments Ari rode along the road right into the trap. They sprang out from cover, hurling stones at him. Ari whipped the donkey but moved only a few feet before the road block stopped him. He was stoned from the cart and knocked half senseless to the ground. Four of the attackers pounced on him and pinned him down while the others pulled the grain from the cart and made off with it.
The boy returned to Yad El late that night.
Sarah opened the door, took one look at his blood-streaked face and torn clothing, and screamed. He stood there wordless for a moment, then clenched his teeth and pushed past his mother and went into his room and locked the door.
He refused to open it despite her pleas until Barak returned home later from a moshav meeting.
He stood before his father. “I let you down ... I lost the wheat,” he said through puffed and distorted lips.
“It is I who have let you down, son,” Barak said.
Sarah rushed over to Ari and threw her arms around him. “Never, never, never send this boy out alone ...” She led him off to clean him up. Barak did not answer.
The next morning after breakfast, before Barak headed for the fields, he took Ari by the hand and led him out to the barn. “I have neglected some of your education,” Barak said, and pulled down his old bull whip from a peg.
Barak built a dummy and nailed it to the fence. He showed Ari how to judge distance, aim, and swing. With the sound of the first crack Sarah came running from the house with Jordana in her arms.
“Have you gone mad teaching a boy like that to use a bull whip?”
“Shut up, woman!” Barak roared in a tone she had never heard in over twenty years of marriage. “The son of Barak Ben Canaan is a free man! He shall never be a ghetto Jew. Now get out of here ... we have business.”
From morning to night Ari practiced using the bull whip. He cut the dummy to shreds. He aimed at rocks and tins and bottles until he could whirl around and split them with a flick of the wrist. He threw the whip so often that by the end of each day he could barely lift his arm.
At the end of two weeks, Barak loaded up the donkey cart with another dozen bags of grain. He put his arm around his son’s shoulder and led him to the cart and handed him the bull whip. “Take the grain to Aata and have it milled.”
“Yes, Father,” Ari said softly.
“Remember one thing, son. You hold in your hand a weapon of justice. Never use it in anger or revenge. Only in defense.”
Ari jumped onto the cart and started for the gate of Yad El toward the main road. Sarah went into her bedroom and wept softly as she watched her son disappear down the road.
Barak did something he had not done for many, many years. He sat down and read the Bible.
The Arab ambush struck again when Ari was a mile outside Aata on his way back to Yad El. This time Ari’s eyes were sharp and his body alerted for danger. Remembering his father’s words, he remained cold, calm. As the first rocks flew at him he leaped from the cart, spotted the Arab leader, and with a lightning flick sent the mighty bull whip whistling through the air and wrapped it around the boy’s neck and flung him to the ground. Then Ari unwrapped the whip and brought down a lash that snapped so sharply it tore his foe’s flesh apart. It was all over that quickly.
Barak Ben Canaan’s face paled as the sun began to set and Ari had still not come back. He stood trembling by the gate of Yad El. Then he saw the donkey cart coming down the road and his face broke into a large smile. Ari stopped