“Eliyahu, if it is my time, then it will come whether or not I am building a wall. The angel of death has his own calendar"
After cantering across flat ground for much of the afternoon, the horses have slowed to a trot, and the rhythm — da-dum, da-dum, da-dum — is helping Eliyahu make sense of his thoughts.
He tugs on the left rein and brings his gray piebald closer to Yannai’s stead. He catches the older man’s eyes, lowers his voice, and says, “We still do not know what we will do when we arrive.”
“True.” Yannai seems unconcerned.
Eliyahu bites his lip. “I…”
Yannai gives a nod. “You are filled with a sense of disquiet. You are not the only one, my friend. And it is not only because of the armed guard.”
Three men Leonora has sent, and the men do not know whether they are being protected or intimidated. The guards each wear long swords that bang against their small, round iron shields, making more noise than the horses’ canter.
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