Faith of My Fathers (33 page)
“Good. I’m going to have my brother send a caravan of goods to Jerusalem during Passover. It will leave here empty on the final evening and meet up with the sons of Kohath in the valley. His caravan will escort the Kohathites and the treasure out of Judah during the night. The next morning, after the final convocation, you and your families will follow.
“I’ll need a few volunteers to remain behind to perform your usual duties at the Temple. Manasseh will know you’ve all fled as soon as you fail to conduct the sacrifices. But if the evening sacrifice proceeds as usual, you won’t be missed until the following morning. That will give your families extra time to escape.” Joshua saw several priests and Levites, including Asher, raise their hands to indicate that they were willing to stay behind.
“Good. One last thing. After that last evening sacrifice, one of you will draw Prince Amariah aside into the Temple side chambers where I’ll be hiding. We’re going to smuggle him out in the last ash cart and take him with us to Egypt.”
“Does the prince want to escape?” Asher asked.
“It doesn’t matter if he wants to or not. The line of David must continue, in exile.”
The elderly chief priest stopped praying and stared at Joshua. “That’s going too far. We won’t have any part in kidnapping Prince Amariah. He’s Manasseh’s secretary of state. You said nothing about him when we sought Yahweh’s will with Urim and Thummim.”
“He’s right,” Rabbi Gershom’s son added. “As Levites, we have a sacred duty to preserve the ark and the other holy things, but we have no right to kidnap—”
Suddenly Manasseh’s guards flung open the meeting room doors and flooded into the room. When Joshua saw the angry look on the captain’s face, he inched backward to try to blend in with the other Levites.
“King Manasseh sends no regrets at the death of your Rabbi Gershom,” the captain said. “The king called his former teacher a bully and a tyrant who tried to brainwash him with guilt and lies. This meeting is over!”
“I
NNKEEPER
! T
HIS WINE TASTES
like camel water!” The Moabite pounded his fist on the table. “If you can’t serve us something better than this, we’ll have to look for another inn.”
Hadad laughed along with the two other Moabites seated at his table, but it was a bluff. He liked this dingy inn. It had become his second home. He felt comfortable seated at his usual table in the darkest corner. But he wasn’t so sure, at times, if he felt comfortable with his three Moabite friends.
It was early evening, and Hadad was still sober enough to wonder if they were using him. Ever since they’d sat down beside him three weeks earlier, he seemed to be paying for more than his share of the drinks. His drunken blackouts were becoming longer and more frequent, yet the three Moabites always appeared by his side no matter where, or when, he awoke. Hadad didn’t quite trust them, and in his sober moments he suspected that if they ever learned where he hid his grandfather’s gold, they would disappear with it.
The innkeeper hurried over to Hadad’s table with a new skin of wine and refilled all their glasses. The Moabite who had complained took a drink, then smacked his lips. “Ah, much better. A toast, then, to our brother Hadad.” His smile was broad and warm as he thumped Hadad on the back.
Hadad swallowed half of his drink in one gulp. As the wine’s numbing warmth spread through him, he chided himself for being so suspicious. These were his friends, his dearest companions. They helped fill the aching loneliness in his life since his grandfather’s death. They had been kind to befriend a stranger in a foreign city, so far from home.
Home
.
Tears filled Hadad’s eyes when he thought of Jerusalem. He still missed that golden city, and his privileged life in the king’s palace. He finished his wine in another gulp and stared into the empty cup.
“Hello, Hadad.”
It took him a minute to recognize the bearded stranger standing beside his table. “Jerimoth! Great to see you again. Hey, whatever happened to your crazy brother, Joshua?”
Jerimoth’s somber expression didn’t change. “That’s why I’m here.
May I have a word with you, please?”
One of Hadad’s companions grabbed a nearby stool and dragged it over for Jerimoth. “Here, have a seat. Any friend of Hadad’s is also our friend. Innkeeper, another glass over here.”
Jerimoth didn’t sit. “I don’t want any wine,” he said. “Please, I need to speak with Hadad alone.”
The Moabite kicked Jerimoth’s stool, sending it spinning across the room. “What’s the matter, Jew? Think you’re too good for our company? Tell him to be on his way, Hadad.”
Hadad felt a tremor of fear when he saw the angry looks on his friends’ faces. He knew that the little merchant would never survive a brawl with the three drunken, street-tough Moabites. Hadad smiled nervously and raised his empty glass. “The next round of drinks is on me, my friends. Please, give us five minutes alone, all right?”
The air was tense as the Moabites took their time draining their cups and rising from their places. Jerimoth waited to sit down until the men crossed the room to join the revelers at another table.
“You’ll have to excuse my friends,” Hadad said. “They’re a little drunk.”
“What about you, Hadad? Are you drunk?”
He shrugged. “Does it matter?”
“Yes. My brother’s life might depend on it.” Jerimoth’s face was so somber, his gaze so intense, that Hadad’s head cleared all at once. He pushed his empty cup aside and leaned closer to Jerimoth, resting his arms on the table.
“What happened?”
Jerimoth exhaled. “A while ago I received a letter from Joshua saying that his fiance
e was married to someone else.”
“I’m sorry. That’s a tough break.”
“Yes, Joshua took the news very hard. He decided to stay with the caravan instead of coming back to Moab. That was the last I heard from him—until yesterday. He’s back in Jerusalem. He needs our help.”
“
Our
help?”
Jerimoth nodded. “His letter was very vague—he was obviously worried that it would fall into the wrong hands—but the gist of it is that I’m supposed to send a caravan of goods to Jerusalem, arriving just before Passover week ends. I’m not to come with it.”
“That’s all?”
“He said that the caravan should include a pair of oxen and a cart, and litters, carried on poles by porters. And he asked me to give this to you—but only if you were sober.” He pulled a folded square of parchment from his cloak but held the sealed message close to his chest as if debating whether or not to hand it over.
“I’ve had a few drinks, Jerimoth, but I’m not drunk. I admire your brother’s guts for going back there. I won’t betray him.”
Jerimoth nodded and slid the message across the table. Hadad picked off the lump of sealing clay and unfolded the letter.
Hadad—
For the sake of your grandfather’s honor and good name, it’s time
to repay the debt you owe. My brother’s caravan can deliver it to
Jerusalem
.
He read it through three times before handing it back to Jerimoth.
“He needs money?” Jerimoth asked after reading it.
“It’s not about money,” Hadad said. “The only debt I owe in Jerusalem is my life. Prince Amariah warned my grandfather and me to escape. Now I think Joshua wants me to help Amariah escape.”
“That must be why he wants the caravan. But why the porters and litters?”
“I have no idea.”
Jerimoth groaned and shook his head. “I never should have let him go back there. He’s going to get himself killed.” He sat with his head in his hands for several moments, staring at the tabletop, then he looked up again. “Are you going to help him, Hadad?”
“I don’t know.”
For the sake of your grandfather’s honor and good name . . .
Hadad knew that he should help Joshua. But he was safe here in Moab. Why risk his life? He glanced over at his Moabite friends and suddenly saw them for the crude, worthless drunkards that they were.
And he was no better.
Jerimoth’s stool scraped on the stone floor as he stood. “You don’t need to decide tonight, Hadad. I won’t leave for Jerusalem until next week.”
“You’re going? But I thought Joshua said you weren’t to come?”
“I know what he said, but I’m going just the same. Let me know when you make up your mind.”
Miriam sat at the table with the others as they finished their evening meal, wondering why the atmosphere seemed so tense and strained tonight. Was it because Jerimoth was going away with one of his caravans tomorrow morning? Was he worried about leaving his wife, now that she was pregnant again? Jerimoth hadn’t been his usual jovial self for days, and whenever he held Mattan or little Rachel on his lap he seemed to pull them a little closer to his heart. Jerusha was unusually quiet, as well. Miriam wondered if it was because her younger son had never returned from his caravan journey, and now her older son was leaving her, too.
When a knock on the front door echoed through the house, Miriam jumped to her feet. “I’ll see who it is.”
She didn’t recognize Hadad at first. Not only was he clear-eyed and sober, but he had grown a beard and mustache. “Hello, Miriam. Is Jerimoth home?”
“Yes. Come in.” She led him inside, surprised that he remembered her name.
The conversation halted when everyone saw Hadad. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your dinner.”
Jerimoth appeared shaken. “No, no, we were just finishing.Won’t you join us?” He stood and motioned to Joshua’s empty place.
Hadad shuffled his feet. “I’ve already eaten.”
Miriam watched them carefully, sensing something wrong in their awkwardness, then she saw a look of understanding pass wordlessly between them.
Joshua
.
He was the only tie connecting Hadad and Jerimoth. Miriam’s heart began to race. Hadad must have news that he didn’t want to share in front of the others. She knelt beside the mat they used as a table and began gathering the dinner plates.
“If you’re sure you’re not hungry,” Jerimoth said, “I was just about to step outside for some air. Will you join me?”
“All right.”
Miriam watched the two men disappear through the back door into the courtyard. She had to find out why Hadad had come.
“Could I please be excused, Lady Jerusha? I need to wash out a few clothes down by the river. Please, I know I should have done it earlier today, but I ran out of time and now it will be dark soon, and . . .” She stopped, aware that she was babbling. Worse, she was lying.
“Certainly, Miriam. Go ahead. We’ll clean up the dishes.”
Miriam tossed a few of her things into a bundle and hurried out the back door. Jerimoth stopped midsentence as she walked through the courtyard to the rear gate. She closed it behind her, then ducked behind the garden wall to listen as Jerimoth continued.
“What made you decide to come with me?” he asked Hadad.
“What difference does it make?”
“You and I are both safe here in Moab. We have new lives. I have a young family.” Jerimoth spoke slowly, deliberately, as if measuring every word. “I’m putting my life at risk because Joshua is my brother. I love him. For my own peace of mind, I’d like to know what’s motivating you.” There was a long pause. When Hadad said nothing, Jerimoth spoke again. “It can’t be money. I understand that Lord Shebna left you plenty of that. You said you owed Amariah your life. Is it gratitude, then?”
“Sure, gratitude. Does that ease your mind?”
“No. You might better show your gratitude by staying here where you’re safe. If the prince cared enough to warn you, then that’s obviously what he would want you to do.”
There was another long silence. Miriam began to wonder if the men had gone inside. She was about to peer over the wall when she heard Hadad speak.
“I’m doing it for myself, all right? I admire courageous men— men of conviction like you and your brother—but I’m not one of them. I never worried much about it before all this happened.” He gave a short laugh. “Until your stupid little serving girl started lecturing me.”
“You mean Miriam?”
“My grandfather tried to give me the same speech dozens of times—what was I doing with my life, when was I going to amount to something. But he never got through to me like she did. Maybe it’s because I saw myself in her—I don’t know. Or maybe I’m just sick and tired of living like a drunk. Either way, I’ve decided to do something noble for a change. Something that would have made my grandfather proud.” His voice had grown so soft Miriam barely heard his last sentence. There was another long pause. This time Miriam waited.
“We leave at dawn,” Jerimoth finally said. “It will take us about two days to get to Jerusalem with the caravan load.”
“How will we contact Joshua?”
“We’ll wait for him to contact us. He’ll be watching for a caravan from Moab.”
“Well, I guess that’s all I need to know,” Hadad said, exhaling. “I’ll meet you in the marketplace at dawn.”
“Hadad, wait. Listen, my brother-in-law and I usually say evening prayers about this time. Will you join us?”
Miriam barely heard Hadad’s reply. “Yeah . . . sure.”