Faith of My Fathers (35 page)

“That’s all. Your job will be finished. You’ll be free to go home with the rest of the pilgrims.”

“Wait a minute,” Hadad said. “He saved my life. I have a right to know what you’re planning to do to him.”

“I’m going to get him out of the country so we can preserve the line of David.” His outburst triggered another coughing spell. It was a moment before he could speak. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “The prince will be subdued and restrained, then carried out in one of the ash carts.”

“Swear to me you won’t harm him,” Hadad said.

“I’m trying to save his life, not kill him!” Joshua said. The Temple shofar suddenly sounded, startling Joshua. He hadn’t realized it was dawn. “I have to go. Is there anything else you need?” Jerimoth shook his head. “Then don’t leave this booth all day. Either of you. Don’t take any chances that someone will see you and recognize you. There are too many innocent women and children involved in this.” He opened the door.

“Joshua . . .” He turned to face his brother. “Be careful,” Jerimoth whispered.

The sun was just beginning to rise above the Mount of Olives when Miriam reached the tiny shack that used to be her home. The first thing she noticed was the smell. The house stank of rotting garbage and human filth. She left the door open and unlatched both windows to air the place.

Someone had been living here since she and the boys left almost a year ago. The mound of ashes on the hearth was faintly warm. Stale bedding straw sprawled across the floor. A few meager food supplies— flour, oil, roasted grain—were scattered all over the shelf. Every pot and dish they owned was either piled on the table or stacked on the floor beside the hearth. Flies crawled all over them, attracted by the crumbs of food. Her mother must have returned.

Tears of shame filled Miriam’s eyes. Even their poorest house in Moab had been clean and fresh-smelling compared to this. How had she ever lived this way? And how would she stand living like this again? No wonder Joshua wanted nothing to do with her. He had seen all of this. He knew exactly where she came from and what she was.

Miriam allowed her tears to fall as she bailed water from the cistern and carried it outside along with three armloads of dishes. She preferred to work outdoors, but even the tiny patch of bare earth behind the house stank with strewn litter—rotting vegetables and fish heads, more straw bedding crusted with vomit. A horde of flies buzzed near one corner of the house, which someone had used for a latrine.

She hauled wood to build a fire, then dug a hole to bury the garbage as the water heated. But even after soaking the dishes, Miriam couldn’t scrape all the dried food off them. As she chipped at it with a wooden spoon, one of the bowls cracked into pieces in her hand. She covered her face and sobbed.

More than anything else, she longed to feel Lady Jerusha’s arms surrounding her, comforting her. How she loved that gentle woman, and Miriam knew that she had been dearly loved in return. She felt it in Jerusha’s touch, saw it reflected in her soft, green eyes, heard it in the tender words of praise and encouragement Jerusha lavished on her. Miriam had never experienced such love before. It was one of the reasons she had stayed in Moab. But now Miriam would never see Jerusha again. Joshua didn’t want her as part of his family. He had made that very clear. Miriam wished she had said good-bye to Jerusha, but maybe it was better this way. What made her think she deserved Jerusha’s love?

At last Miriam wiped her tears and plunged another load of dishes into the hot water to soak.

“Well, well, look who’s finally come home to roost!”

Miriam turned to find her mother standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips. The familiar aloofness in her eyes hurt Miriam more than she ever imagined it would.

“Hello, Mama.” Miriam made no move to embrace her, knowing her mother’s arms would be stiff and unyielding in return.

“And where have you taken yourself off to all these months?”

Miriam hesitated, unsure if she could explain all that she had experienced. “Does it really matter?”

“I suppose not,” she said, shrugging, “as long as you’re not coming home pregnant.”

Miriam turned back to the tub of dishes to hide her sudden tears. She willed her voice not to shake. “I’ve never even slept with a man, Mama.”

“Hah! You expect me to believe that? Just look at you with your fancy clothes and your shiny hair all piled up like a queen’s. Where else would a girl like you get money to fix yourself up, if not from a man?”

From people who loved me,
she wanted to say.
People who treated me
like family
. “I earned my own way,” she said, instead. “I worked for a rich family, doing their cooking and washing.” She conquered her tears with stubbornness, rather than shed them in front of her mother.

Her mother walked the few steps into the backyard and took a corner of Miriam’s robe between her fingers, feeling it to gauge the quality of the fabric. She sniffed as if it were beneath her notice. “Then why did you leave your rich family?”

A simple question with not such a simple answer. “They moved to Moab,” Miriam said after a moment. “I didn’t want to go with them.” Miriam wondered when her mother would ask about Nathan and Mattan. Or if she would ask.

“So now you expect me to support you again, I suppose?”

“I’ll find another job. I can—”

“Well, and who might this be, darling?” a man’s voice boomed from the doorway. “You didn’t tell me we’d hired a maid. And such a pretty one at that.” The man swaggered into the yard and wrapped his arms and hands around Miriam’s mother. He was made from the same mold as all her mother’s other lovers—middle-aged, arrogant, and loud. His flabby body, ravaged by his lifestyle, was clothed in cheap, flashy robes. Miriam recognized the greedy look in his eye and knew she would have to get away from him and find another place to live.

“This is Miriam,” her mother said. “She isn’t the maid, but she is looking for work. Or so she says.” Miriam knew her mother would never introduce her as “my daughter.” It would make her mother seem old in her lover’s eyes. The man released her mother and took a step toward Miriam. She sprang to her feet and backed away.

“Jittery little thing, aren’t you.” Miriam cowered under his gaze as he appraised her from head to toe. “She’s your daughter, isn’t she?” he asked. “I see the resemblance.”

“She’s a mistake I made before I learned how to take care of my mistakes.”

“Well, she’s a very attractive mistake, I’d say. Yes, she’s her mother’s daughter, all right. What kind of work are you looking for, darling?”

“I can cook and clean,” Miriam said quickly. “I can wash clothes, tend babies . . .”

He grinned at her. “Can you, now. Well, it so happens a friend of mine runs an inn. He can always use another serving girl, especially a pretty one who’ll draw in the customers.”

Miriam saw a quick flash of jealousy in her mother’s eyes before she wrapped her arms around her lover’s ample waist and nuzzled his neck. “Do you think your friend could board her there, too? There’s barely enough room for the two of us here as it is.”

“Sure, I think he could probably find a place for her to bed down.”

A voice inside Miriam urged her to run from them, knowing the life they were planning for her, knowing what she would inevitably become. But Miriam also knew that she had no other place to go. She could never travel back to Moab by herself, nor was Joshua likely to change his mind and take her back, even as his servant. His harsh words burned in her heart.
“I don’t need your help! I don’t want you
anywhere near me! You’re not part of this family!”

Lady Jerusha would tell her to pray, to trust Yahweh to take care of her. But why should Yahweh help her? She had nothing to offer Him in return. She was illegitimate, and Hadad had already explained what Miriam’s life would be like: she would never find a respectable job or marry a decent man. In the end, she had no other choice than the one this man offered her. After all, she was her mother’s daughter.

She met his gaze dry-eyed, grateful that her silly tears were no longer a threat. “When would your friend like me to start work?” she asked.

20

J
OSHUA SLIPPED HIS ARMS INTO
one of Asher’s Levitical robes and fastened the sash around his waist.

“Are you sure you’re feeling up to this?” Asher asked. “You don’t sound well.”

“I’m fine.” But Joshua wasn’t fine. Every breath he took felt like a spear thrust through his chest. The breathing attack had worsened since that morning, aggravated by his mounting anxiety as he had spent the day waiting.

He tucked the sacrificial dagger into its sheath beneath his robes.

“Let’s go.”

They left Asher’s house through the rear door and stepped outside into a light rain. They couldn’t have asked for a better night to remove the ark from the Temple. The dark clouds would help shield their movements, the rain would keep the guards inside, and the blanket of fog in the Kidron Valley would conceal Jerimoth’s caravan from the view of the sentries on the wall. But the cool, damp air made it difficult for Joshua to breathe.

A cartload of wood stood waiting in the alley behind the house. Joshua had hidden one of his brother’s empty litters beneath the cart, along with the wooden frame he had built.

“Let me show you how this goes together,” he said. “I won’t have time to explain it once we get to the Temple.”

“What is that?”

“It’s a phony replacement for the ark. The golden poles will rest in these grooves. I made it the same height as the real ark so it will look as if everything’s still in place from outside.”

“We’ll never be able to sneak this past the guards. It’s too bulky.”

“It comes apart . . . see? And the pieces are small enough to fit beneath the priests’ robes. Once you’re inside the holy place you can fit the frame back together again like this. Here . . . you try it.”

Asher quickly rebuilt the frame. “You’re a genius, Joshua.”

He managed a tired smile. “Now take it apart again and let’s get this wood loaded.”

“What’s this carving on the side?” Asher held one of the frame’s pieces close to his face, trying to see it in the dark. “What is this . . . a bull?”

Joshua yanked it out of his hand. “It’s nothing. Come on, let’s get this litter loaded.”

Asher didn’t move. “There are seven lamps inside the holy place, Joshua. The priests are going to see the carving. What am I supposed to tell them?”

Joshua wiped the rain out of his eyes and sighed. “It’s my signature,” he said quietly. “Manasseh used to call me ‘Ox.’ ”

Asher threw down the piece of wood he was holding and sprang to his feet. “You’re not doing this for our sakes, are you! You’re staging all of this to get even with King Manasseh! You’re using us, putting us all at risk, just so you can show him—”

“Shut up and listen to me. You were there the night the priest used the Urim and Thummim. Did I stage that, too? I could be safely out of the country by now, but instead I’m risking my life for you. Believe me, one lousy carving of an ox can’t even begin to settle my score with Manasseh!”

“But stealing the ark of the covenant can.”

They stared at each other in silence. Joshua shivered in the cold. “Do you have any idea what that man has done to my life, Asher? I have nothing left. Nothing. Is leaving my signature too much to ask?”

Asher kicked at a piece of firewood and sent it spinning down the alley. “What other little surprises aren’t you telling us about?”

Joshua looked away. “After everyone else has left tomorrow I’m going to kidnap Amariah. The priests wanted no part of it, so I’m doing it without them.”

Asher shook his head. “God help you, Joshua.” He turned his back and began throwing wood onto the litter, his anger evident in the way he tossed down the logs. When the litter was nearly full, Joshua tucked the pieces of the frame among the firewood.

“Listen, Asher. Don’t get distracted because you’re angry with me. Save all your energy for what we’re about to do. We need to stay calm.” Asher didn’t reply. Joshua bent to lift the rear poles as Asher picked up the front ones. They started walking toward the Temple. “Have the guards been suspicious because you’ve been using litters all week?”

“They inspected them once or twice in the beginning, but lately they haven’t seemed to care. They have more interesting things to worry about.”

“What do you mean?”

“Asherah’s prostitutes.Women are thronging to the Temple to fulfill their service. There’s hardly enough room for them all. And, of course, the men are lined up a mile long to do their part. The guards have their hands full keeping order.”

Joshua shuddered. “I’ve heard about such things in pagan nations, but I never thought I’d see it in Yahweh’s Temple.”

The load of wood was heavy, and by the time they reached the top of the Temple Mount it was raining hard. Joshua could barely control his coughing. The guards didn’t seem to notice them as they passed through the service gate. They set the litter down near the bronze altar and began unloading it. The two priests who had been chosen to remove the ark from the holiest place came out to help them.