On This Foundation (40 page)

B
ETH
H
AKKEREM

N
ava pulled her shawl over her head to shield it from the gently falling rain as she walked out of the gate of her master's estate, alone. Her only thought was to go home. Months had passed since she'd made this journey in the opposite direction, following Aaron's donkey, but her heart remembered the way. When she reached the small rise on the edge of Abba's property, she spotted her father out in his barley field, pushing his plow through the rain-softened earth. Her brothers worked behind him breaking up clumps of dirt and sifting out stones. Nava broke into a run.

“Abba!” she shouted. “Abba, Mama, I'm home!” Her father looked up and abandoned his plow in the middle of a furrow to hurry across the field to her. Mama must have heard her shouts, too, because she ran from the house to sweep Nava into her arms.

“Oh, my daughter! My sweet Nava! Are you home for good?”

“No, only for the day, Mama. . . . A friend of mine died this morning. The chief shepherd, Shimon.” She cleared the lump of grief from her throat. “I . . . I needed to get away for a while.”

Abba drew her into his arms next. “You walked here all alone?”

“Yes . . . I had to. I missed you so much!” She didn't tell them that she had simply left the estate without permission, without telling Penina or anyone else where she was going. She had been by Shimon's side when he had drawn his last, painful breath, and she knew she couldn't bear to watch them put his cold, pale body into the ground. Needing the balm of loving arms around her, she had walked out through the gate of the estate to come home.

“How long can you stay?” Mama asked.

“I need to be back before dark to take care of the goats.” She didn't want to imagine returning to see Shimon's empty bed or his empty milking stool beside her own.

“Want me to run next door and tell Dan you're home?” her brother offered.

“Would you? I've missed him, too.”

“Let's go inside out of the rain so we can visit,” Mama said. They ducked through the door into the low-ceilinged room, and Mama stoked the hearth fire to help everyone dry off.

“The rain is wonderful, isn't it?” Nava asked as she wiped her face with the corner of her shawl.

“It's a blessing from God,” Abba agreed.

“How are they treating you? Are you well? Tell us everything,” Mama said.

“My master is good to me. I have new sandals, see? And they just gave me this new tunic to wear.” She didn't mention that it replaced the one Aaron had torn. Her family leaned closer, listening eagerly as Nava described Malkijah's estate and the work she did for him each day. She didn't tell them what Master Aaron had tried to do or describe the details of how Shimon had died. She had promised Shimon she would forgive her masters and put away her bitterness, and the only way to do that was to dwell on the good things about living at the estate—the plentiful food, the friends she had made—and refuse to think about the bad.

“Master Malkijah just got married in Jerusalem, so I'll have a new mistress when he returns,” Nava continued. “I've already met her, and she's very kind.” Aaron would return from Jerusalem with them, but Shimon had assured Nava that she could trust the Almighty One to protect her.

“I've regretted sending you away every single day since you left,” Abba said. “I even went with Dan's father and some of the others to talk to Malkijah, asking him to consider cancelling our debts like so many other nobles have done, but he refused.”

“No, please don't worry about me, Abba. It's truly all right. And now with this rain, I'm sure your land will prosper again. I'm praying for the Almighty One to bless your crops this year.”

She heard running footsteps outside. Dan rushed through the door, soaking wet and smiling as if he might burst from joy. Nava wanted to hold him in her arms so badly. “It's wonderful to see you, Nava. I think about you every day.”

“I know. I think of you, too.” Her brother must have told Dan that she was home for only one day, because he didn't ask how long she could stay or if she'd been set free.

Nava soaked in all the sights of home and her family's beloved faces as they talked, as thirsty for them as the ground was for rain. She was relieved to see that her family wasn't starving. Mama had grain to make bread, jars of oil, and lentils and chickpeas in the storeroom. Malkijah was feeding them until the famine ended as he'd promised, in return for Nava's service. She was thankful for that.

They ate a simple noon meal together as rain pattered on the roof, and it tasted better than any feast. Late that afternoon when it was time to return to the estate, Dan and one of her brothers walked there with her. Her brother lagged a few steps behind to give them privacy as they talked. “You don't have to wait for me,” she told Dan. “Six years is a long time, and I want you to be happy.”

“It's less than six years now. You've been there more than four months already.”

Was that all? Nava didn't say so, but it felt like a lifetime to her. “Let's hope the time passes quickly.”

He took her hand in his. “Remember the story of Jacob's love for Rachel?” he asked. “The Torah says he agreed to serve Laban for seven years so he could marry her, but to him they seemed like only a few days because of his love for her. That's what it will be like for me.”

“I love you so much,” she told him. But in her heart, Nava doubted that she and Dan would ever marry. Too many unforeseen things could happen in the next few years, and people's lives seldom worked out the way they expected them to. Shimon's life hadn't. Abba's hadn't. Hers certainly hadn't. Nava was afraid to hope that she and Dan would have a happy ending to their story. She wanted to have faith like Shimon. The Almighty One was her master from now on, not Malkijah, and she would yield to His will, whether that meant marrying Dan or not.

“I'd better say good-bye to you now,” she said when they reached the edge of her master's property. Dan hugged her tightly. He didn't seem to want to let go, and neither did she. “It's been wonderful to see you, Dan.”

“Good-bye, Nava . . . but only for now.”

She released him from her arms and hurried up the hill and through the gate and into the compound so he wouldn't see her tears. She went straight to the goat pen to begin milking, filling the bin with a little grain for the animals to eat while she worked. She was leading the first goat to the stool when Penina came out to the pen.

“Where have you been? I've been searching all over for you.”

“I'm sorry.” Nava sat down, leaning her forehead against the goat's side as she worked. “I couldn't watch them bury Shimon. I . . . I had to get away.” She wondered if she would
be in trouble, if Penina would shout at her or punish her. But when Penina replied, her voice was gentle.

“Master Malkijah is coming home with his new wife tomorrow. When you finish milking, come to the kitchen. We have work to do to get ready.”

B
ETH
H
AKKEREM

W
hen Chana arrived at Malkijah's estate, the atmosphere seemed different to her, the servants unusually quiet and subdued. The housekeeper came out with two maids to help with their bags, and tears filled the housekeeper's eyes when Chana asked about Shimon. “I'm sorry, ma'am, but he died from his injuries yesterday.”

Malkijah reacted before Chana did. “What? Shimon is dead?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Where did you bury him? Show me.” He left all of their things for the servants to unload, refusing the water and refreshments Penina had brought, and followed one of his servants out through the gate. Chana hurried along behind him but not before noticing that Aaron had disappeared.

The new grave was on a quiet hillside beneath an oak tree, where Shimon's sheep and goats sometimes grazed. Chana stood beside her husband as he stared down at the scarred earth, shaking his head as if unable to believe his friend was truly gone. “I've known Shimon all my life,” Malkijah said, his voice rough with emotion. “He used to take me up into the
pasturelands with him when I was a boy. Those times together are some of my happiest memories.”

“Shimon told me those were his fondest memories, too.”

Malkijah looked at her in surprise. “He did?”

“Yes, when I sat with him after he was injured.”

“I loved sitting around the campfire with him at night and listening to his stories. He told me that David learned how to be Israel's king and to lead God's people by first being a shepherd. He said that tending my father's sheep would help me learn to be a good leader, too. . . . I can't imagine this estate without Shimon.”

Chana reached for his hand. She would tell him the truth about his father someday, but this wasn't the right time.

Malkijah exhaled. “I guess I didn't realize that he was dying the last time we spoke.”

“He was very badly injured on the night of the dinner. Aaron struck him very hard. I saw the bruises on Shimon's stomach from being punched.”

Malkijah seemed shocked by her words, as if realizing for the first time that his son had caused Shimon's death. “Was that why he died? It wasn't from falling down?”

“I'm sure his broken hip contributed to his death. But he had been badly beaten, first. I don't understand why Aaron didn't simply subdue him or call for help. Shimon would have been no match for him.”

“Excuse me, Chana. I need to be alone.” He freed his hand from hers and strode across the field, climbing the upper hill to his terraced vineyard. Chana walked back to the house with the servant. The housekeeper led her to the room she and Malkijah would now share, and Chana helped the maids unpack her things. She remembered chatting and laughing with Yudit and Sarah as they'd helped her get ready to move, and she already missed having her sisters to talk with. She and Malkijah weren't quite used to each other yet.

Chana didn't see her husband again until that evening when she sat down to eat dinner with him and his sons. A drizzling rain fell, and the servants had moved the table inside the house. Malkijah was subdued as he talked quietly about the estate, telling Aaron and Josef what had been done in their absence and what remained to be done before the heavy winter rains began. Chana couldn't read Aaron's expression at all, but he seemed in a hurry to leave. “May I be excused from the table?” he asked the moment the meal ended.

“No, Aaron. There's something we need to talk about. But you may be excused, Josef.” Malkijah waited until his younger son left, then said, “My chief shepherd, Shimon, died of his injuries yesterday.”

“So I heard.” Aaron looked nervous to Chana. He stared down at the table instead of his father, pinching the tablecloth into pleats with his thumb and forefinger.

“Tell me again what happened that night, Aaron.”

He slouched back into his chair with a sigh. “I looked out my window and saw him following that servant girl. When he started attacking her, I ran out to stop him.”

“Wait. You told me before that you were walking outside when you saw them.”

Aaron shrugged. “What's the difference?”

“There's a big difference. One of those versions is the truth and the other isn't. I want the truth, Aaron. I'm trying to understand why my chief shepherd is dead. I'm told you hit him pretty hard.”

“All I did was shove him away from the girl, and he fell down.”

Malkijah rested his forearms on the table and leaned toward Aaron. “But the girl was lying on the ground when I arrived. How could Shimon attack her if he was standing up and she wasn't?”

Aaron shrugged. “I don't know. Maybe he pushed her down . . . or she fell.”

“I thought you saw the whole thing.”

“I can't remember. It happened days ago.”

Chana could see that they were both growing angry, but Malkijah didn't let up. “The servants said Shimon had bruises on his stomach from being beaten.”

“You believe
them
?” Aaron asked with a huff.

“Chana saw the bruises, too.”

“I took care of him that first night,” Chana said when they both turned to her. “He was in terrible pain and was bleeding on the inside from being punched so hard.”

“Maybe I did hit him. I don't know—it all happened so fast. And that old man was a lot stronger than he looked.”

“You do understand that your actions caused Shimon's death, don't you?” Malkijah asked.

“I needed to stop him. I thought he was going to hurt the girl. . . . It was his own fault, Father. If he and the other servants hadn't dreamed up that plot to frame me and accuse me, he would still be alive.”

“I've been talking with the other servants, and they told me they saw you trying to flirt with the girl in the vineyard a few days before. They said you made her sit beside you while you ate, and she wasn't very happy about it.”

“That's when I found out she's not an innocent young girl. She told me she knew that I would have to marry her if I was with her . . . that way.”

Chana could no longer keep quiet. “Her name is Nava,” she said. “I've spoken with her, too, and she has no interest in marrying you. She's in love with a young man named Dan. They hope to marry when her six years of service here have ended.”

“Then she probably thought you would have to set her free if she staged this whole thing to make me look guilty.”

Malkijah was quiet for a long moment before saying, “Your story keeps changing, Aaron.”

“I don't know why the servants did this to me or what they were after!” he said, gesturing wildly. “You need to question them, not me.”

“I already did. But right now I want to know if you're sorry at all for what happened to Shimon.”

“It wasn't my fault.”

“Yes, Aaron, it
was
your fault for being so rough on an elderly man. For letting your temper get the best of you. As the proverb says, a man who lacks self-control is like a city whose walls are broken down.”

“It happened so fast.”

“So you said. And now Shimon is dead.” Malkijah's voice broke on the last word.

Aaron looked away. “You believe the servants instead of me, don't you?” he said sullenly. “Your own son!”

“I don't know whom to believe, but one of my most trusted servants is dead—a man I admired a great deal.”

“You admired a
servant
? We're noblemen, Father. We're better than they are.”

“You're wrong, Aaron. And if I've planted that prejudice in you, or nurtured your attitude of arrogant superiority, I'm deeply sorry because I know very few men who are better than Shimon. Godliness is no respecter of social class or wealth, and neither is evil. I used to be proud of my noble birth and my position as district leader, but in the past few months I've seen deceit and vileness among Judah's so-called noblemen, and they disgust me. Shimon, on the other hand, was a decent, God-fearing man.”

“You can't be serious. He dreamed up this plot to frame me.”

“The so-called
noblemen
who were at dinner with me that night are plotting against the governor. They want to have him killed. I know very well that men of noble birth are capable of lying and murdering. And I also know that humble shepherds like David are capable of ruling as kings.” He took a moment
to calm himself and said in a softer voice, “I only wish I could apologize to Shimon, and tell him how sorry I am.”

“Shimon wasn't bitter about what happened,” Chana said. “And he told me he forgave you, Aaron.” He looked away.

“That sounds like Shimon,” Malkijah said. “He was more of a father to me than my own father was. Abba was too busy working when I was young and never had much time for me. I tried not to make the same mistake with you and Josef. That's why I took you around with me and tried to teach you to take pride in your work so you could run this estate yourselves someday.” He paused, clearing his throat, and waited until Aaron met his gaze. “And now, after spending the afternoon talking with each one of my servants, I've learned what has been going on here in my absence. I'm disappointed in you and Josef and the kind of men you have become.”

For the first time, Aaron appeared frightened. He didn't have a reply for his father. But he still wouldn't admit that he had lied about Nava and Shimon. His stubbornness surprised Chana. Malkijah seemed to be waiting to hear the truth, as well, and when it didn't come, he ended the uncomfortable silence with a sigh. “We'll be celebrating Rosh Hashanah in a few days. Every seventh year, the priests read the Law out loud to all the people—and this is the seventh year. I believe it would be good for all of us to go to the temple and hear what the Holy One has to say.”

“We just got home from Jerusalem,” Aaron said. “Do we really have to go back?”

“Rosh Hashanah begins the new year, and I would like it to be a new beginning for our family, as well. We need to listen to the Law and prepare our hearts for Yom Kippur, the day we stand before God and confess our sins and seek forgiveness.”

“Do I have to go?”

“Of course, Aaron. Of course you do. Regardless of how it happened, Shimon is dead because of you.” He waited a long
moment as Aaron continued to pinch pleats in the tablecloth. “If you have nothing more to say about what you've done, you're excused from the table.”

Chana tried to read Malkijah's expression as he watched Aaron push back his chair with a noisy scrape and leave the room. She wished she knew her husband well enough to read his thoughts. She had no idea what to say to him about what had just happened, so she remained quiet, praying for wisdom. The servants had lit all the lampstands in the room, but the atmosphere still seemed dark and oppressive to her as she waited for Malkijah to speak. He stared down at his hands, folded on the table in front of him, his knuckles white with tension.

“As ruler of this district,” he finally said, “I also serve as a judge. A death has occurred, so it's up to me to seek justice.” He looked up at Chana and said, “You spoke with the servants that night, and with Shimon. Who do you think is telling the truth?”

Chana took her time, choosing her words carefully. “The first time I visited your estate, I spoke with Nava. She seemed frightened and sad, so I asked if she was being mistreated. She told me she was afraid of Aaron. That he watched her all the time. I paid closer attention after that, and I saw what she meant. Aaron did seem to be attracted to her in a frightening way.”

“You believe the servants' version of the story? That it was Aaron who attacked the girl?”

She drew a calming breath, finding it harder than she'd imagined to tell Malkijah that she thought his son was a liar and a would-be rapist. “Yes, I do. I believe Aaron is the guilty one, and Shimon came to her rescue, like he said.”

Malkijah propped his elbow on the table, resting his forehead in his hand. “I'm so ashamed of my son. Not only for what he did but for lying to me about it. I don't want to believe that he's guilty of attacking that girl or that he struck Shimon so hard when he didn't get his way that he killed him. But it's
looking more and more like that's the truth. I spoke with each of my servants today, and the picture they drew for me of my sons' behavior shocked me.” He massaged his eyes and added, “I'm also ashamed that you have to witness my family's sins and failures.”

“Don't be ashamed. Neither of us is perfect. When I remember how I wallowed in self-pity and was angry at God, I'm ashamed of myself, as well. We're two imperfect people, Malkijah, doing the best we can to follow God. We should have nothing to hide from each other.”

“I don't know what to do about this situation, Chana.”

“Neither do I, but we'll figure it out together. You won't have to deal with this alone.”