On This Foundation (8 page)

Tobiah was standing in the courtyard outside Sanballat's throne room after the meeting, waiting for his servants to finish their preparations for the journey home, when one of Sanballat's
servants approached. “The governor would like to meet with you in his private chambers.” The servant spoke softly so none of the other provincial leaders could overhear him.

“Now?” Tobiah asked.

“Yes, my lord. Follow me, please.”

Tobiah wished he had more time to recover his balance after meeting Nehemiah, but refusing this request would raise too many questions. He followed the servant to Sanballat's private quarters, where he found the Samaritan and Geshem the Arab already waiting. The room had cushioned seats and a table with flasks of water and wine and bowls of grapes and dates. But neither of the men were sitting down or eating. Tobiah had worked closely with these powerful men for several years and could see that they were as disturbed by this new Jewish leader as he was. “What did you think of Judah's new governor?” he asked the other two.

Sanballat twisted one of the heavy rings he wore on his fingers, exposing his unease. “I found Nehemiah a very difficult man to read. No sign of vain pride or temper, even when provoked. I think he'll be hard to intimidate.”

“And possibly even harder to bribe,” Geshem added. The Arab chief paced near the window, his long robe trailing across the worn carpet, his keffiah shadowing his dark face.

“Everyone has a weak point,” Sanballat said, pulling his ring off and shoving it on again. “We simply don't know Nehemiah's weaknesses, yet. We'll give him a measure of control, let him think he's in charge—”

“It isn't a question of
giving
him control,” Tobiah said. “You saw the decree he carried. It's from the emperor himself. Nehemiah
is
in control of Judah—and he knows it!”

“I find it very disturbing that someone has come to promote the welfare of the Jews,” Geshem said. “They're so much easier to handle when they're leaderless and beaten down.”

“Yes, I'm upset about that, too,” Sanballat agreed. “We've
worked hard to keep them submissive. I don't like the fact that they now have an advocate. And a savvy one, from all appearances.”

“Not only is he an advocate for the Jews,” Geshem added, “he claims to have worked closely with the Persian emperor himself. I've been to Susa; I don't recall ever meeting this man.”

“Didn't you find it odd that he was so young?” Tobiah asked. “Or that he had the bearing and build of a soldier instead of a diplomat?”

“I want to know what he's up to,” Sanballat said. “I think he's dangerous.”

“The entire situation is dangerous,” Tobiah agreed. “We've maintained a nice balance of power here since their last governor retired. We've kept the Jews in their places, living in a state of fear—and profited nicely at the same time.”

“As governor of The Land Beyond the River,” Sanballat said, “I still hold a great deal of power. And I will not allow that to change. Nehemiah will learn to submit to my authority or suffer for it.”

“
Your
authority?” Tobiah's hold over his temper began to slip. “What about the emperor's decree? It was sealed with his ring. Nehemiah is the governor of Judah from now on, not you.” And not Tobiah, either, or his son Jehohanan, whom he'd been grooming to rule with him. If anyone should suddenly appear on the scene as the Jewish savior and sit in the governor's residence in Jerusalem, Tobiah thought it should be him. He had the experience, the political and religious connections.

Sanballat sat down and lifted a cluster of grapes from the plate, popping them into his mouth one by one with a show of nonchalance. “It doesn't matter. There's little Nehemiah can do to change the Jews' situation. He'll soon learn the value of cooperating with me—and the pain of not cooperating. Nevertheless, until he does, we can't take our eyes off him for a moment.”

“What's your plan for keeping an eye on his activities?”
Geshem asked. The Arab leader's furrowed brows and hawklike nose made him look fierce, combative. Tobiah knew the value of keeping him as an ally.

“I have eyes and ears in Jerusalem,” Sanballat said. “The high priest's grandson is married to my daughter. Rest assured that I'm monitoring all of the activities of the religious leaders.”

“And my son Jehohanan lives in Jerusalem,” Tobiah added. “His father-in-law, a man named Meshullam, is on the ruling council. They keep me informed about everything that happens in the council meetings. Believe me, some of the local leaders will be as concerned as we are that an outsider is taking charge.”

“What's more,” Sanballat added, pouring wine from the flask into a cup, “my hometown of Beth Horon is only a few miles north of Jerusalem along one of the main roads into the city. I have eyes and ears there, too. Come, gentlemen. Let's sit and enjoy a toast to our continued prosperity. We'll either win this newcomer Nehemiah to our side or make sure that everything he attempts to do ends in failure.”

Tobiah refused the offered cup, knowing it would only seethe in his stomach. “I want to know the real reason he was appointed. Judah's last governor, Ezra, was primarily a religious leader, and he created havoc and confusion among my people with all his bans on intermarriage.”

“Mine, as well,” Sanballat said. “But this time the king's decree said nothing about religious reforms.”

“So why send a political leader? And why now?” Tobiah asked.

“That's the big question.” Sanballat took a sip of wine and set down the cup. “But if Nehemiah worked as closely with King Artaxerxes as he claims he did, in a position of highest trust, I can't help wondering why he was sent to such a remote, backward territory. It doesn't make sense.”

Long after the private meeting ended and Tobiah returned to his home across the Jordan River, he continued to worry
about Nehemiah's true agenda. When he could no longer calm his fears, he called his two closest aides into his chambers and confided in them. “Go to Jerusalem, to my son Jehohanan, and tell him I need to know exactly why Nehemiah is here. What is he up to? Why has he come? Follow the man day and night, and don't come back until you have answers.”

T
HE
D
ISTRICT
OF
B
ETH
H
AKKEREM

T
hat's my father's house up ahead.”

Nava looked up from the dusty road and saw her new master's son pointing to a cluster of stately stone buildings perched on the hilltop in front of them. He hadn't spoken a word to her on the journey, nor had he stopped or slowed the donkey's plodding pace to allow her to rest. But Nava halted now in the middle of the road to stare at the home that would be hers for the next six years. A high stone wall encircled the house and barns. Terraced vineyards, guarded by watchtowers, covered the hillsides. Dozens of laborers harvested wheat in the field on the opposite side of the road, and Nava wondered if she would be sent to work alongside them. She saw an olive grove, vegetable gardens, orchards, and pastures, and shivered at the sight of so much land. Why did Malkijah need Abba's farm or his wheat crop if he already owned all of this?

Her master's son hadn't stopped, and Nava had to hurry to catch up with him again. She was breathless from the climb by the time they arrived at one of the entrances into the walled compound. A servant rushed forward to help the master's son
dismount, then led the donkey away. “Come on. This way,” Malkijah's son said, gesturing impatiently. Nava followed him through a maze of structures and courtyards completely enclosed by the stone walls. There were pens for the animals, living areas for her new masters and their workers, open areas where servants performed a variety of tasks, barns filled with hay, and storehouses full of clay containers. She glimpsed a winepress and an olive press. Nava hurried to keep up as her young master led her through a large kitchen courtyard with ovens and cooking hearths and then into an outdoor dining room with a trellised roof, covered with flowering vines. Could a king's palace be any grander than this? She gazed around in wonder and nearly ran into the son's back when he halted suddenly. Her new master, Malkijah ben Recab, came out to stand beneath the trellis in his impeccable white robe, his arms folded across his chest.

“Here's your new bondservant, Father,” his son said.

“Thank you, Aaron.” Malkijah appraised Nava as Aaron disappeared into the house behind him. Her mouth felt dry as she stood beneath his scrutiny. “Tell me your name,” he finally said.

“Nava.”

“You're very young.”

“I'm nearly seventeen, my lord.” She couldn't help trembling and was distressed to hear that it showed in her voice.

“I'm guessing you don't have much experience working in a house as large and lavish as this one.”

She stared at him, too shocked to reply. Was he shaming her because her family was poor? Because she had arrived barefooted and in rags? She wanted to shout at him, tell him how happy her home was. How there was laughter and love inside her family's humble walls, that those things were worth millions compared to gold and other luxuries. But then he smiled, a crooked smile that twisted only half of his mouth. She was surprised to see kindness in his eyes. “You don't need to be
afraid, Nava. I'm only trying to determine the best job for you to do here. What kind of work do you enjoy?”

She drew a deep breath and exhaled to calm herself. “I used to take care of Abba's goats, but you own them now. I used to milk them every day and make yogurt and cheese.”

He smiled again. “Then that's what you'll do here. Penina is in charge of my kitchen, and Shimon tends my goats. You will be under their authority, and you'll need to do whatever work they require of you. Understand?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Good. Go through that gate right over there, and you'll find Penina in the kitchen courtyard. Tell her I said to show you to your quarters.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Nava crossed the courtyard on shaky legs. Her heart sped up as she neared the gate and heard a woman shouting on the other side of the wall. “You let the fire get too hot, you fool! Didn't I warn you to be careful adding wood? Now you've burned the master's bread, wasted his food! This will be your portion to eat tonight and tomorrow and the next day, burned or not!”

Nava slipped through the gate and into an enormous kitchen courtyard, twice the size of her entire house. Servants washed and chopped vegetables at wooden tables, sorted lentils and beans. One servant ground grain into flour with a hand mill, another kneaded dough. The heat from the hearth fire and clay oven pressed against Nava from across the yard, and she smelled the burnt bread. Presiding over the bustle was the shouting woman, who must be Penina. From the volume of her voice, Nava had expected to see a much larger woman, but Penina was short and thin and birdlike. She reminded Nava of the little wheatears that nested in Abba's fruit trees. Penina finished her tirade by giving the hapless servant boy a cuff on the ear that made him wince.

Nava was afraid to move, afraid to speak. She closed the
gate behind her and took a few steps inside, waiting for Penina to turn around and notice her. “Who are you?” Penina asked when she finally did.

“My name is Nava. I just arrived today. My master sent me to see you.”

“Not
another
one!” She clucked her tongue, shaking her head. “Sent you to do what? I hope you know how to work hard, because I don't have time to teach you.”

Nava could barely swallow around the lump in her throat. “Master Malkijah said I should help tend the goats. I know how to milk them and make cheese and yogurt from their milk. And he said I should help you with your work when I'm finished.” To Nava's dismay, her eyes suddenly filled with tears. She feared Penina would shout at her for weeping, but instead, the little woman's demeanor softened as she looked Nava over, taking in her raggedy robe and bare feet.

“First time away from home, is it?” Nava could only nod as her tears spilled down her dusty face. “If you work hard and do as you're told, you'll get along just fine. . . . Rachel!” She shouted at a pretty, dark-haired woman chopping onions.

The woman laid down her knife and scurried over. “Here I am.”

“Show Nava where to put her things. She can sleep next to you. Then take her to the goat pen to meet Shimon.” Nava started to follow Rachel. “Wait!” Penina called. “Where are your shoes?”

“In here,” she said, holding up her bag. “The strap keeps breaking. I could fix them if I had a bit of leather.”

“When the stable boy comes with the straw for your pallet, tell him what you need. All right, everyone!” she said, clapping her hands. “Stop standing around! You can gawk at our new servant after your work is done.”

Rachel led Nava to a low, narrow stone building with a rough-beamed ceiling and dirt floor. Inside, piles of straw pallets lay
neatly stacked near the walls and the floor looked newly swept. “We share this room with the other women servants,” Rachel said. She pointed to a wall of built-in shelves filled with neatly folded blankets. “Find an empty space and put your blanket in it.”

“I didn't bring a blanket. I didn't know . . .”

“Well, put your other things in it, then.”

Nava hurried across the room and stuffed the bag she had carried from home into one of the openings, then turned back to Rachel.

The woman smiled. “Poor little thing. You look like a scared lamb. Don't worry, you'll be fine. Penina shouts a lot, but you don't have to be afraid of her.”

“Have you worked here very long?”

“About two years.”

“I'm working to help my father pay back his debts.”

Rachel nodded. “My husband owes money, too. Our children were too young to be bondservants—our son was three when I left and our daughter was five. So . . . here I am.”

“Who's taking care of them?”

“My husband's mother.” For a moment, tears glistened in Rachel's eyes. Then she regained control. “It's not so bad here,” she said with an unconvincing smile. “At least we have plenty to eat and a warm fire when the weather gets cold. Come on, I'll show you the goat pen.”

It was a very large enclosure with a manger of fresh hay for the animals and a trough of water. Nava spotted her own goats mixed in with all the others, and it was like seeing old friends in a crowd of strangers. “Come here . . .” she said, calling and whistling to them. “Come here and let me see you.” One goat recognized her voice and ran to the side of the fence where Nava stood. The animal's stubbly fur tickled her cheek as she reached through the slats to hug her. “Look at you,” she murmured. “Look how fat you've grown! They must be feeding you very well.”

“Hey! Get away from those goats!”

The man who hobbled over, shaking his shepherd's crook at Nava, was white-haired and crippled with age. She remembered that his name was Shimon and quickly explained who she was.

“My new master said I should help you take care of them,” she finished. “This one and some of the others used to be mine.”

“Well . . . I suppose I could use some help.” His voice resembled a growl. “Just remember that I'm in charge of them, not you. Don't do anything without asking.”

“I'll remember.”

“They've already been milked this morning. And fed. The boy delivered the milk to Penina.”

“Should I come back later when it's time to milk them again?”

“You do that.” He shuffled away.

“Shimon seems very old for a bondservant,” Nava whispered to Rachel as they walked back to the kitchen area.

“Didn't you see the ring in his ear? That means he's here for life. Some masters kick out their elderly servants when they're too old to work. But our master finds ways for them to still be useful. He would never turn Shimon away and let him starve.”

Nava followed Rachel through the gate and back into the kitchen courtyard, where the work continued nonstop. Rachel returned to her chopping board and Nava was about to ask Penina if she should make cheese with the goats' milk when the little woman turned to her and asked, “Can you sew?” Nava nodded. “That cloth sack over there is for your pallet. A stable boy is coming with some straw to stuff it. I'll give you another job when you're finished with it.”

Mercifully, Nava's first day passed swiftly. Between sewing her pallet, making cheese, and milking dozens of goats with Shimon, she didn't have time to think about her family or Dan until she lay down on her new pallet that night. That's when the aching loneliness clutched her chest, shaking her like a helpless animal in the teeth of a predator. She rolled over to face Rachel
on the pallet beside hers and saw in the moonlight streaming through the open window that she was still awake. “Rachel? Do we ever get a day off to go home and visit our families?” she whispered.

“Master always gives us the Sabbath day off. Penina has kitchen workers like me prepare twice as much food on the eve of Shabbat so there will be enough to eat. You'll probably still have to tend Master's flock in the morning, but the rest of the day will be yours.”

“I'll be able to go home?”

“No . . . no, that's not possible.” Rachel's sigh seemed to fill the room and settle over Nava like fog. “Most of us live more than a Sabbath day's walk away. Besides, our master says the roads are much too dangerous to travel alone.”

“You mean . . . you haven't seen your husband or children in two years? Don't you miss them?”

Rachel's eyes glistened with tears in the moonlight. “More than I can say. But maybe it's better for my little ones if they forget me. They cried so hard when I had to say good-bye. And they're too young to understand why I would have to keep leaving them again and again.”

Nava thought she might die if she couldn't see the people she loved for six years. She felt a cry of grief rising in her chest, and she rolled over onto her stomach to muffle it, burying her face in her new pallet. The stiff straw, poking through the rough cloth, scratched her skin like tiny claws.