The Journey Begun (33 page)

Thirty-four

enjamin heard the muffled snort of a donkey outside the door only a moment before a tentative knock broke the stillness of the room. He glanced at Hadassah, who returned his look with a question. Late afternoon had settled lazily over the tranquil valley and the two vintners had retreated into the house for a rare early rest from the day’s labors attending the vines. Visitors were uncommon in this corner of the valley at any time, but especially this close to the Sabbath, which the setting sun would inaugurate in only a couple of short hours. He gave a final tug on the leather thong securing the handle of the pruning fork he was repairing and set it on the table. As he opened the door, it took his eyes a moment to adjust from the dimness of the house to the glare of the clear southern sky still bright in the afternoon sun. The figure of a stooped man leaning on a short walking stick came into focus at the foot of the steps.

“Jonah?” Benjamin squinted into the light.

“Shalom
, Benjamin.” Jonah dipped his head in greeting.

Benjamin noticed the small donkey cart at rest behind his visitor, but its contents were obscured by the elevated driver’s seat facing the house. He looked back at the older man, not sure what to say.

Jonah relieved the awkwardness of the situation. “My apologies for disturbing you at this hour. I hope it’s no intrusion.”

The vintner blinked. “No, no, of course not. You’re always welcome. I was just caught up short…I mean, I didn’t expect…you know.”

Jonah smiled and nodded. “Yes, I know. My last visit was awkward at the very least, and I didn’t leave under the best of circumstances. Please forgive me. I have a lot of explaining to do.”

“There’s nothing to forgive. Please, come inside.” Benjamin began to move aside, but at that moment Hadassah appeared.

“Who is it—oh! Jonah! Bless us, we were so worried about you after you left last time. Eli went out to look for you, but couldn’t find you. He searched for nearly two days before he had to go back to Samaria to rejoin King Jeroboam and the rest of the army. But where are my manners? Please come in. Are you alone?” Hadassah glanced at the cart.

“Shalom
, Hadassah, and thank you. I do have much to explain, as I was telling Benjamin. But—you say Eli came looking for me?”

Hadassah nodded. “Yes, we had quite a discussion after you left and he—we—felt terrible for the treatment you received in our home. He left on his horse just before sunrise to find you, but you had disappeared.”

Jonah sighed. “I had no idea. I thought I had ruined everything.” He looked up quickly. “Did he explain our disagreement to you?”

Benjamin nodded. “Yes, he told us about the journey to Samaria and your message to the king several years ago, but asked us keep it to ourselves. He said you were keeping your mission quiet here in the north. Then after your confrontation, he filled us in on your call to go to Assyria.” The younger man cocked an eyebrow. “I’m not sure I blame you for your refusal—”

Jonah shook his head. “Don’t say that!”

Benjamin flinched at the rebuke.

“I’m sorry, Ben. I didn’t mean to jump at you.” The contrite prophet raised his hands in apology. “I just—it’s becoming so clear to me that to reject
Adonai’s
call in anything, no matter how large or small, pleasant or distasteful, is cause for the highest blame. I spent several days with my back to Him, and my life has never been so dismal.” He managed a weak smile. “Perhaps someday I can share with you what has happened to me since I last left you.”

Hadassah cleared her throat and interjected a repeat invitation for Jonah to come into the house. He paused, then shook his head and continued.

“Benjamin, Hadassah, I have a favor to ask of you that I have no right to ask. I’m not even sure why I thought I could bring this to you, but—”

A tiny cough from the back of the wagon followed by the sound of rustling straw cut off Jonah’s words.

Hadassah’s head jerked up at the sound. She stared at the wagon, shot a brief look at her husband, and descended the stairs past Jonah. Benjamin followed his wife with a puzzled frown as she moved to the side of the cart. They paused when Moshe’s stretched-out form came into view. “Moshe? Are you—”

Hadassah gasped.

Nestled beside the dozing old soldier and peering out from beneath the folds of a loosely woven blanket was the small, round, olive-toned face of the young girl. Her light-green almond eyes were delicate and beautiful in their innocence and at the same time seemed clouded with a subtle sadness. The girl held Hadassah’s eyes without flinching. After a moment, his wife found her voice. “Ben…Benjamin?”

Jonah appeared on the other side of the cart. Hadassah broke her gaze at the girl and cocked her head at the prophet, her face full of questions.

“This is what I started to tell you about. It’s a long story, but she needs a place—a safe place—to stay.” He searched Hadassah’s eyes for a reaction. There was nothing.

“For a while.”

He looked over at Benjamin. Still nothing.

He fidgeted and his face reddened. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come. We can—”

Hadassah’s raised hand silenced him. She shook her head. “What is her name? Where did she come from? Where are her parents?” Her voice was soft, almost distant.

“I don’t know. She hasn’t spoken a word since we…found her.” Jonah shrugged and returned his look to the mysterious child.

As Benjamin looked on, his wife and the child locked gazes. After a moment, Hadassah stretched a gentle hand over Moshe’s still sleeping form but stopped short of touching the girl. The almond eyes studied the woman’s hand, then rose back to her face.

Another moment passed, and the edge of the blanket shifted. A thin arm emerged and a hand reached toward Hadassah’s offering until their fingertips touched. Benjamin wondered at the faraway look that came over his wife as she slid her palm under the fragile hand. She brushed her thumb over the top of the young girl’s fingers in a gentle massage, a bemused smile spreading across her face.

Benjamin studied his wife’s face. He had never seen this look before. Such a mixture of nervousness and serenity would seem at odds, but now were perfectly at peace in the glow of her cheeks. Nothing else existed in her world right now except the girl in the wagon.

It struck him at that moment for the first time what the barrenness of her womb had meant to her over their years together. He had done all he could to comfort her throughout their marriage, and his solace was sincere—indeed, his love for his wife flourished unhindered by the want of children. Yet for all his efforts, there was a hollow place in her heart no amount of reassurance could fill. He knew Hadassah was meant to be a mother if any woman in the history of this earth was meant to be. Yet
Adonai
had withheld His blessing. Or had He?

“What is your name, child?” Hadassah’s voice barely broke the stillness.

The almond eyes narrowed and then refocused on Hadassah. “Leah.”

Benjamin perked as the simple word floated up from the bundle in the straw. He looked up at his wife in time to see a single tear trace a glistening path down her cheek and pool in the dimple of her smile.

Hadassah’s soft laugh drifted into the air like the wisp of a cloud slipping over a mountain peak. “Leah. How beautiful. How simply…beautiful.”

With that, she extended her other arm, immediately met by Leah’s, and drew the child up to a sitting position. The blanket fell away, releasing a cascade of wavy auburn hair that flowed over the child’s slight shoulders and thin arms. Hadassah brushed away strands of straw clinging to the silky tresses and helped the youngster teeter to her feet.

“Here, let me help.” Jonah reached out, but Hadassah shook her head, her eyes still focused on Leah’s face.

“Thank you. I can manage.” She smiled. “Yes, I can manage very well.” She grasped the young girl lightly at the waist with both hands and eased her over the side of the cart. She began to settle the girl onto the ground, but Leah wrapped her arms around Hadassah’s neck and wouldn’t let go. She locked her legs around Hadassah’s trim waist and laid her head on her shoulder.

Benjamin’s heart went to his throat as Hadassah hugged the young girl to her bosom, leaned her head back, and squeezed her eyelids against her tears. He put his arm around his wife’s shoulder and brushed an errant curl from Leah’s forehead. There were no words appropriate for the moment, so none were offered.

The movement in the cart roused Moshe from his slumber. He leaned up on an elbow and rubbed his sleep-filled eyes with stubby fingers. Squinting into the light, he saw Jonah smiling past him to the other side of the cart. He sat up and took in the sight of the young girl he’d rescued basking in Hadassah’s loving embrace.

“Her name’s Leah.” Jonah dipped his head toward the girl.

“Wha’?” Moshe coughed and cleared the sleep from his throat.

“Leah. Her name is Leah.” Jonah grinned at the old veteran.

Moshe yawned. “Figures it’d be somethin’ like that.”

Thirty-five

ater that evening, Benjamin fulfilled the Sabbath ritual as head of the household, and they ate their fill of lamb stew, fresh bread, goat’s milk, and new wine. Hadassah excused herself early and set about preparing a place for Leah to sleep. The young girl wouldn’t let the woman out of her sight and shadowed her wherever she went. The men sat at the table with refilled cups of wine and discussed what to do from here.

Benjamin was worried and he lowered his voice. “Did you see the look on Hadassah’s face when she held Leah?” He stole a glance at the two in the far corner of the room chatting quietly as they filled a tick with straw and patted it down. “We’re going to have to try to find the girl’s family, you know. It’s only right.”

Moshe nodded. “She won’t be able ta give ’er up that easy. She kinda grows on ya, eh?”

“Do you have any idea where to start looking?” Jonah frowned.

“Not a clue. I was hoping you could suggest something.” Benjamin glanced at the prophet.

“Has she said anything to you or Hadassah that might help?” Jonah returned his look.

“Edomites.”

The men jumped.

Hadassah had stood up after tucking Leah into her blanket on the straw tick and was facing them with her hands on her hips. “Don’t think I can’t hear you, Benjamin ben Amaziah, and don’t think I haven’t been considering Leah’s future, either.”

Benjamin looked apologetic. “You know I’m drawn to her as much as you are, loved one, but she may have a family out there looking for her.”

Hadassah moved behind her husband’s chair, leaned over, and hugged him around the neck. “I know. But I can’t help but believe that the Almighty has brought her to us for a purpose.”

“And if that purpose is to reunite her with her family, are you willing to do everything you can to help find them?” He kissed her forearm.

“No.” She smiled sadly and kissed the back of his head. “Not willing, but I understand what we must do. We must keep her welfare above our wants. The Almighty will not let us be happy together if we’re not meant to be together. That much I’ve learned.”

Moshe stroked his beard. “Don’t mean ta interrupt, but ya said
Edomites
. What did the girl say about Edomites?”

Hadassah frowned. “We’ve been talking on and off most of the evening while you were putting away the tools and settling the donkey in for the night. She hasn’t said much—I don’t think she’s spoken two words in the last two years by the way she talks—but she did say the words
Edomites
 
and
wagons
when I asked if she remembered any-thing about her family.”

“Anythin’ else?” Moshe knit his brow.

“Just
mama
and
poppa
was about all. Oh, and she said a word I didn’t understand. It was
amal
or
malek
or something like that anyway.”

“Oh.” Moshe sat back in his chair and stared at the table top.

Jonah looked at him. “What’s wrong?”

The old soldier glanced at Leah, who had fallen asleep almost immediately after Hadassah tucked her in. He frowned. “There may not be any family left ta look for.”

Hadassah jerked her head. “What do you mean by that?”

“Can’t be sure, but I b’lieve what she said was
Amalekite
.”

Benjamin shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

Moshe drained his cup of wine and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. He paused, then propped his elbows on the table. “When I was with the army, we used ta patrol the roads on both sides o’ the Jordan River. The border villages were forever gettin’ raided by bands of Edomites scroungin’ for supplies or just bein’ mean. They did most o’ their damage against Judah, bein’ that they hate Jerusalem even more than they hate Samaria, but you’d still find ’em as far north as Gilead. Sometimes they’d sneak across the river near Gilgal and ambush a caravan or just a group o’ travelers comin’ back up from Jerusalem after a sacrifice.”

Jonah nodded. “Our family does the same thing every year at Passover. We journey to Jerusalem for the festival sacrifices and then return the next week, although we never traveled the roads as far east as Gilgal. Still, there were reports of groups being attacked on the road even as close as Dothan and the road up to Jezreel.”

Moshe hacked a cough into his sleeve and continued. “Those were mostly just homegrown thieves, prob’ly, but the danger was the same. Every now ’n then we’d catch a party of Edomites that’d come across the river. Killed a few of ’em, but most scattered back across the Jordan or into the hills.”

“What does this have to do with Leah?” Hadassah knit her brow and settled onto a chair beside her husband.

“Well, as ya know, sometimes I, er, spend some time at places you good folks ’d prob’ly not think ta go.”

Jonah’s face reddened.

Moshe cleared his throat. “Well as ya know, Israel and the Amalekites have been at each other’s throats ever since Moses thrashed ’em comin’ out o’ Egypt. Saul and David had their goes at ’em, too.” He glanced at Jonah. “Word from some o’ the likes o’ them that come ta Ari’s is that, in the past—I dunno, five or six years—is that leftovers descended from the few Amalekites that escaped Saul’s sword way back when have begun ta join up with the Edomite raiders. They don’t get along with each other so well either, but sometimes it works ta each other’s good ta pair up. O’ course, the Amalekites hate all us Hebrews, north or south, doesn’t matter. Just as soon put a knife to our throats as look at us.”

Hadassah began to pale. “You don’t mean…”

Moshe looked over at Benjamin. “If the girl’s family was caught by one o’ these bands—an’ it sounds like they must o’ been—all the men and women woulda been killed right off. Cattle ’n goats woulda been taken, along with whatever else was worth anythin’.”

“And the children?” Hadassah looked ill.

Moshe struggled to find the right words. “Well, er, I guess I’d have ta say the lucky ones died with their parents.” He avoided his hostess’ wan face. “Others were dragged off an’ most, if they looked right, were kept for, er, play or sold off inta slavery…for the same reason.” Moshe looked over at Jonah, who had gone stock still. “Jachan was known ta trade in those circles.”

Heat crept into Jonah’s forehead. He stared at the table and said nothing.

Hadassah’s mouth was agape. “You mean Leah was…could have been.” She swallowed and turned her head to stare at the fragile figure curled up under her blanket. “Oh, as the Almighty lives, what could she possibly have been through?” Her eyes flashed fire and her knuckles went white as she gripped the edge of the table. “How does man stoop to the depths he does? What have we become? I cannot…”

Benjamin took her hand as her cheeks moistened again, but this time he knew, with tears of rage.

His voice was low. “Who is Jachan?”

Jonah kept his eyes on the table.

“Nobody anymore.” Moshe’s tone suggested leaving it at that.

Jonah finally found his voice. “That was the rest of what I wanted to tell you outside. It’s the main reason I didn’t feel I had the right to ask this of you.” He also stole a look over at the sleeping girl. “She seems so gentle, but we don’t really know her. I would have no idea what to expect after what she may have been through, no idea as to what…behavior she might show. It may not be fair to ask you to take on—”

“What?”
Hadassah nearly came out of her chair. “How dare you suggest that we might not want to take Leah into our home just because—”

“Hadassah.” Benjamin moved his hand to her arm, but she shook it off.

“Did you hear what he
said?
How can you just sit there and—”

“Woman! Be calm!” Benjamin’s bark cut her tirade.

Hadassah jerked her head back and she settled into her chair. Her face was livid, but his tone was not to be ignored. Her husband’s hand slipped back over her arm.

“Hadassah, Jonah is right in what he’s saying.” His voice returned to an even timbre as his gaze caressed his distraught wife.

“Benjamin, how can you say that? To think—”

“You misunderstand, loved one. I’m not suggesting we would reject Leah—ever. But think of Jonah’s position. He came here unbidden with a responsibility, a burden really, and with every desire to do what is right. But he’s asking you and me to accept a very unusual, even a very risky, charge. It’s only right and it’s only fair that he would offer us the chance to decline. To do less would be to presume on our friendship.” Benjamin glanced at the subdued prophet with a slight smile. “But I fully suspect he came here because he knew we would want to help, even under these circumstances. And for that we should feel honored.”

Hadassah took a deep breath. “You’re right. I didn’t think.” She looked over at Jonah sheepishly. “I’m sorry, Jonah. Just the thought of turning Leah away was so abhorrent to me I lost my head.”

Jonah smiled. “Honestly, I was relieved to see your reaction, Hadassah.”

She raised her eyebrows.

“It’s that kind of zeal you’ll need to face whatever might come. Doubtless, Leah will have much healing to do. She’s going to need all your patience to help her do it.” He cocked his head. “It won’t always be joyful.”

Hadassah set her face and turned toward her husband. “If it’s the last thing I do before I’m settled in my grave, I’ll hear Leah laugh again.”

Jonah laughed as he slapped Benjamin on the shoulder. “It is a good thing to find a wife such as this.”

Lll

“The prophet must be stopped!”

“I don’t know how!” The young foreigner pressed his fists against his forehead. He crouched beneath an old vine stand thirty paces from the house.

Following the donkey cart unobserved was not an easy task in the open valley, but, fortunately, enough traffic cluttered the main road to shield him at the start of the journey. When the cart turned off the main route, though, he had to scrape for every bit of cover he could find, a patch of hyssop to lie in, or a young tamarisk tree under which he could duck until the cart had moved a safe distance ahead. He cursed the crippled old soldier lying in the back of the cart, whose position facing backward made it more difficult to avoid being seen. Fortunately, the old man dozed off early in the journey, so the tracker could risk breaking cover more often, hoping his quarry wouldn’t suddenly waken. As they approached the vineyards, the vegetation thickened and it became easier for him to close the distance. Even so, the cart turned onto the road to the house while he was not looking, and the stalker nearly slipped past the turnoff before hearing the creak of the wagon rumbling over the rocky path between the vine stands.