Word Fulfilled, The (37 page)

Hannah spent most of the day away from the house. She sought ways to get Jonah out of the city, but not with enthusiasm. Her head understood the need, but her heart did not. She spent much of the night awake, aware that Jonah tossed on his sleep mat across the room. She wondered if she should feel guilt over the speed with which she shifted her love to Jonah so soon after her husband’s death. Similar thoughts had assailed her as a young woman when she lost Abimelech, then entered Mordecai’s house immediately upon the family’s acceptance of his brother’s death. But it was the way of her people, and her husband had left no legacy to sustain her, so poor were they. Fortunately, Mordecai prospered as a silversmith and he left substantial resources to her after his death, resources she could now apply toward Jonah’s safety.

Her deep attraction to Jonah was the greatest mystery. Was it fascination with his calling as a prophet? Perhaps it was the tie to her beloved first husband through the gold medallions. She hoped not. She thought not. No, she was sure not. Jonah was innocent, even naïve, in many respects, but there was a steadfastness and strength of noble purpose in him that Mordecai had lacked. Jonah’s love appeared pure, almost childlike in its abandon, and it enthralled her. There was no guile, no presumption, no expectation. Most of all, he respected her, a trait immature in her marriage to young Abim and absent in her relationship with Mordecai.

So her heart fought with her mind over the need to lose the man she had come to love.

Jonah leaned against the wall in Mordecai’s work area, his head bowed in thought. Hannah sat on a mat across the room. She broke the silence. “I think it’s the only way.”

Jonah looked up. “I never thought to look that direction.”

She nodded. “Neither did I. I looked only westward, to Israel and your home. I forgot the Ninlil Gate on the eastern road is being rebuilt. The door has not yet been hung, so they can’t close it at night. There are guards, but if we leave just before sunrise, when the night watch is tired and while they prepare for their relief, we might be able to slip through unnoticed.”

“It sounds risky.”

“Perhaps, but I think it’s the only way.” Her voice dropped. “We should try tonight.”

Forty-four

Nineveh, the Royal Palace

Eighteenth Day of Du’ûzu, the Eleventh Hour

amin loitered on the road a short distance from the palace gate. When he entered that courtyard, life would never again be the same. He tried to reconstruct the events that led to this moment, but there were too many gaps. He still had no idea how he had come to the notice of the royal official. He could only suspect that this was punishment for his attack on the soldier on the steps of Nabu’s temple. But this ritual was not supposed to be a punishment, was it?

He had heard of the
ugu lugal
tradition but knew little about it. The substitute king was to either avert or bear the brunt of the gods’ displeasure in the true king’s stead. There would be a part of the ceremony where the evil
ittu
—whatever the omens had been, he still didn’t know—would be transferred to him in the presence of the Sun God, Shamash. There would be further rituals during the one hundred-day reign in which he may be expected to read other omens, or divine other unknowable things, but he had no idea how he would do that. He didn’t believe in pagan omens. He didn’t believe in Shamash. He didn’t believe in any of this.

Other worries plagued him over the past three days since his summons to the palace. What would happen if he couldn’t read
ittu?
How much authority, if any, would he actually wield? Would there be advisors to tell him what to do? Most of all, where was
Adonai,
and how could He allow this to happen to one of His own?

The next twenty paces would be the longest of his life. Yet he knew he must take them. If he fled, he would imperil his relatives—and perhaps the rest of the Hebrew community.

Jamin shuddered and took the first step forward. Then he faltered. As he steadied himself against the wall, a clear voice, one that seemed to come from everywhere—or nowhere at all—spoke.

“
Do not fear the road ahead. The Lord is with you.”

“Lord?”

“All is well. Adonai sees and hears. He will comfort you.”

Jamin closed his eyes. His head cleared, and he lowered his hand from the wall. At first, he wasn’t sure if he really heard a voice. Perhaps it was only his imagination, delusion brought on by sleepless nights. But the peace that flooded his heart as the voice spoke convinced him it was real. He knew he could not delude himself into such tranquility from the despair he felt only a moment ago.

“Lord? If you are in this, I will go. I don’t understand it. I don’t understand anything. Still, give me the strength to serve.”

“You will not be forsaken.”

Jamin took a deep breath. With renewed hope, he set off toward the palace.

Lll

Ianna shook the folds of her gown and straightened her hair over her shoulders. She knelt to retrieve the High Priestess’s cap and scepter from the mat.

“High Priestess?”

Ianna looked up. The
naditu
fingered her ivory comb and studied the petite
Entu.
Worry creased her brow, but no question came.

Ianna smiled. “You may go now, Hulalitu. I’ll be along shortly.”

The priestess nodded. She set the comb on the brazier stand and moved to the door. With one more look over her shoulder, she slipped out.

Ianna stared at the staff in her hand. An apprehension she couldn’t explain overcame her, and tears welled up in her eyes. She blinked them back.

“Do not be afraid.
Elohim
Adonai
is with you.”

Yet, despite the quiet voice, she couldn’t shake the sense of dread that nagged her. Her chin quivered and her resolve faltered. “I’m scared. I don’t know why, but I am.”

“Go, child. You will not be forsaken.”

She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath. A gentle rap came at the door.

“Enter.” Her voice was quiet.

The door opened, and Thura stood at the threshold. “High Priestess, your escort awaits you for the ceremony.”

“Very well. We shall go.”

Ianna straightened her shoulders and strode to the door. She glanced back into the room, then stepped into the hallway.

Thura closed the door behind her.

Lll

Ahu-duri finished his instructions and waited for the young
ugu lugal
designee to acknowledge. Jamin stood in the antechamber of the palace, vaguely aware of what the vizier had said. The door to his left opened into the courtyard where the ceremony would take place. He could hear the hubbub as people arrived for the ritual. He was relieved there was nothing for him to say. The royal advisor would lead him through the process. He needed only to listen and obey.

“Remember, after the gold necklace is hung around your neck, the royal robes will be placed over your shoulders. Be prepared to accept the scepter at that point.” Ahu-duri cocked his head. “Do you understand?”

Jamin nodded.

“Good. We are ready to begin. The guests have arrived, and they are being instructed even as you are now.” He circled Jamin and looked him over one last time. “The ceremony is not a long one. I will address the assembly at the conclusion. There is only one detail we have not yet settled, but you need not worry about that.”

Jamin raised an eyebrow, but the vizier ignored him.

“You will be escorted when it is time. Remain here until then.”

With that, the official turned on his heel and left the room.

Ahu-duri assumed his most imperious stride as he approached the crowd. His gaze flicked left and right to satisfy himself that all the details he’d arranged were in order. He viewed the entourage from Ishtar’s temple at the right of his own center position. His pulse quickened at the figure of the High Priestess in front of a passel of blue-clad priestesses. He recognized his sister, Hulalitu, at the High Priestess’s left. He avoided making eye contact with the
Entu
—as difficult as that was. Aloofness might accentuate his importance and impress her all the more.

Kaheri followed, ready to receive any last-minute instructions. As Ahu-duri entered the circle, the aide peeled off and remained at the head of the pathway.

The vizier halted at the center of the improvised amphitheater. He held his head high and scanned the hushed assembly. His eye lingered a moment on the High Priestess to assess her interest, but her face betrayed nothing. He frowned inwardly. Her eyes canted downward, seemingly disinterested in the ceremony. He cleared his throat and dipped his head toward the gathering.

“You are all most welcomed. As you know, King Adad-nirari has commanded an
ugu lugal
ceremony due to recent
ittu
that bode ill dispositions on the part of the gods. He has honored Nineveh as the venue for the substitute king’s reign. One of your own has been selected as the substitute king, which further honors this great city.”

He paused to judge the effect of his words. The crowd remained quiet. He saw the set look on Iqisha’s face and bristled at the distinct lack of enthusiasm in the magistrate’s demeanor. That, he decided, would not serve Iqisha well in the future. The High Priestess’s eyes remained downcast.

“Let us proceed.”

The vizier strode to his position and nodded at Kaheri. The aide spun and hurried toward the palace. In a few moments, the
ugu lugal
appeared, flanked by a palace steward, two scribes, and two soldiers. Kaheri led him to the spot from which the vizier had addressed the crowd. He halted Jamin there and returned to his post.

Jamin stood in the midst of the assembly, strangely calm. He raised his eyes and looked at the royal official, his face impassive. A splash of pastel to the vizier’s right caught his attention, and he shifted his eyes to where the retinue from the Temple of Ishtar stood.

His heart jumped when he saw the
Entu
raise her face. He saw her eyes widen with recognition when they met his. The depth of her stare pushed everything else into the background. He thought he heard the official speak, but the words were lost in the girl’s look. He couldn’t turn his eyes away even if he wanted to. They held each other’s gaze.

Then someone looped a chain around his neck, and it fell against his chest. A heavy embroidered robe dropped onto his shoulders. Something—he supposed it to be the scepter—was pressed into his hand. Still, his eyes were on Ianna.

Another muffled word, probably by the official, and two hands grasped his shoulders. They turned him toward the west, where the sun hung low over the courtyard wall. Another voice uttered an incantation to Shamash, and the assembly responded with something, he didn’t know what. His eyes remained focused on the object of his love.

His stupor finally broke when the vizier stepped forward and addressed the people in a loud voice.

Ahu-duri followed the prescribed ritual for the
ugu lugal
ceremony quickly and with precision. He frowned at the apparent distraction on Jamin’s face, then grew even more irritated when it became obvious who was distracting him. He glanced to his right, when Kaheri looped the neck chain over Jamin’s head, and he narrowed his brow at the steady look the High Priestess held on the young Hebrew.

He announced the bestowal of the scepter, then nodded to the priest of Shamash to begin the transference of the evil omens onto the substitute king. His annoyance grew when Jamin’s gaze did not follow everyone else’s to the western sky but remained fixed on the High Priestess. The priest finished his recitations, and Ahu-duri decided to end the ceremony as quickly as possible.

He stepped forward and addressed the crowd. “With this, the
ugu lugal
is installed. People of Nineveh, your king stands before you.”

The assembled witnesses bowed to the new temporary king.

Ahu-duri continued. “There remains only one act to complete. Our king is without his queen to stand in the place of the Queen Mother, Sammuramat. A suitable wife will be found and wedded to the substitute king at the soonest opportunity. Until then—”

A quiet voice cut him off. “I will take the place of the queen. I will marry the substitute king.”

Ahu-duri spun around.