by Lynn Austin
“And the nobles agreed to this? That’s impossible. I know how greedy some of those local leaders are. There have to be some who refused to do the governor’s bidding. Find the disgruntled ones, Tobiah, and get them on our side.”
“I’m already working on that. My son knows some of the men who didn’t take the oath. As soon as I leave here I’m going to Jerusalem to attend a family event. Nehemiah won’t even know I’m there. I’ll seek out the disgruntled ones and make them our allies. My sources tell me that the peace between rich and poor is very fragile at the moment.” He sank onto a cushion and helped himself to the dates and raisin cakes his host had provided.
“Your plan is good, Tobiah,” Geshem admitted, “but there has to be more we can do. Nehemiah must be stopped. If we attack this problem on several fronts, we’ll have a better chance of a victory on one of them.”
“We’ll have to hurry,” Sanballat said. “You say they’re making progress on the wall?”
Tobiah nodded. “I’ll survey it myself when I go there, but my spies tell me that the gaps are being closed. They say the wall has been rebuilt to nearly half its height in some places.”
Geshem groaned. “Once Nehemiah’s fortress is complete, he can keep everyone out—including my trade caravans and Sanballat’s army. He can keep you out, too, Tobiah. We need to fight back before the wall is finished.”
“Listen to me.” Sanballat held up his hands as if commanding Geshem to stop pacing and Tobiah to pay attention. “We need to attack the workers themselves and make them too terrified to continue. Take them by surprise. Before they know it or see us, we will be right there among them, and we’ll kill them and put an end to their work. Everyone will be too afraid to continue, imagining that they’re next. I guarantee those cowardly Jews will quit and run home if their lives are threatened.”
“Good. I like that,” Tobiah said. “And we may only have to stage a few attacks if we do a good enough job of spreading rumors and terrorizing the people. We’ll get all the neighboring Samaritan and Ammonite towns to whisper rumors that we’re coming for the Jews. Let fear infect them. There’s nothing like the dread of an unknown enemy who may attack at any moment to cause panic. The Jews will all quit and go home.”
“My caravans go throughout the province,” Geshem said. “They can help sow rumors and warnings under the guise of friendship.”
“I don’t think they should be groundless warnings,” Sanballat said. “I have the means to send armed men right into Jerusalem. If there is even one attack, perhaps a few deaths, then rumors are no longer rumors and the work will halt. Agreed?”
Tobiah and Geshem spoke at the same time. “Agreed.”
The decision seemed to diffuse much of the tension in the room. Sanballat returned to his seat, and even Geshem relaxed enough to scoop a handful of dates from the bowl. But Tobiah knew they still faced a formidable opponent in Nehemiah. The man had an uncanny ability to convince the people to follow him. Having several nobles on their side may not be enough.
“What about Nehemiah?” he finally asked, voicing his fear. “We need to take him seriously as our enemy. He’s not only extremely popular with the people, but he’s shown leadership genius.”
“We must destroy him,” Geshem said. The vehemence of his reply made the hair on Tobiah’s arms stand on end.
“How?” he asked.
“By every means we can think of,” Geshem said. “Discredit him in the eyes of the common people. Drive a wedge between him and the nobility so they’ll turn against him. Get King Artaxerxes to see him as a dangerous rebel. Threaten Nehemiah’s life so he’s too afraid to continue. . . .” He paused. “Kill him ourselves if we have to.”
“Tobiah, you know those Jews better than we do,” Sanballat said. “Is there something in their religious beliefs that we can use to our advantage and accomplish what Geshem suggested?”
Tobiah sat up straight as an idea began forming in his mind. “I think I do know of a way. The Jews believe that God will send another deliverer like Moses one day, a messiah who will feed the poor and defeat all their enemies. I taunted Nehemiah with this idea when we met with him before—but what if we used the Jewish prophecies to make everyone believe he really is the messiah? He’s already fulfilling some of those expectations such as helping the poor. We can plant the seeds of this idea in people’s minds, just like we planted the seeds of rebellion. All we need to do is hire a credible prophet.”
“I don’t see the point in all that,” Geshem said.
“Hear me out,” Tobiah said, rising to his feet. “The promised messiah is supposedly a king who will restore David’s throne. We’ll use those prophecies to prey on Nehemiah’s pride, and if he accepts the people’s pleas for a king, the Persian emperor will destroy him. It shouldn’t be hard for a false prophet to help frame Nehemiah as a traitor. I’m told that he hinted at winning freedom from Persia in one of his speeches. But even if Nehemiah doesn’t take the bait, the people will be disappointed in him for not freeing them and they’ll turn against him.”
“Do you know any prophets you can hire?” Sanballat asked.
“I have a man in mind. Possibly a woman, too. But they’ll expect to be paid. Are we all willing to contribute something to hire them?” Tobiah would need the money in hand before he left Samaria. He knew Sanballat’s legendary stinginess from experience.
“Yes, yes, we’ll contribute,” Sanballat said. “It’s a good plan. But I’m still going ahead with the attacks. As Geshem said, we need to fight this war on all fronts.”
Tobiah hated to be the voice of pessimism, but he didn’t want to underestimate their enemy. “And if none of these plans work?” he asked.
Geshem pierced him with his night-black eyes. “Simple. We’ll lure Nehemiah out of the city and kill him ourselves.”
Chapter
31
JERUSALEM
Chana hurried downhill from the Valley Gate to Malkijah’s assigned section at the Dung Gate, her anger growing with each step she took. Nava’s news that Malkijah refused to set his bondservants free filled Chana with a determination to end their betrothal. How could she marry a man who disobeyed the Torah and refused to help the poor? A man who was only interested in wealth and power?
She hadn’t visited the Dung Gate since the work began, and she was amazed by how much progress had been made. No longer a pile of burnt rubble, the gate was taking shape again with a chamber for the guards and a tower that rose above the opening where the doors would hang. The laborers were hard at work, using a crane and a team of oxen to hoist a huge stone into place. But instead of working alongside the men the way Chana and her sisters did, Malkijah stood off to one side supervising them, wearing an expensive linen tunic. He didn’t notice her until she walked up beside him and said, “May I have a word with you, please?”
“Chana? Is something wrong? Is it your family?” The concerned expression he wore looked convincing, but she knew what an accomplished actor he’d been in winning her trust. She wasn’t going to let him deceive her again.
“We’re all fine. That’s not what brought me here.”
“Come, there’s a little patch of shade beneath the gate but unfortunately no place to sit down.” He led her beneath the roof and dipped a cup into a clay water jar. “Would you like some?” She shook her head and watched as he drank it himself. “What is it, Chana? You look upset.”
“I am upset. I was worshiping at the temple on the morning the workers staged their protest, asking the governor to help them. Were you there, too?”
“Yes. I go to the sacrifice every day.”
“I’ve followed this drama from the very beginning. I heard the governor’s speech last week and the prophecy that Rebbe Ezra read. I watched the landowners come forward and vow to do the right thing and set their workers free. Yet I’m told that you haven’t freed your bondservants. Or should I say our bondservants? You said they belonged to me, too, now that we’re betrothed.”
He met
her gaze, unflinching as he replied. “I didn’t take the oath to release them, Chana.”
“Why not?”
“I couldn’t vow before God to do something that I knew was impossible. I can’t release all of my workers at once. Do you have any idea how many I have? You saw my vineyards and fields and olive groves. My entire estate would fall apart without their help.”
“Can’t you set them free and hire them back to work for you? Pay them wages?”
“Pay them with what?” he said, spreading his empty hands. “I already have paid them. That’s what a loan is, Chana. It’s an advance on their salaries. They’ve already agreed to work for me in return for the loan. I can’t afford to pay them twice.”
She was becoming more upset, more confused, as he calmly replied to all of her questions. “All of the other wealthy landowners are extending charity to the poor.”
“All of them? You’re certain of that? You’ve checked their records?”
“Of course not.”
“And you’ve checked my records, too? You’re certain that I’m not being charitable to those less fortunate than me?”
His serene response infuriated her. “The Torah clearly says that usury is wrong, Malkijah. We’re forbidden to charge our fellow Jews interest.”
“And do you know for a fact that I’m charging them interest?”
She couldn’t reply. Was he being defensive by answering her questions with another question or was he telling the truth? She remembered Nava’s pleas and tears and said, “To you they’re just servants who are needed to run your grand estate, but they’re real people, Malkijah, with hopes and dreams of their own. I had no idea when I agreed to marry you that you care more about your wealth than you do about them.”
He exhaled, staring at his feet for a long moment before looking up at her again. “I’m disappointed in you, Chana. You asked people to believe the best about you when you defied convention and went to work on the wall, yet you’re judging others based on outward appearances. Right now you’re judging me.”
“I’m not judging—”
“You’re thoroughly convinced that what you believe about me is true, that I’m as stingy and greedy as you say I am. You came all the way down here to accuse me.”
“I came to ask why you haven’t set your bondservants free.”
“Because my estate would collapse with no one to run it. I wouldn’t be able to give to the poor or to provide for my sons or my future wife. The men who work for me here at the Dung Gate would have no one to support them while they labor. This wall would never get finished—which is what our enemies are hoping for, by the way.”
“All the other landowners have freed their servants.”
“Do you know that for a fact? And do you truly understand what the consequences would be if I freed all my servants?”
She shook her head, ashamed to answer out loud. Malkijah was being maddeningly patient with her.
“I know this sounds arrogant, Chana, but until the famine ends, my servants are better off living with me. At least they have food and a safe, warm bed to sleep in. If I set them free, they would return to homes that were hard-hit by the drought. How can I help the poor by sending them all home to empty storehouses?”
“You can give charity.”
“I am giving charity. I not only feed and clothe the bondservants who work for me, but I’m feeding their families back home, as well. Don’t you think I have a right to expect work in return for feeding them? What would become of our province if all the poor people decided to stop working and simply lived off the generosity of the rich?”
“The Torah says we should be generous to the poor.”
“I agree. And I believe I’m being very generous. Listen, I don’t know how this hornets’ nest of unrest became stirred up, but anytime the poor rise up against the rich without understanding the details or the consequences, it’s a recipe for disaster. I wouldn’t be at all surprised to learn that our enemies planted the seeds of this turmoil.”
Chana thought his idea was absurd, a way to blame their nameless enemies for his refusal to help. “You could at least set some of your bondservants free,” she said, thinking of Nava.
“How would I choose which ones? My estate could no longer function if I freed everyone, and it wouldn’t be fair to let some go and make others stay. Besides, my household functions as a unit.”
“Other men are setting their bondservants free.” She was aware that she had run out of logical arguments and was repeating herself.
Malkijah exhaled again. “Have you visited their estates? Do you know for a fact that their situations are exactly like mine? Give me a little credit, Chana. And please get all the facts straight before accusing me.”
Chana knew that the real root of her anger was the discovery that Malkijah was marrying her for her father’s power. In her frustration, she decided to get him to at least admit to that greedy motive. “Why did you want to marry me, Malkijah?” she asked.
“I thought I explained my reasons, but I will repeat them, if you wish. I want to be happy again, the way I was with my first wife, Rebecca. I want companionship, a partner I can trust and work with. I thought you and I would understand each other because we both know what it’s like to lose the person we loved. And as I got to know you, I discovered that you are a kind, intelligent woman who could help me manage my home and the abundant blessings that the Almighty One has given me. . . . Oh, and there’s one more reason that I may not have mentioned. I also wanted to marry you because I think you are a very attractive woman.”
“And it’s not because I could offer you the power and prestige of my father’s position as district leader of Jerusalem?” she demanded to know.
“Of course. His prestige is part of who you are, Chana. Growing up as Shallum’s daughter has shaped you into the woman you’ve become. When people decide to marry, they’re always marrying into an extended family with all of the benefits and advantages it brings.”
Abba had said the same thing. Why had she not seen the truth before?
“Now let me ask you a question,” he said quietly. “Can you honestly say you would have considered marrying me if I were poor? Or that your father would have considered it? He wanted something from me, too—and so did you, as I recall.”
“I was never after your wealth—”
“No, but you wanted to continue working on the wall, remember? And so you said you would agree to a ketubah if I used my influence to convince the governor to let you work. How was that bargain any different from all of the other ones your father and I made?”
She couldn’t reply. She felt her cheeks flaming and was grateful that Malkijah had spoken in a low, calm voice the entire time, so that no one had heard her making a fool of herself.
“Marriage involves compromise, Chana. And yes, bargaining for the things you want—which is what we both did. And correct me if I’m wrong, but wasn’t Yitzhak ben Rephaiah also aware of the power your father’s position would give him?”
Her tears began to fall. Her throat was so tight she couldn’t speak at the reminder of Yitzhak’s true motives. Malkijah pulled out a square of clean linen from the folds of his tunic and handed it to her to wipe her eyes. “I’m sorry if I’ve disappointed you by not releasing my bondservants, but it’s impossible for me to do so at the moment. My estate has also suffered from two years of drought. Without workers to help me, I wouldn’t have any crops to harvest and nothing to give to the poor.”
She felt like a fool.
“Do you have any more questions, Chana? Because I should get back to work.”
When she shook her head Malkijah started to leave, then turned to her again. For the space of a heartbeat, his face revealed his vulnerability, and she saw that her accusations had hurt him.
“I have one more question for you, Chana,” he said softly. “What is it going to take to get you to trust me?”
Chapter
32
JERUSALEM
/> Nehemiah was preparing for bed when someone banged on his door, startling him. “Nehemiah, it’s me—Hanani.”
He went to the door and opened it, his heart racing. “What’s wrong?”
“You’d better get dressed. You just received an urgent message.”
Nehemiah pulled his tunic on over his head and shoved his feet into his sandals without bothering to fasten them, then followed his brother down the passageway to his workroom. All of the lamps had been lit, and his three aides and his brother Ephraim were all waiting for him. “What is it? What happened?”
Ephraim’s expression was grim as he held up the message. “A few hours ago at dusk, a group of our workers were attacked by a gang of armed men. The workers were returning to their home village a few miles away after building the wall all day. Two of our men were killed, three more were injured.”
“Was it a robbery?”
“No. Nothing was taken. The murderers fled as quickly as they had come but not before making it clear that they would kill again if we didn’t stop rebuilding the wall.”
Nehemiah’s first instinct was to gather weapons and give chase, even now, in the dark of night. But it was much too late to defend his slaughtered men. He couldn’t undo what his lack of precaution had already done. He sank down on the nearest seat, devastated and enraged by the news. “Two innocent men—murdered! My workers! I had a duty as governor to protect them . . . and I failed!”
“You couldn’t have foreseen this,” Ephraim began. “No one knew—”
“I should have foreseen it!” he said, raising his voice. “I’m a security expert! It’s my livelihood! And I knew about the dangers, the attacks and murders that happened before I came. Yet I was too focused on rebuilding the wall to take precautions. I failed to keep my laborers safe!” None of the men tried to contradict him. The licking flames of the oil lamps danced in the silence as Nehemiah fought to control his fury. And to decide what to do next. “Rehum, find out if the men had families, and ask what I can do for them.”