On This Foundation

by Lynn Austin

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “Levi and Jehohanan, summon the nobles and officials to my council chamber for a meeting as soon as it’s light.”

  Nehemiah took a long moment to gather his thoughts while his aides hurried out. “That arsenal we found that was left over from the Thirteenth of Adar—is it ready, Hanani?”

  “Yes. The blacksmiths have nearly completed their work.”

  “Good. Ephraim, spread out the map of the city walls,” he said, rising from his chair. “We need to come up with a plan to safeguard Jerusalem and our workers from now on until the wall is finished.”

  Nehemiah and his brothers stayed awake for the rest of the night, organizing a series of guard posts at each of the unfinished gates and at the most vulnerable breaches in the wall. His lingering guilt and anger over the deaths of his two laborers kept him awake and drove him to find a solution. When it was time for his council meeting the next morning, Nehemiah walked into the chamber to pandemonium as his area leaders and officials shouted and argued with each other. He quickly took his place at the front and was attempting to restore order when the district leader of Beth Hakkerem approached him.

  “There’s something very important I need to tell you, Governor,” he said in a low voice.

  “Can it wait, Malkijah? Everyone seems to have something important to tell me.”

  “I think you’ll want to hear what I have to say first—in private.”

  “Very well.” Nehemiah sighed impatiently and followed him off to the side. Malkijah leaned close to his ear, speaking softly as the uproar continued in the hall. “Are you aware that one of your aides, the young man named Jehohanan, is the son of Tobiah the Ammonite?”

  “What?” Nehemiah pulled back, staring at Malkijah in disbelief. “Is this a joke? You can’t mean our enemy Tobiah?”

  Malkijah nodded. “I do, Governor.”

  Nehemiah couldn’t speak. He quickly scanned the room and spotted Jehohanan talking with Hanani. The young aide had always struck Nehemiah as exceptionally bright and ambitious—but he also recalled a few times when Jehohanan had seemed negative and discouraging. Nehemiah shook his head in disbelief. Tobiah’s son? How could he not have known? He cursed himself for yet another security breach, for trusting others to choose his aides instead of checking their backgrounds himself. He knew better than anyone else the need for caution when deciding whom to trust. “How can this be, Malkijah? And why am I the last man in Jerusalem to find out? Why didn’t you warn me sooner?”

  “I didn’t realize Jehohanan was your aide until this morning, when he came to my house to summon me to this meeting.”

  “And nobody except you thought to warn me about him? No wonder our enemies seem to know our every move. They’ve heard every word I’ve whispered in confidence these past few weeks.” Nehemiah wanted to throw something or break something—preferably Jehohanan’s neck or the neck of the man who’d recommended him. “This is unbelievable!” he said through gritted teeth.

  “To be fair, Governor, I don’t think too many people know about the connection between Jehohanan and Tobiah. Jehohanan married into a well-respected Jewish family and has studied and lived in Jerusalem all his adult life. I have no proof at all that he’s a traitor. Tobiah has many allies and connections here in the city, including his father-in-law, Shecaniah ben Arah.”

  “Tobiah the Ammonite has a Jewish wife?”

  “Yes, just like his son. But Tobiah has always kept his ties to these Jewish families out of the public eye. And the in-laws haven’t broadcast the news either, since mixed marriages with Ammonites are forbidden. I learned about these connections quite by chance.”

  Nehemiah continued to survey the room, wishing he had a sword for protection, wondering who else among these men might be a traitor or a spy. “What about my other two aides, Rehum and Levi?”

  “I don’t know anything about them. I’m sorry.”

  “Thanks for the warning, Malkijah. I appreciate it. I’ll have to send all three of them away so we can conduct this meeting in relative secrecy—and so Jehohanan doesn’t suspect that I’m wise to him yet. If there’s anyone else who you believe has mixed loyalties, please let me know at once.”

  “I will, Governor.”

  Nehemiah watched as Malkijah rejoined the other leaders. The noise in the room made his head hurt as he scrambled to think of a valid excuse to get Jehohanan out of the room. He came up blank. He motioned to Ephraim, who hurried over. “What’s wrong? You look worried—or should I say, even more worried than usual?”

  “I just learned that Jehohanan is probably a spy.”

  “What?”

  “Did you know he’s the son of Tobiah the Ammonite?”

  Ephraim stared at him, shaking his head. “No. . . . A wolf in the sheepfold?”

  “Can you help me think of a way to get all three of my aides out of this meeting?”

  “Go ahead and get started. I’ll think of something.”

  Nehemiah took his place on the platform and began calling for silence again. He saw Ephraim off to one side, collecting the three aides, and a moment later they left. Nehemiah knew he had to get past his anger at himself for this second security failure and get on with the meeting—but how? All he could think of was how he’d been deceived. He tried to recall who had recommended Jehohanan in the first place, wondering if he was a traitor as well—and if he was in this room. The dawning sun hadn’t made its way into the long, narrow council chamber yet, adding to the gloom. Why hadn’t the builders had sense enough to add windows? And more doors? There were only two doors and they were at the far end of the room. Nehemiah felt trapped with no escape, and it fueled his anger and a nameless panic. Then he saw Malkijah standing in the audience and knew he had at least one friend.

  “I need everyone to quiet down and listen!” Nehemiah said, pouring all of his frustration into restoring order. “I won’t let this meeting get out of hand. We’re wasting too much time as it is.” When the men were reasonably quiet, he said, “In case you haven’t heard the news by now, two of our workers were ambushed and killed on their way home to their village last night. The attackers made it clear that they’ll kill again unless we halt construction on the wall.” He had to pause to regain control over his rage and grief.

  “We’ve heard,” Rephaiah said. “The news is spreading all over Jerusalem. It means that the rumors we’ve heard, warning of an imminent attack, were true.”

  “What rumors? I heard nothing about them. Why wasn’t I told? And now two of my men were killed last night!”

  “I-I assumed your aides had informed you.”

  Nehemiah lowered his head. He had trusted the wrong men to keep him informed. “Where are these warnings coming from?” he asked when he could speak again.

  “Some have filtered in from our Gentile neighbors and trading partners,” Rephaiah said. “Reliable merchants whom we’ve partnered with for several years. Their caravans travel widely and often bring us news.”

  “I’m from the district of Mizpah,” another man said. “We live side by side with our Gentile neighbors, and they’ve been coming and telling us ten times over, ‘Wherever you turn, they will take you by surprise and attack you.’ I thought you’d heard, too, Governor.”

  The leader from Gibeon added, “Our enemies are saying, ‘Before they know it or see us, we’ll be right there among them, and we’ll kill them and put an end to their work.’”

  Nehemiah’s frustration boiled over. “Why didn’t anyone take these threats seriously? I should have been told that our workers were in danger. We all know that our enemies don’t want Jerusalem’s walls to be rebuilt.”

  “Well, after what happened last night,” Meshullam said, “my workers have decided to quit and go home before they’re the next victims. They’ve heard that more attacks may come at dusk as they return from their various construction sites. Their families are begging them to stop working, saying it’s too dangerous to continue.”

  “We’re
not quitting!” Nehemiah said. “That’s exactly what our enemies want! Besides, we’re nearly half finished. The walls have been restored to almost half their original height in most places.”

  “Then you’d better summon an army to protect us,” Meshullam said.

  Nehemiah shook his head. “If you mean the provincial army under Sanballat’s command, they can’t be trusted. The threats and attacks are likely coming from him.”

  Meshullam looked indignant. “That’s slanderous. You have no proof of that claim.”

  Nehemiah suddenly made the connection. Meshullam was Jehohanan’s father-in-law. He had borrowed Meshullam’s mule that night last July when he’d surveyed the walls. Meshullam was the one who had endorsed Jehohanan as an aide. Another wolf in the sheepfold. Once again, Nehemiah’s anger at himself for lowering his guard made him furious.

  “Why don’t you send to Susa for help?” someone shouted before Nehemiah could reply. “Ask them to send soldiers.”

  “Susa is a thousand miles away. It would take nearly two months for our swiftest messenger to get there, and another two months for help to arrive—if it arrived at all.”

  “Then the construction must stop until help comes,” Meshullam said.

  Once again, the room erupted into chaos with everyone talking at once. “Quiet down and listen to me!” Nehemiah shouted. “We’re going to do two things—and neither one of them is to stop building. First, I’m going to make sure that every man who works on the wall is armed with a weapon. I’ve already been preparing an arsenal in the event that something like this happened. As soon as I dismiss this meeting, my brother and I will hand out swords, spears, and shields to all your laborers.” Once again, guilt and rage choked off Nehemiah’s words. If he had taken this step of arming his workers sooner, his two men might still be alive.

  “From now on, I’m posting guards day and night to meet this threat,” he said when he could continue. “I’m stationing men at the unfinished gates, and behind the lowest points in the wall, and at all the exposed places where the enemy might attack. The guards will go on duty immediately and remain there day and night until the danger is past or the wall is completed, whichever comes first. Every laborer and his helper will remain inside Jerusalem so they can serve as guards by night and workmen by day. Because the work is extensive and spread out, and we are widely separated from each other along the wall, I’ll have a signal trumpet with me at all times. Wherever you hear the sound of the trumpet, join us there to fight.” He hoped he could get his guards into place before Meshullam or Jehohanan or any other spies had time to tell his enemies his plan. Nehemiah calmed his anger at the possibility of these traitors in his midst by reminding himself that he had an even more powerful ally than his enemies did. “Arming ourselves and taking action is only the first thing,” he said.

  “What’s the second?” someone asked.

  “We’re going to pray. All of our efforts will be worthless if God isn’t on our side. But I have faith that He is on our side and that He will fight for us. Therefore we have nothing to fear. Our enemies will not prevail. If your workers are fearful and ready to quit, remind them of the God we serve, the God who forgave us and restored us and promised never to forsake us if we’re faithful to Him. One of the reasons we’re rebuilding this wall is to bring glory to the Almighty One and show our enemies that He’s with us. The way to replace fear with faith is to pray.”

  As soon as he dismissed the meeting, Nehemiah and Hanani opened the armory and distributed weapons, appointing a leader over each guard post. Nehemiah chose a sword for himself, then went in search of Jehohanan and found him with his brother Ephraim at the field office near the Valley Gate. Nehemiah took a stance in front of the young man, his hand resting casually on the hilt of his sword.

  “You didn’t tell me that you’re the son of Tobiah the Ammonite, Jehohanan.”

  “I didn’t think it mattered. My father and I worship the same God you do.”

  “Of course it matters. And if you believe that it doesn’t, you’re either very naïve or a very clever imposter.”

  “You’re being misled about Tobiah’s loyalties, my lord. He isn’t your enemy. He would gladly work by your side. He supports what you’re doing.”

  “Then why did he come here with Sanballat and Geshem to mock us?”

  “Things aren’t always as they appear, Governor.”

  “That’s true,” Nehemiah replied. He was aware that Jehohanan’s statement could be interpreted several ways. “That’s why I’m sending you home. You no longer have a job in my administration.”

  He expected an angry response, an argument, but Jehohanan simply met his gaze and said, “It’s been a pleasure to serve you, Governor.” There was no sarcasm or bitterness in his tone. Then he walked away.

  “What did you make of that?” Nehemiah asked his brother. “Am I wrong to be suspicious? Are Tobiah and his son our allies or our enemies?”

  “I don’t know,” Ephraim replied, scratching his beard. “Tobiah came with Sanballat and Geshem as part of their delegation, remember? He mocked us just like they did.”

  “True. But is he in league with them? What motive would Tobiah have to want to halt our work?”

  “I don’t know. But we need to find out.”

  Later, Nehemiah told his other two aides that they were no longer needed, either. “Rehum, I know you’re supervising construction on a section of the eastern wall. That work is important enough to give it your full attention from now on. Levi, you would be of more help to me by working on the wall, as well.”

  Nehemiah would need to post guards at all the entrances to his residence. He would interview all of his servants himself, checking into the backgrounds of the people closest to him, people he had blindly trusted until now. He should have done it a long time ago. He watched Rehum and Levi walk away and realized that aside from Ephraim and Hanani, he no longer knew whom he could trust.

  Chapter

  33

  JERUSALEM

  Malkijah’s parting question from the other day still haunted Chana. “What is it going to take to get you to trust me?” She didn’t know the answer. She sighed as she bent to help Yudit fill the leather sling with fist-sized stones, then waited for the workmen to haul it to the top. The wall was slowly growing higher, but the rubble-strewn embankment where she and Yudit worked looked unchanged. Did these rocks multiply overnight?

  “This stone is ready to go into place,” Sarah called up to the foreman. She stood beside a huge building block, twice as big as she was, that the workers had shaped. Abba had been reluctant to send them to work alone while he rushed off to a meeting with the governor at dawn, but Chana had assured him they would be fine. Her work was what sustained her; at the end of each day she could stand back and see how much she had accomplished. But when the wall was finished, she would have to marry Malkijah.

  Malkijah. How could she marry him when she still had so many doubts? Was he truly motivated by greed, or had he told the truth about why he hadn’t freed his servants? “What is it going to take to get you to trust me?” At least he’d admitted that he was marrying her for Abba’s power, wanting to control Jerusalem as well as Beth Hakkerem. Unlike Yitzhak, he had been honest about that much. Chana’s thoughts circled around and around in her head like carrion birds, her emotions changing from anger to sorrow to grief—the same heart-numbing grief she’d felt after Yitzhak had died—and then back to anger again.

  “Why haven’t you been singing these past few days, Chana?” Yudit asked as they waited for the sling to be emptied and tossed down to them again.

  “I don’t know . . . I just don’t feel like it.”

  “Is something wrong?” Yudit asked. “When we first started building the wall you seemed so happy, but these past few days you’ve been sad again.”

  “Nothing’s wrong.” Chana turned and walked toward the scaffold, pretending she had work to do. She should apologize to Yudit, but she didn’t feel like it. Her ling
ering doubts about Malkijah and even about Yitzhak made her feel angry at everyone. Yet she knew it was her own fault for being so blind and naïve.

  Her only reason for getting up in the morning was to work on the wall. Each time she dropped her plumb line and strung her level line, she felt confident and self-assured. The massive wall rose from the ruins, solid and unmoving, one of the only things straight and true in her life. She knew she was doing a good job and thought she’d earned the other workers’ respect. Now she wondered if it was only because she was Shallum’s daughter.

  Chana was halfway up the scaffolding when Abba returned from his meeting in the council chamber. She saw him emerge through the gate, walking briskly, and his usually jovial face looked worried. He beckoned for her to come down, calling to Sarah and Yudit, too. “Stop what you’re doing, my angels. We’re going home.”

  “Right now? It isn’t even noon,” Yudit said, stuffing strands of her wild hair beneath her scarf. “We have plenty more hours of daylight ahead of us.”

  Chana climbed down partway and stood on one of the wide boards, her arms folded. “Did the governor tell you to make us stop? Because we don’t have to do what he says, Abba. You’re in charge of this section, not—”

  “Hush, Chana. We’ll talk about it when we get home, not out here where everyone can hear us.” He spoke softly, and his voice had an unaccustomed urgency to it. “Sarah, Yudit . . . let’s go.”

  Chana had to scramble the rest of the way down, then hurry to catch up as her father strode toward the gate with her sisters in tow. The governor had interfered again, Chana was certain of it. She held her temper as they walked up the Street of the Bakers toward home, but the moment they reached the courtyard gate, her fury boiled over. “You don’t have to listen to the governor, Abba. I’m betrothed to Malkijah, and he said—”

  “Just be quiet and listen.” It was so unlike him to bark orders that she suddenly felt afraid.

  Sarah linked her arm through his, standing close. “What’s wrong, Abba?”