On This Foundation

by Lynn Austin

  His mouth was set in a firm, hard line that Chana recognized as determination, not anger. “A group of laborers were ambushed last night on their way home from working on the wall. Two of them were killed. Now rumors are circulating around the city and the province that our enemies are about to attack again in order to force us to stop building. That’s why the governor called the meeting today. The other district leaders have heard the same warnings, coming from some of our trusted Gentile neighbors and trading partners.”

  The news sent a shiver of fear through Chana. “Is work on the wall going to stop?” she asked.

  “No. That’s exactly what our enemies want. But from now on, half of the men will work while the rest stand guard. Those who work will also be armed with swords. I’m going back to the armory in a few minutes to get weapons for all my workers.”

  “And then what?” Yudit asked.

  “The governor is posting guards at the unfinished gates and all the exposed areas, but the workers are spread out along miles and miles of wall. An attack could come anywhere, anytime. If one does, Governor Nehemiah will signal with a trumpet, and we’ll all rush there to help. Needless to say, the situation is much too dangerous for the three of you to continue working with me. I’m sorry.”

  “You’re not going to fight, too, Abba, are you?” Sarah asked, still clinging to his arm.

  “Of course I am. Why not?”

  “Abba, I’m scared!” Sarah wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his chest. He stroked her raven-black hair to soothe her.

  “Our trust is in the Almighty One. We must all pray for His protection and help.”

  The threats unnerved Chana. But in spite of the danger, her only thought was that the one thing left to her—building the wall—was being taken away. She couldn’t let that happen. “Abba, I know we can’t work outside the wall anymore, but I could still measure and use a plumb line from the inside, couldn’t I?”

  “How would you climb up, Chana? We can’t move the scaffolding to the inside.”

  Sarah’s eyes went wide. “All that scaffolding! What if the enemy uses it to climb up and get inside?”

  “There are easier ways for them to get inside,” Chana said. “The gates aren’t even finished yet. The enemy could walk right through the gaps.”

  “Why are you scaring her, Chana?” Yudit asked. “Don’t be so mean.”

  “From now on,” Abba said, “you will all stay inside the house where it’s safe until the danger is past.”

  Chana knew she shouldn’t have frightened Sarah. Why was she taking out her frustration on the people she loved? After Abba left, she stood at the gate that led from her courtyard to the street, feeling trapped. Her life was no longer under her own control—but had it ever been? And what about her future? Would she feel this endless cycle of anger and grief for the rest of her life?

  She was still standing at the gate a while later, watching the carts and donkeys and foot traffic on the Street of the Bakers, when she realized that the man walking up the hill toward her was Malkijah. She recognized his brisk, confident stride, his dark, neatly-cut beard and scarlet-banded tunic. She wanted to run inside and hide and pretend she wasn’t home after the way she had treated him the other day, but he smiled and lifted his hand to wave, and she knew he had seen her.

  Malkijah was breathing hard from the uphill climb when he halted in front of her. She noticed the sword hanging from his belt. “I just talked to your father. He told me you were upset about not being able to help with the wall.”

  Chana blinked back sudden tears. “I enjoyed my work. And I was good at it.”

  “So I heard.”

  She nearly blurted out, “That was the only thing that brought me joy!” but realized how insulting that would sound to the man she was betrothed to. In that moment she also realized that Malkijah was her legal husband and could override her father’s wishes if he chose to. “Will you let me work alongside you at the Dung Gate from now on?” she asked. “I promise I’ll stay on the inside of the wall.”

  He took a moment to consider her request before replying, and his thoughtfulness impressed her. “I would like to say yes, Chana, I really would. But it’s even more dangerous where I am than at your father’s section. An unfinished gate is an easy target. And we’re at the very southern tip of the city. It would take a long time for reinforcements to arrive if we were attacked.”

  “You said you wouldn’t make me stop building after we were betrothed.”

  “I know. But the work has become much too dangerous. We’ll be camping beside the wall day and night from now on and do our work with a sword in one hand.” He pulled the one strapped to his side from its scabbard and handed it to her. It was so heavy she needed two hands to hang on to it. “Can you do your work with one of these?” he asked. Chastened, she passed it back to him without replying. “I agree with your father,” Malkijah said. “The attacks could come at any moment, without warning. I lost my first wife, as you know, and there was nothing I could do to save her. If something happened to you, I would never forgive myself for putting you in danger. Please, Chana, you know what it’s like to lose your fiancé so close to the wedding day.”

  She looked away, ashamed to realize that she’d shown no concern for his safety, even after he’d told her that the Dung Gate would make an obvious target. “Isn’t it dangerous for you, too?” she finally asked.

  “It’s dangerous for all of us right now.”

  He could be killed, like Yitzhak had been. In spite of all her changing, conflicting, confusing feelings about Malkijah, Chana realized that she didn’t want him to die. She was about to tell him so when he said, “Listen, I didn’t come here to talk about all of this. I wanted to see you because I was upset about the way things ended the last time we talked. There were issues between us that weren’t resolved. And I’m concerned that you may have second thoughts about marrying me.” She stared at the ground without replying. “I came here to offer you an annulment. A way out of our betrothal.”

  “Is that what you want?” she asked. She was barely able to speak, her heart pounding at his offer. She remembered the terrible accusations she had made the other day, yet he was responding as a gentleman, not in anger.

  “No, Chana,” he said gently. “No. It isn’t what I want at all. I want to marry you.”

  For a moment she saw herself as he must surely see her, and how Yudit and Sarah had seen her earlier today: ugly and deformed with self-pity and stubbornness, spewing her anger at the people who loved her. She had accused Malkijah of greed, of exacting usury, of having no compassion for the poor—and without any proof to back up those accusations. Even so, this was her chance to be free. He offered her a way out of their marriage contract. Did she want to take it?

  Chana finally looked up at him, and his face blurred through her tears. He was a good man, and he’d been unfailingly patient with her even when her emotions and attitudes toward him had changed from day to day. She needed to find stability and peace in her own heart, acceptance and certainty about her future.

  “Malkijah, I’m sorry I said all those things to you. Please forgive me.” She paused, swallowing. “If you’ll still have me . . . I still want to marry you.”

  He smiled his handsome, crooked smile. “I was hoping you would say that.”

  A few hours ago, Chana had felt panic and dread as she saw the day of her marriage approaching. Each stone that she’d set in place brought it one day closer. Now she could no longer rebuild the wall. But maybe there were other tasks she could do for the rest of her life, such as working alongside this man who said he needed and wanted her.

  Chapter

  34

  JERUSALEM

  We’re here to make preparations for a counterattack,” Nehemiah told the handful of men gathered around the worktable in his private chambers. They were men he was certain were on his side, men who wouldn’t betray his confidence. “I’m not satisfied to simply post guards and wait in fear beh
ind miles of unfinished walls. Two of my workers were ruthlessly killed, and I won’t allow any more of our people to become helpless victims. So along with stationary guards, I’ve decided to go on the offensive. If we can figure out the most likely places for the next attacks to occur, we can send armed volunteers outside the city wall to take our enemies by surprise and confront them head-on. I’ll need men who are willing to fight for their brothers, their sons and daughters, their wives and homes.”

  He saw nods of agreement all around the table as he spread out his map, anchoring the corners of the scroll with clay weights. “I think most of you know Yehuda ben Aaron, the man who organized the defense of Jerusalem twenty-eight years ago on the Thirteenth of Adar. I’ve asked him to share his insights with us and the strategy he used to defend the city.”

  Yehuda rose to his feet. He was nearly seventy now, but still hearty and vigorous, with receding white hair and a sturdy build. He gazed at the men around the table with piercing gray eyes that seemed to miss nothing. “Back then, we knew we didn’t stand a chance unless the Holy One helped us. The wall was in ruins and there were no gates, of course. We couldn’t possibly defend all of the many breaches, so we decided to think like our enemies and figure out where they were most likely to attack.”

  “And we should do the same,” Nehemiah said. “Let’s put ourselves in their place and imagine which strategy they would use. Remember, their aim is to instill fear and halt construction, not to conquer the city and plunder it like on the Thirteenth of Adar.” He saw nods of agreement from the men around the table.

  “Back then,” Yehuda continued, pointing to the parchment map, “we guessed that the enemy wouldn’t approach the city from the east. The ridge is too steep on that side, and they would risk being seen as they crossed the Kidron Valley or marched up the steep slope.”

  “I agree,” Nehemiah said. “I’m also posting fewer guards on that side. They’re able to see for a considerable distance from that height and can sound the alarm if an attack does come.”

  “The northern approach by the temple has always been our most vulnerable one,” Yehuda said. “We concentrated our forces there on the Thirteenth of Adar, knowing that our enemy was motivated by greed. They hoped for easy gain by plundering the temple treasuries.”

  “That’s where this threat is different,” Nehemiah said. “Sanballat and our other enemies want power, not gold. I doubt they would risk the Almighty One’s wrath by attacking His temple. Besides, Sanballat has connections by marriage with the high priest and wouldn’t want to jeopardize that. Even so, the Levite guards are preparing to defend the temple gates on the northern side. Our builders have made enough progress on one of the towers for it to serve as a useful lookout post.”

  Yehuda nodded and looked at the map again, tracing his finger down the long stretch of wall on the western side. “This approach was our secondary concern. The wall was so broken-down, with so many gaps, that we knew the enemy could easily slip through them. Not only that, but the ruined houses and buildings in the deserted Mishneh provided plenty of cover for a sneak attack. We were forced to spread out a good portion of our forces on that side of the city. On the Thirteenth of Adar we stationed the men by families, knowing they would fight harder to protect their flesh and blood.”

  “Good idea. I’ll follow your example,” Nehemiah said. He glanced at his brothers but already knew he had no intention of putting either of them in danger or allowing them to fight alongside him. “Fortunately for us, there are fewer gaps in the western wall now. But you’re right, Yehuda—the Mishneh still provides plenty of cover for a sneak attack, especially at night. And that’s what they’re after—a surprise attack and a quick retreat. They hope to kill a few more of us and terrify everyone else into quitting. If they can distract us from building and force us to exhaust all our manpower defending the city, construction will stop. Let’s prepare for an assault on the western side of the city and concentrate our forces at the Fish Gate, the Yeshana Gate, and the Valley Gate.”

  “Very wise,” Yehuda said. “I agree with that decision. Now that still leaves the possibility of an approach from the south, at the Dung Gate. The land drops off steeply to the Hinnom Valley, but on the Thirteenth of Adar we decided to send some of our forces down there, just in case. We were glad we did.”

  “The Dung Gate is your territory, Malkijah,” Nehemiah said. “I’ll let you prepare however you think best for an enemy strike.” He considered him a shrewd, trustworthy ally.

  Malkijah nodded. “Thank you, Governor. My workers and I have already put a few measures into place.”

  Nehemiah stood and took a step back from the table, too restless to remain seated like the other men. “I refuse to sit behind the wall and wait to be surprised. I intend to send small counterforces out at night along each of the main routes. We’ll set up ambushes on high ground overlooking the paths that the enemy might use for a surprise attack.”

  “How long can you keep that up?” Ephraim asked. “Who knows when they’ll come?”

  “True,” he told his brother. “But as it happens, two nights from now there won’t be a moon. That’s when I would attack if I were our enemies. I’m looking for volunteers from this group to command each of these counterforces.”

  The number of men who quickly volunteered buoyed Nehemiah’s spirits. He appointed a commander to cover each possible attack route, then said, “I’ll take charge of the approach to the Valley Gate myself. The rest of you, have your men find a high place where they can keep watch and stay undercover. When you see the enemy approaching, come out of hiding and fight. They’re counting on the element of surprise, so let’s surprise them instead. But don’t give chase if they retreat unless you’re certain you aren’t outnumbered.” He dismissed them to gather their men, adding, “Make sure you only recruit volunteers. Those who are too afraid to fight are better off standing guard behind the walls.”

  As soon as the men left, Ephraim grabbed Nehemiah’s arm from behind and swung him around to face him. “Hey! Why didn’t you appoint us to be your commanders?”

  “You can’t protect us all our lives,” Hanani said, moving in from the other side. “We aren’t children. We want to fight with you!”

  The thought of his brothers facing a band of armed men in the dead of night turned Nehemiah’s stomach. His instinct to protect them was still as strong as it had been on the night their parents had been murdered. “You’re scribes, not soldiers, and—”

  “Neither are any of these other men!” Ephraim shouted.

  They were furious with him. Nehemiah needed to calm them down. “Listen, you’re my two right-hand men. I need you to help me lead the people, and I won’t put you in danger—”

  Ephraim interrupted with a scornful huff. “And yet you’re fighting—and you’re the governor! That makes no sense! What if you die? Or are you somehow immortal now?”

  Nehemiah couldn’t explain his irrational need to confront his enemies head-on instead of cowering and hiding. He had to fight, even if it didn’t make sense. “I have military training, and you don’t. I was taught to use a sword in order to guard the Persian king, remember? I don’t intend to die, Ephraim, but if I do, I’ll need the two of you to take my place. You must finish rebuilding the wall for me. You know how to proceed with the work better than anyone else in this city.”

  “Our father didn’t intend to die, either,” Ephraim said, “but he did. I’m volunteering to fight, and you’d better not try to stop me.” He strode toward the door and yanked it open.

  “What about your family? Your children?”

  “That’s who I’m fighting for!”

  A heavy stone sank to the bottom of Nehemiah’s gut as he watched his brother storm from the room. Short of tying him up with ropes, he was powerless to stop him. The psalmist’s words had run through Nehemiah’s mind ever since the Levites sang them in the temple this morning and he thought of them now: “Unless the Lord builds the house, its builders labor in v
ain. Unless the Lord watches over the city, the watchmen stand guard in vain.”

  Were he and his men standing guard in vain? Was the Almighty One behind their plans to build and defend Jerusalem’s wall, or wasn’t He? Where was the balance between trusting God to defend his loved ones and taking the initiative himself? If he was honest, Nehemiah knew that his overpowering instinct to protect his brothers stemmed from the fact that God hadn’t protected their parents on that long-ago night. And he was failing to trust God now, fearful of placing his brothers in His hands and allowing them to fight. Had Nehemiah saved his brothers that night—or had God?

  “I’m worried that Ephraim will do something foolhardy just to prove he doesn’t need my protection,” he told Hanani.

  His brother lifted the weights off the corners of the scroll and slowly rolled it up. “Let him alone, Nehemiah. He has a good instinct for self-preservation. All three of us do.”

  Nehemiah had tried all his life to be the strong, courageous older brother, to not let Ephraim and Hanani see his doubts and fears. But the flood of opposition that had come against him since he’d begun to build the wall—the ridicule of their enemies, the work stoppage, and now the deaths of two of his workers—slowly eroded his faith like the banks of a storm-swollen river. He needed to confide in someone. “Hanani . . . have you ever figured out why God sometimes allows evil to win?”

  “Are you thinking of our parents?”

  “I am.”

  “I’ve thought about that a lot over the years,” Hanani said with a sigh, “and the only conclusion I’ve come to is that in some instances, we’re incapable of understanding the Almighty One’s reasons. We just have to trust that He has a plan, even if we can’t see it.”

  “That’s the difficult part—trusting.”

  “I’ve often wondered if Ephraim and I would be the men we are today if Mama and Abba had lived. If we would be living here in the land of our ancestors, raising our children here—and if you’d be here rebuilding the wall, for that matter. Or would we all be in Susa, serving a godless king instead of the Almighty One. We’ll never know, of course. But here we are. And isn’t that what faith is all about—believing in the Almighty One’s goodness, believing that if He doesn’t answer our immediate prayers, it’s because He has larger, richer answers?”