On This Foundation

by Lynn Austin

  “I helped Penina cook the lamb.”

  “It looks delicious—just like you.” He grinned at her, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes. Shimon was right, Aaron didn’t look happy, even though he was the master of all these people, the heir to this prosperous estate. “Pray for him,” Shimon had said. But she couldn’t do it.

  “Come on, Nava,” Aaron said. “I’m going to help myself to this food, and I want you to sit right beside me while I eat.”

  Her stomach turned at the thought. But she would be safe, she told herself, with so many other people around. The kitchen crew arranged the food in the middle of a rug and all the workers sat around it in a circle, dipping into the bowls with their bread. The men quickly moved aside to make room for Aaron and he sank down on the rug, propped on one elbow while he ate. Nava knelt beside him, keeping her eye on Penina and the other servers eating off to one side. Nava planned to jump up and go with her the moment Penina prepared to leave.

  “What are you thinking about, my beauty?” Aaron asked as he chewed a mouthful of lamb.

  She decided to tell him the truth. “I was thinking that you have so much. All of this will be yours someday. Yet you don’t seem to care about any of it. And you don’t respect your father.”

  An angry look replaced his smirk. “What are you talking about?”

  “I’ve seen you stealing his wine. And when he asks you to work, you disobey him the moment his back is turned.”

  He glanced around as if to see if anyone had heard her. “That’s none of your business,” he said. “You never saw any of those things.”

  Nava drew courage from his anger. Maybe if she made him mad, he would leave her alone. “I’m working here because I want to help my father pay his debts. He didn’t want me to become a bondservant, but I offered to do it because I love him. My love will cost me six years of my life. Would you do the same for your father?”

  His nasty grin settled back into place. “I’ll never have to. My father and I are noblemen, not common farmers.” He made farmer sound like a curse, not the blessing she knew it was. She thought of how Dan loved growing wheat and olives and grapes and wanted nothing more than to marry her and work on his land.

  “What do you really want, Master Aaron?” she asked.

  He leaned close, his breath warm on her face. “You . . . I have a right to make you mine, you know.”

  Nava’s heart raced. “You have a right to marry me, but that isn’t what you’ll do. You’ll steal what you want like you stole the wine, then refuse to take the blame.”

  “And no one is going to stop me.”

  “What would your father say if he knew what you were doing behind his back?”

  Aaron leaned close again. “He won’t ever know because you’re not going to tell, are you? Besides, he would believe me before he’d believe a lowly, disgruntled servant. And you know what? I always get what I want.”

  “And will that make you happy? You might take what isn’t yours, but something important will still be missing.”

  “What could be missing?” he asked, spreading his hands. “Look around. All this is mine. Including you.”

  Nava did look around, and she saw that the servers had finished eating. They were starting to gather up the leftovers. She rose to her feet. “I have to go.”

  “No, you don’t.” He gripped her ankle. “I’m the boss, and I’ll tell you when you can go.”

  “Your workers are watching you,” she said, tilting her head toward the circle of men still seated around the rug.

  She knew he couldn’t do anything to harm her without making a scene. The moment he released his grip on her ankle, Nava hurried away to join Penina and the others. “Are you okay?” Penina asked.

  Nava nodded. “I think I made him angry.”

  “Why did you do a foolish thing like that? You better hope he doesn’t punish you for it.”

  Nava had all afternoon to worry about Penina’s warning and wonder how Master Aaron might retaliate. When it was time to milk the goats at the end of the day, she told her friend Shimon what had happened as they sat side by side on their milking stools. “Master Aaron ordered me to sit with him at lunch, so I started talking to him. I asked why he was so disrespectful to his father, stealing his wine and disobeying him. I made him angry, Shimon.”

  “You’re the first person in a long time to stand up to him.”

  “Penina said he would probably make me pay for being so outspoken, and now I’m more worried than ever.”

  Shimon stopped milking. He looked over at Nava with a wistful smile on his face. “You may be the answer to all of my prayers for that boy.”

  “Me? How? Aaron came right out and admitted what he wants from me, and it’s exactly what I feared. What if it happens, Shimon?”

  “I’ve witnessed a lot of terrible things in my lifetime. A lot of injustice. But the Almighty One always brings good from it.”

  “How dare you sit there and tell me that God wants me to get attacked! That He’ll bring something good out of it!” She bolted to her feet, scaring both of their goats. “I thought you were my friend, but I don’t want anything to do with you and your horrible prayers. You can finish milking by yourself.”

  Shimon grabbed her arm, stopping her. “If Aaron has his way with you, one of two things will happen. Malkijah will either set you free, or Aaron will have to marry you. Either way, our master will finally see what sort of a man his son is, and how his own greed has contributed to it.”

  “You’re wrong! Neither of those things will happen because Master Malkijah will never believe me.”

  “I’ll make sure he does this time. I’ve been praying for him to wake up and discipline his sons while there is still time. If the Almighty One answers my prayers, maybe Malkijah will set all of his other bondservants free, too. Rachel can go home to her husband and children. That young stable boy can go home to his family and grow up a free man.”

  “My virtue is too great of a price to pay. I want to marry Dan, not Aaron.”

  “If your young man refuses to marry you because of something that happened that was out of your control, then what kind of a man is he? What does that say about his love for you?”

  “And what does it say about you that you would ask such a sacrifice from me? Why are you praying for all these things to happen? Why are you praying for our greedy masters at all?”

  He finally released her arm. “I have my reasons.”

  “I think I have a right to know what those reasons are.” Shimon didn’t reply. “I thought you were my friend,” she said again, then hurried back to the kitchen, leaving Shimon to finish milking the goats by himself.

  That night, Nava moved her sleeping mat to the other side of the half-deserted dormitory, making sure she slept right beside Penina’s bed.

  Chapter

  43

  JERUSALEM

  Nehemiah looked around in frustration at the knot of men standing by his field headquarters, getting ready to follow him. His escort was turning into an entourage, slowing him down as he toured the wall each day, inspecting the progress. He hated being hemmed in by crowds. The guards with their swords and spears were probably necessary, especially if the enemy attacked. He needed the trumpeter to sound a warning. And his brothers served as his closest aides and confidantes. But the rest of the men—nobles from Beth Zur and Keilah and Mizpah along with their followers and servants—made Nehemiah uneasy. Were these men loyal to him, or were they gathering information for his enemies?

  A growing posse of common people also trailed him on his rounds, people who reached out to touch him or thank him for the food he’d contributed from his storehouses or express their gratitude for freeing them from bond service. Many of them insisted they wanted to guard and protect him, in spite of his assurances that he already had capable guards. Their adoration had made Nehemiah uncomfortable at first, and he had tried to send them away. But he had slowly become accustomed to it, and now, as their adored leader, it
seemed ungracious of him to reject their expressions of thanks or to shoo them away.

  “Listen, all of you,” he said as he pushed his way through the growing crowd, preparing to leave. “It isn’t advisable for all of you to come. It’s going to be a long, difficult walk on a very hot day. And I can already tell you about our progress—the wall is nearly finished. Only the gates and a few sections of wall still need to be rebuilt.”

  The district leader from Mizpah stepped forward. “I think I speak for all the others when I say that we want to see the work for ourselves. Please, lead the way.”

  Nehemiah gave up and headed toward the Valley Gate. On the night he’d first inspected that gate, the fallen stones that blocked the opening had forced him and his men to pass through in single file. Now the wide casemate gate had newly built chambers for guards and a lookout tower on top.

  Nehemiah turned south, taking the road through the Central Valley, as he had on his nighttime inspection two months ago. The jumble of toppled stones that once formed a massive blockade had been cleared away, then recut and used to rebuild this long, five-hundred-yard stretch of wall to its original height. All the gaps had been closed. He stopped to speak with Hanun, the section supervisor, and congratulate him for a job well done.

  “You and the residents of Zanoah volunteered for a very long section,” Nehemiah said. “I’ve seen firsthand the monumental effort it took your building crew to move all this debris and reshape it into a wall. Thank you for working so hard.”

  Farther on he came to the King’s Pool, now completely hidden behind the new wall. It was no longer possible to draw water from outside the city wall the way his escort of Persian troops had done when they’d camped in this valley. The fresh springwater that filled the pool could be safely accessed only from inside the city. “Once again, Jerusalem’s water supply is secure in the event of a siege,” he told the men looking on.

  They came next to the Dung Gate, which occupied a strategic point of land at the junction of the Hinnom, Kidron, and Central Valleys. Malkijah and his men had worked hard—not only restoring the gate but also the tower above it, which provided an outstanding vantage point in all three directions. The doors weren’t finished or hung in place, nor had the cobblestone street been restored. Nehemiah greeted Malkijah but didn’t stay to talk with him, still wondering what to make of this leader who refused to support his social reforms.

  He continued up the Kidron Valley, arriving at the Fountain Gate, which perched on a bare scarp of bedrock. It looked nearly complete except for the doors and bars. The stairs leading from the gate up to the city had also been restored. From here, Nehemiah’s way had been blocked on that first night, and even after dismounting, he’d been unable to proceed very far. Debris from the deteriorated terraces still lay strewn across the hillside, but he could see that the new wall, built higher up on the edge of the cliff, neared completion.

  From here the city’s ridge sloped uphill, and the wall was too high above his head for Nehemiah to inspect properly. He retraced his steps, entering the city through the Fountain Gate, then climbed the steps and continued up the hill through the city. “Look at all the deserted homes in this part of Jerusalem,” he told his brothers. “It seems a shame that no one ever rebuilt them or lived in them.”

  “The entire Mishneh is deserted, too,” Hanani said. “Not enough people want to settle in Jerusalem.”

  “I can understand why people would want to return to their ancestral land, but can you think of any way we can eventually repopulate the city?” No one had an answer for him.

  They continued walking on the inside of the wall, following the street up to the Water Gate where Nehemiah saw a gathering crowd. “The Almighty One hears our cries,” a woman shouted. “He gives us victory over our enemies! They are afraid to attack!”

  Nehemiah recognized the prophetess Noadiah’s voice. “Let’s go a different way,” he said. He tried to turn around, but the people following him jammed the street.

  “Governor Nehemiah!” the prophetess called out. The crowd surged and moved around him like water until he and Noadiah stood in the middle of it, surrounded. “Blessed are you, Nehemiah ben Hacaliah. You have been called by the Almighty One, anointed like Judah’s kings for His purposes. Since the days of Moses, God has promised to send His appointed leader to shepherd His people, and the Almighty One has His hand upon you. There is a king in Judah!”

  “Listen, I’m your governor, not your king.”

  But the people took up Noadiah’s chant: “There is a king in Judah! A king in Judah!”

  “I’m not a king!” he insisted. No one listened to him. Nehemiah managed to push his way forward again, but now the crowd that had stopped to hear the prophetess followed him, as well, pressing close. Two guards walked on either side of him, but Nehemiah knew that anyone in the mob could pull out a knife and stab him before his guards could react.

  “Is it true that you’re the Messiah?” someone shouted.

  “No. I came to rebuild the wall.”

  “But all the people look to you!” someone else said. “You’ve saved us!”

  Somehow, the prophetess had worked her way ahead of Nehemiah and now she stepped in front of him, forcing him to halt. “God has made it clear, Governor, that if we return to Him, He’ll give us victory over our enemies and restore our nation. He promised to set us free from foreign oppression. And the Almighty One is with you, Nehemiah ben Hacaliah. He granted you favor with King Artaxerxes. Now He asks you to rule His people.”

  “King Artaxerxes made me governor of Judah for only a temporary term. I have no more authority than that.”

  Once again, he plowed through the people. “Her so-called prophecy has me worried,” Nehemiah told his brothers, who managed to keep up with him. His voice was low. “If news of it gets back to Susa—”

  “Our enemies will make sure that it does,” Ephraim said.

  “I know. I may have to send my own messenger to the Persian king to assure him of my loyalty.”

  “But that could backfire if our enemies don’t send a report,” Hanani said. “If you protest too much, won’t it seem like you have a guilty conscience?”

  Nehemiah continued walking, his mind in turmoil. He didn’t dare ask the question out loud, but what if Noadiah was right and God truly had chosen him to be king? What if the Almighty One had sent her to proclaim His will? As a mere cupbearer to Artaxerxes, Nehemiah never would have dreamed he would be here in Jerusalem, rebuilding the city, governing God’s people. But the Almighty One had proven to be the God of the impossible. Maybe He really was calling Nehemiah to reign on King David’s throne. Think of what else he might accomplish after the wall was finished. Independence from Persia? Freedom from their heavy taxation? He had the support and trust of the people and the nobles. And even if the Persian army did seem invincible, hadn’t the Almighty One helped Joshua conquer the Promised Land against enormous odds? Yet something about Noadiah’s prophecy still didn’t seem right to him. Should he trust her words or his own misgivings? She continued to follow him, encouraging the people to chant: “A king in Judah! A king in Judah!”

  Nehemiah turned to her and to the chanting people. “Please stop. . . . I’m asking you to stop.”

  “How can we be silent?” Noadiah said. “The Almighty One has spoken! You’ll see the truth when His words come to pass.” The crowd responded with an enormous cheer.

  He took the stairs to the temple, hoping to leave everyone behind as he continued his inspection of the walls on the north side of Jerusalem. The temple’s citadel had always been one of his chief concerns, and he’d watched the priests, under the direction of Eliashib, labor to complete it. “We need more timber,” the high priest told Nehemiah after greeting him.

  “Talk to Ephraim,” Nehemiah replied. “He can tell you when the next shipment is due to arrive.” Nehemiah still questioned Eliashib’s loyalty after Rebbe Ezra’s warning that he had ties with Sanballat by marriage. How could the Almight
y One’s high priest allow his grandson to marry a Samaritan? The question remained unanswered.

  The afternoon heat pressed down on Nehemiah like a weight by the time he reached the three western gates. The main roads from the Mediterranean Coast, Samaria, and Damascus all converged in this section of the city below the temple mount. The gates looked nearly finished, lacking only their doors. Surely Judah’s enemies knew the wall was close to completion. What would they do next to try to stop him?

  As he neared the Valley Gate where he had begun his tour, Nehemiah saw Shallum’s daughter directing the final stages of work on her father’s section of the wall. His temper threatened to race out of control, but he kept it in check by observing how solid and strong and high this section was. How it joined seamlessly with the Valley Gate and the Tower of the Ovens. In a few more days it would be finished, and Chana would be forced to go back inside where she belonged. She strode over to him when she saw him approaching, and he noticed that she had a guard with her, following her movements like a shadow.

  “Good afternoon, Governor.”

  “Good afternoon. How is your father?”

  Her chin quivered with emotion. “He’s no better. He suffered terribly last night, barely able to breathe. Miryam says we’ll know in a few more days if . . .”

  “I’m sorry.” He wouldn’t make her say it. He pointed to the wall and said, “Your section looks solid. And nearly complete, I see.”

  “Yes. It is.” She was being very gracious, not combative like yesterday. Yet something made her nervous. Was it concern for her father? “Governor, do you have a moment to talk?” she asked. She stared pointedly at his entourage and added, “In private?”

  “Let’s go over here.” Nehemiah held up his hand to keep the others back, then walked a few yards away from everyone to stand with Chana in the shadow of the wall. He waited. When she finally spoke, her voice was so low he had to lean close to hear her above the tapping chisels and creaking crane ropes.