by Lynn Austin
“Abba, what happened to you?”
“Eliakim?” he whispered.
“Yes, Abba, I’m here.”
“I can’t see.”
“That’s because there’s no light in here.” Eliakim’s sleeve began to grow damp where his father’s head rested against it. He touched Hilkiah’s hair with his other hand. It was matted and soaked with blood. “Dear God, Abba! Who did this to you?”
“Soldiers . . . They wanted Joshua.”
“Joshua? What for?” Hilkiah moved his head slightly as he shook it. “Was Joshua home? Did they arrest him, too?” Eliakim asked.
Hilkiah shook his head again. “I . . . didn’t tell . . .” His voice was slurred, as if he talked out of only one side of his mouth.
Eliakim gently squeezed his father’s right hand. “Can you feel this, Abba?” Again, Hilkiah shook his head. But then he lifted his left hand to his ear as if to swat away a fly. Eliakim touched his father’s ear to see what was bothering him. The side of Hilkiah’s head was slick with blood, but there was no wound. The blood was coming out of his ear.
“Eliakim . . . I’m dying. . . .” he mumbled.
“No, Abba, you’re not! Don’t die! Oh, dear God . . . !” He gently lifted Hilkiah into Isaiah’s arms and scrambled to his feet, banging his fists against the cell door. “Jailer! Somebody!” he cried. The sound of his voice and pounding fists echoed in the tiny cell, bouncing back at him, deafening him. “My father needs a physician! Have mercy on him! He’s an old man! He’s done nothing wrong! Please!”
He heard no reply, no footsteps descending the stairs.
“Rabbi? Am I dying . . . for a righteous cause?” Hilkiah asked.
“Yes, my friend,” Isaiah said. “You’ve played a very important part in Yahweh’s eternal plan. You’ve lived your life faithfully, never compromising with evil. And you’ve raised your son and your grandchildren to do the same. Soon, now, you will stand in God’s holy presence.”
Eliakim knelt again and gently took Hilkiah from Isaiah’s arms. He wanted to clasp his father tightly, but he was afraid he would hurt him.
“It’s so . . . hard to think . . .” Hilkiah whispered. “Say prayers with me, Eliakim. ‘Hear O Israel . . .’”
“‘ . . . Yahweh is our God. Yahweh alone. You shall love—’” Eliakim’s throat tightened, and he couldn’t finish. In the darkness beside him, Isaiah continued to pray while Hilkiah whispered some of the words along with him.
“‘The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not be in want. He makes me lie down . . .’”
“‘ . . . lie down . . .’”
“‘ . . . in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, he restores my soul.’”
“‘ . . . my soul.’”
“Abba . . . Abba, no!” Eliakim wept. “Oh, God of Abraham, you have the power to heal him! Nothing is too hard for you! I pray that—”
“No, son.” Hilkiah’s fingers touched Eliakim’s lips. “Don’t pray. Let me go home.”
“No, Abba! I can’t! Not like this!”
“Let me go . . . home to . . . Yahweh.”
“‘Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,’” Isaiah murmured, “‘I will fear no evil, for you are with me.’”
“‘ . . . with me . . .’”
“‘Your rod and your staff, they comfort me.’”
Eliakim closed his eyes and wept as Isaiah and Hilkiah continued to recite, his father’s voice growing weaker and weaker.
“‘Surely goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.’ Amen.” Isaiah finished the psalm. He rested his hand on Eliakim’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, son. He’s gone.”
Eliakim buried his face on his father’s chest. “But why?” he cried. “I don’t even know why. . . .”
When Dinah opened her eyes, she was lying in a strange bed in a room she didn’t recognize. Her neck felt bruised and swollen. She remembered the soldier’s hands around her throat, choking off her life, and she cried out.
“Shh . . . it’s all right, Dinah. They’re gone now.” She struggled to sit up and was startled to see King Manasseh standing beside the bed.
“My grandfather! They hurt my grandfather!”
“Shh . . . he’ll be all right. I promise you,” Manasseh said. He sat down on the edge of the bed.
“Oh, thank God.” She began to weep, and Manasseh pulled her into his arms to comfort her. She felt his hand stroking her hair as she wept against his chest. After a while she dried her eyes and sat up again, ashamed of what she had done. It wasn’t proper for an unmarried woman to be in a man’s arms, even if he was practically a member of the family. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty. I shouldn’t have done that. But I was so scared.”
“I know. It must have been a terrifying experience for you.”
She looked into his eyes, and her heart quickened. King Manasseh was so handsome, his brown eyes so unusual, as if they contained flecks of topaz. Like all of her friends, Dinah had often dreamt that she would one day marry King Manasseh.
“They wanted Joshua, Your Majesty. They said they would kill my grandfather and me if we didn’t tell them where he was. But I don’t know why they wanted him. What did he do?”
“I’m still trying to find out the truth myself.” He held her shoulders, and she felt the warmth of his hands through her clothes. “Dinah, I can’t find Joshua, either. Do you know where he is?”
“Yes, he went to Yael’s house to talk to her father. He wants to marry her.”
Manasseh looked relieved. “Good. Now listen, Dinah, I need you to answer some questions for me so I can help your brother. All right?”
“I’ll try.”
“Has your father always had a close relationship with Rabbi Isaiah?”
“Yes, for as long as I can remember.”
“And Eliakim knows the high priest quite well, too?”
“They often share a meal together. Tirza is married to his son. Why?”
“And Joshua knows both of these men?”
“Yes, but they can’t be the ones who are after him. They—”
“This girl Joshua wants to marry. Who is her father?”
“His name is Amasai. He’s one of the chief Levites, an expert on all of the priestly laws.”
Manasseh’s face went pale. He sat very still, poised like a predator about to strike his prey. Suddenly he stood and hurried to the door. He flung it open, and Dinah stared in horror at the captain who had beat her grandfather and nearly choked her to death.
“That’s him!” she screamed. “That’s the man who—” Manasseh turned to her, and when Dinah saw his face she knew she had made a terrible mistake. She had betrayed Joshua.
“He went to the home of Amasai, one of the chief Levites,” Manasseh told the captain. “Hurry!”
The king closed the door again and leaned his back against it. “I’m sorry, Dinah, but I finally realized tonight that your father has been making a fool of me for many years. And so has your brother.”
“I don’t understand. You and Joshua are closer than brothers. Abba has been like a father to you.”
Manasseh didn’t seem handsome to her anymore. The dark look on his face as he slowly walked toward the bed terrified her. Her instincts screamed at her to run, but she knew she couldn’t possibly escape. She began to whimper.
“I want to go home. Please . . . please let me go home.” Manasseh shook his head. “Are you going to kill me?” she asked.
“No, Dinah. Why would I kill you?” He stopped beside the bed and traced her cheek with his finger. “You’ve grown into a very beautiful woman. Do you know that? Who has your father been saving you for? Certainly not for me.” He took off his outer robe and let it drop to the floor, then sat on the bed again.
Dinah shivered all over with fear. “I haven’t been promised to anyone, Your Majesty. If you ask Abba, I’m sure he’ll let you marry me. He’ll be glad to arrange a betrothal.” She
would say anything to keep him away from her. For the second time that night she felt like she might vomit.
“I don’t need to ask your father, Dinah. I’m the king, remember? I can have whatever I want.”
“Please . . . not like this. We have to have the wedding first. And say our vows. And—”
“There’s no time for all of that.” He smoothed her hair away from her face. “We were destined for each other, Dinah. Besides, I’m told that the stars are favorable for me tonight.”
Joshua stood on Amasai the Levite’s front doorstep and bowed to him in respect. “Thank you again, sir. Good night, sir.” As soon as Amasai went inside and the door thumped shut behind him, Joshua grinned and raised his fist in the air with a shout of triumph. Finally! After months of waiting, Yael’s father had agreed to their betrothal. He had set a date for their wedding.
Beautiful Yael, with her soft brown eyes and hair the color of embers. She would finally be his wife. No more proper distances between them. No more clinging chaperones or formal good-byes at the door. Joshua would be able to kiss her ivory skin, hold her in his arms. But how would he ever wait three more months?
He started walking the familiar route home, completely unaware of his surroundings, his feet moving by memory. His imagination raced ahead to their future—standing beside Yael under the wedding canopy, sitting beside her at the marriage feast, leading her to their bridal chamber.
In a daze of happiness, Joshua rounded the corner and collided with someone in the darkness, nearly knocking the man off his feet. “Are you all right?” he asked. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t watching where—”
“Master Joshua!”
“Maki, is that you?” In the dim light, Joshua recognized his grandfather’s servant. “What are you doing here? Is it Tirza’s baby?”
“You must follow me, Master Joshua,” he whispered breathlessly. “Hurry!”
Fear filled Maki’s wide eyes. He gripped Joshua’s arm and pulled him into a narrow alley between two houses. Then he started to run at a fast trot, hauling Joshua along behind him. The lane was so dark Joshua couldn’t see his own feet, and he stumbled over garbage and loose stones, stepped in water and raw sewage. The stench nauseated him as his sandals skidded on the slimy pavement. Had Maki gone crazy? They weren’t headed home. They were going in the opposite direction.
“Maki, slow down a minute. You’re hurting my arm.”
“I can’t! We must hurry!”
As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Joshua noticed that Maki was not dressed. His feet were bare, and he wore only his linen undergarment. “Maki, why on earth are you—?”
“Shh!”
Joshua was growing breathless from exertion. He felt as if a heavy stone were settling on his chest, making it difficult to breathe. If he ran like this much longer, he would have a breathing attack. They jogged north through the back lanes of Jerusalem along the western side of the Temple Mount until they finally reached the Sheep Gate. Maki stopped in the shadows.
The gate across the open square from them was closed and barred for the night. Four soldiers stood watch. Maki uttered a curse. “We’re too late!” He gripped Joshua’s other arm and started pulling him back the way they had just come.
“No, wait. Stop,” Joshua said, his lungs wheezing. “I can’t run anymore. I have to rest.”
“Not here, Master Joshua. It’s not safe. Come on.”
Joshua had no choice but to stumble after him again, through the narrow streets. He had never been in these back alleyways in daylight, much less at night, and it occurred to him a second time that Maki must have lost his mind. But Joshua was too tired and too winded to fight him. Besides, he had never been very good at physical combat.
Finally Maki stopped at the door of a ramshackle house that was little more than a crude shack. He put his fingers to his lips, warning Joshua to be silent, then opened the door. Joshua obeyed, saying nothing, but it was impossible to silence his raspy breaths or stifle his coughs. It felt as if more stones were being piled on his chest, pressing down.
Inside the single-room hovel, three people lay asleep on straw pallets spread across the floor. Joshua heard a gasp and one of the figures, a teenaged girl, sat up.
“It’s all right,” Maki whispered. “It’s me.”
“What—?” she began, but Maki cut off her words.
“Shh. Don’t light the lamp. Is the cistern empty?”
“Is the cistern—? No, there’s about a cubit of water in it.”
“I’m sorry, Master Joshua. You’ll have to get wet.”
“Maki, I’m not crawling into anyone’s cistern until you tell me what’s going on. Where are we?”
“It’s better for you if you don’t know.”
“I need to sit down.” Joshua glanced around the room as his eyes adjusted to the gloom. He spotted a rough, three-legged stool beside a homemade table and sank down on it. The girl sat trembling on her pallet a few feet away from him with the blanket drawn up to her chin. She looked as confused as he was. The two smaller figures, who Joshua assumed were children, remained asleep.
Gradually the tightness in Joshua’s chest began to ease. His mind cleared as the panic that always gripped him during a breathing attack died away. He looked up at Maki and saw that he was shivering. As Joshua removed his own robe and draped it around the servant’s shoulders, Maki’s eyes filled with tears.
“Maki, for goodness sake, tell me what’s wrong.”
“I don’t know, Master Joshua, I don’t know.” His teeth chattered together like blocks of wood. “The king’s soldiers burst into your house—dozens of them. They tore it apart, searching.”
“For what?”
“For you, Master Joshua.”
“For me? That’s crazy!” Now he was certain that his poor servant had suffered a breakdown. He had to calm the man, get him into bed. “Do you have any strong wine?” Joshua asked the girl. She shook her head. “Maki, that doesn’t make sense. King Manasseh wouldn’t send soldiers to tear our house apart if he wanted to find me. I work in the palace. I was there all day. I . . . Maki, for heaven’s sake, what’s wrong with you?” The servant had covered his face with both hands. He was sobbing.
“His blood was all over the floor when they dragged him away, Master Joshua! They just walked through it like it wasn’t even there! They left footprints in it!”
The girl scrambled out of bed and ran to Maki. “Shh, Abba . . . shh . . .” she soothed. She held him, rocking him like a baby.
Dread closed around Joshua’s heart like a fist. He carried the stool to Maki and eased him down on it, waiting until he finally stopped sobbing. “Can you try to start at the beginning?” Joshua asked quietly.
Maki nodded and drew a shuddering breath. “I was in bed, almost asleep, when I heard the soldiers crashing around. I got up, clothed like this.” He looked down at his bare feet and thin undergarment. “The king’s guards were running all through the house, ransacking it.”
“The king’s soldiers? Are you sure?”
“Yes. Palace guards.”
“Go on.”
“They were taking all of your father’s papers and shoving them into sacks, knocking stuff over, breaking things.”
“Why?”
Maki shook his head in bewilderment. “I don’t know why. When I heard Lady Dinah screaming, I ran to the front hallway. I saw Master Hilkiah lying on the floor, and the captain . . . the captain was smashing Hilkiah’s head against the stones! He just smashed it again and again!”
God of Abraham, this couldn’t be true. Maki had dreamt the entire thing. He must have had some sort of nightmare that had made him go crazy. This had never happened. But Maki’s horror seemed too real for a mere nightmare.
“Then the captain started choking Lady Dinah. He put his hands around her throat, and he said he would kill her if she didn’t tell him where you were. But she wouldn’t tell him, and so he just kept choking her and choking her until all the life went out of her.”
Joshua needed to sit down to absorb this incredible story, but there was no other seat in the house. He leaned against the rickety table, praying that none of it was true.
“They dragged Lady Dinah and Master Hilkiah away. The captain told his men to take their bodies to King Manasseh. That’s when they trampled through his blood and—”
“Maki, are you sure they said King Manasseh?”
“Yes,” he answered, wiping his eyes.
“But it doesn’t make sense.”
“There was a lot of confusion—soldiers everywhere—so I crept up to the roof when no one was looking and climbed down the outside stairs.”
“And you came to find me?”
He shook his head. “First I went to Rabbi Isaiah’s house to find Master Eliakim. But there were soldiers at the rabbi’s house, too, doing the same thing, tearing it apart.”
“Did you see my father?”
“He wasn’t there. Neither was the rabbi. Only soldiers. You are in great danger, Master Joshua. You must hide where no one will find you. There’s a cistern beneath the house.” Maki stood and gripped Joshua’s arm again, pulling him toward the corner.
“Wait, Maki. Not yet. I need time to think.”
Maki covered his face and began to weep again. “I’ve worked for Master Hilkiah since I was a boy. He was so kind to me. Such a godly man. They didn’t have to do that to him. They didn’t have to kill him and trample through his blood like he was a dog!”
Joshua let Maki’s daughter soothe him. He walked across the room to a small window in the front of the house and peered out between the rough boards of the shutters into the darkened street. Everything was calm and quiet. No soldiers ran through the street ransacking houses and killing people. There was no reason for them to do it. Joshua had talked to King Manasseh only a few hours earlier. It was the anniversary of his mother’s death. He was going to visit her tomb. Joshua could recall nothing out of the ordinary, certainly nothing that would cause the king’s soldiers to break into his house, ransack it, and then kill his grandfather and his sister. But something had upset Maki. Joshua couldn’t imagine what. He heard a scraping sound and turned to see the servant pushing off the lid of the cistern.