by Lynn Austin
He studied their faces. They all looked much too young. “For those of you who decide to volunteer, I can assure you that your job will be dangerous. Some of you may die.” As he paused, he saw their zeal and also their admiration and awe of him. “Our goal,” he said quietly, “is to assassinate King Manasseh.” Shock and surprise rippled across the courtyard like a wave. He waited until it ebbed. “When Manasseh is dead, our families can all return home. Judah will be our homeland once again.”
As a spontaneous cheer went up, Joshua realized that they were almost as homesick for Judah as he was. They had lived more than a year in Egypt, but for Joshua, more than two years had passed since the night he had left his father’s house to eat dinner with Yael and had never returned.
“Take the next few days to think it over,” he continued. “If you decide to volunteer, we’ll only have about three months to train and develop the teamwork we’ll need before we begin our journey north. Three days from now, Colonel Hadad will draw up a final roster of volunteers. Until then, you’re dismissed.”
As the courtyard emptied, he motioned for Hadad to follow him inside. “We need to finish planning the final details of the mission,” Joshua said. “I’ve persuaded Amariah to join us.”
“Has he finally decided to come with us?”
“No, but I convinced him that the assassination is going to take place, with or without his cooperation, so he may as well listen in on our plans.”
The prince was already waiting for them in the small room overlooking the practice yard, gazing out of the window like a prisoner. Joshua wondered if he’d been watching Hadad’s soldiers drilling. Amariah kept his back turned as Joshua and Hadad took their places on opposite sides of a small table.
“How many men do you think will volunteer?” Joshua asked.
Hadad stroked his smooth chin. “I’m hoping only about half.”
“Half! That won’t be enough. We’ll need at least forty men. I’d prefer all sixty.”
“That’s too many,” Hadad said. “We can’t smuggle that many men into the country without arousing suspicion, not to mention hiding them all at the ambush site.”
“I saw one of Manasseh’s processions a year ago,” Joshua said. “He has dozens of bodyguards with him. And his troops are experienced. Ours aren’t.”
“We can do it with twenty men, Joshua.”
“No, that’s not enough!” Joshua’s temper slipped from his grasp, and as he struggled to recapture it, Amariah suddenly turned to face them.
“Why don’t you argue about it after you see how many men volunteer?”
Joshua gaped at the prince in surprise. “That’s a good idea,” he said after a moment. He took another moment to gather his thoughts, then asked, “What else do we need to decide, Hadad?”
“I scouted out a site for the ambush before I left Judah and found a place along the road west of Jerusalem that I think will work.” He spread out a piece of parchment on the table in front of them, sketching as he talked. “The road curves around a hill, like this. Manasseh’s men won’t be able to see our ambush ahead of time, but we can watch their approach from the top of the ridge. On the other side of the road is a sheer drop-off. They’ll have no escape.”
Joshua’s pulse quickened at the prospect of revenge. “I think I remember that place. Go on.”
“We’ll wait until Manasseh rounds the curve, then our archers will fire the first volley from the top of the hill, taking out as many bodyguards as possible.”
“Tell them to concentrate their fire on the guards surrounding the king,” Joshua said.
“Right. We’ll split our forces into thirds—the archers on top of the hill will make one group, those setting up the ambush around the curve will make the second, and the third will dig in along the road to cut off the king’s retreat after the ambush.”
“I want to kill Manasseh myself,” Joshua said.
“I figured you would.” When Hadad smiled slightly, Joshua recognized something familiar in his expression, something he couldn’t quite define.
“Listen, Hadad, once Manasseh is dead, I want all our men to scatter. There’s no sense risking their lives against a superior foe any longer than we need to.”
“Are you sure that’s what you want? You’ll be putting yourself at greater risk.”
“I’m positive,” Joshua said. “You can devise a signal that will tell our men when to retreat. And we’ll need a location where we can regroup later.”
“The logical place would be the hideout where Amariah will be waiting.”
“I don’t want any part of this,” Amariah said from his place near the window ledge. “I’ll be waiting right here in Egypt.”
“We won’t involve you in the battle,” Hadad said, “but we’ll need to anoint you as king immediately. We can’t wait several months for you to travel back to Jerusalem from Egypt.”
“Hadad is right,” Joshua said. “The country can’t be without a leader that long. You’ll need to assume power immediately as the rightful heir.” He saw a look of dismay cross Amariah’s face at the prospect of becoming king, and Joshua’s anger soared. “You’re coming with us! This is God’s will!” he shouted. When Amariah didn’t reply, Joshua signaled for Hadad to continue.
“I found a small cave in the area. It’s right about here on the map. Amariah can wait there with Dinah while—”
Joshua leaped to his feet. “Dinah? Who said anything about Dinah?”
“Absolutely not!” Amariah cried at the same time. “Dinah stays here until I’m well established in Jerusalem and all the turmoil has died down!”
Hadad’s rage exploded. He shoved the table away from him, scattering everything on it and startling everyone into silence. “You said you needed Dinah to solidify Amariah’s claim to the throne! Was that a lie? Now all of a sudden you don’t need her anymore?”
Joshua knew he had to defuse the situation quickly and saw only one way to do it. He couldn’t let his plans fall apart now. “Hadad is right. Dinah needs to come with us.”
“No!” Amariah shouted. “How can you even think about endangering her life? I won’t allow it!” He turned to storm from the room, but Joshua grabbed him by the arm and hauled him back.
“Do you think for one minute that I would do anything to endanger my sister’s life?”
“I love her more than both of you do,” Hadad said. “You know I won’t let anything happen to her.”
Amariah’s face was pale. “Dinah stays here, or I stay here, too.”
Once again, Joshua felt his anger slipping from his grasp. If he had to, he would shackle Amariah and carry him to Judah in a sack. Then he thought of a more reasonable idea. “I think we ought to let Dinah decide if she wants to come or not.”
“No! She’s my wife! I decide what happens to her, and I say she stays here. What does she know about fighting battles and fleeing from danger? You can’t expect her to travel with an army or camp out with a bunch of men.”
“I’ll ask Miriam to accompany us and take care of Dinah,” Joshua said. “Miriam is resourceful. She’s helped me twice now, and she’s proven that she can stay calm and think on her feet.”
“No,” Hadad said suddenly. “It’s not fair to use Miriam to fight any more of our battles.”
Joshua stared at him in surprise, wondering why he was so concerned about her. “I’ll only use her if she volunteers, okay?” Joshua said. “Like the rest of our troops.”
“Why should she volunteer? What’s in it for her?” Hadad asked. “She’ll agree because she’s good-hearted, but you’ve never done anything in return for all her help except provide food and a roof over her head.”
“How can you say that? I’ve made her part of my family—”
“She saved your life, Joshua—twice! For that you’ve allowed her the honor of being your family’s servant!”
“That’s unfair.”
“Is it? If she’s really part of your family, why haven’t you been as concerned about finding her
a respectable husband as you were about finding one for Dinah?”
“I guess it never occurred to me. She seems a little young.”
“That’s because you still see her as the child she was two years ago. She’s a grown woman, Joshua. Take a good look at her for once.”
Joshua recalled Nathan’s accusation that he treated Miriam like dirt, and the dull ache of guilt returned. Hadad was right. He still thought of Miriam as a servant, as Maki’s daughter, and he never gave her a moment’s thought until he needed her. Joshua knew he needed her now.
“I’ll admit there’s a lot of truth to what you’re saying, Hadad.”
“Well, don’t use her again. Stop taking her for granted. Before you ask her to volunteer, have the decency to tell her what’s in it for her besides a thank-you.”
Joshua saw his simple plan growing more complicated by the minute. He needed to focus on his goal and concentrate all his energies on killing Manasseh. Perhaps in time the other details would straighten out by themselves.
Miriam stared into the muddy waters of the Nile as she stood on the dock, waiting for the ferry that would take her to the mainland to see her brother Nathan. In a few days she would be traveling to Judah on these flood-swollen waters, and she needed to say good-bye to him before she left. As the seabirds swooped above her, crying raucously, she wondered again what miracle had made Joshua suddenly notice her and ask for her help. She watched the ferry approach, remembering how earnest his handsome face had been as he’d warned her of the dangers she would face. He couldn’t have known that she would walk into Sheol itself for him. As she moved to get in line with the other passengers, someone called her name.
“Miriam . . . wait!”
She turned, surprised to see Hadad hurrying toward her. Miriam knew that he’d returned to Elephantine Island almost four months ago, but she hadn’t seen him since that terrible Passover night when he’d asked for Dinah’s hand. The changes she saw in him now startled her. She’d known him drunk and sober, angry and content, in love and in pain, but something about the haunted emptiness she saw in his eyes frightened her now. And she’d never been afraid of Hadad before.
“Did Joshua tell you we’re leaving for Judah in a few days?” he asked without a word of greeting.
“Yes, he asked me to go with him.”
Hadad cursed. “Is that what he said? Go with him?” His anger alarmed Miriam. She took a step back.
“Not exactly. I’m going to accompany Dinah. We’re the only women who are going, and—”
Hadad kicked a discarded piece of sacking and sent it flying into the water, accompanied by more curses. “Don’t do it, Miriam! Don’t go!”
“Why not? What are you so angry about, Hadad?”
“He’s using you, and he has no right to do that. I know because he used me the same way. When he needs something he makes you think you’re his friend, but the truth is, he considers himself superior to you and me. We’re beneath him.”
“Because we have no name?”
Hadad nodded. For a brief moment his eyes lost their empty look as they searched hers. “I know you’re in love with him, Miriam.”
“I am not!” She looked away, her cheeks burning.
“Don’t try to deny it. I figured out the truth a long time ago—when you followed Jerimoth’s caravan from Moab to Jerusalem. I was there when Joshua raged at you for tagging along. I heard all the terrible things he said to you. Yet you still risked your life to wade through all that carnage at the Temple and drag him out of there.”
Miriam stared at the ground, ashamed. She thought no one else but Jerusha knew of her love for Joshua. She couldn’t look at Hadad, but he lifted her chin, forcing her to face him.
“He isn’t worthy of you, Miriam. Your motives are pure; you’re helping him because you’re in love with him. But he’s only using you. There’s no room in his heart for you or anyone else. Did he tell you what will happen if our mission is successful? If he assassinates King Manasseh?”
“He said we’d be able to move back home again and—”
“What about you? What did he promise you for helping him?”
Miriam was ashamed to feel tears brimming in her eyes. “Hadad, don’t. Please.”
“Once Amariah is king, Joshua will be his palace administrator, the second highest official in the land. He’ll choose a woman of noble blood to be his wife, not a servant’s daughter.”
The tears Miriam had tried so hard to control spilled down her cheeks against her will. “I know. I don’t expect anything for myself. But Joshua promised that my brother Nathan could come back home and be his son again if—”
“Don’t believe him, Miriam. Your brother will only get a glimpse of what a respectable life is like, but he’ll never be allowed to live it. I know because that’s what happened to me. You heard Joshua’s reaction when I asked to marry Dinah. And it will be the same for Nathan. Joshua will never give Nathan his own name. Believe me, it’s better if your brother never tastes that way of life because it will be denied him in the end.”
A final call was made to the passengers as the ferry finished loading and was preparing to cast off.
“I need to go, Hadad.”
He caught her arm roughly. “Wait for the next boat.”
She watched the sailors release the mooring lines and push away from shore, then she turned to Hadad again. “What’s the real reason you don’t want me to go?”
For a moment he looked startled, as if her question had caught him off guard and he didn’t have a ready answer. Then his anger returned. “Because it’s too dangerous. You’re risking your life for nothing.”
“If it’s so dangerous, then why is Dinah going?”
Hadad quickly turned his face away as if he had something to hide, but Miriam couldn’t imagine what it was. “Believe me,” he finally said, “I’m against the idea. But Amariah insisted that Dinah come with us, and Joshua finally gave in to him.”
Miriam had a hard time imagining the prince insisting on his own way, much less standing up to Joshua.
“Miriam, please reconsider,” Hadad said. “Let Joshua find someone else to accompany Dinah.”
“Since when do you care so much about my life?”
“There is a very good chance that this mission will fail. If it does, we’ll all be killed. I don’t have much to live for now that Dinah is lost to me, but you do. If you could only see Joshua’s heart for what it is . . . if you could just get over him, Miriam, you could have a decent life, a husband, a family.”
“Can you stop loving Dinah,” she asked softly, “even though you know she’ll never be yours?” She saw that she had struck a vulnerable spot, poking a wound that hadn’t healed.
Hadad vented his pain with anger. “How can I convince you to stay here? It’s much too dangerous! This mission may not end with one battle, Miriam. Even if we kill Manasseh, there’s still Zerah to contend with and—”
“Who’s Zerah?”
“Manasseh’s palace administrator. He’s a very dangerous man, and he has a powerful hold over the king. He’s always hovering beside Manasseh, caressing him and gazing at him with his sinister crossed eyes. He gave me the creeps, Miriam. But Manasseh has given Zerah a great deal of power for some reason, and even if we kill the king, Zerah could easily rally the troops and proclaim himself king in his place.”
“What does Joshua say about all this?”
A strange expression crossed Hadad’s face. The anger and vulnerability she’d glimpsed quickly vanished, replaced by the eerie deadness once again. “Joshua knows all the risks. But I’m sure he didn’t explain any of them to you, did he?”
Miriam didn’t reply. She watched a second ferry approach the shore and tie up at the dock.
“Is there any way at all that I can talk you out of going?” Hadad asked.
Miriam considered his question for a moment, and when she finally answered him, her voice was a soft murmur. “The first time I met Joshua he was sick with a f
ever. He might have died if I hadn’t nursed him back to health. Then my father and I helped him escape from Jerusalem. It cost Abba his life. After the explosion at the Temple, if I hadn’t gone back to look for him, Joshua wouldn’t have survived. If anything happens to him on this mission and I’m not there to help him, I’ll never forgive myself.”
The ferry arrived; the passengers from the mainland filed off. As Miriam moved to join the line of people waiting to board, Hadad walked beside her. He stopped her just before she boarded and took her arm again.
“He isn’t worth your life, Miriam. Joshua will never love you the way you love him.”
“I know, Hadad. I know Joshua can’t change. But neither can I.”
8
“It was right about here.”
King Manasseh pointed to the place where he thought the beggar woman had once read his and Joshua’s palms, years ago, when they had been boys. Zerah had insisted that they walk down to the Kidron Valley, hoping that a return to the site would help jog Manasseh’s memory of her prophecy. His men had searched for the woman, but it had happened too long ago—more than ten years. She was probably dead.
Everything seemed different to Manasseh, the trees bigger, the road narrower, the surrounding fields shrunken. “It was cold and raining that day,” he began. “Joshua was the one who first stopped to talk to her. He wanted to give her some money, but he’d forgotten his pouch so I gave her a piece of silver. In return, she read my palm. She had no idea I was the king.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure! She was nearly blind. Besides, I wasn’t wearing royal robes and I had no entourage. We were just two schoolboys, out for a stroll in the rain.”
“Try to remember her exact words.”
Manasseh sighed. They had been over this story a dozen times. “She told me I would have great power someday and hold many lives in my hand. I would achieve great fame. I don’t remember what else. Then I made her read Joshua’s palm. He fought me, saying he didn’t want his fortune told because it violated the Torah. She took one look at his hand and dropped it like a hot stone, crying, ‘Danger!’ He was a danger to me. She said our lives would go in opposite directions and he would destroy everything I did.”