by Lynn Austin
His temper had a chance to cool while he waited, and by the time three of the others showed up, Reuben was ready to work. “The ship docked late this afternoon, just as expected,” Ram told them. “The crew didn’t have time to unload the cargo before night fell. Nib is watching it for us right now, and once the sailors go ashore for a night of drinking, we can get to work.”
They left after dark, and Reuben felt a thrill of excitement as he walked toward the river with the others. They stayed in the shadows, their faces blackened with charcoal. This was the biggest job they had ever attempted—with the biggest payoff.
The boat lay at anchor in the river a hundred yards away, but they didn’t dare approach it directly. And they would have to wait some more. The hardest part of any job they did was waiting, being patient. But it was the most important part. They kept watch until a group of sailors left the vessel, laughing as they went ashore for the evening.
“Are you sure you can swim that far?” Bear asked, cocking his head toward the bobbing ship.
“I’m sure.” Unlike his friends who were built like brick walls, Reuben was slender and wiry. He would swim out and climb up the anchor rope to board the ship and check for guards.
“You remember the signal?” Digger asked. Reuben nodded. His friends were nervous. He was, too. The dock was still deserted, but in the taverns nearby, the sound of carousing grew louder.
“Good luck,” Bear said.
The spring air felt cold as Reuben slipped off his tunic, stripping down to his undergarment and belt, which held his knife in its sheath. He waded into the water. It felt warmer than the air and stank of rotting fish and bilge. He ignored the garbage floating near the riverbank and dove in all at once, quickly swimming toward the ship. A few minutes later he reached the anchor rope and paused to catch his breath, giving his friends time to creep down the pier in the dark and get ready to board at his signal. When he got his breath back, he climbed up the anchor rope, hand over hand, his arms strong from his work in the blacksmith shop. He could smell the pitch used for caulking as he slipped over the rail onto the deck, wet and shivering. He unsheathed his knife, gripping it in his fist.
Except for the sound of boards creaking as the boat swayed on the waves, everything was quiet. No voices. No footsteps. Reuben quickly searched the deck for guards, then whistled the all-clear signal. His friends came on board like slithering shadows. They crept to the hatch, and Bear led the way below, sword in hand. Reuben followed them down the rope ladder, grateful to be out of the wind even though the stuffy air below deck stank of sweat and tar. Before his eyes had a chance to adjust, he heard a shout, then sounds of a scuffle. More cries and shouts followed, then the clash of swords. He tightened his grip on his knife, wishing he could see. Should he go forward or wait? Reuben wasn’t a coward. He would gladly fight with his friends if he could see what was happening and be sure they wouldn’t attack him by mistake in the dark. He heard a terrible scream, and the next thing he knew, one of his partners appeared out of the gloom and shoved him backward toward the ladder. “Go, boy! Move! Move!”
In his haste, Reuben’s knife accidently slipped from his shivering fingers. He bent to search for it, but Ram kept pushing him. “There’s no time! Get out of here! Now!”
He scrambled up the rope ladder and onto the deck as shouts and footsteps thundered behind him. Reuben ran to the rail and dove from the boat to swim to safety. When he came up for air, he saw his partners in a shaft of moonlight, leaping in behind him. Bear was the last to jump, and it looked as though his tunic and hands were covered with blood. A flood of sailors poured out of the hold, yelling at them to stop, waving their weapons. A whistling sound split the night as an arrow whizzed past Reuben’s head. He dove beneath the surface and swam underwater, paddling as hard as he could, staying down for as long as he could. He surfaced only long enough to draw a breath, then swam some more, until he was far away from the pier and the ship. When he came up again, the sailors still milled around on deck, barking orders, but there was no sign of his partners.
Reuben waded ashore downstream, dripping and cold. The frigid night air made his teeth chatter. He hurried to the hideout as quickly as he dared, staying out of sight, knowing he would draw suspicion wandering the city streets in his wet underclothes. By the time he reached their hovel, he was shivering so hard he could barely walk. He quickly changed into his Jewish clothes and looked around for fuel, hoping to build a fire. The door opened and Digger stumbled inside, wet and bedraggled.
“What happened on the ship?” Reuben asked.
“A dozen sailors were waiting below deck, guarding the cargo. Too many for the four of us. They jumped out of hiding as if they knew we were coming.”
“Bear had blood all over him when he dove into the water. Is he okay?”
“I don’t know. He stabbed one of the guards. Killed him, I think. He told us to run. I think Nib might be hurt, too. Good thing there wasn’t enough room below decks for the guards to swing their weapons, or it would’ve been much worse for us.”
“I saw Bear jump into the water empty-handed. Did he leave his sword behind?”
“He had to. We were lucky to get out of there with our lives.”
Reuben’s father had made Bear’s sword. It bore his distinctive mark and could be traced to his blacksmith shop. Reuben felt his empty sheath and remembered dropping his knife. It bore Abba’s mark, as well.
Digger had changed out of his wet clothes, preparing to leave again. “Listen, kid, you’d better get out of here.”
“I was going to make a fire to warm up and dry off.”
“No time. We need to disappear for a while.”
Reuben left without a word and went home, stunned by their failure, worried about the aftermath of this disastrous night.
Each day that followed brought more worries as Reuben waited for the Persian authorities to arrive at the shop with the marked sword and dagger. Did the sailors get a good look at Reuben in the dark? Could they identify him as one of the robbers?
Three days later, he was sharpening a plow blade when Uncle Hashabiah entered the forge, carrying a cloth-wrapped bundle. Reuben forced himself to stay calm, fighting the urge to run at the look of grim determination on Hashabiah’s face. He spoke with Reuben’s boss for a moment, then beckoned for Reuben to step outside. Reuben took his time, trying not to look like a guilty man.
“The Persian authorities came to talk with our elders yesterday,” Hashabiah said. “They were asking questions.”
“What about?”
“Among other things, this.” He unwrapped the cloth to reveal Reuben’s dagger. “I know it’s yours, Reuben. I’ve seen you with it. It has your father’s mark on it.”
“Yeah, that’s mine. I lost it a few months ago. Where’d you find it?” He reached for it, but Hashabiah pulled it away.
“I can’t let you have it. The authorities found it at a robbery scene onboard a ship, along with one of your father’s swords—one of four that were stolen from our storeroom. Naturally, the Persians think we were involved in this attempted robbery, men from our Jewish community.”
“Were they involved?” Reuben asked, feigning innocence.
Hashabiah stared at him intently. “This looks very bad for you, Reuben. This is your dagger. The thieves had one of your father’s swords. If you were involved in this robbery I can try to help you, but I need to know the truth.”
Reuben fought to control his emotions so his voice wouldn’t tremble when he spoke. “I don’t know how you ended up with my dagger. And I don’t need any help from you. I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“A sailor was murdered that night.”
“Was he Babylonian? Because if so, I don’t care and neither should you.”
“Reuben—”
“I’m done talking now.”
Hashabiah caught his arm to prevent him from leaving. “Can you look me in the eye and swear you weren’t involved?”
Reuben glared at him,
face-to-face. “I didn’t rob any ship, and I didn’t kill anyone. Now leave me alone!”
He broke free and returned to the grinding stone to finish sharpening the plow blade, working slowly until his hands stopped trembling. He told himself anger made his hands unsteady, not fear. Nothing would happen to him. They’d never prove he was involved. But he couldn’t risk joining his friends until this blew over—and he would miss them. He hoped Bear and Nib had survived their wounds.
The sailor’s death unnerved him. Reuben had agreed to a robbery but not a murder. How had his life come to this place? If only Bear hadn’t killed a man.
Chapter
29
BETHLEHEM
The wagon Amina rode in stopped at the top of the Mount of Olives to wait for the rest of the caravan of travelers from Bethlehem to catch up. The climb up from the village of Bethany on the other side of the mountain had been long and steep, but Amina never tired of this view of Jerusalem, spread out on the opposite ridge with the temple perched on Mount Zion. “Isn’t it beautiful, Sayfah?” she asked. She wasn’t surprised when her sister merely shrugged. Amina thought of it as The Golden City. She loved the creamy color of its stones and the way the sunlight made them glow. A curl of smoke rose from the temple’s altar, and Amina anticipated the fragrant aroma of roasting meat and incense. They had come for the Feast of Weeks, celebrating the day the Almighty One gave Moses the Law on Mount Sinai, fifty days after saving them from Pharaoh’s army. Amina had been saved from certain death, too, just like the Israelites.
One of the men in their caravan from Bethlehem began to sing, “I rejoiced with those who said to me. ‘Let us go to the house of the Lord.’” Others quickly joined him in the familiar tune: “Our feet are standing in your gates, O Jerusalem.” Amina knew almost all of the songs and loved singing them on the Sabbath and at festivals. Sayfah never sang.
At last the rest of their caravan reached the top of the Mount of Olives, and they all started downhill to cross the valley together. Just outside Jerusalem, they paused again to shop in the local market square at the foot of the ramp leading to the City of David. The bazaar was much bigger than the one in Bethlehem, with Jews and local people and even foreign merchants shouting and haggling as they bartered their goods. The beautiful, exotic wares fascinated Amina and she slowed her steps, linking arms with Sayfah as she slowly limped along. Her sister pulled her to a stop in front of a booth selling painted pottery. “Look, Amina! Those pots are exactly like the ones we had at home, remember?”
Amina saw the longing on Sayfah’s face as she traced her fingers over the glazed design, a longing Amina didn’t share or understand. She was about to reply when a voice suddenly said, “Do you girls like what you see? Are you buying?”
Amina looked up at the owner, then froze in horror. Her father!
He was older than she remembered, with more gray hair than brown, but he wore the tunic and turban of her people, the Edomites. It couldn’t be! Abba was dead, wasn’t he? Amina whirled away, yanking Sayfah’s arm as she prepared to run from him and disappear into the crowd, dragging Sayfah with her.
“Hey, wait!” he called after them. “You girls . . . Sayfah!”
Sayfah halted when she heard her name.
“We have to run! We can’t let him catch us!” Amina tried to break free, but Sayfah wouldn’t let go. The man was out of his booth now, hurrying after them, and when he finally caught up, Amina was relieved to see it wasn’t their father after all. This man was shorter than Abba had been, but the resemblance was very strong. He was Abba’s brother, Abdel. Their uncle. Amina still longed to run.
“Hey! Aren’t you my nieces—Sayfah and . . . ?” He snapped his fingers as he tried to recall Amina’s name. “You look just like your mother, Sayfah—a real beauty. And I would know you anywhere because of your . . .” He gestured to Amina’s crippled leg. “Everyone thought you girls died in the fighting last year.”
“We’re the only ones left,” Sayfah said. Amina glanced around, still searching for a way to escape, and saw Hodaya hurrying back to look for them, leaning on Jacob’s arm. Amina ran to her, clinging like a vine on a trellis.
“What’s going on?” Jacob asked. “Do you girls know this man?” Their uncle had his hand on Sayfah’s shoulder.
“Of course they do. I’m their uncle, Abdel.”
“Is that right?” Jacob asked, looking to Amina for confirmation. She nodded.
“What do you Jews think you’re doing with my nieces?” he asked before Jacob could speak again. “If you’ve made them your concubines, I expect full payment as their next-of-kin!”
Amina spoke up, knowing Sayfah never would. “Hodaya and Jacob were kind enough to take us in and give us a home when we were all alone.”
“Then it’s lucky for you that I saw you today and recognized you. You aren’t orphans, you know. You don’t have to stay with these Jews anymore. You belong with your aunt and me. It’s time to come home to your own people.” He gestured to his booth, then beckoned to them to follow.
Amina’s body trembled so hard she could barely stand. Did he expect them to simply walk away with him after all this time? The thought made her sick. Jacob would surely turn them over to Abdel to be rid of them. And even if Hodaya came to their defense, Uncle Abdel would never listen to her. The men in Amina’s village took no notice of what a woman had to say.
“Just a minute,” Jacob said. “If the girls want to go with you, they’re certainly free to do so. But I think the decision should be theirs.”
“They’re girls!” Her uncle scoffed. “They don’t get to decide where—” He stopped as he seemed to catch himself. “Of course you’ll want to come back to your family, right, Sayfah? Come on.” He still gripped Sayfah’s shoulder and tried to steer her away. Again, Jacob came to their defense, separating Sayfah from their uncle.
“Let’s not discuss this here and now,” he said. “I’m sure the girls must be shocked to learn they have relatives after believing they were orphans for more than a year.”
“What are you talking about? They knew they had relatives. What kind of trick are you trying to play?” Abdel was shouting now, reminding Amina of the fear and abuse she’d endured for the first eight years of her life. She clung to Hodaya, trying not to cry. Again, Jacob surprised Amina by answering quietly and calmly, standing up for them.
“The girls didn’t remember which village you were from and had no idea how to contact you. But listen, we’re on our way to the temple right now, and it’s a holiday tomorrow. We’ll meet you back here in two days. That will give your nieces a chance to decide what they’d like to do. What do you say?”
“What guarantee do I have that you’re not going to steal them away and disappear? How do I know you’re not abusing them? If you’ve taken them as wives—”
“They’re much too young to be anyone’s wives,” Hodaya said, speaking for the first time.
“My mother adopted Amina and Sayfah as her own daughters,” Jacob said.
“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”
Jacob stepped toward him, confronting him face-to-face. “Because I’m giving you my word, that’s how. Or you can ask the girls yourself—do you want to go with your uncle now?” he asked, turning to Amina. She shook her head. Sayfah seemed too stunned to reply.
“We’ll return to your booth in two days,” Jacob said firmly. “We’ll let you know their decision then. Good day.” He gently turned Sayfah around and prodded her up the street saying, “Let’s go, girls.” Amina followed in a daze. Neither Jacob nor Hodaya said another word about the incident as they climbed the steps to the temple.
Amina had been looking forward to seeing the priests in their pure white robes, watching the beautiful rituals, and hearing the Levite choir sing, but now she was too upset to enjoy any of it. Her heart flapped wildly like a bird caught in a net at the thought of living with her uncle. As fear slowly overwhelmed her, she could barely breathe. She didn’t want to leave H
odaya and return to her own people. Ever! But what could she do? She and Sayfah were Edomites, not Jews. Didn’t her uncle have a right to them?
Gradually, the deep, rich sound of the music began to calm Amina. When her panic faded and she no longer wanted to run and hide where her uncle could never find her, she listened to the words of the psalm the Levite choir sang: “You are my hiding place; you will protect me from trouble and surround me with songs of deliverance.” Amina knew what she needed to do. She would pray to the God who lived in this magnificent temple and beg Him to help her and protect her. Maybe He would save her the way He had saved His people from the Egyptians. The way He had saved her and Sayfah and Hodaya on the Thirteenth of Adar.
Amina closed her eyes, praying silently as the column of smoke from the sacrifice rose to heaven. Please, Almighty One. Please hear my prayer and let me stay with Hodaya. I promise to worship you all my life. To follow all your laws. . . . Please . . . please . . .
Later they returned to Johanan’s home, where Hodaya and her family always stayed when they came to Jerusalem. Hodaya had grown up in this house, and Johanan, the man who lived here, was her nephew. He and his brother, Joshua, were temple priests. Hodaya got swept away as she greeted her old friends and prepared for the special meal that began at sunset. But she took a moment to pull Amina and Sayfah aside and say, with tears in her eyes, “I will miss you dearly if you go away and live with your uncle. I will be overjoyed if you stay with me. But you girls must decide for yourselves what you want to do.”
The Feast of Weeks lasted late into the night, but Amina couldn’t enjoy it. She silently pleaded with the Almighty One to rescue her from her uncle the way He had rescued the Jewish people from Pharaoh. Hodaya made Amina feel loved and valued for the first time in her life, but she’d be nothing but a miserable cripple again if she returned to her people. She didn’t have a chance to talk to her sister until later that night, when she and Sayfah were alone in bed. “What are we going to do about our uncle?” she asked, wishing with all her heart that Sayfah felt the same fear and revulsion toward him she did.