by Lynn Austin
“You don’t need to do that. I come here every day, so I’m quite used to the steps.” He kept pace with her as she limped away, the crowd jostling both of them. “Believe it or not, today was the first time I’ve ever tripped. I don’t know what happened.”
He glanced back at his post, but the exiting crowds blocked it from sight. The gate he guarded was purely ceremonial, he told himself. It wasn’t as if he was safeguarding the treasury. “I’m Reuben ben David. What’s your name?”
She hesitated. Maybe she wasn’t supposed to talk to him, a stranger. Maybe they needed to have a chaperone or something. Or maybe she was simply shy. “Amina,” she finally said. Her name was as beautiful as she was.
“Amina,” he repeated. “I’m one of the new immigrants from a town in Babylon called Casiphia.” They were nearing the stairs, and he wished she would slow down.
“Yes, I saw you the other day when you came to be fitted for your robe.” She looked up at him before quickly looking away again, long enough for Reuben to see that her eyes were a beautiful shade of amber, and her cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink. “Your robe came out well,” she added.
Reuben felt a hopeful thrill—she had noticed him! “I was watching you weave that day,” he said. “You’re very good at what you do. In fact, maybe you’re the one who made my robe.”
“Maybe,” she said with a little smile. Much too soon, they reached the top of the stairs leading from the temple mount down to the city. “You really don’t need to help me,” she said. “I know you must have work to do. But thanks again.” She turned to go.
“Amina, wait!” She stopped and looked up at him, then moved aside so other people could descend the stairs. “I’m new at following all the rules and laws in the Torah,” he said. “I didn’t learn them back in Babylon, so I don’t know the proper thing to say or do, but . . . but I would really like to see you again. I don’t have very many friends here, and I’d like to get to know you better. Is . . . is that possible?” Her smile faded and she looked immeasurably sad. “Did I say something wrong?” he asked.
“No. And you’re very kind to ask. But if you knew more about me, you wouldn’t want me for your friend. You’re a very important man with a wonderful ancestry as a Levite, and I’m . . . what I mean is . . . I worship your God, but I’m not Jewish by birth. I’m an Edomite.”
“Is that why you didn’t go inside the Court of Women?”
“I’m not allowed to go in because I’m crippled.” She spoke without self-pity, merely stating the facts. Her face wore such an expression of sweetness and innocence that Reuben wouldn’t have cared what her reasons were. He couldn’t stop staring at her.
“I don’t care about any of those things. I would just like to talk to you some more and get to know you. I’m all by myself here in Jerusalem. My family stayed behind in Casiphia, and I’m making new friends little by little, but I still get lonely and . . . Could we meet someplace and talk—when I’m not on duty?”
She smiled, and Reuben’s heart sped up when he realized she was going to say yes. “Do you know how to get back to the House of the Weavers?” she asked.
“I think I could find it again.”
“Why don’t you come there and talk with me when you have some time off?”
“Thank you, Amina. I will! I’ll . . . I’ll see you soon.” He raced back to his post, breathless. He felt as though he floated on air the way an eagle does, high in the sky, its wings outstretched, carried by the wind. Reuben couldn’t remember ever feeling this way before. Amina had invited him to visit her! He had no idea what he would say to her, but she was so delicate and graceful and pretty he would be content to just sit and gaze at her while she worked.
“Where have you been?” another guard asked as Reuben hurried past. “And why are you grinning like that?”
“Am I?” Reuben realized he was—and he couldn’t stop. The attraction he felt toward Amina was a new feeling for him. What would it be like to hold her in his arms? To gather her thick russet hair in his hands or kiss her sweet mouth?
He was happy. And hopeful—two emotions he hadn’t felt since his father died. Reuben recalled one of his last conversations with his mother, and how she’d asked if he ever thought about settling down and getting married. He was settling down here in Jerusalem, but getting married? It hadn’t occurred to him until now. Yet that’s what people his age did, didn’t they? Rebbe Ezra had just told him the other day that marriage was His plan and His gift. God had commanded Adam and Eve to be fruitful and multiply.
The temple courtyards were nearly empty now as Reuben returned to his post. He had a clear view of the top of the massive altar and the billowing smoke rising from it. As he watched it ascend into the clear morning sky, a prayer formed in his heart: I know I don’t deserve a beautiful woman like Amina, but please . . . if it’s possible . . . could I have her for my wife?
Chapter
47
JERUSALEM
Stop it, Amina chided herself. Just stop it. She needed to concentrate on her work and stop daydreaming about the handsome Levite. Reuben—his name was Reuben ben David. He said he was lonely and wanted to talk with her, and so she had invited him to come here to the House of the Weavers. That had been three days ago. Now she couldn’t stop glancing up at the doorway as she sat at her loom, waiting, hoping he really would come.
She returned to her work with a sigh and passed the shuttle through the vertical warp strands—back and forth, back and forth. The crosshatch weave was very familiar to her now, and she could do it effortlessly. She thought back to the other morning when she had tripped like a clumsy oaf—and how Reuben had scooped her up effortlessly and set her on her feet. It had been very kind of him. Her heart had fluttered like bird’s wings at the nearness of him. And when he’d asked if he could talk with her and get to know her, Amina had scrambled to think of a reply. She wanted to say yes, but she didn’t have a home to invite him to, or a father to arrange such a meeting, or family members to serve as chaperones. The House of the Weavers was the only place she could think of for them to meet. Besides, Amina had no experience with young men her age, and she hoped that talking here in her familiar work surroundings would make it easier for her.
Reuben said he was lonely, but she couldn’t imagine why he had chosen her. She had nothing to offer a man like him with such an impeccable family pedigree. She glanced at the gate again, then felt like kicking herself for foolishly hoping. If the loom hadn’t been so heavy and unwieldy, she would have turned it around so her back would be to the gate. But even then she knew she would continue to turn every time she heard footsteps.
Stop thinking about him. He isn’t coming.
The late summer weather was warm, and she loved working outside in the languid sunshine. The older women all around her talked of their families and husbands as they wove and spun, but Amina didn’t join their conversations very often, too ashamed to tell them about herself or admit she was an Edomite. The woman seated at the loom facing hers was telling everyone about her newest grandchild when she suddenly looked up at the gate and stopped mid-sentence. “May I help you with something?”
Amina looked up, too—and there he was! Reuben had come to see her, just as he’d said. “Reuben . . . welcome . . . I-I mean, come in.” Why was she was stammering? He looked nervous as he stepped into the courtyard. “These are my friends,” Amina said, introducing each woman by name. “And this is Reuben ben David. He’s a Levite.” Amina saw the other women exchange knowing smiles. They returned to their work without speaking. Amina hadn’t realized how awkward it would be to talk to him with all the other women listening.
“Please, come sit over here in the shade,” she said, pointing to a place beside her loom. She had imagined she could continue weaving while they talked and it would help her feel at ease, but now that he was so near, her palms had become slick with sweat. She laid the shuttle aside and folded her hands in her lap, hoping he wouldn’t notice they were trembl
ing.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner,” he said, “but they assigned me to the night shift for the past three days.”
“It must be hard staying awake all night.”
“Not for me. I prefer the late night hours.” He hadn’t stopped staring at her since he appeared at the gate. She wanted to study him in return, but he had come here to talk, hadn’t he? Amina searched for something to say.
“I-I hope you don’t mind meeting me here.”
“Not at all.” He smiled, and the courtyard seemed to whirl in circles.
“I couldn’t invite you to my home, which would be the proper place to meet, because I don’t live in Jerusalem. I live in Bethlehem.”
“How far away is Bethlehem?”
“Not far. It takes about two hours to walk there. I’ve been living in Jerusalem for the past few months while I help make robes for all the new priests and Levites, and the cloth for all your other garments. We’re nearly finished, and then I’ll be going back home to Bethlehem.” He frowned, his handsome smile fading. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Is it possible you could stay longer? I would really like to get to know you.”
Why did he keep saying that? Amina needed to tell him the truth about herself, but not here, not in front of all the women she had worked alongside for the past several months. She hadn’t wanted to stand up or walk in front of Reuben again, knowing her withered leg and limping steps repulsed most men, but the sooner he heard the truth and left, the sooner she could stop thinking about him. And stop hoping.
“Let’s go out there and talk,” she said. She planted her crutch on the cobblestones as she always did when she needed to help herself up, but Reuben quickly took her arm and helped her to her feet. He opened the gate for her, and they walked up the lane a little way, out of earshot of the others but where they could still be seen. The street wasn’t busy this time of day, with only a few pedestrians coming and going between the shops.
“You seem like a very nice man, Reuben. Someone I would like to talk with and get to know. But I need to tell you about my past. You may decide to change your mind. . . . I’m . . . I’m not Jewish—”
“Yes, you told me the other day.”
“I was born to an Edomite family. My people are the enemies of your people. On the Thirteenth of Adar we went to war against each other. My father planned to kill every Jew in Bethlehem and take their plunder. Instead, he and everyone else in my family died except for my sister, Sayfah, and me.”
“My father also died that day. The Babylonians killed him. But his death and the war had nothing to do with you, Amina. You would have been a child.”
“I was eight years old. A very kind Jewish woman adopted me and raised me as her own daughter. She died not long ago, but I still live with her family. My sister decided to go back to our people and live with our uncle, but I fell in love with the God of the Jewish people. He’s the One who saved me as a child, and I worship Him now. I could never go back to the Edomites even if they wanted me—which they don’t, because I’m a cripple.”
There. She had told him everything. Reuben seemed to search her face, and she held her breath, waiting for the familiar words of rejection. “Why would any of those things matter to me?” he finally said. “I want to be your friend.”
Tears stung her eyes. “B-but a man of your standing, a Levite who serves the Almighty One, shouldn’t be associating with someone like me.”
He looked away for the first time, and her heart sank. She heard him draw a breath, and when he finally spoke, he stared down at his feet, not at her. “Amina, I’m not who you think I am. I’m a fraud who has no business serving in the temple. I need to tell you about the terrible things I’ve done in the past, and once you hear them, you won’t want to be with me, not the other way around.” She watched him in silence as he chose his words, and something about him made her heart beat wildly, the way it did when she was frightened or out of breath from climbing a hill. She didn’t understand it because Reuben didn’t frighten her, in spite of his confession that he’d done terrible things.
“After my father died, I turned away from the Almighty One. I became a thief. I broke into people’s homes and stole from them. I didn’t need to do it. My family had enough money to live on if we were careful. And I earned a little money working as a blacksmith. I stole because I enjoyed it, for the thrill of it, and because I found out I was good at it. Later, I joined a gang of four other thieves. Four Babylonians. We robbed ships and warehouses and places like that, then spent our money getting drunk. In one of our robberies, an innocent man was killed. But even that didn’t stop me. The only reason I signed up to come to Jerusalem was to help my friends steal gold from the caravan. The Holy One’s gold.”
“But you didn’t steal it,” she said, guessing the ending.
“No. I changed my mind. I betrayed my friends and told Rebbe Ezra about the plot. He should have arrested me then and there—or at least sent me back to Casiphia. Instead, he said God would forgive me if I asked. And he said God still wanted me to serve as a Levite.”
“That’s the most amazing thing about the Holy One, isn’t it?” Amina asked. “His forgiveness! The Jewish family who adopted me has been telling me how much He loves even Gentiles like me—and how the sacrifices at His temple bring us close to Him. That’s why I could never go back to my own people like Sayfah did. I want to worship the real God—your God, for the rest of my life.”
“I have a hard time feeling forgiven sometimes,” Reuben said, “even though I watch the sacrifices every day and pray with the other men.”
“But it’s true, Reuben. He forgives you. ‘As high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is His love for those who fear Him.’”
He looked at her with a puzzled expression. “Then why don’t you believe it?”
“What do you mean?”
“You believe the Holy One can forgive my past, yet you say I shouldn’t have anything to do with someone like you, because you’re an Edomite by birth. Isn’t your past forgiven, too?”
Amina didn’t know what to say. Why was it easier to have faith for someone else than for herself? Reuben reached out and gently stroked her hair, the way Hodaya used to do to comfort her. “And if God doesn’t care about your past, Amina, then why should I?”
“But my leg—”
“What about it?” he said, frowning. “Why should something like that come between friends?” She couldn’t reply. “But maybe you don’t want to be friends with me now that I told you I’m a thief,” he said, letting his hand drop.
“I would be honored to be your friend, Reuben.”
“Then let’s not talk about our past ever again. Promise?”
“I promise.”
“Rebbe Ezra told me if the Holy One has forgiven me, then my past is forgotten, and I don’t need to tell anyone about it. But I wanted to tell you, Amina. I wanted our friendship to start with the truth. But the same thing is true for you. If your past if forgiven and forgotten, you don’t ever have to think of yourself as an Edomite again. It doesn’t matter.”
“We may have to remind each other to forget,” she said, smiling.
“Yes. Let’s promise to do that. . . . So where are you staying here in Jerusalem?”
“I live with two priests and their families, Joshua and Johanan. They’re sons of the prophet Zechariah.”
“Wow! Very important men!”
“I guess so. They’re very nice. And very good to me. Where are you living?”
“For now, Rebbe Ezra has been kind enough to let me camp with his family down in the valley since I don’t have a family of my own.”
“Rebbe Ezra, the governor of Judah?” she asked in amazement. He nodded. “Now I’m impressed.”
“Listen, if you would like . . . I’ll ask Rebbe Ezra’s family if you can join us for the Sabbath.” Amina hesitated, feeling the old, familiar shame, the fear she would be rejected and humiliated. Would the governor wan
t to eat with an Edomite? “They’re very kind people,” Reuben continued. “I know they would make you feel welcome. Please come.”
At last she nodded, grateful for the chance to see Reuben again. “I would like that. Thank you.”
Reuben smiled, and he was so handsome she couldn’t seem to breathe. He had looked angry to her the first few times she’d seen him, but now that she knew his story, she realized the angry expression was probably a habit. He hadn’t had a very happy life. “My family used to celebrate Shabbat in Casiphia when my father was alive,” he said, “but I didn’t want anything to do with God after he died. I’m trying to relearn all the laws and everything, and I’m still afraid I’ll do something wrong. But the rebbe and his wife have been very understanding.”
Amina told him how to find Johanan’s house on the ridge in the City of David, and Reuben promised to come for her on the eve of Shabbat. “In the meantime, I’ll look forward to seeing you again,” he said.
“I will, too.” She let him walk with her back to the courtyard, and she waved good-bye before sitting down in front of her loom. She picked up the shuttle but simply held it in her hands for several minutes, unable to concentrate on her work.
“Amina . . . ?” She looked up at the woman seated beside her, fearing she was in trouble for not working. But the woman smiled. “He’s very handsome.”
“H-he wants to be my friend.” For some reason, the other women burst into laughter.
“Her friend?” one of them asked. “Did you see the way he looked at her?”
“My husband used to look at me that way, too,” another woman said with a sigh, “right before he asked my father if he could marry me.”
Amina felt her cheeks burning. She returned to her work, picking up where she left off. All around her, the other women talked of falling in love and marrying their husbands, but Amina was afraid to dream of such a happy ending. In spite of Reuben’s assurances that he didn’t care if she was an Edomite or a cripple, Amina was afraid to hope. A man like him could never fall in love with someone like her.