Faith of My Fathers (Chronicles of the Kings #4)

by Austin, Lynn

  “How can we do that?” Asher asked. “His Holy Temple is here in Jerusalem. God’s presence dwells here.”

  Joshua shook his head. “That building is no longer Yahweh’s Temple. Not if idols are worshiped there. Not with an Asherah pole and altars to the starry hosts planted in its courts. We have to remove the holy ark to a place of safety.”

  Rabbi Gershom’s son stared in disbelief. “The holy ark? But it was made during Moses’ day! King David danced before that ark! It hasn’t been moved since Solomon dedicated the Temple three hundred years ago!”

  “I know,” Joshua said. “That’s why we have to protect it from Manasseh.”

  “How can we be certain that God really spoke all of this to you?” one of the chief Levites asked.

  Joshua drew a deep breath. “Ask Him. Use the Urim and Thummim in the high priest’s breastpiece to seek divine guidance the way King David and our ancestors did. Ask God if this is really what He wants us to do.”

  While the women prepared Rabbi Gershom’s body for burial at dawn, the men departed to summon all of the chief priests and Levites to the meeting. “We’ll have to meet at the Temple,” the rabbi’s son told Joshua. “Priests aren’t allowed to enter a house where someone has died.”

  “Won’t we be watched if we meet in the Temple?” Joshua asked.

  “We might be. Manasseh replaced all of our Temple guards with his own men. If they stay to supervise us, we’ll simply pray for my father’s soul as we said we were going to do. If they leave us in peace, we’ll hold our meeting. The Urim and Thummim will be ready.”

  “What about me? My hair and beard haven’t finished growing in yet. I still look like a Moabite.”

  Gershom’s son held Joshua’s chin and turned his face from side to side, grimacing as he studied the foreign cut of his beard. “What a mess! No wonder Yahweh forbids this. Maybe we can blacken the stubble on the sides of your face with charcoal so it won’t be so noticeable. You can wear my Levitical robes and cover your head with a prayer shawl. That’s the best we can do. Just keep your head down.”

  For over an hour, four of Manasseh’s Temple guards stayed inside the meeting hall with the assembled priests and Levites as they recited prayers for Rabbi Gershom. But when the first watch of the night ended and the guards left, Joshua finally had a few minutes to address the high council before the second shift of guards arrived. He spoke just loudly enough to be heard as the men continued to murmur their prayers.

  “We don’t have much time so listen carefully. You know from the words of the Torah that Yahweh’s judgment must fall on our nation because of Manasseh’s wickedness and unfaithfulness. Rabbi Isaiah saw this and he warned us to hide from God’s wrath, promising that God would preserve a faithful remnant of His people. I’ve come back to help all of you and your families escape.”

  He saw fear and skepticism written on many faces and knew that the long months of Manasseh’s brutal repression had ravaged their faith. One of the senior council members frowned as he stepped forward. “That’s impossible. Manasseh has guards everywhere. Besides, where would we shelter so many people?”

  “Yahweh revealed that to Isaiah, as well. He prophesied that ‘in that day five cities in Egypt will … swear allegiance to the Lord Almighty’ and ‘in that day there will be an altar to the Lord in the heart of Egypt.’ We’ll escape with the ark of the covenant and build a new altar for Yahweh in Egypt.”

  His words were followed by an outburst of puzzled voices. Joshua had to shout above the noise, “Please, there’s no time for this. The guards could return any minute. I’ve asked the council to seek guidance by Urim and Thummim. We’ll allow Yahweh himself to tell us.”

  One of the chief priests, the senior member of the high council, came forward to stand in the center of the group. Chosen to wear the ephod in the high priest’s place, he appeared nervous as he unwrapped the cloth in which it was hidden and slipped it over his head. The breastpiece, with the Urim and Thummim inside, was attached to the ephod by braided chains of gold.

  Joshua gazed at the magnificent work of art. Dating back to the time of Moses, its antiquity alone made it a priceless treasure.

  The entire assembly knew they faced execution if Manasseh caught them seeking guidance with the high priest’s breastpiece. They stood with their hands raised in prayer as the chief priest led them. “Blessed art Thou, Lord God Almighty, God of our father Abraham, God of Moses and David. We ask you to reveal to us by your Urim and Thummim if this is truly your will; if we are to leave this city which you have chosen for your dwelling place; if we are to take the holy ark of your covenant with us.”

  Every nerve in Joshua’s body vibrated with fear. Had he really heard Yahweh speaking to him, or was he about to prove himself a fool? And what if God’s answer was yes? Did he really want the lives of all these men and their families in his hands? He had trained for a position of responsibility and leadership beside Manasseh, but making decisions had been little more than mental exercises to Joshua, challenges to his intellect, intriguing puzzles to solve. He had never before grasped the fact that his decisions would affect the lives of innocent people. In his youthful arrogance, he had looked down on uneducated people like his servant Maki as part of the ignorant rabble who needed his guidance. In his pride, he would have governed the nation from his throne beside Manasseh instead of from his knees before God.

  “0 God, forgive my self-righteousness and arrogance,” he whispered. “Help me to be even half the man that my servant Maki was.”

  The chief priest’s prayer ended. The room fell silent. Joshua held his breath along with all the other men as the priest reached inside the pocket of the breastpiece.

  “I’ve drawn Thummim. Yahweh’s answer is yes.”

  Immediately, everyone turned to Joshua, waiting. All the strength seemed to drain from his body at once. He felt utterly alone. He couldn’t lead hundreds of priests and their families to safety past Manasseh’s troops. He couldn’t steal the ark of the covenant from the Temple.

  Yahweh’s answer is yes.

  “Please… pray for me,” Joshua said, then his knees gave way, and he fell prostrate before God. Heavenly Father, I need you! I can’t do this by myself. Help me! Please don’t let any more innocent people die because of me. I need wisdom to know what to do. I need courage to face my enemies. Help me, Yahweh! Please, please help me!

  His prayers faded into the melodic murmur of the other men’s voices as he cried out to God. When the room finally fell silent several minutes later, the chief priest helped him to his feet. This time Joshua was ready to face the waiting men.

  “The guards may return any moment, so continue reciting prayers out loud while you listen to me. Passover week begins in a few days and hundreds of thousands of pilgrims will pour into Jerusalem. When they leave to return home after the final morning convocation, you and your families will leave with them. If you take only the bare essentials, you will never be noticed among such a huge crowd. Scatter in all directions like the other pilgrims and—”

  “My wife is expecting a child soon. She shouldn’t travel.”

  Joshua turned to see who had spoken and looked into the worried face of Yael’s husband. Instantly, hatred rushed through Joshua’s veins. Amos didn’t deserve Yael. She belonged to him. As her beautiful face materialized in his mind, Joshua ached to hold her in his arms just once. Except for a brief moment when he’d taken her elbow to steady her after she’d stumbled over a loose stone in the street, he had never even touched her. Now she belonged to this stocky, balding Levite nearly twice her age.

  Joshua’s voice sounded hoarse when he answered. “Let those who can’t travel far, and those with very young or very old family members, go north or east to the closest borders. If you’re able to travel farther, go south or west. We’ll rendezvous in Egypt later.”

  “That doesn’t give us much time to sell our houses and other possessions,” one of the Levites said.

  “Don’t even try to s
ell your goods. It will attract too much attention if every priest and Levite begins selling everything he owns.”

  The Levite pulled on his beard. “You mean I can’t even sell my… ?”

  Joshua shook his head. “Nothing. I’m sorry.” He felt compassion for these men as he watched them slowly comprehend the truth; they were about to lose the accumulated wealth of their lifetimes and, in some cases, their ancestors’ lifetimes. He couldn’t condemn them for their struggle.

  “I know what it is to mourn the loss of your home and your possessions,” he told them. “But, believe me, your family’s safety is far more important. Don’t jeopardize their lives for a few pieces of silver. It’s not worth the risk. Besides, if you stay here you’ll lose everything when Yahweh’s judgment falls on our nation.” He saw heads nodding in agreement as the men chanted their prayers. Joshua drew another deep breath and continued.

  “We must make sure we take a copy of the Torah with us—and all the other important books from the Temple library. Is it well guarded?”

  The Levite in charge of the Temple scribes answered. “Manasseh’s guards check on us regularly as they make their rounds, but for the most part they leave us alone. Still, they would certainly notice it if we emptied the shelves.”

  “You need to decide which books are the most important ones and leave the others,” Joshua said. “Divide them among yourselves and put phony scrolls in their places. Then each of you can smuggle out one or two of them along with your personal possessions. Remove the scrolls gradually throughout Passover week, so the increased activity in the library won’t arouse suspicion.”

  Joshua glanced at the door, aware that the new shift of guards might burst into the room any minute. He had to hurry. “What about the Temple vessels?” he asked. “Would Manasseh’s priests miss one or two of the gold and silver vessels that you use every day for the sacrifices?”

  “Do you have any idea what would happen to us if we’re caught stealing gold from the Temple?” a Levite exclaimed.

  “Yes. We would die,” the elderly chief priest replied. He had taken off the ephod and breastpiece and hidden them beneath his cloak again, disguising them as part of his ample belly. “But this is a living death sentence, serving idols in a polluted temple.”

  Joshua’s eyes swept the faces in the room. “The question is, do you trust God? No matter what happens to you? Whether you live or die? That’s what each one of us has to decide. If we agree that preserving the ark and a remnant of the faithful is His will, then we should give ourselves to His work willingly and trust that if we die in the process, it is also His will. There’s no shame in being afraid. I stand here tonight, terrified. But decide right now if you’re willing to die. Don’t wait until the moment you face death.”

  Joshua saw many heads nodding in agreement. Most of the men’s faces revealed their resolve and their determination to follow God. “Good. Then we’re agreed that we’ll try to smuggle out as much gold and silver as we can.”

  “We should also bring one of the silver trumpets with us,” Amos added.

  Joshua nodded and quickly looked away as a shaft of jealousy pierced him once again. He couldn’t help fantasizing that Manasseh’s men would execute Amos for trying to smuggle out a trumpet, leaving Yael free to marry him. He shook himself to erase the vision before continuing.

  “Hide the vessels in the bottom of the cart that carries the ashes and bones to the dump in the valley every day. Moses told our forefathers to plunder the Egyptians that first Passover night, and we will do the same thing. Is there a place in the valley where we can safely store the gold?”

  “The area by the dump is riddled with caves of all sizes,” one of the priests said. “Beggars and lunatics sometimes live in them.”

  “Good. Choose two reliable men from among you and declare them unclean the day before Passover. They’ll be forced to live outside the city for seven days. Have them guard—”

  Suddenly the door burst open and four new Temple guards stormed into the room. The steady mumble of prayers, which had continued while Joshua was speaking, stopped abruptly. The captain of the guards leaped onto the empty dais at the head of the room.

  “What’s going on in here? The other guards told me you were saying prayers for the dead, but they didn’t tell me you were going to go at it all night!”

  Joshua felt a runner of sweat trickle down his face from beneath the heavy prayer shawl on his head. He resisted the urge to wipe it, fearing he would smudge the charcoal he had rubbed on his face. The chief priest took charge.

  “Rabbi Gershom was a very great man as well as a fellow colleague of ours,” he said. “We mourn his loss deeply. As priests, we’re forbidden to enter his house or attend his funeral at dawn, so—”

  “How much longer do you intend to go on with this?”

  Joshua couldn’t allow the soldiers to disband the meeting before he’d outlined his plan for rescuing the holy ark. He stole a quick glance at the four soldiers to make certain he didn’t know any of them, then stepped forward.

  “If I’m not mistaken, Captain, King Manasseh himself was once a student of the honorable Rabbi Gershom. Has the king been informed of his death?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Then perhaps you should inform him right away. His Majesty might be offended if he wasn’t invited to pray along with us. Not to mention how great his anger might be if you were to forbid us to pray for his esteemed teacher.”

  Distrust battled fear on the captain’s worried face. He opened his mouth to speak, then quickly closed it again. A moment later he stalked from the room, taking his three men with him.

  “You were very foolish to call attention to yourself,” the chief priest began, but Joshua cut him off with a wave of his hand.

  “Start reciting prayers again. Hurry. We haven’t much time.” The mumble of voices began once more and Joshua matched his tone and pitch to the sound. “We must rescue the ark. Now, as long as the golden poles can be seen protruding past the holy veil it won’t be missed for a while. Am I right?” He saw heads nodding. “I know that only the priests may touch it and that the Levites who are descendants of Kohath are assigned to carry it on their shoulders by the poles. How well do these false priests know the Passover rituals?”

  “I don’t know,” the chief priest replied, shrugging. “This is the first Passover they’ll celebrate with us. All of them are from the northern tribes, though. None of them are true sons of Aaron.”

  “Then we’ll have to take a chance that they’re ignorant of the rituals. We’ll need to make a litter the same size and shape as the ark and also carried on poles. Tell the false priests that it is your custom during Passover to carry away the ashes and bones from the Temple altar on a cart without wheels. Tell them it’s to commemorate our desert wanderings. Cover the litter with whatever you’re required to cover the real ark with and use it throughout the seven days of the feast. If they lift the cover to inspect it the first day or two, they will see bones and ashes. On the last evening, have the priests remove the ark from the holiest place with wooden poles but leave the golden poles sticking out as usual. Then the sons of Kohath can carry it to the valley and hide it with the other vessels that you’ve smuggled out during the week. Can you see any problems with the plan so far?” He glanced at their nervous faces, then at the door.

  “Good. I’m going to have my brother send a caravan of goods to Jerusalem during Passover. It will leave here empty on the final evening and meet up with the sons of Kohath in the valley. His caravan will escort the Kohathites and the treasure out of Judah during the night. The next morning, after the final convocation, you and your families will follow.

  “I’ll need a few volunteers to remain behind to perform your usual duties at the Temple. Manasseh will know you’ve all fled as soon as you fail to conduct the sacrifices. But if the evening sacrifice proceeds as usual, you won’t be missed until the following morning. That will give your families extra time to escape.”
Joshua saw several priests and Levites, including Asher, raise their hands to indicate that they were willing to stay behind.

  “Good. One last thing. After that last evening sacrifice, one of you will draw Prince Amariah aside into the Temple side chambers where I’ll be hiding. We’re going to smuggle him out in the last ash cart and take him with us to Egypt.”

  “Does the prince want to escape?” Asher asked.

  “It doesn’t matter if he wants to or not. The line of David must continue, in exile.”

  The elderly chief priest stopped praying and stared at Joshua. “That’s going too far. We won’t have any part in kidnapping Prince Amariah. He’s Manasseh’s secretary of state. You said nothing about him when we sought Yahweh’s will with Urim and Thummim.”

  “He’s right,” Rabbi Gershom’s son added. “As Levites, we have a sacred duty to preserve the ark and the other holy things, but we have no right to kidnap—”

  Suddenly Manasseh’s guards flung open the meeting room doors and flooded into the room. When Joshua saw the angry look on the captain’s face, he inched backward to try to blend in with the other Levites.

  “King Manasseh sends no regrets at the death of your Rabbi Gershom,” the captain said. “The king called his former teacher a bully and a tyrant who tried to brainwash him with guilt and lies. This meeting is over!”

  19

  “INNKEEPER! THIS WINE TASTES like camel water!” The Moabite pounded his fist on the table. “If you can’t serve us something better than this, we’ll have to look for another inn.”

  Hadad laughed along with the two other Moabites seated at his table, but it was a bluff. He liked this dingy inn. It had become his second home. He felt comfortable seated at his usual table in the darkest corner. But he wasn’t so sure, at times, if he felt comfortable with his three Moabite friends.

  It was early evening, and Hadad was still sober enough to wonder if they were using him. Ever since they’d sat down beside him three weeks earlier, he seemed to be paying for more than his share of the drinks. His drunken blackouts were becoming longer and more frequent, yet the three Moabites always appeared by his side no matter where, or when, he awoke. Hadad didn’t quite trust them, and in his sober moments he suspected that if they ever learned where he hid his grandfather’s gold, they would disappear with it.