The Damascus Way

by Janette Oke

  Abigail was about to say that she did also. But she caught herself and merely said, “I know.”

  CHAPTER

  FIFTEEN

  Tiberias

  When Jacob returned to Jamal’s estate to meet with his master, he sensed some change in the atmosphere. For some moments he worried that perhaps Jamal had learned of his meeting with Julia. He sat in the courtyard watching people scurry about, listening to shouts and curses rise from within the house, and felt the pressure mount. Beware the hospitality of princes. The words echoed about his mind, and Jacob felt sweat trickle down his spine.

  The austere servant with the hawk’s beak and hooded eyes finally sought him out. He eyed Jacob with the same dark humor a hunter might give his next prey. “The master will see you now.”

  Jacob followed the servant down a long passage to gilded double doors leading to the private family chambers. The servant gave a mocking bow, motioning Jacob toward a side alcove. Jacob found his throat so dry he could not swallow.

  The alcove was in fact a corridor, lined in stone and sloping downward. Jacob’s way was lit by oil lamps flickering in recessed niches. He passed through a second door, this one bound by iron and studded with nails, and descended a curving set of stone stairs. He entered a room almost as large as the interior courtyard, with a roof shaped like barrels cut lengthwise and supported by massive stone columns. Torches burned from iron staves.

  Jamal’s voice rumbled with gloomy ferocity. “Over here.”

  The merchant prince was seated behind a massive table, large enough to seat twenty. Packets of frankincense were piled at one end, the red wax glistening in the torchlight. Jamal was busy writing upon a leaf of parchment. Without looking up, he motioned to a copper pot simmering upon a brazier behind him. “Refill my cup, and pour yourself some while you’re at it.”

  The terse order was far from the talkative and jovial man Jacob had encountered on his last visit. Jacob was reluctant to pour the tea for fear he would not be able to mask his tremors. But his throat cried out for liquid, and he did as he was told.

  The quill stopped its scratching and pointed at the chair opposite Jamal. “Sit.”

  Jacob did so, nearly spilling the hot tea. The merchant’s head remained lowered over his parchment. Jacob took time to study his surroundings. Here was displayed the merchant’s wealth – casks of fine spices, bound chests that Jacob assumed were filled with gold and silver coin, piles of tapestry, elegant robes embossed with gemstones. Rank upon rank of clay amphorae stood in their traditional iron stands, like so many soldiers on parade. The air was aromatic with a myriad of scents, all pleasant. And a kingdom’s bounty in frankincense lay heaped on one edge of the merchant’s table.

  Jamal tossed the quill aside, folded the parchment, and pulled toward him one of the oil lamps to melt a bar of red wax. When enough had dripped down to cover the parchment’s fold, he drew out a seal on a gold chain from around his neck and applied it to the wax.

  Jamal slipped the chain and seal back beneath his robes and declared, “I have a problem.”

  Jacob did not know what was expected of him, so he simply said, “Sire.”

  “Two problems, actually. My caravan from Damascus is late. A week overdue. And no word to explain why.” Jamal shoved his chair back so hard it smacked against the stone wall. He rose, linked his hands behind his back, and began pacing. “If we’ve lost that shipment of frankincense, and if indeed my Damascus caravan has been taken, my business could be facing ruin.”

  Jacob found his muscles beginning to relax. Whatever it was that troubled the merchant, it was not the encounter with Julia. “Perhaps they have merely been delayed.”

  Jamal arrived at the chamber’s corner and wheeled about. His sandals slapped softly upon the flagstones as he moved back across the room. “Perhaps.”

  “The weather has been terrible. Perhaps they decided to wait in Damascus for the storms to settle.”

  “Send a guard to find out.”

  Jacob started to protest that he had no such authority, then realized if Jamal made such an order, Jacob would have no trouble in passing it on. He suggested, “Three guards traveling together would have a better chance of going out and returning safely, sire.”

  “Make it three then.” Jamal continued to pace. “In such uncertain times, a merchant’s destiny is never secure. Do you know, I cannot remember the last time I slept easy through a night.”

  “I am sorry to hear that, sire.”

  “Months, certainly. Perhaps even years.”

  Jacob waited a moment, then prompted, “You said there were two problems.”

  “Yes, yes. Indeed so. I have just received word that a shipment of frankincense has arrived in Joppa.” The pace of sandals against the stones increased. “My trader in Joppa is worried. He fears that others know of what he holds for me.”

  Jacob then understood why he was there. “You wish to send me, sire.”

  Jamal halted in midstride. He still had not looked directly at the young man.

  Jacob went on, “I am ready to serve, if that is your desire.”

  The merchant’s gaze rose slowly, almost reluctantly. “I had meant to ask if you would favor me by taking Latif’s place. But . . . I have no caravan with which you can travel safely.”

  “Did Latif find safety in Yussuf’s company?” Jacob shook his head. “We must assume all your caravans are being watched.”

  “I suppose I could send you out with a company of guards.”

  “Sire, there could only be one reason for a group of your guards to travel without a caravan. Especially if rumors have already attached you to the frankincense trade. The Roman tax collectors and thieves would descend on us like vultures on a fresh kill.”

  “Did you not hear what I just said?” Jamal’s fist crashed upon the table. “I must retrieve that treasure while it is still mine to claim!”

  This time, the merchant’s fury did not touch Jacob. He slowly stood to face his master. “What we need, sire, is a means to mask my travels. Perhaps as a servant attached to a wealthy household, if you know of someone who travels west . . .” Jacob stopped because the merchant now stood as if chiseled in stone. “What is it, sire?”

  But Jamal’s attention was already fastened upon something far beyond the stone walls. “Wait here.”

  Julia was surprised when her father appeared in the inner courtyard that held her mother’s secluded nook. Days like this, he became so involved in his work he often forgot to eat. Yet there he stood, offering them what to Julia looked like a forced smile.

  “Ah, here you are. I have been searching all over.” He lowered himself onto the seat next to Helena. “I have some news for you, my dear.”

  Helena’s eyes, which showed both interest and apprehension, turned to look at him.

  “It has occurred to me it is time to allow you a reprieve from this little town. I have arranged a trip to Joppa. You will leave today.” He turned to include Julia. “Both of you. That young man, Jacob, will be going with you to see to your needs on the route.”

  Julia could see that Helena’s eyes were shadowed with uncertainty. “But why, my lord?”

  Jamal’s gaze flitted around the garden, seeming to touch everywhere yet see nothing. “Do I need a reason to treat my two most favored with a trip to a place where there is refinement, culture? I have kept you secluded here for far too long.”

  Julia was beginning to feel her stomach muscles tighten. She tried to moisten her dry lips. She finally managed, “Will you travel with us?”

  Jamal appeared to be only more preoccupied. “That won’t be possible. I have far too much that needs my attention here.” Clearly he saw consternation on both their faces, for he hastily added, “Perhaps later I might be able to join you there. It would bring me such pleasure to show my two ladies the delights of a coastal city. The Mediterranean Sea is such a magnificent sight.”

  Julia’s thoughts were running ahead. The sea? She doubted her father had any intere
st at all in the sea. It was clear to her the true reason for the trip lay elsewhere. What was her father scheming?

  Helena still had not spoken. She looked too stunned to even move. Julia decided she must speak for them both. “I thought all your caravans were away just now.”

  “Yes, yes, they are. But I was fortunate that a trusted friend is leaving today. I thought it a good opportunity to attach you to his caravan. It is a small group – but well guarded. And you will have Jacob as your personal servant and protector.” He brightened as though a new thought had just entered his mind. “It will be a great opportunity to begin selecting wedding garments, my dear. You will find the finest of silks in Joppa.”

  Julia felt like her heart was being squeezed by a powerful hand. She frantically sought for words to protest that she had no interest in anything to do with the marriage.

  But Helena chose that moment to speak. “This is all very sudden, my lord.”

  “Yes, yes, but my friend leaves today. He is unable to delay. There is still enough time for you to make preparations.” He rubbed his hands together in a show of enthusiasm. “And, Julia, my dear, since you will soon be traveling far beyond our borders to a much more settled, sophisticated part of the world, you do need some experience about what lies beyond Tiberias.”

  Helena asked quietly, “Can you not tell us the true reason?”

  Jamal went utterly rigid. Only his eyes continued their rapid shifting. “I . . . I . . .”

  “You do not trust us, my lord?”

  His mouth worked several times. He finally was able to say, “More than I can ever tell you.”

  The two women simply looked at him.

  His head drifted downward. His frame, even his hands went limp. “I face a very grave problem.”

  Helena moved so she might reach over and touch his hands. “With your business?”

  “Very grave,” he repeated.

  Helena nodded, as though hearing far more than what the man actually spoke. She said, “You are concerned that to tell us might endanger us as well. Is that it, my lord?”

  Jamal looked at Helena, his eyes haunted. “I would not lose you for anything. But I need. . . .” He shook his head.

  “You need someone you can trust, to serve you without question.” Helena nodded once. “I live to do your bidding, my lord.”

  The love and the sorrow both were so strong in Helena’s voice that Julia could hardly keep from weeping.

  Jamal rose to his feet and stared at the two of them. When he spoke, his voice was coarsened by the emotions surging between Helena and him. “Get the maids to help you. You will be somewhat limited in what you can bring. Only one maid will be permitted to accompany you. That is the caravan’s rule. And Jacob, of course. He will be your personal servant on this journey.” Julia wondered why he was emphasizing that part of the plan, but she was full of questions about the whole arrangement. And so sudden . . .

  “We will be ready to travel,” Helena was saying. “As you have told us.”

  Jamal laid a hand lightly upon Helena’s shoulder. Julia read relief in his eyes, and she again wondered why.

  “I knew you would understand and agree to help, Helena. I am in your debt.”

  The rest of the morning was spent in frenzied activity. It did not help that the maids, led by Zoe, felt as confused by the whole event as Julia herself. This most unusual trip, announced only at the last moment, left them whispering their questions and surmises. Helena was of no assistance, having taken to her bed with one of her headaches. Julia worked alone, giving directives and helping to cram as much as they could into small bundles and bags. Who knew how long they would be gone.

  Zoe worked in silence, but now and then Julia spotted her worried frown. She knew the servants sometimes heard news far ahead of others. She asked cautiously, “Will you tell me what it is?”

  At length the woman turned to face Julia. “I have news. In truth, it should make us rejoice.”

  “Is it connected to this journey?”

  “Not that I can see, which is why I hesitate to tell you. You already have so much – ”

  “Tell me. Please.”

  “It seems there has been a . . . a blessing for Jamal’s Damascus family. . . .” Zoe looked away, then back to Julia. “His . . . his wife – in Damascus – has become a believer.”

  Julia stared at her dearest friend. A believer? Yes. Yes, that would be good news. It was always wonderful when someone else joined the followers. But not yet my own mother . . . she mourned silently. And now . . . now it seemed Jamal’s wife had taken the step.

  Did her father know about this? Was this related to their sudden departure . . . or another possibility . . . had his first wife learned of his other family and now was demanding their dismissal? There was no legal reason he should do so, but who knew what pressures could be brought to bear . . . ?

  Julia turned to Zoe. “How did you learn of this?”

  “One of the servants who has family in Damascus heard it from another who had traveled here. News within the fellowship of followers spreads quickly. Especially when it is joyous news. This woman knew I worked in the household of Jamal. She passed on the information when we met in the market yesterday morning.”

  Julia thanked Zoe for sharing the information and did her best to hide her disquiet. Oh, Mother, how I wish this news were about you. . . . Would she ever be able to care for her soul-weary mother?

  CHAPTER

  SIXTEEN

  Tiberias

  Jacob was far more cheerful than he probably should have been. But the sense of unfolding adventure affected him in a rather startling manner. He tried to focus upon the dangers at hand, which were many. Probably more than he could count. He reminded himself that he was headed into the complete unknown. He was personally accountable to Jamal for the safety of his wife, his daughter, and an elderly servant. They traveled with a caravan of strangers. There was no one he knew he could trust, and they faced a long journey. But he also carried another burden. In the rush of preparations he also added one more duty. He slipped away to inform his secret contact that both he and Julia would be away for a number of days, and should important messages come through, other couriers would be required to relay them.

  He returned breathless, hoping Jamal had not noticed his brief absence. Nothing seemed amiss as he joined the servants and guards as they hastened to make ready. In spite of all that, he caught himself whistling under his breath as he worked.

  Jamal stood by the side of the Roman-style conveyance that already held Helena and Julia. “You will take great care for their safety?” he asked.

  Jacob was well aware of both mother’s and daughter’s presence, only adding fervor to his response. “I shall guard them with my life, sire.” He could feel the eyes of the two women upon him.

  Jamal tugged at his mantle, kicked one of the carriage wheels, worked his lower lip with his teeth, and said, “This is not my caravan. These are not my guards, you understand.” He now looked directly into Jacob’s face.

  “This caravan is run by an experienced master,” Jacob said, attempting reassurance. “Your wares have traveled under his supervision before.”

  “Not with my wife and daughter.”

  Jacob glanced inside the draped cart and noted that Jamal’s words caused a deep sorrow to spread across Helena’s face. A similar wound was in Julia’s expression, and she lifted the edge of her shawl and turned away. But Jacob was certain some deep regret was shared by the two women. Over what, he had no idea.

  Jamal did not seem aware of their distress. He simply said, “Very well. Keep them safe and as comfortable as the roads permit.”

  Jacob’s short bow was followed by a sincere promise. “I hear and obey, sire.”

  Jamal stepped closer to the conveyance, and his gaze moved between both women. “Take great care, my dear ones, and make this as short a visit as is possible. Neither our home nor my heart are complete with you gone.”

  Jacob stared a
t Jamal, then looked quickly away before his master would notice. Jacob could not comprehend the unspoken message, though he was sure there was one.

  Once again sorrow welled up in Helena’s gaze. Her parting words, spoken with unusual directness, were, “I shall miss you, Jamal.”

  Jacob noticed that Julia did not speak nor look at her father. The cart moved into place, nearly at the front of the caravan to avoid the dust, as Jacob directed the horses pulling it. With one glance back he saw Jamal, standing feet spread and hand shading his eyes, leaning forward slightly as though wishing he too were leaving with the departing caravan.

  What does it all mean? But Jacob doubted he would ever know.

  Jacob now wore the traditional garb of a Damascus household servant, a simple cotton robe covered by a colorful mantle. His belt was woven with loops of silk, strong as iron mesh, to which he could attach knife and purse and letter pouch. The knife Jamal previously had given him was left in Tiberias. In its place he carried a simple blade of Damascus steel – now hidden in the bed pallet fastened among the bundles on one of the donkeys. Also among the packs was a sword and a second knife, long as his thigh, plus a small shield. Jacob had not thought he would take all of these with him, but Jamal had insisted. Such weapons would not be out of place for a servant entrusted with the lives of a wealthy merchant’s wife and daughter.

  Jamal had, of course, wanted to also send along a bevy of guards. But the caravan master had refused. The only guards permitted were his own – on this point the man had been hard as stone. The caravan carried goods from a dozen merchants, all of whom might wish the same privilege. But the master permitted only guards under his personal control. Jamal could hardly argue, since his own caravans carried the same rule.

  Tethered to the back of the cart by a lead rope plodded the same animal that had brought Jacob safely into Tiberias. Beside him, protesting slightly about leaving the herd, was a younger animal, as the second donkey from the passage across Samaria had gone lame. This animal, too, carried provisions for the trip.