The Damascus Way

by Janette Oke

  A pair of foreign boots stomped over, and a voice he vaguely recognized demanded, “Who dares disturb the peace of this oasis?”

  CHAPTER

  THIRTY-TWO

  Approaching Tiberias

  The noon stop at the small village was more than welcome. It seemed they had been riding through sand and wind for days on end. Julia felt her legs would surely fail her as she stepped to solid ground. She watched her mother dismount, grateful for the guard who assisted her. Had both Helena and the guard not been followers of the Way, he would have been hesitant to help a woman of her position and wealth. Now he steadied her until he was sure she could stand on her own. Then he nodded toward the small tables scattered under the awning of the nearby food stall.

  The meal was simple, but the tea was hot. Julia cradled her cup, hoping that its warmth would take some of the stiffness from her fingers. “This afternoon, God willing, we will arrive home.”

  Helena nodded but she did not speak. Julia could tell her mother was far away in her thoughts.

  “Are you still troubled over your coming decision?” Julia asked softly.

  Helena gave her daughter full attention and shook her head. “No. No. I am sure that when the time is right, God will reveal his way for me.”

  “Then . . . ?”

  “I was thinking of you, my dearest one. Of the marriage arrangement. We have been gone for some days. I wonder what awaits us at home.”

  Julia set her cup aside. Now the distress returned like a sudden downpour. How could she possibly leave her home and parents? Live in some strange household in some unknown country? With unbelievers? With a man she had never met?

  She felt like her heart was being squeezed from her body. She reached for Helena’s hand. She whispered in a trembling voice, “We must pray.”

  “I have been praying, my dear. Every day. Every hour, it seems.”

  “And we must reason with Father.”

  Helena shook her head and laid her other hand over Julia’s. “Your father takes great pride in being a man of his word. He will not go back on a bargain. His very livelihood depends upon trust.”

  Julia pushed aside the plate. There was no way she would be able to swallow anything further now.

  Helena reached inside her shawl and came up with a clean strip of cloth. “Wrap your food in this. You will need it later on the road.”

  Julia went through the motion without thought to what she was doing. She tucked the small package inside her own shawl.

  “Martha told me a secret about prayer. The Lord himself said to his followers that when two or three agree in prayer, they may ask whatever they want to ask for, and the Father would hear and honor it. Two, Julia. Just two. You and I – the two of us – are enough. We can pray, and God will listen and act on our behalf.”

  “Three if we include Zoe.” Julia’s voice trembled. “How do we know it is not just something that is our will? Not his?”

  “We will ask for his will to be done. If he has reason for this marriage to proceed as planned, he will show us. And we will feel his peace and blessing.”

  Helena waved to where Zoe sat talking with a distant relative. When the trusted servant joined them, Helena took her daughter’s hands in both of her own. Her trembling prayer was simple but filled with heart and faith. She ended with words from her heart, “Thy will be done, Father. Thy will be done.”

  Julia’s silent amen didn’t fully allay her fears, but she knew it was the only path for her.

  It was wonderful to ride into the courtyard and be home again. Julia hadn’t been sure she would ever see the familiar house again. She could sense that Helena was equally thankful as they crawled down from the mounts. Two servants rushed from the house to welcome them, bowing and exclaiming over them in their familiar way. Julia looked at her work-hardened hands with a little smile, imagining the household’s shock if they had seen her labors in Nain.

  When Helena asked after Jamal, a servant responded, “The master is out at the encampment. Another caravan has just arrived from Damascus. Do you wish for me to send for him?”

  “No,” Helena said. “Leave him at his work. We will speak when he arrives home.”

  The servant kept his eyes downcast, but he must have known Helena well enough to respond, “The master may wish to be called. He has been very lonely with you away, mistress.”

  “Very well,” said Helena. “You may send word that we have safely returned – but explain that we understand he is busy and will await his return when he is free. In the meanwhile, we will have a warm bath and take tea and refreshment in the arbor.”

  The servant bowed again and backed away.

  They settled together on the arbor bench, and Julia heard Helena sigh deeply. Overhead the birds chirped in the bower. The fountain danced, its little prisms of rainbows casting diamonds into the air. It is still a place of peace, Julia thought.

  Zoe herself brought the tray. Helena invited her to join them, but the old servant had resumed her customary place within the household and respectfully declined. When Zoe departed, Helena poured tea from a copper urn.

  “I had not thought I missed home. Now it seems good to be back. But it is also different. I think I can be happy here, now that I have found peace.” She settled back and lifted her cup. “Strange, is it not? I had all this before – but I was so unhappy.”

  Julia dared to voice her thoughts. “I am still unsettled, Mother. I fear I will not be able to fully rest until I know what is to become of the marriage plans.”

  “But if he bids you – ”

  “I will obey, of course.” Julia shifted and looked away. “I would not shame my father.”

  Helena nodded. “I was sure you would say that. And I respect you for it. But . . . but I must confess that I truly have peace about this as well. I cannot say why, but I feel the Lord will show his plan in this. Even to Jamal, though he might not recognize the Lord’s hand.”

  Julia was glad to hear her mother speak with such confidence, but she still felt like her stomach was in a knot.

  “And you?” she asked her mother. “Have you decided what you will do?”

  Helena sighed deeply. Her eyes looked away into the distance – but again Julia could feel peace surrounding her mother.

  “Yes . . . yes, I think I have. Tonight I plan to have a talk with your father.”

  They were just finishing their tea when they heard a commotion in the courtyard. From the volume of the voice it could be only one person.

  “Where are they?” Jamal shouted. The next minute he was hurrying through the entrance to the small arbor, his face flushed, his eyes alert with anticipation.

  “There you are, my dears,” he called, his arms opened wide. “I was so worried. When news came of the storm . . .” But he didn’t finish and instead embraced them both with one sweep of his arms. “You must tell me all about what happened.”

  Jamal sat in silence while the two described their journey, including Jacob’s heroism during the storm. Alarm and relief creased his features as they spoke.

  When Helena asked about his own news, Jamal’s frown deepened. “There is both good news and bad, I am afraid. Business is doing well. Better than even I had hoped. But it demands my presence in Damascus. I will need to leave shortly. I feared you might not return before I had to be on the way. I would have been sorely troubled if I had not been able to see you before my departure. I need that young Jacob here to travel with me as well, so I’ve been waiting. He is to be . . . Well, I just hope he arrives safely and soon. I am concerned about him traveling alone.”

  “We have been daily praying for his safety,” Helena said.

  Jamal looked at her for a moment but simply said, “The bad news is, the marriage arrangement for Julia has been broken.”

  He was looking at Helena when he finished his statement. “I know, my dear – you are relieved. You never wanted this to happen. But truth be told, as much as we would desire it, we cannot keep our daughter forever.�
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  Helena clasped her hands together and murmured, “How we have prayed for this miracle.”

  “It wasn’t an act of any god, my dear,” Jamal said. “It was the clan’s doing. This groom-to-be was apparently a foolhardy young oaf. He was away on some hunting expedition with four other young men. They drank too much, and he ended up getting himself shot. An arrow straight to the heart. The family has sent their deepest regrets. They claim to have a distant relative, two years younger than Julia, and the clan is quite willing to apply the marriage contract to him.”

  Julia’s heart plunged after the enormous exhilaration of her father’s first announcement. She now felt a dread so strong it threatened to cut off her breath. But before she could form a protest, Jamal went on, “I told them that the original arrangement held no such provision. Since they could not honor the agreement, it was no longer valid. I did not say this to them, but if that was the kind of young man he was, I did not want his cousin for my daughter either. She deserves much better.”

  “So . . . ?” began Helena.

  “This business of arranging a marriage is extremely time-consuming and costly. I am of a mind to let the girl make her own choice. She seems bright enough to know . . .”

  Julia did not hear the rest. The emotions rising within were so intense that she moved from the room without even excusing herself. Her father and mother did not seem to notice. She heard her mother’s voice agreeing that indeed Julia should be able to make her own decision in the matter.

  When Julia reached the safety of her own room she laid her head against the cool stones of the wall and let sobs of relief shake her whole body. Free – she was free! She could scarcely believe it. God had answered. Oh, thank you, Lord, thank you, she breathed.

  CHAPTER

  THIRTY-THREE

  The Megiddo Plains

  A flash of raging wind blotted out the sky, so sudden they were caught unawares. Abigail, with Martha and Dorcas, were dining at Yelban’s home when it struck. He stood in the doorway for a time, watching as the wind shrieked about. Down below on the plain the storm’s force raged in full fury. Then, as suddenly as it had come, it was gone.

  Yelban continued to watch the night. “The wizard would have claimed it is the old powers at work.”

  Martha said, “We are not to worry ourselves over the unseen. We trust in God, and rest in his peace.”

  “If I but had your strength of faith,” Yelban murmured.

  “We all have moments of doubt,” Martha said. “At times we all feel the clutch of fear.”

  “That is why we need the company of fellow believers,” Abigail suggested. “To help us see and remember.”

  “To pray with us,” Martha added.

  Yelban turned back to them. His head nodded slowly. “While Peter and the group from Jerusalem were here, the bandits and their threat to our futures could not touch me. I prayed, and found myself able to set the worries aside. But now . . .”

  Abigail glanced down at her sleeping child in her lap. Dorcas now stirred and whimpered, then settled once more into her mother’s arms. Abigail stroked the little girl’s face. “Sometimes I wonder how often we have been so shielded from troubles that we remain blind to the power of God at work around us.”

  Martha smiled her agreement. “Peter has departed. But the Lord’s Spirit remains. We are ever in His care. As are you, Yelban.”

  He gave a brief nod, and the guests rose to depart. Yelban’s wife followed them to the door. “I count the day you arrived here as a wonderful one, a great blessing.”

  More than the stars overhead, the words lit their way home. Abigail felt enough at peace to ask what had remained unspoken since they had arrived in Nain. “I have so appreciated your presence here with us, Martha. I am reluctant to even ask this, but how much longer will you be able to stay?”

  In reply, Martha reached over and lifted Dorcas from Abigail’s arms. She leaned in close to breathe deeply of the child’s fresh scent. “How could I leave this child of God, so trusting, so full of life?”

  Their footsteps were the only sound in the empty village lane. After a moment, Martha continued, “How could I go away from here, not certain that this one whom I have come to love more than my own life is safe and well and cared for? How could I deny myself the joy of listening to her prayers? How much I have learned from watching this one grow strong and trusting in the Lord our God. How could I leave all this behind?”

  Abigail started to ask if Martha spoke of Dorcas or herself, but decided it did not matter.

  In the morning the villagers descended to the crossroads to inspect any damage from the storm. They brought donkeys and one wagon loaded with tools and wood and cloth, for they had endured many such winter blows. Even so, there were bleak expressions all around as they drew near. The stalls were in tatters, the awnings shredded like sails. Many of the timbers were broken.

  Yelban stood beside Abigail and said, “At least the corrals stood. The animals are still in place.” She looked down at Dorcas beside her and wondered how long it had been since they had cleaned up after the sandstorm. But she took a deep breath and prepared herself for a long day ahead.

  As Abigail walked through the jumble of torn canvas and broken timber, she found herself seeing not the storm’s damage but rather, what the bandits might do. They were a far worse threat, and the harm they might inflict could be much more severe and long-lasting. Where would she and Dorcas go then? She had come to feel a part of this village. She truly had come to care for them and they for her. Was there no place she would feel safe?

  She prayed silently as she worked alongside Martha. But not even the child’s soft singing brought the usual solace to her soul. Over and over she told herself to be strong, to hold fast to the faith that she had urged Yelban to maintain. If only she could.

  A familiar little voice broke into her thoughts. “Mama! Come see!”

  “Not now, Dorcas. Mama is working – ”

  “Mama! It is Uncle Linux!” Her shadow danced across the front of their awning.

  “Child, remember what Alban told us. Linux is in Caesarea. He can’t – ”

  A shout rang from the northern edge of the market, “Riders approaching!”

  Martha and Abigail exchanged glances, then together dropped their rags and brooms to join the other curious villagers.

  In the distance five riders approached. It appeared they might indeed be coming from the distant Roman fortress. A yellow plume of dust rose behind them, a narrow ribbon tracing its way back toward the lone hill. The horsemen were little more than silhouettes against the empty sky, so far away Abigail could not yet hear the hoofbeats.

  Martha squinted into the light and murmured, “Could it be?”

  It seemed impossible that Linux might be arriving here at this outpost, far from distant Caesarea. Even so, Abigail could not still the sudden hope that sprang within her.

  “Mama, Mama, lift me up!”

  “You are growing too big, child.” Even so, Abigail lifted the child onto her hip. Cheek to cheek, they watched the horses. “Why do you think it’s Linux?”

  “Because it is!”

  Martha said, “They’re too far for me to see.”

  “It is him! I know.”

  “Which one do you think – ”

  “That one. Right there. See?” Dorcas pointed to the rider who rode ahead of the others.

  Perhaps it was the stance, the way he sat far taller than the others, or how his right shoulder was raised slightly, or the cock of his helmet. Something there in the silhouette caused her heart to grow wings.

  “See! It is.”

  Abigail took a firmer grip upon the child and pressed through the crowd.

  Martha called, “Where are you going?”

  “To greet our friend!”

  “Forgive me for arriving as I have.” Linux was sitting on the tavern’s rearmost bench in utter exhaustion. “We have been chasing bandits for days without rest.”

  His m
en were in no better shape. One of them remained with the horses, and another stood guard outside the tavern’s tattered awning. The other soldiers sprawled at another table. None of the men were shaven. Linux wore an officer’s uniform, but the brass was scarred and pitted, the leather worn by sweat and hard use. He did not wear the officer’s crimson robe, which was normally fastened to the shoulders and hung down behind. His cheeks were hollowed, his eyes rimmed with exhaustion.

  Linux coughed, a rasping sound. He nodded his thanks as Abigail poured more from the container of tea. “When we arrived at the Megiddo fort, we discovered the officer in charge and most of his men were gone, lost to that big storm. The fortress market was demolished, along with much of the village. Both of our wells had their tops blown off and are now filled with sand. We are on half rations while the remaining men dig out one well. There is almost no food. Not for beast nor man.”

  Yelban was seated across the table from the Roman officer, having found food for the travelers and making sure they had their fill. Abigail stood at the table’s far end. Dorcas was beside Linux, her hand resting upon his arm. She had held the same position ever since he had first entered the tavern. “Uncle Linux. Are you tired?”

  He looked down at the child and smiled for the second time since his arrival. The first time had been when he had seen Abigail and Dorcas hurrying toward him. The skin about his eyes creased like a man twice his age. “How is your bird, little one?”

  “He hops and flies.” She skipped in place to show him, her arms waving out at her sides.

  “Does he? And does he sing for you?”

  “Oh yes. I love to hear him.”

  “I am certain he is a great joy to you. And to your mother too?”

  All eyes turned toward Abigail. She merely nodded to his question, but she could feel Yelban’s eyes on her. She knew he was waiting for her to speak to the subject on everyone’s mind. She also knew what needed to be said.