Among the Gods (Chronicles of the Kings Book #5)

by Lynn Austin

  “I do mind. I resent your accusations.”

  Nathan stepped through the doorway into the room. “Ask me anything you want.” He didn’t know why he had come forward, exactly, but he did know that it was useless to try to hide. But more than that, he wanted to hurt Joshua, to see him humiliated in front of these men. He needed to prove to himself that Joshua was a liar, that he didn’t love him like a real son, that he would give up on him if pushed to the limit.

  “That’s the boy,” the ferryman said, pointing. “He rode over on my ship.”

  Nathan recognized the other men as three of Elephantine’s elders. “What were you doing on the mainland?” their leader asked.

  Nathan glanced at Joshua, expecting an explosion of anger like the one he had received the last time he’d stolen something. Instead, the pain he saw on Joshua’s face stunned him. His father seemed to age twenty years as he rested a trembling hand against the wall to steady himself. Nathan had a sudden premonition of Joshua growing old, dying. He felt a stab of fear.

  When Joshua’s anger finally did come, it was directed at the elders, not at Nathan. “You have no right to come into my home and accuse my son like this. I’m his father. It’s my duty to question him and to discipline him if he’s done anything wrong.”

  “But if a member of our community is accused of theft, it reflects on all of us. We have to clear this up and let the Egyptian authorities know that the thief has been caught and punished. We have to assure them that it won’t happen again.”

  “Do you trust me to handle my household according to the Law?”

  “No one questions your honesty or integrity, Joshua.”

  “But you question my son’s?” The elders didn’t answer. “I’d like you to leave so I can speak to Nathan alone,” Joshua said calmly. “You can wait for us at the city square. If he’s guilty, you’ll have his confession. If he’s innocent, we’ll expect an apology. Good day.”

  Joshua closed the door behind them and turned to face Nathan, leaning against the door for support. Nathan’s heart raced faster than it had when fleeing from the idol merchant. He couldn’t read the emotions etched on Joshua’s face and had no idea what to expect next. Joshua continued to gaze at him without speaking until Nathan’s insides turned to water. He could no longer stand the silent suspense.

  “Aren’t you going to ask me if I did it?”

  Joshua shook his head.

  “Why not?”

  “Because I couldn’t bear it if you lied to me, son.”

  Nathan had been in confrontations with Joshua before, but he felt something different this time, something he couldn’t quite identify. It wasn’t exactly fear—he wasn’t afraid of Joshua, nor did he fear a beating. He had been beaten before and knew he could take it. No, it was something else … a fear he couldn’t define.

  “How long are we going to stand here looking at each other?” Nathan finally asked, unable to bear the strain.

  “That’s up to you.”

  Nathan suddenly remembered Mattan’s warning that one day he would push Joshua too far, and he felt his stomach twist again. Was he afraid that Joshua would kick him out? No, he knew he could get by on his own. He had done that before, too. He didn’t need Joshua. He wasn’t afraid.

  But he was.

  Joshua’s patience was maddening. If he had ranted and raved, Nathan could have fought back, but he didn’t know how to fight the pain and disappointment he saw in Joshua’s eyes, the empty silence that stretched endlessly between them.

  “What do you want from me?” Nathan shouted.

  “The truth,” Joshua said hoarsely. “Just the truth.”

  “You believe them, don’t you? You think I did it.”

  “I have no way of knowing if you did it or not. But I do know that I taught you right from wrong. I taught you what the Law says about stealing and about lying. I taught you that idolatry is a grave sin.” Nathan watched Joshua’s Adam’s apple rise and fall as he swallowed. “If you tell me you’re innocent, then I’ll defend you against your accusers. If you’ve made a mistake, Nathan, and you’re sorry for it, then I’ll forgive you.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  Joshua lowered his head as a wave of stunned sadness washed across his features. Nathan’s heart raced faster. When Joshua finally looked up, Nathan was amazed to see that he was fighting tears.

  “Have I ever lied to you, son?” His voice was so low it was almost a whisper.

  Joshua’s words couldn’t possibly be true. He would never forgive Nathan. He would abandon him forever if he knew the truth. Nathan wanted to prove him a liar.

  “I did it. I stole the idol.”

  Joshua closed his eyes. He didn’t speak.

  “You’re not surprised, are you? You knew I took it.”

  “Bring it here, son.”

  As Nathan returned to his room to fetch the idol, he had the urge to run out of the house and just keep going. Joshua wouldn’t care. He would have a child of his own in a few more months. Nathan was nothing but a troublemaker. He never would amount to anything. This whole affair just confirmed what Joshua had believed about him all along.

  Nathan retrieved the image from beneath his mat and stared at it for a moment, turning it over and over in his hands, examining the beautiful carving, the smooth, flawless ivory. He had wanted to help Miriam, but everything had gone wrong. Now he was in serious trouble. Once again, he was tempted to run, to steal a boat and let the current carry him away. But if he fled he would never know if Joshua really would have forgiven him or if it was all a lie. He longed to find out. He returned to the main room and found Joshua standing exactly where he’d left him. When he saw the idol in Nathan’s hands, Joshua lowered his face again and covered his eyes.

  Blind terror, worse than in his nightmare, coursed through Nathan. He tried to tell himself that it didn’t matter what Joshua thought of him, that it didn’t matter if Joshua abandoned him, but it wasn’t true. He did care. Again, Nathan faced the maddening silence as Joshua battled his emotions. When Joshua finally looked up, he spoke only one hoarse word.

  “Why?”

  How could Nathan explain his fear for Miriam’s life, the guilt he felt for causing her first child’s death, his longing to help her somehow? Suddenly it was important to Nathan that Joshua know the truth.

  “I took it for Miriam’s sake,” he blurted. “I know how much she wants a baby, and I didn’t want this one to die like her last baby did. The goddess Taweret protects women who are pregnant, and I thought maybe this time I could help Miriam.” The idol felt heavy and clammy in his sweating hands. He waited for Joshua’s angry tirade, but it never came.

  “What is the idol made out of?” he asked quietly. It seemed like an odd question.

  “Ivory. From a hippopotamus.”

  “And where is the animal now?”

  “I don’t know. Dead, I guess.”

  “Powerless? Unable to protect itself?”

  Nathan shrugged.

  “Then how can it protect Miriam’s baby?”

  “I didn’t think it would hurt to try. Your God isn’t answering any of your prayers. Her last baby died!”

  “God did answer my prayers, Nathan. If you could have seen how far your sister fell eight years ago, you’d know that she should be dead. I prayed that she would live, and God answered me. I know Miriam would like a child, but it’s not the most important thing to me. I’d rather have Miriam than a baby. I already have a son who bears my name.”

  Nathan didn’t trust himself to speak. He didn’t want to be moved by Joshua’s words, didn’t want to admit even to himself the fierce emotions raging inside him. He watched Joshua warily, fearing that he would try to embrace him. Part of Nathan wished that Joshua would hold him, but another, harder part knew that something vital to his survival would break if he did. He quickly turned his back and walked to the far side of the room.

  “What happens now?” he asked.

  He heard Joshua sigh. “
You and I need to go see the elders, son.”

  The walk with Nathan from their home to where the elders were assembled in the city square was the longest Joshua had ever taken. He felt devastated with shame. How could his son do such a terrible thing? Joshua’s own failure as a father was now exposed for all to see. But far worse than his own shame was his staggering fear for Nathan’s soul. How had he lost his son to idols? How could he draw him back to God?

  The city officials paced restlessly as they watched him and Nathan approach, as if anxious to finish with this business before the evening sacrifice. When Joshua saw the Egyptian authorities standing to one side, he knew he couldn’t face this ordeal alone.

  “Send someone for Jerimoth,” he said. His brother would remind him of their father’s example. He would help Joshua do what Abba would have done. He tried to draw a deep breath to calm himself but couldn’t. He remembered the aching numbness he had felt for weeks after the Temple explosion, as if he had been slapped by a giant hand. But this pain was deeper, more paralyzing than any physical pain.

  Jerimoth was panting slightly as he came to stand beside Joshua and Nathan a few minutes later. His gaze traveled from Joshua’s face, to the idol in Nathan’s hands, to the Egyptian authorities standing in the background, and Joshua saw that he understood. “O God of Abraham, help us all,” Jerimoth whispered.

  “How does your son plead?” the chief elder asked. His voice was kind, not accusing.

  “Guilty, my lord.” Joshua took the idol from Nathan and handed it to him. The elder carried it to the Egyptian authorities as if it harbored an infectious disease, then he faced Joshua again. Fear for Nathan swelled inside Joshua, making it difficult to breathe.

  “The Law says that a thief must pay back what he stole plus an added restitution of twenty percent. Are you willing to pay your son’s fine?”

  “Of course. But I think it would be better for Nathan if he worked to pay the fine himself. I’ll loan him the silver in the meantime.” The elders nodded in agreement as Joshua untied his silver pouch. He prayed that this ordeal would soon be over, but one of the Egyptian authorities suddenly stepped forward.

  “Just a minute. How old is your son?” he asked.

  Joshua felt a rush of fear. He pressed his fist to his chest to ease the pain. “He’s eighteen, my lord.”

  “Then he is of age. We demand that he be flogged according to Egyptian law.”

  “No, please …” Joshua breathed. Jerimoth gripped his arm, bracing his body against Joshua’s to support him as the elders quickly crowded around them to confer.

  “You’re not in a position to argue with them,” the chief elder said in a low voice. “The crime took place on the mainland, not on our own island this time.”

  “Please, I’m not arguing … I’m begging. Tell them I’ll make sure he never returns to the mainland. Explain that he’s only a boy.”

  “This isn’t his first offense. Under the circumstances, since it’s more than a simple theft, since it involves bringing an idol to our island …”

  “No, listen, please!”

  “We agree with the Egyptians, Joshua. Nathan needs to suffer the consequences of his actions.”

  “I’ll punish him. I’ll—”

  “If he had been caught on the mainland, they would have flogged him on the spot,” the elder said in a whisper. “And if they knew that he has stolen before, they would cut off his hand.”

  “Then I’ll take the lashing for him. It’s my fault for not being a better father when he was younger. I should have—”

  “I can take my own punishment,” Nathan said suddenly. His face was the color of ashes. “Just do it and get it over with.” He loosened his belt and shrugged off his outer robe.

  Joshua tried to cry out as they led Nathan to the lashing post, but he couldn’t draw any air into his lungs. It took what little strength he had to wrestle with his brother as Jerimoth tried to steer him out of the square.

  “You should leave, Joshua. It would be easier for both of you.”

  “Let go of me! Nothing can make this easier! I’m his father! I have a right to be here!”

  Tears blurred Joshua’s vision as the elders stripped Nathan to the waist and fastened his wrists to the post. He was so thin. There was no meat on his back. Joshua could count each rib, each vertebra. He rubbed his eye with the heel of his hand and forced himself to watch, counting each blow.

  One … two … three …

  The lash whistled through air and snapped sickeningly against Nathan’s flesh. Joshua felt each painful strike shudder through his own body.

  Four … five …

  It took Jerimoth and three of the elders to hold him back. Joshua no longer cared that everyone saw him weeping.

  Eight … nine … ten …

  Nathan groaned after each stroke but didn’t cry out. The torture seemed endless. “That’s enough …” Joshua moaned. “Make them stop….”

  Thirteen … fourteen …

  When it was finally over, Joshua gently untied his son and hefted him over his shoulder, careful not to touch his bloody back. Jerimoth led him home; Joshua was unable to see where he was going, his vision blinded by tears. Nathan was in shock and only semiconscious when Joshua laid him facedown on his sleeping mat. Then Joshua stumbled outside to the courtyard for a basin of water and clean cloths to bathe Nathan’s wounds. Jerimoth followed him.

  “Joshua, why are you torturing yourself like this? It’s not your fault. You have been a good father to him. It was Nathan’s own choice to steal. There was nothing more you could have done for the boy.”

  Joshua set the basin down again and covered his face in despair. “Why did God give Nathan to me? Why not to you? You’re a much better father than I am. Look at Mattan; look how he turned out. You could have helped Nathan, changed him. Why did God give him to me?”

  Jerimoth rested his hand on Joshua’s shoulder. “Because you understand him so much better than I ever could.”

  He looked at his brother in bewilderment. “Understand him?”

  “Yes, Joshua. Nathan is just like you. Both of you are filled with anger. Both of you rage at circumstances in the past that you cannot change. Both of you mourn and question the loss of your fathers. Both of you are furious with God.”

  Joshua leaned against the wall as he struggled to comprehend his brother’s words.

  “I don’t say these things to criticize you,” Jerimoth continued. “God knows how different you and I are. But look closely at Nathan’s anger and rebellion, and see your own. God did give him to the right father—the father who could recognize the pain in Nathan’s heart and understand exactly how he feels.”

  Deep in his soul, Joshua suspected that his brother’s words were true. But if he thought about them now, his heart would break. Instead, he ladled clean water into the basin with deliberate concentration.

  “I’m going home,” Jerimoth said softly. “Nathan has been punished enough. Let him know you love him, you forgive him.”

  Joshua nodded, unable to speak, and carried the basin into the house. When Joshua sat down beside him, Nathan turned his face to the wall.

  “Go away and leave me alone.”

  “I can’t do that, Nathan.”

  “I don’t want you here!”

  “I’m sorry, but I have to be here. You’re my son. Your suffering is my suffering.” And as he spoke the words, Joshua was stunned to discover that they were true.

  In the months that followed Nathan’s whipping, Joshua was well aware of his need to battle against the darkness of depression. He relied on Miriam’s love and patience as he struggled to believe that God was still by his side. He had endured two painful blows: the loss of Judah’s sovereignty to the Assyrians, and the unmasking of his own failures as a father. His fears for Nathan’s soul consumed many sleepless nights, leaving him unprepared for a third blow when it came.

  “Joshua, I think you should send for the midwives,” his mother told him one morning. �
��I’m worried about the swelling in Miriam’s legs and feet.” Joshua went numb at his mother’s words. Miriam hadn’t seemed well for several days, but she’d stubbornly insisted that she was all right.

  “I’ll get the women myself, Mama.” He left the house at a run, barely aware of his surroundings as he sprinted across the island to fetch the two midwives.

  “Does she have any other symptoms besides the swelling?” they asked as he hurried back to his house with them again.

  “She complained of a bad headache last night,” he said. “This morning she still seemed groggy from it. Disoriented.” He saw them exchange glances, and he began to walk so fast they had trouble keeping up with him. When he burst through the front door, out of breath, Nathan met him.

  “What’s going on? Why are they here? Isn’t it too soon for the baby?”

  “Miriam’s not in labor … she’s … I can’t explain.” He brushed past Nathan and hurried into the bedchamber, followed by the women. “Miriam, I’m back. I brought—” He stopped, staring in horror at his wife as her body suddenly went rigid. Then her spine arched, her eyes rolled, and she began to convulse. “Do something! Help her!” he cried, but there was nothing any of them could do. Joshua watched helplessly until the convulsion finally ended and Miriam lay still. His mother and one of the midwives hustled him out of the room.

  “What’s wrong with my wife? Tell me what’s wrong with her.” He struggled to pull air into his lungs.

  “Your wife’s condition is very serious,” the midwife said. “Unless we do something soon, she will go into a coma and die. It has happened before to other women with the same symptoms.”

  Joshua listened as if trapped in a bad dream. “Do whatever you have to do.”

  “The only thing we can do is start her labor. Once the baby is born, Miriam’s condition will probably improve.”

  “But it’s too soon for the baby,” Nathan blurted. Joshua had forgotten that he was there.