“Good. Then we agree.” He grinned as if he already harbored the secret. “Now I am going to see what is in that basket your mother is carrying.”
“Save a bite for me. I will see to our beast.” Adah led the donkey to a small trough for a drink. She smiled as the animal submerged its nose and snorted.
If anyone deserved to hear the truth about Telem, it should be her friend. Othniel had escorted her and Judith into the dark catacombs and risked his life returning them to the city. Thinking about her closeness to Othniel’s muscular body as they trudged through the shadows heated her cheeks faster than a hot bath. She shook the vision from her mind. Stop it. You have a wall to build.
Adah hung back as the laborers washed their hands and claimed bread, dates, and raisin cakes from her mother’s noonday offering. Judith poured cups of water to refresh the men. Her sister stood beside the crumbling corner of a house abandoned since the Babylonian siege. Would the owners ever return?
Seeing the progress all around the city gave Adah a sense of pride in her people and in her mission. Like small ants carrying a large crumb, her people heeded Nehemiah’s call.
She scaled an expanse of wall above the cornerstone resembling a staircase to the sky. With her family distracted, she climbed onto the rock that had caused Telem and Jehu to grunt like hogs as they set it into place. She tapped the surface three times with her sandal before scaling the stone. The mortar did not bulge. Rising to the heights of two-storied dwellings, she stationed her feet on the stone she and Othniel had pulled up the ravine. She tapped her foot again, confident this section of the wall would rival any other. Perched high above the city, she scanned the uneven rooftops, the scarred walls from one too many siege, and her people rushing through chores.
Othniel came and sat at the base of her tower. He nibbled on the sweet bits of fruit in his cake. When was the last time he had enjoyed such a delicacy?
Holding a plump date between his fingers, Othniel smacked his lips together. “You should snatch a morsel before Telem devours the woven reeds of the basket.”
“Where is your faith in my sister’s resourcefulness?” She leaned forward and watched Othniel savor his date. “Judith will save me a cake lest I insist she carry stones.”
Shading her face, Adah surveyed the hills where they had found Telem. When the wall was finished it would hide the low lying mounds, acacia trees, and bramble bushes from view. In the distance, the soil moved. She squinted. Had she been in the sun too long? Was the heat plaguing her sight? Her skin tingled. No, this was not the sun’s deception. Travelers to Jerusalem did not come in such a mass. Not from the west, and not heading toward the devastation where Nehemiah wept. An army descended upon the city.
“Soldiers,” she shrieked as panic rose in her soul. Adah turned and dropped to her knees, glancing at Othniel before fixing her gaze on her father. “Soldiers are advancing toward the city. The valley is filled with men.”
Adah retraced her trail on the makeshift stairs. Her heartbeat boomed in her ears, loud enough to deafen the commands spewed by all in range of her alarm. How could they fend off a well-planned attack? The wall around the city was not yet half built and some areas even lacked a foundation. Who would war against Jerusalem when the governor resided in its midst? Nehemiah had a commission from the king.
A trumpet blast echoed over the streets of the city. Someone else had spied the enemy. She shivered as if God had finally sent a cool rain over the stricken land.
A boy ran past, his scream a higher pitch than the ram’s horn.
“Grab your swords. We must fight,” the boy shouted.
Othniel grasped her hand. “Take your mother home and stay there.” His words raced faster than the messenger.
She resisted his tug. “This is my city and my wall.” Her stomach cramped at the thought of losing everything she held dear. “No one will breech it without meeting my wrath.”
Othniel released his hold and picked up a cutting blade. “Not before they meet mine.”
10
Adah left her mother in the care of Judith and a servant, and hurried down the street with her father’s robe, cloak, and sword bundled in her arms. Her own small blade stayed hidden in her sashed belt while her pouch of sling stones bounced and accosted her hip. Rounding the corner of an alley not far from her home, she found Beulah with her arms outstretched as if to greet those passing by. Her pregnant belly was a roadblock to the men racing to face the enemy.
With a slight adjustment, Adah held her father’s possessions in one arm, and freed a hand to hold off her neighbor’s charge. She yearned to give some fleeting comfort to her neighbor. Adah’s chest cinched at her friend’s grief. “Beulah, we must get you out of this stampede.”
“My husband and sons are braving the southern rubble. My daughter is gone. Am I to be left alone with my babe?”
“Stay with my mother and Judith. Pray to God for the city.” Adah held Beulah’s tear-filled gaze, hoping the woman heard the determination in her plea and ignored the trembling of her hand. “You must be brave. God will act.”
“Why is it taking Him so long?” Beulah’s staggered breaths shook her tattered collar.
A vision of Beulah’s daughter smiling gap-toothed and threshing with her mother clouded Adah’s thoughts and seized her heart.
“Sometimes God stays silent. I don’t know why.” Adah stroked Beulah’s cheek. “I must go now. Judith will have something prepared to settle your woes.”
Breaking free, Adah sprinted to where her father waited in laborer’s rags, trying to convince enemy army commanders of his importance. She raced by archers climbing to the tops of buildings and priests ordering families where to fight. An ever present scritch of a grinder’s stone sharpening swords gnawed at her nerves. The eerie scratch settled in her ear like the irritating sound of a mosquito.
No eye would miss the governor of Judah sitting high on a stallion draped in the vibrant scarlet and golden colors of the king. A few feet outside the Valley Gate, two of Artaxerxes’ cavalry flanked Nehemiah’s side with armor polished to tempt a thief.
The rulers of Jerusalem sat on donkeys not far from the splendor of the king’s warriors, but remained partially hidden behind short towers of stones. Ezra, an elder priest, and a small group of temple servants remained on alert, stationed behind newly constructed sections of wall.
Enemies of her people lay in wait behind terebinth and oak trees, spread out to the north. A formation of soldiers with shields hung back from the rubble of the former fortified wall.
But wait. What was Gershom doing seated at his father’s side? Why did Rephaiah’s son deserve a mount? He did nothing but stir up angst among the landowners.
“Abba,” she called as she passed between rows of familiar faces. Faces of merchants, farmers, silversmiths, and sons ready to kill whatever evil invaded their city.
Her father dismounted. “Place my robe over this tunic. I cannot leave my position.”
Rephaiah coughed. “For now at least you have your daughter doing something befitting a woman.”
Gershom smirked. “More like a servant.”
Pressing her lips together, Adah withheld a rebuke. Her father had enough troubles. She would not stir up another.
Shallum turned and slung his shoulders backward. His stance drew her posture to new heights. She struggled to drape and secure her father’s gold-banded turban.
“Whatever my daughter does is befitting a woman of stature.” Her father’s rebuttal echoed over Jerusalem’s fighting men. She pretended the attention garnered by an official’s pronouncement focused on the lines of troops facing the city rather than the lone woman at the front of a battle. Pride burst through her rib cage at her father’s defense.
She fumbled the last cinch of her father’s belt. Row upon row of foreigners waited in the fields she had scoured for buds and roots. Her gaze settled on the lead rider. She recognized the crooked-nosed governor trotting on his horse in front of his fighting men. Years
before, she had seen him in the city. He held her interest as she wondered how, and if, he could smell with such a disfigured nose. Especially when it was tilted so high and mighty.
“Why is the governor of Samaria challenging our city?” She assisted her father as he remounted. “Did Nehemiah not cross through his lands to Bethel? Our governor has orders from Artaxerxes.”
“It seems not even letters from the king can keep our neighbors from sniffing around our wall.” Her father sat straight in the saddle as if King David himself flanked the officials of his city. At least the work that had been completed in the last days cast shade on the men standing guard inside the battered gate.
Reaching up, she wiped a smudge from her father’s cheek. “God stands with us. He sent Nehemiah to rebuild our city and He will end Sanballat’s trickery.” Oh Lord, may this be Sanballat’s end and not ours.
Her father urged his donkey forward and stood even with Rephaiah, not far from the men taking cover in the ruins. She hid behind a six-foot tower of stones Telem had fit together.
A tap upon her shoulder diverted her attention from the regal rulers of Jerusalem. She turned and beheld Othniel. His ridged forehead and the firm grip on her sleeve betrayed his intentions.
“These men seek a battle, and if we honor their request there will be bloodshed.”
“I did not come unprepared.” Her reflection filled the amber ring in his light brown eyes. “I have a knife and sling stones under my wrap.”
He shook his head and withdrew his hand from her garment. “Death or captivity will come if our men are routed. You must be prepared to escape.”
“And how do I do that with warriors guarding the outskirts? I prefer to die here than be exiled in a land of heathens.”
“What if we don’t die at all?” The question rumbled from behind her.
Heart racing like a wild cony, she rounded on the eavesdropper and blew out a gale of a breath. “Telem! I do not appreciate people listening to my private words.”
“I did not listen. I heard.” He shrugged, but his emotionless stare held the mystery of the man they first met in the cave. “Did I not warn you about the scouts? It seems your official’s marriage arrangement has not kept us safe. Our neighbors from the east have joined Sanballat’s armies from the north. They wait to plunder us.”
Othniel fingered his blade. “How do you know the Ammonites are here? It is a sea of bodies beyond these rocks.”
“I have only seen Sanballat,” she added, not wanting Telem to think she was uniformed. “He rides his horse before his Samaritan army as if Nehemiah was his equal and not the cupbearer to the king.”
Telem glanced off into the distance. “If Sanballat is laying siege then his ally Tobiah is holding his sword, for they are flies on the same corpse. And I will keep those traitors from stepping one foot into this city, or into the temple of our God.” He punched a fist into his palm and with his tense stance Adah believed his threat. But how did Telem know of Tobiah, the governor of Ammon beyond the Jordan, for Telem’s cave was on the wrong side of the river? Did more scouts come and hide in the hills?
“They are greedy.” Othniel stood at her side, arms crossed, his hatred of their enemy rivaling Telem’s. “Everyone in power fears losing the trade a rebirthed Jerusalem will take from their purse. They desire to win the king’s favor by sending more taxes to the palace. Our landowners have no more to give.”
Her friend’s frustration was a firm vice upon her heart. He had labored for years during the drought to coax one more cluster of delicious grapes off the vine, or one more drip of olive oil into the jar. But rain had not come to aid his efforts.
“We will prevail.” Her proclamation carried to the men crouched behind the rocks nearby. She had heard the conviction in Nehemiah’s voice that night outside the city wall. His tears, his truth, drew her into his vision for the city, for it was God’s vision. “The God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob will keep us safe.”
Eyebrows raised, Telem cocked his head. “We are outnumbered?”
“What she spoke in the tunnel holds true.” Othniel gave her a brief nod. Did he want her to repeat her challenge? “We must stand strong.”
Surveying the faces around her, some bearded, some too young to grow hair, her chest swelled with pride like a strutting rooster. She believed her challenge that day while lying on the ground rejected by Telem, and she had to believe it this day. Had to believe. Had to speak out for justice.
She stepped away from Othniel toward men she did not know by name. “Be strong and courageous and God will act.” Boldly, she repeated the phrase, picking up two rocks to add cadence to her plea.
Othniel echoed her charge. “Be strong and courageous and God will act.”
David’s wisdom to Solomon on finishing God’s temple, grew louder, unfolding like a blanket along the wall. Swords clinked. Men stomped. The City of David would not be silent. Their cries and commotion spooked the mounts of their nearest enemies.
A horse neighed. She looked to the gate to see Nehemiah and the officials watching her bash two rocks together and sing out to her people. She stilled her beat and dropped the stones as a final reverberation quaked down her arms.
Nehemiah raised his right arm and urged his mount closer to the opposing governors. Sanballat of Samaria, and Tobiah of Ammon across the Jordan, moved their horses forward.
The chorus inside the wall quieted so discussions could be heard, but their defiant chant had gone forth like a messenger warning their foes of the people’s determination to stand and do battle.
Soldiers rushed from the streets toward the gate and the nearby tower. Adah lost sight of her father as men fell in line in the rulers’ wake. Turning to Othniel, and with a glance toward Telem, she said, “I want to keep watch on the officials. My father is in line to take the first arrows.” She pointed to a large squared stone. “If you shift that brick, I can climb on it and peer over the heads of our men.”
“Is that all I’m good for is moving rock?” Telem scoffed and held his position.
“Do you truly want an answer from her?” Othniel tipped the stone and rolled it end over end. His customary playful smirks had vanished.
“No.” Telem grinned. “But I did manage to get you to do the work.” He marched toward the fighting men defending the gate. Heads turned as Telem’s tall, muscular frame stalked by.
She perched on the rock and with little effort was able to spy the traitorous leaders, Sanballat and Tobiah. Othniel set another stone in motion and joined her. He rested an arm on the arching jut of wall above their viewing area, and with his height he was a shield from the scorching sun. She turned to comment on Telem’s rudeness, but staring into Othniel’s ruddy face only a half-breath from hers, her witty words jumbled. Struck dumb, she licked her lips, but the moisture evaporated as did her rebuke of their mason.
“Don’t worry.” Othniel inspected the formation of the wall rising above her. “This stone is jagged. No sling stone can reach this spot.”
“We’ll be protected.” Wasn’t she always safe when Othniel was around? Turning toward the onslaught, she prayed. “Lord keep us safe.”
Nehemiah opened his arms to the troops outside his city. “Why this show of force? Were my letters from Artaxerxes not enough for you? Or do you now serve another king?”
Sanballat acknowledged the strength of his armies with a sweep of his hand. His horse stepped forward as the reins went slack. Sanballat jerked his mount into submission. “You deceived us. Why rebuild this wall unless you plan to rise up against the king and overrun your neighbors?”
Adah pounded a fist on the wall. “We will protect ourselves like other cities,” she muttered.
Swords raised into the air at her utterance.
“Why is Jerusalem any different than Samaria or Rabbath-Ammon?” Nehemiah held himself erect as if he was Artaxerxes in the flesh. His escorts from the king sat steadfast in their fine armor. “Shall my father’s bones be trampled by travelers? The wall of
this great city will stand as a testament to the faithfulness of our God.” Nehemiah turned his attention to Tobiah. “Do you still call upon the name of Adonai in Ammon, or have you defiled yourself and your land for riches?”
Tobiah leaned back on his mount as if Nehemiah had reached over and slapped him. The squat leader scowled at the governor. “Of course, we serve the same God. A daughter of Jerusalem births my grandchildren. We are of the same blood.”
“Then go home.” Adah’s stiffened as neighbors turned her direction. Her comment carried farther than it ought.
Tobiah glanced in her direction. “Have I not been in the temple? The priests are known to me by name.”
“As they are to me.” Nehemiah boasted his relationship to all who could hear. “My plans are the same today as they were yesterday. Jerusalem will have a wall as strong as her people.” Nehemiah’s indigo robe draped down his arm as he held his hands toward the clouds.
“This is foolishness.” Sanballat raised his silver-handled sword high into the air and struck at the wind. “You bring war upon your people because of a stubborn pride? Or is greed for trade riches making death acceptable in your eyes.”
Tobiah cackled as if bloodshed held humor. His rust-colored robe jostled from his raucous scoff and the portly belly beneath. “A fox could topple your stone wall let alone the men of Ammon. But all is for naught. Our God has not seen fit to water your lands. You cannot even fill a barterer’s basket.”
“Do we serve the same God?” Nehemiah leaned on the horn of his saddle. “Killing a brother is in violation of the Law.”
“We are not brothers,” Tobiah shouted. He cast a glance at his ally, Sanballat. “You have made that clear, Nehemiah. Claiming this city as your own will bring judgment upon you. Heed my warning and repent of your selfishness.”
Thrusting his arms out to the side, Nehemiah arched his back. “Throw your blade now. Let these witnesses see you kill the king’s cupbearer. And who will you murder next? The king’s own soldiers?”
Jerusalem Rising Page 7