“Woe that you did not have a son, Shallum.” Rephaiah tsked at her, sounding as though he had food stuck in his teeth.
Adah breathed deep, her chest plumping like a bothered hen. Enough of this banter. If armies waited to do battle, then why was no one lined up for war? “Why was I summoned if I am not a son? There are plenty of officials here to ride out and meet this envoy.”
Nehemiah bowed his head and pressed his hands together. “Sanballat and Tobiah have been sending messengers for a while. Their letters are all the same, asking me to meet them at a location outside of this city. I have never agreed to their requests. A message from Artaxerxes is different. I must receive it and answer the king. It is my duty.”
Telem raked a hand through his hair. “Can’t they bring it into the city?”
“They won’t,” Rephaiah snapped. “The daughter of Shallum scolded the prophetess. It is no wonder they believe this is a trap, and we will revolt and kill any messengers. Some nobles believe the prophetess. They believe her claim of treason to be true. Noadiah is well respected among the people.”
She heard his unspoken inference—and you are not. Be strong and courageous and do God’s work. God will not forsake us.
Adah cleared her throat and then asked, “If they desire to talk with the governor, why am I here?” Her defiant gaze moved from her father to Rephaiah to Ezra and then to Nehemiah.
“The king summoned you as well,” Nehemiah answered. “No doubt Sanballat and the prophetess have slandered your name. By including you in their schemes, they cast doubt on your father’s loyalty.”
And it would be easier to kill a woman than a respected ruler. Oh Lord, protect my family. I meant to bring my father honor, not shame.
Shielding her eyes with her hand, she observed Nehemiah’s face for any sign of worry. He did not act or look downcast like he did the night she found him weeping for his forefathers and his city. He did not tremble or tear his embroidered robes. His calmness soothed the terror of his people. And it soothed her.
“My daughter cannot go.” Her father’s body teetered. “If they think she is planning treason against the king, they will kill her on the spot in front of this city. As a warning.”
“What is one girl?” Rephaiah’s breathy comment settled in her ears.
Swallowing as if this were the last bite of her final meal, Adah said, “I will go.” She stepped closer to Nehemiah. “I was one of the first people to hear of the governor’s plan to rebuild Jerusalem. If my life has to end, it will end with the governor at my side, and the vision of our wall in my sight. I believe God desires our city to rise from the rubble. And I will not rest until the gates are secure and Jerusalem is strong.”
“This is the City of David.” Telem shouted. “The men of Judah will defend it.”
Bystanders agreed.
Rephaiah pushed some gawkers aside. “Look,” he said, pointing to the outskirts while his eyes showered her with disdain. “Observe what awaits this city and its rulers.”
In the distance, expanding as far as she could see outside the northern gate, down the main road, and shaded by a scattering of trees, were soldiers. She had beheld raiders from this army when Othniel’s fields burned.
Crooked-nosed Sanballat perched on a mount in front of his men. Twirling and stomping in glee at his side was the purple-clad false prophetess. She frolicked as if the ground was set ablaze. The fighting men of King Artaxerxes sat atop horses decorated with the golden-yellow and pomegranate red of Persia. Breastplates, swords, and spears shone in the sun’s glare.
The conspirators gave Adah no fright, but the envoy from the king ground her fortitude to flour. Men trained to kill did not bring greetings. But they were not a legion. She hastily counted fifty warriors.
Closing her eyes, she prayed aloud, “Lord, I trust You will not forsake us, and I believe that Your servant Nehemiah is doing Your work. Protect us with Your army. Show our enemies there is but One True God, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. And that You are here with us. And me.”
She stepped back and flung her arms wide, moving back and forth as if she were the prophetess of this city. Her charge to the men gripping swords and fidgeting with arrows would be one of encouragement, not despair.
“I am ready to meet our visitors,” she said.
“As am I.” Nehemiah whipped his arm in the air as if he stood ready to release a sling stone.
Telem squinted out toward the hills. “Not yet.”
Rephaiah stomped his sandal. “We cannot keep an envoy from the king waiting. The soldiers will believe we are planning a revolt.”
“And if they are planning to attack, we need to win.” Telem regarded her with a smirk. “Do you not remember how King David took this city from the Jebusites?” He mimicked shoving something heavy over his head.
She smiled in remembrance of being flung out of Telem’s tunnel. “Listen to my mason.” Rejuvenated of spirit, she stood tall and fixed a scorned noblewoman’s gaze on the officials. “He knows how to get men to the hills and trap our enemy if we have to fight. For we will fight if Sanballat charges the gate.” She glanced at the men near the entrance. They wore plain tunics and carried lackluster blades. Sanballat may disregard their fortitude, but she would throw her lot in with them any day. Rotating in a tight circle, she shouted, “We will fight like men—”
“And women,” Telem interjected with a nod.
“Of Jerusalem.” She raised a fist toward the cloudless sky.
As her proclamation hung in the air, her father came by her side and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Let it be so,” her father shouted. “God will give us the victory.”
Now, no matter what happened, with her vow fulfilled to build the wall and her father’s praise in front of the city’s officials, she could meet whatever end God decried. With another shiver hovering just beneath her skin, she recited a prayer of King David’s. “Rescue us O’ Lord, from evil men and protect us from men of violence.” Turning to behold all who listened, she yelled with abandon, “Be strong and courageous!”
Nehemiah echoed her charge. He and Ezra and her father added a hearty, “Selah!”
29
Needing to buy time and prevent a charge on the Fish Gate, Adah and Nehemiah strolled, slowly and honorably, through the gate’s frame and toward the king’s men and Sanballat’s misguided fools.
A slight breeze brought the scent of freshly cut cedar and oak to her nostrils. Adah kept her gaze on the army before her. If she glanced toward the hills, it might reveal their plot and put her people in peril. But that didn’t mean she did not think about her trip to summon Telem from his cave, or the boy who went with her. Her chest tightened recalling Othniel’s bravery. At least serving pagans, he was not here to face a battle, or see her slain because of wicked lies.
“We advance toward uncertainty, possibly death,” Nehemiah said. “And I cannot see one wrinkle on your face. When I came to Jerusalem I did not know if our people would agree to rebuild the wall. After meeting you that night, my heart knew God’s plan would be victorious.”
“I do not deserve so much praise.” Her heavy footfalls lightened at the governor’s encouragement, but her stomach ached as if she’d consumed pebbles with her bread. “My mother heard you weeping, and I sought out the noise to calm her fears.”
“But you listened as I revealed the burden I carried, and you kept my secret.”
She regarded Nehemiah. His cadence and fine clothing revealed his status, but his heart convinced her to champion his cause.
“When we met, you told me how you prayed before approaching the king for a leave of duty and for letters for safe passage. At great risk to your own life, you spoke for this city and our people. God’s people.”
Nehemiah nodded.
“How could I not follow your lead when we had been petitioning God to raise Jerusalem from its rubble?”
“My heart nearly stopped when the king asked me why I was sad.” Nehemiah grinned. “This heart o
f mine has been worked harder than an Egyptian slave.” He patted his chest. “But it still beats.”
“Mine too.” Rapidly. She avoided assessing the strength of the army camped around her city. “I have learned more about God in the last two months than I have since birth. And I owe that knowledge to you.” She beheld him with the calm of a sleeping newborn and gave her governor a reassuring smile.
“Toda raba, my brave Adah.”
Her smile vanished. Othniel had used that same affection. Her childhood friend would want to be at her side showing these foreigners the strength and courage of their people. So I shall.
She glanced back at the gate and recognized her father a few paces outside of the city, watching her walk to greet heavily armed warriors. His stature seemed like a child’s against the height and grandeur of the newly completed wall. A wall God had raised with the hands and backs of His people.
She prayed for God to work His peace in her trembling limbs as she and Nehemiah strolled closer to their accusers. Even a whiff of the jasmine scenting her veil did nothing to relieve her angst. “Be strong and…” Her mouth was too dry to finish her chant.
“Woe to you Nehemiah and your witch, I have escorted the king’s cavalry to your city so I could witness the punishment of your treasonous acts,” Sanballat called from the center of a line of men carrying swords.
Leave it to the Samaritan governor to place himself where he had the best defense.
Noadiah shook a tambourine and paraded along the station of soldiers. Gold beads swayed from her headband, but she wore the same plum-colored robe from her previous visit. Her exaggerated steps and flailing arms fanned the stench of horse sweat and unbathed fighting men in Adah’s direction. “Death to those who do not heed God’s wisdom.”
And what god would that be? Adah’s fury soared at Noadiah’s false teaching. Now was the time to snuff out the lies of rebellion and impress the truth on the king’s messenger.
A flash of light burst forth from the hills. The small flicker from Telem’s polished bronze mirror calmed her soul.
David and his mighty fighting men had overtaken this city and had conquered the Jebusites by using tunnels, and today, if need be, Sanballat and Noadiah would be brought low by Jerusalem’s underground laborers. Praise God for her mother who sent her and Judith on a mysterious journey to find a mason. And praise God for a willing escort. Her Othniel.
“Come closer.” Sanballat waved Nehemiah in the direction of his mount. “You make us wait as if you have the power of a king.”
“If I thought myself as lofty as you suggest, I would be atop a stallion with a golden sword.” Nehemiah veered to address the commander of the king’s forces. “I walk as a servant of King Artaxerxes and the Most High God.”
“Is your god mightier than mine?” Sanballat shouted.
Yes. But only a fool would answer Sanballat’s question. Contempt for his fellow governor riddled every word. Adah stayed a half-pace behind Nehemiah, using his body as a shield from the scrutiny of the soldiers and from their insults.
Nehemiah halted near the leader of the king’s envoy. He left enough distance to uphold his standing as the royal cupbearer, and he left enough room for a hasty escape.
“Lord, save us from these men of violence.” Her whisper broadened Nehemiah’s stance.
The king’s official dismounted and marched toward Nehemiah. His regal breastplate held so much silver that he sparkled in the afternoon sun.
Sanballat remained on his wide-withered horse.
“Governor.” The armor-clad leader gave Nehemiah a nod of respect. He handed the governor a parchment sealed with wax and embedded with the mark of the king. “Our sovereign has sent an urgent message. I am to carry out its commands.”
“Artaxerxes knows of your intentions,” Sanballat announced. “I am not the only governor to share concerns about this wall. Tobiah has brought forth charges. Why fortify a city if not for war?”
Tink-tat-tink. Noadiah added her slander.
Nehemiah turned toward his fellow governor. “Who would spread such rumors except those who scheme to deceive the king?”
“You cannot silence God.” Noadiah rattled her tambourine all the more.
No, but could someone silence her? Adah breathed deep and slowly blew out a breath, attempting to calm the rage stoked by her enemies. Noadiah’s dagger-eyed glares heaped wood on Adah’s inner fire pit. With one arm around her middle and another on her necklace, Adah counted her beads and recited, “Hear, O, Israel, the, Lord, is, our, God, the, Lord, alone.”
Sanballat rode forward. “Your pride has brought you to ruin.”
“We will know if you are a prophet when I open the seal.” Nehemiah’s accommodating tone had worn thin. “You certainly have been earnest in trying to draw me out of the city, Sanballat. It is a shame you have to interfere in my personal business with the king.” He stepped to the side, leaving Adah exposed to gawking fighters.
Stopping her bead count, Adah gave a nod of respect to the king’s messenger and clasped her hands behind the folds of her robe.
“The daughter of Shallum has assisted me in rebuilding the wall of this fine city. She holds the king in high regard, but she holds our God in the highest regard.”
Adah dipped her head in agreement with her governor.
Sanballat cleared his throat and regarded the official. “We do not blaspheme our neighbor’s gods.”
“Open the decree.” Noadiah shook her tambourine. “He stalls his demise.”
Nehemiah held the message in the air above his head.
Adah’s lips were dry as linen. The pounding of her heart bested Noadiah’s raucous music.
Her precious governor slid a finger underneath the seal, opened the parchment, and slowly read the king’s edict to himself. Holding the message to his chest, her governor roared with a laughter that echoed above the soldiers. The messenger’s horse neighed and sidestepped toward another stallion.
“Tell us what it says.” Noadiah’s prophetic skills failed her.
Nehemiah bent at the waist and laughed boldly as though he had enjoyed too much wine. Tears streamed down his cheeks.
Adah rubbed her damp palms together and drew closer to Nehemiah. What had caused her governor to come undone? His belly-deep laughter stirred a rumbling among the skeptical soldiers.
“Sir, what does the king desire?” she asked.
Trying to calm his outburst, Nehemiah choked out, “You.”
30
“Me!” Adah rasped. She stood with her mouth open, willing the craziness to make sense. What was Nehemiah talking about? Was this her punishment for rebuking the prophetess and encouraging the finishing of the wall? Was she to become a concubine to a foreign king? Did Artaxerxes believe her father had enough influence over their people that a marriage to her would prevent a riot?
“I have never met our sovereign.” Her words came out with indignation.
The commander gave her a stern perusal.
“But it would be an honor.” She would say anything to keep her city and her people safe.
“You misunderstand me.” Nehemiah reigned in his giddiness. “There is no need for you to see the king.”
She jerked backward. Did the king want to put her away in his harem? Bits of light blurred her vision. Her skin chilled under the relentless sun. Jerusalem was her home. Jerusalem was Othniel’s home. Jerusalem was where he would expect her to be waiting. “Am I to leave Judah?”
Noadiah pranced, kicking up dust. “I am vindicated. Her lawlessness will not be tolerated here or in Susa.”
“Be still,” Nehemiah snapped. “The daughter of Shallum is not going anywhere.”
Praise the Lord! She shuffled her feet and willed her bones to keep her upright.
The prophetess scowled and hugged her tambourine.
“Adah.” Nehemiah’s voice softened. “It’s your gift. Your perfume has delighted the queen. The king requests more of the fragrance at once.”
W
as this truly the reason soldiers waited outside of Jerusalem? For a fragrance? Her fingers tingled as if they had emptied of blood. This was no dream. God had not forsaken His people. People who had listened to His servant and done the hard work of restoring Jerusalem’s wall.
She glanced at the official. “This is all you have need of?” Oh, if only she could dance like Noadiah and not look like a fool. “The queen will have her perfume. I will prepare it without delay.”
“Nonsense.” Sanballat slid off his horse and stomped toward the king’s messenger. “Read the words for yourself. This is more trickery from rebel Jews. Certainly the queen has the best perfumers in Persia.”
Nehemiah handed the parchment to the king’s official.
The battle-ready messenger read the edict. His stature grew tall and rigid. “The governor of Judah has spoken the truth.”
“Then that potion is bewitched,” Noadiah said. “It’s sorcery.”
“What do I have to hide?” With a raise of his eyebrow and a dip of his chin, Nehemiah challenged his fellow governor. “Read the message yourself. However, the king does seem fervent in his request. Perhaps a special occasion is near?”
In the few moments of silence, Adah turned her back on the soldiers, governors, and officials, and found her father standing as tall and regal as the newly crafted Fish Gate. She crossed her hands and held them over heart. One beat. Two. Her father did the same.
As she turned back to the commotion, she sneaked a peek at the cliffs. The hills hid the army of Judah; laborers, masons, fathers, sons. No one would guess the catacombs were filled with fighting men. Protect us from men of violence O’ Lord.
The king’s official ripped the parchment from Sanballat’s hands. “Our sovereign requests a perfume from the daughter of Shallum. It is as the governor of Judah says.”
Sanballat rounded on Noadiah. “Where is their treason? The makings of a revolt? You almost started a war.”
Noadiah’s right hand became a claw threatening her cohort. “All of Samaria believes my prophecies. Nehemiah is deceiving you. I have never spoken falsely.”
Jerusalem Rising Page 16